attractive woman has accustomed herself to an almost masculine directness, her batting average can run unreasonably high. And such was her skill she had injected a thoroughly steamy overtone into the conversation without ever having committed herself in any way.
Were I to dutifully trundle her off to the gold and white lobby and up to my plastic aerie, she would arrange to get herself kissed, then laugh fondly and patronizingly and chide me for being a dear silly boy, then put her black dress on a hanger and carefully turban her intricate hair with a towel to keep it from being mussed, and graciously, generously, coyly present herself for service, giving her explicit executive secretarial instructions and requests in that light-bodied, musical, secretive voice. October madness, my dear. Everything sufficient to the moment. We all have to settle for what we can get.
Eased and content, she would dress with great care, making a gay chatter all the while, and, at the door, pat my cheek fondly and call me a dear boy, quite confident I would never never forget this magical afternoon when a veritable princess had brightened my drab days with her impulsive generosity.
Playing it her way, a game for which I had no stomach, would end the relationship. Offending her would end it just as readily. If I were to learn anything from her, I had to achieve some kind of continuity.
"Bonita, I could prove that the rooms are not little white boxes, but I think Walker might wake up in a bad temper."
"Walker?"
"He was a little too tight to drive back to the country last night. Bunny's nephew."
"oh?"
"Bunny Rodriguez. Terry mentioned her."
"Oh, yes, of course," she said with a little uncertain frown between her golden brows. "When I left to meet Terry, he didn't look as if he would wake up until Monday." I smiled at her. "There's an old phrase: Had I but known."
She reached swiftly and patted my hand. "Tours of inspection are dull things at best, my dear. And we certainly don't want to disturb Walker, do we?"
"I could have him evicted."
"You're fun, Trav. I do like being with you."
"A pair of refugees from Terry Drummond. I suppose it's the money. People with that kind of money are never quite real. I can't imagine Charles McKewn Armister as being quite real, Bonita."
"Oh he is, definitely. But he does have some unreal attitudes, I suppose. I remember while I was still working for Bay. That was well over a year ago, before Charles became ill. Charles came back from having lunch at one of his clubs one day, and he was very indignant. He was used to paying a dollar and a half for his lunch, and they had raised the price to a dollar sixty-five. He wrote an indignant letter to the house committee. I suppose he had lunch there twenty times a year. Twenty times fifteen cents comes to three dollars. And it was that same month that he and his wife gave seven hundred thousand dollars to Princeton. Out of foundation monies of course. But the contrast."
"Terry said he doesn't use his clubs any more."
There was a cold flicker in her pale blue eyes. "Not lately. You see, they are making huge changes in the investment setup of the Armister money. And when Charlie goes out, even if he went to a private club, there'are just too many people who are too anxious to find out what the plans are, and suggest things and try to gain some advantage. After all, when you start moving some seventy millions of dollars about, people get some terribly clever ideas. It's part of my job to… to insulate Charlie from those people." She patted my hand again, more lingeringly. "But I don't want to talk shop, dear. This is a rare day off for me. It's practically a vacation. I should be back at the apartment by seven at the latest."
"And here it is quarter to four. Will I be able to see you soon again, Bonita?"
She looked rueful. "It's really terribly difficult, Trav. I'm at their beck and call."
"Aren't your evenings your own?"
"They should be. But it hasn't worked
Were I to dutifully trundle her off to the gold and white lobby and up to my plastic aerie, she would arrange to get herself kissed, then laugh fondly and patronizingly and chide me for being a dear silly boy, then put her black dress on a hanger and carefully turban her intricate hair with a towel to keep it from being mussed, and graciously, generously, coyly present herself for service, giving her explicit executive secretarial instructions and requests in that light-bodied, musical, secretive voice. October madness, my dear. Everything sufficient to the moment. We all have to settle for what we can get.
Eased and content, she would dress with great care, making a gay chatter all the while, and, at the door, pat my cheek fondly and call me a dear boy, quite confident I would never never forget this magical afternoon when a veritable princess had brightened my drab days with her impulsive generosity.
Playing it her way, a game for which I had no stomach, would end the relationship. Offending her would end it just as readily. If I were to learn anything from her, I had to achieve some kind of continuity.
"Bonita, I could prove that the rooms are not little white boxes, but I think Walker might wake up in a bad temper."
"Walker?"
"He was a little too tight to drive back to the country last night. Bunny's nephew."
"oh?"
"Bunny Rodriguez. Terry mentioned her."
"Oh, yes, of course," she said with a little uncertain frown between her golden brows. "When I left to meet Terry, he didn't look as if he would wake up until Monday." I smiled at her. "There's an old phrase: Had I but known."
She reached swiftly and patted my hand. "Tours of inspection are dull things at best, my dear. And we certainly don't want to disturb Walker, do we?"
"I could have him evicted."
"You're fun, Trav. I do like being with you."
"A pair of refugees from Terry Drummond. I suppose it's the money. People with that kind of money are never quite real. I can't imagine Charles McKewn Armister as being quite real, Bonita."
"Oh he is, definitely. But he does have some unreal attitudes, I suppose. I remember while I was still working for Bay. That was well over a year ago, before Charles became ill. Charles came back from having lunch at one of his clubs one day, and he was very indignant. He was used to paying a dollar and a half for his lunch, and they had raised the price to a dollar sixty-five. He wrote an indignant letter to the house committee. I suppose he had lunch there twenty times a year. Twenty times fifteen cents comes to three dollars. And it was that same month that he and his wife gave seven hundred thousand dollars to Princeton. Out of foundation monies of course. But the contrast."
"Terry said he doesn't use his clubs any more."
There was a cold flicker in her pale blue eyes. "Not lately. You see, they are making huge changes in the investment setup of the Armister money. And when Charlie goes out, even if he went to a private club, there'are just too many people who are too anxious to find out what the plans are, and suggest things and try to gain some advantage. After all, when you start moving some seventy millions of dollars about, people get some terribly clever ideas. It's part of my job to… to insulate Charlie from those people." She patted my hand again, more lingeringly. "But I don't want to talk shop, dear. This is a rare day off for me. It's practically a vacation. I should be back at the apartment by seven at the latest."
"And here it is quarter to four. Will I be able to see you soon again, Bonita?"
She looked rueful. "It's really terribly difficult, Trav. I'm at their beck and call."
"Aren't your evenings your own?"
"They should be. But it hasn't worked
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