Эд Макбейн - Strangers When We Meet

Larry rose and signaled to him, and he came to the table immediately, his hand extended.

“Good to see you, Larry,” he said. “I need a drink. Where’s the waiter?”

They shook hands, and then ordered. Baxter made himself comfortable and said, “I was hoping Eve would be with you.”

“No, not today,” Larry said.

“I like that girl,” Baxter said. “How is she?”

“Fine.”

“I like her a great deal,” Baxter said, and Larry felt a first indefinite twinge of warning. “Ah,” Baxter said, “here’re the drinks.” He waited while the drinks were put down, and then he picked up his glass. “Something wrong with the times,” he said. “Do you know that? I really look forward to this drink at the end of the day. Look forward to it? By God, I need it! I’m a mild alcoholic, I’m sure. But all I know is that after a day of pounding and pounding and pounding, I need this drink. Cheers.” He drank. “How’s Eve?” he asked.

“Fine,” Larry repeated, the warning twinge stronger now.

Baxter nodded. “How does she feel about Puerto Rico?”

“Well...”

“Or haven’t you discussed it with her?”

“Certainly I have.”

“Does she seem favorably inclined?”

“Well...”

“Or do I seem to be putting undue stress upon Eve’s reaction?” Baxter smiled pleasantly and sipped at his drink. “Eloise and I will be going to Puerto Rico to live, you see. This isn’t Scarsdale, Larry, and you simply don’t commute. We’ll be making our home there for at least five years, perhaps longer.” He smiled again. “If you accept the job, we’ll be working together most of the time. And we’ll probably be together a lot socially, too.”

The warning twinge was no longer that. It had grown into full-fledged recognition. Larry felt the blood draining from his face. He sat quite still, holding his glass to the table with both hands.

“That’s why I’m so delighted Eve is the kind of person she is,” Baxter said.

“What do you mean?” Larry asked, knowing his meaning already, knowing it now before amplification. His hands were beginning to tremble. Hastily, he gulped at his drink.

“Don’t misunderstand me. Your wife could be the queen of England, and I still wouldn’t have offered you the job if you weren’t a good architect.” He paused. “By the way, how’s the Altar house going?”

“Fine, fine,” Larry said. There was a tight knot inside him now. He kept staring across the table at Baxter, knowing what was coming, and yet silently, desperately hoping he was wrong.

“Good,” Baxter said. “But Eve is important. She’s the wife you should have, and the wife I’m glad you have. She’ll help you a great deal on the island. And, of course, I’m being selfish. I like her company, and so does Eloise. We want her with us. She’s one of the reasons I asked you.” His smile widened. “Besides, I was hoping she’d sway you in favor of accepting. Has she?”

“I... I don’t know. You mean,” Larry said, “Eve is... is part of this?”

“Well, isn’t she?” Baxter asked, his eyebrows raising in surprise.

“Of course,” Larry said quickly. “I meant...”

“Do you mean if Eve were against it, would I allow you to take the job anyway?”

“Well, yes. Something like that.”

“Definitely not!” Baxter said. “I believe in marriage strongly, Larry. And I don’t think I’ve seen two people more perfectly suited to each other than you and Eve. If Eve doesn’t want to go, I wouldn’t dream of separating you. Maintaining a marriage is the most important thing I can think of. More important than Puerto Rico. Even more important than architecture . That’s the way I feel about it.”

“I see,” Larry said dully.

“Why? Doesn’t Eve want to go?”

“It’s not that.”

“What is it then?”

“Nothing. We... we just haven’t decided yet.”

“Oh?” Baxter seemed surprised. “I was hoping that was why you wanted to see me today.”

“No, no. I just felt like socializing, I guess.”

“Well, I’m glad you came in. I’m always happy to see you. But bring Eve next time, why don’t you?”

“I will,” Larry promised.

“I like that girl,” Baxter said. “She’s pretty, and intelligent, and a woman. And she has dignity. I can’t abide women who are too blatant about their femaleness. Eve is a quiet woman, the kind I’d like for a daughter.” Baxter grinned. “Perhaps I shouldn’t be telling you all this. But I’m trying to make our relationship something more than a cut-and-dried business deal. I want to work with you, Larry, but I want us to be friends, too.”

“I understand,” Larry said, thinking how quickly everything seemed to drop to the common denominator of free choice. There were always simple choices to be made, except the simple choices were always so goddamn difficult. And now it was no longer a question of Puerto Rico and Maggie. The choice was between them — one or the other. A very simple choice, he thought, for a man who wants and needs both. Take Puerto Rico, and be unhappy without Maggie. Take Maggie and be unhappy without work. The choice is really very clear and simple: You can either be unhappy or — you can be unhappy.

Choose!

“I hope you’ll be letting me know your decision soon, Larry,” Baxter said. “If Eve has any doubts, let me know and I’ll talk to her.”

“No,” Larry said hastily. “It isn’t that. We’re just considering every possibility.”

“I see. Well, of course it’s up to you. But Eve’s a sensible girl, and I doubt very much that she’ll let you pass up an opportunity like this one. Not unless I’ve greatly underestimated her.”

Larry tried to grin. “I’m getting an inferiority complex,” he said.

“No need to. Whatever we feel for Eve reflects upon you. She’s your wife, Larry, and that’s what marriage is. A complete sharing. It has to be if it’s going to work.”

“Yes,” Larry said.

Baxter looked at his watch. “Can I inveigle you into dinner with Eloise and me?”

“Thanks, not tonight,” Larry said. “I’ve got to get back.”

“Well, then, I’ve got to rush. Larry, think this thing over seriously, won’t you? Time’s running short, and I want you and Eve with me. Sincerely, I do. Think it over.” Baxter smiled. “When you get right down to it, I’m sure you’ll find it’s not such a hard decision to make at all.”

The one thing Eve Cole would not admit to herself was that Larry was having an affair.

All summer long the idea spread like a plaster crack in the ceiling of her mind. With each new marital door slam, the crack widened, sending out tendrils which threatened the walls themselves. She kept her eyes away from the ceiling, unwilling to believe that so small a fissure had become so wide a chasm.

At the same time she kept waiting for the ceiling to crash down around her in a sudden implosion of plaster dust and lath. As frequently as the idea of infidelity entered her mind, it was rejected. Skirting the thought, rushing blindly around its boundaries, refusing to accept it, she found confusion rising unchallenged in her mind. Something had come into her life and her marriage, wedged itself between her and her husband with granite immobility. For perhaps the first time in her life, she felt uncertainty that summer, a terrifying, unsolvable doubt which began to upset the everyday machinery of her home.

“Can I go over to Bobby’s, Ma?” Chris would ask.

“May I,” she would correct automatically.

“Well, may I?” and Eve would think for a moment, trying to remember who Bobby was, where he lived, whether there were dangerous streets to cross.