two should see if you haven’t already — That town at Christmastime is something.”
They glanced at each other, and India shrugged indifferently. I wondered if she was mad at me for some reason. After coffee, we walked toward St. Stephen’s Cathedral; I put my gloves on. I was sure it was getting colder, but neither of them showed any sign of it. They were dressed for a day in late spring.
The restaurant was surprisingly full. Paul nodded to people at several tables while the hostess led us to ours. It was close to a large picture window that gave a full view of the Stadtpark and the purple puff clouds that hung, unmoving, over it.
“The reason why I asked before about what you’re doing over the holidays, Joey, is because we’re going to Italy for five days and wanted to know if you’d like to come with us?”
I zapped a look at India, but her face said nothing. Where had this come from? Whose idea was it? I didn’t know what the hell I was supposed to say. I opened my mouth twice like a hungry fish, but nothing came out.
“Is that supposed to mean yes?”
“Yes, I guess … Sure, yes!” I fiddled with my napkin. It fell on the floor. When I bent down to get it, I pulled a muscle in my back. It hurt. I tried to get my mind to race into every corner at once to find out what was going on here. India sure wasn’t helping much.
“That’s great. Well, now that we’ve got that settled, you kids’ll have to excuse me for a minute. I’ll be back in two shakes.” Paul got up, briefcase in hand, and headed out of the room.
I watched until I heard the crunch of celery in my ear. I turned to see India pointing a long green stalk at me.
“Don’t you dare ask me how it happened, Joe. The whole thing was his idea. He woke up this morning in a big lather and wanted to know what I thought of it. What could I say? No? Maybe he thinks he’s doing penance or something for being suspicious of you before.”
“I don’t know. It gives me the willies.”
“You and me both, Joe. But I don’t want to talk about it today. It’s far away, and a lot can happen. Let’s eat lots of turkey now and be happy.”
“That might be a little difficult.” I nervously wiped my mouth with my napkin.
“Quiet! I want you to tell me what the Lennox family used to do for Thanksgiving. Did you guys eat turkey?”
“No, as a matter of fact. My brother, Ross, didn’t like it, so we had goose instead.”
“Goose? Whoever heard of eating goose on Thanksgiving? That Ross sounds like a real weirdo, Joe.”
“Weirdo? It’s not the right word for him. He … Do you know you ask about him a lot, India?”
“Yep. Does it bother you? You want to know why? Because he sounds like an interesting demon.” She smiled and plucked an olive off my plate.
“Do you like demons?”
“Only if they’re interesting.” She took another olive off my plate. “Do you know that line from Isak Dinesen: ‘It is a moving thing to work together with a demon’?”
The waiter brought the salad, which cut off the rest of whatever else she was going to say. We ate for a while, and then she put down her fork and continued.
“Paul was a little demon when we first met. It’s amazing, huh? It’s true though. He had hundreds of unpaid traffic tickets, and he used to shoplift with the coolest expression on his face you ever saw.”
“Paul? Steal?”
“That’s right.”
“I can’t believe it. My brother used to shoplift too. He once stole all our presents for Christmas.”
“Really? How marvelous! See, he was interesting! I’ll tell you something else too — you describe him with the most mixed emotions I’ve ever heard. One day he sounds like your hero, and the next you make him out to be Jack the Ripper.”
We talked about it. The main course came, and the waiter asked if he should serve Paul’s too or wait until he returned. I looked at my watch and with a jolt realized how long he had been gone. I looked at India to see if she
They glanced at each other, and India shrugged indifferently. I wondered if she was mad at me for some reason. After coffee, we walked toward St. Stephen’s Cathedral; I put my gloves on. I was sure it was getting colder, but neither of them showed any sign of it. They were dressed for a day in late spring.
The restaurant was surprisingly full. Paul nodded to people at several tables while the hostess led us to ours. It was close to a large picture window that gave a full view of the Stadtpark and the purple puff clouds that hung, unmoving, over it.
“The reason why I asked before about what you’re doing over the holidays, Joey, is because we’re going to Italy for five days and wanted to know if you’d like to come with us?”
I zapped a look at India, but her face said nothing. Where had this come from? Whose idea was it? I didn’t know what the hell I was supposed to say. I opened my mouth twice like a hungry fish, but nothing came out.
“Is that supposed to mean yes?”
“Yes, I guess … Sure, yes!” I fiddled with my napkin. It fell on the floor. When I bent down to get it, I pulled a muscle in my back. It hurt. I tried to get my mind to race into every corner at once to find out what was going on here. India sure wasn’t helping much.
“That’s great. Well, now that we’ve got that settled, you kids’ll have to excuse me for a minute. I’ll be back in two shakes.” Paul got up, briefcase in hand, and headed out of the room.
I watched until I heard the crunch of celery in my ear. I turned to see India pointing a long green stalk at me.
“Don’t you dare ask me how it happened, Joe. The whole thing was his idea. He woke up this morning in a big lather and wanted to know what I thought of it. What could I say? No? Maybe he thinks he’s doing penance or something for being suspicious of you before.”
“I don’t know. It gives me the willies.”
“You and me both, Joe. But I don’t want to talk about it today. It’s far away, and a lot can happen. Let’s eat lots of turkey now and be happy.”
“That might be a little difficult.” I nervously wiped my mouth with my napkin.
“Quiet! I want you to tell me what the Lennox family used to do for Thanksgiving. Did you guys eat turkey?”
“No, as a matter of fact. My brother, Ross, didn’t like it, so we had goose instead.”
“Goose? Whoever heard of eating goose on Thanksgiving? That Ross sounds like a real weirdo, Joe.”
“Weirdo? It’s not the right word for him. He … Do you know you ask about him a lot, India?”
“Yep. Does it bother you? You want to know why? Because he sounds like an interesting demon.” She smiled and plucked an olive off my plate.
“Do you like demons?”
“Only if they’re interesting.” She took another olive off my plate. “Do you know that line from Isak Dinesen: ‘It is a moving thing to work together with a demon’?”
The waiter brought the salad, which cut off the rest of whatever else she was going to say. We ate for a while, and then she put down her fork and continued.
“Paul was a little demon when we first met. It’s amazing, huh? It’s true though. He had hundreds of unpaid traffic tickets, and he used to shoplift with the coolest expression on his face you ever saw.”
“Paul? Steal?”
“That’s right.”
“I can’t believe it. My brother used to shoplift too. He once stole all our presents for Christmas.”
“Really? How marvelous! See, he was interesting! I’ll tell you something else too — you describe him with the most mixed emotions I’ve ever heard. One day he sounds like your hero, and the next you make him out to be Jack the Ripper.”
We talked about it. The main course came, and the waiter asked if he should serve Paul’s too or wait until he returned. I looked at my watch and with a jolt realized how long he had been gone. I looked at India to see if she
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