Barnums over in Buffalo, New York. Distant kin of my husband. You from around there? No? Well, I guess it’s a common enough name. From New York, you say. Well, I suppose we’ll see you boys in school.” She winked and chuckled and strode on, Dotsy trotting alone behind her.
“Hmm. Casey Stengel?” John Kemp said.
“Definitely. But how about the other one?”
“Snow White on Social Security.”
“I’ll buy that.”
“But nice,” John Kemp said. “Definitely nice.”
“Hildabeth and Dotsy.”
“Foregoing a summer of iced tea on the screened porch in Elmira. And providing for themselves, you may be sure, a full, round winter of conversation and anecdote.”
“They won’t be alone,” Parker said. “Want to ride in with me and look the town over?”
“Thanks, yes. I didn’t drive down. I’m beginning to think it would have been smart.”
When they got back a little after four, Mr. Miles Drummond came trotting out as they got out of the car and said, “I’mterribly sorry to impose on you, Mr. Barnum. This is the car you came down in, isn’t it? Well, here is what has happened. After talking to Mr. Torrigan, I don’t dare send my driver over the mountains to return after dark, and Mr. Torrigan refuses to ride with him again, and I’d ask Miss Agnes Partridge Keeley to do this, but she’s having an … uh … a digestive upset, and I thought you might be willing to run up to Mexico City to the airport and meet a Miss Monica Killdeering. She’ll be in on a six-twenty flight. There are ten students here now. There’s just Miss Killdeering, and the two young ladies who are motoring down from Texas. I hesitate to impose on you, Mr. Barnum, but …”
“But I don’t know where to find the airport.”
“I could go along and be a guide,” John Kemp said. “Between us we ought to be able to find it.”
“Would you really!” Drummond said. “That would be so good of you. I’m at my wits’ end trying to … keep everything running smoothly.” He pulled bills out of his pocket and handed one to Park Barnum. “This will pay the toll both ways on the
autopisto
. Thank you so very, very much, both of you. It’s a great help, indeed.” He scurried off.
John Kemp and Park Barnum got back into the car. “Great little organizer,” John said.
“Reminds me of something I read in a book one time. ‘He had all the administrative ability of a kitten with diarrhea.’ ”
“Wonder what kind of a name Killdeering is?”
“Indian?”
“I am under the impression there are damn few Indians named Monica.”
Park said, “I give odds she will be creepy. But there is one item present, I think. I glimpsed it from afar. A sort of tooth-some blond item. Who is she?”
John Kemp suddenly decided that maybe he wouldn’t like Parker Barnum as well as he thought he would. “She’s a Mrs. Kilmer. Barbara Kilmer. Very reticent sort. We were on the same flight from New Orleans down, but I didn’t know she’d be a classmate until they met us at the airport.”
“Too bad. Where did she come from?”
“Youngstown, Ohio.”
“Do you know where this pseudo-Indian is from?”
“I heard, but I do not believe, that she comes from Kilo, Kansas.”
* * *
The flight was late. Monica Killdeering, in a starboard seat next to the window, saw, beyond the wing, the golden tones of sunset. She was filled with such an enormous, tremulous sense of anticipation she thought she would burst. Her moist breath fogged the window and she rubbed it away with the sleeve of her suit coat.
Yes,
this
would be the summer, she thought. And she tried not to remember the other summers when she had felt precisely this same excitement that she never knew precisely what she meant by
this
.
Miss Monica Killdeering was twenty-nine years old. She had a graduate degree in Physical Education. She had been born on a prosperous Kansas farm, orphaned in a train-auto collision when she was seven, raised in Cottonwood Falls by
“Hmm. Casey Stengel?” John Kemp said.
“Definitely. But how about the other one?”
“Snow White on Social Security.”
“I’ll buy that.”
“But nice,” John Kemp said. “Definitely nice.”
“Hildabeth and Dotsy.”
“Foregoing a summer of iced tea on the screened porch in Elmira. And providing for themselves, you may be sure, a full, round winter of conversation and anecdote.”
“They won’t be alone,” Parker said. “Want to ride in with me and look the town over?”
“Thanks, yes. I didn’t drive down. I’m beginning to think it would have been smart.”
When they got back a little after four, Mr. Miles Drummond came trotting out as they got out of the car and said, “I’mterribly sorry to impose on you, Mr. Barnum. This is the car you came down in, isn’t it? Well, here is what has happened. After talking to Mr. Torrigan, I don’t dare send my driver over the mountains to return after dark, and Mr. Torrigan refuses to ride with him again, and I’d ask Miss Agnes Partridge Keeley to do this, but she’s having an … uh … a digestive upset, and I thought you might be willing to run up to Mexico City to the airport and meet a Miss Monica Killdeering. She’ll be in on a six-twenty flight. There are ten students here now. There’s just Miss Killdeering, and the two young ladies who are motoring down from Texas. I hesitate to impose on you, Mr. Barnum, but …”
“But I don’t know where to find the airport.”
“I could go along and be a guide,” John Kemp said. “Between us we ought to be able to find it.”
“Would you really!” Drummond said. “That would be so good of you. I’m at my wits’ end trying to … keep everything running smoothly.” He pulled bills out of his pocket and handed one to Park Barnum. “This will pay the toll both ways on the
autopisto
. Thank you so very, very much, both of you. It’s a great help, indeed.” He scurried off.
John Kemp and Park Barnum got back into the car. “Great little organizer,” John said.
“Reminds me of something I read in a book one time. ‘He had all the administrative ability of a kitten with diarrhea.’ ”
“Wonder what kind of a name Killdeering is?”
“Indian?”
“I am under the impression there are damn few Indians named Monica.”
Park said, “I give odds she will be creepy. But there is one item present, I think. I glimpsed it from afar. A sort of tooth-some blond item. Who is she?”
John Kemp suddenly decided that maybe he wouldn’t like Parker Barnum as well as he thought he would. “She’s a Mrs. Kilmer. Barbara Kilmer. Very reticent sort. We were on the same flight from New Orleans down, but I didn’t know she’d be a classmate until they met us at the airport.”
“Too bad. Where did she come from?”
“Youngstown, Ohio.”
“Do you know where this pseudo-Indian is from?”
“I heard, but I do not believe, that she comes from Kilo, Kansas.”
* * *
The flight was late. Monica Killdeering, in a starboard seat next to the window, saw, beyond the wing, the golden tones of sunset. She was filled with such an enormous, tremulous sense of anticipation she thought she would burst. Her moist breath fogged the window and she rubbed it away with the sleeve of her suit coat.
Yes,
this
would be the summer, she thought. And she tried not to remember the other summers when she had felt precisely this same excitement that she never knew precisely what she meant by
this
.
Miss Monica Killdeering was twenty-nine years old. She had a graduate degree in Physical Education. She had been born on a prosperous Kansas farm, orphaned in a train-auto collision when she was seven, raised in Cottonwood Falls by
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