All That Is by James Salter Page A

close. I’d have been perfect for him, but he married that Hollywood cunt. Anyway, promise me something. Promise me you’ll try and get to know Travis. Will you promise that?”
    Outside the window the snow was pouring down in the early darkness. The room was comforting and secure. She was reminded of feelings of childhood, the excitement of snowstorms and the joy of Christmas and the holidays. She could see herself in the mirror in the bright room. She was like a movie star. She said so.
    “Yeah, but a little older,” Eddie said.
    “Promise me about Travis,” she ordered.
    “Yeah, but there’s something you could do for me.”
    He was a little short of money, it being Christmas and all. He needed something to tide him over.
    “How much?”
    “Tit for tat,” he said pleasantly.
    At dinner where they sat rather far apart at the big table the talk was about the storm that was raging and roads being closed. There was plenty of room for all of them to stay over, though, Liz said. She took it as a given that they would.
    “There’s plenty of bacon and plenty of eggs.”
    Eddie was talking to Travis.
    “I’ve looked forward to meeting you,” he said.
    “Me, too.”
    “Where are you from?”
    “California, originally,” Travis said. “I grew up in California. But then the war, you know. The army. I was overseas for a long time, almost two years, flying the Hump.”
    “You flew the Hump? What was that like?”
    “Rugged, rugged.” He smiled like a poster. “Mountains five miles high and we were flying blind. I lost a lot of good friends.”
    Willa was serving. Monroe had been sent upstairs to make beds.
    “Do you still fly?” Eddie asked.
    “Oh, sure. I fly out of Andrews at the moment.”
    “I hear you have a nigger general in the air corps,” Eddie said.
    “It’s the air force now,” Travis said.
    “I always heard it called the air corps.”
    “They changed it. It’s the air force now.”
    “Does it really have a nigger general?”
    “Darling, shut up,” Liz said. “Just shut up.”
    Willa had gone back to the kitchen, closing the door behind her.
    “It’s hard enough keeping good help,” Liz said.
    “Willa? Willa knows me,” Eddie said. “She knows I’m not talking about her.”
    “What branch were you in, Eddie?” Travis asked him.
    “Me? I wasn’t in a branch. The army wouldn’t take me.”
    “Why was that?”
    “Couldn’t pass the physical.”
    “Ah.”
    “I rode in the Gold Cup, that’s what I did,” Eddie said.
    Afterwards they went in to have coffee by the fire. Liz sat back on the couch with her bare arms along the top cushion and kicked off her shoes.
    “Slipper me, darling,” she said to Travis.
    He stood up without a word and got them for her but stopped short of putting them on her feet. She bent with a slight groan to do it herself.
    “You are the limit,” she said to Eddie.
    “What do you mean?”
    “You’re the limit.”
    Peter Connors, who had said very little during dinner, managed to speak briefly, alone, with Amussen. He was hesitant about it, he needed some advice. It was about Dare, he was in love with her but couldn’t be sure of where he stood.
    “You were talking to her this afternoon, I mean she got quiet when I came in. I wonder if it was about me. I know she looks up to you.”
    “We weren’t talking about you. She’s a spirited girl,” Amussen said, “they can be hard to manage.”
    “How do you go about that?”
    “I expect she’d let you know if she didn’t want you around. I’d say, be patient.”
    “I don’t want it to seem I don’t have any backbone.”
    “Of course not.”
    In a way, that was the impression he was afraid he gave, at odds with his hopes and desires. And dreams. He didn’t imagine anyone having dreams like his. She was in them, they were about her. She was naked and sitting in an armchair, one leg thrown carelessly over an arm. He is near her in a cotton robe that has fallen open. She seems indifferent