Classic Love: 7 Vintage Romances (10 page)

“Good.”

“And he wants us over this week. He said he tried to get in touch with you this afternoon.”

“I see, well yes, I’ve been out.”

“He suggested Thursday. Is Thursday all right with you?”

“Yup. Thursday will be fine.”

“He said if it isn’t it can be another day.”

“No, Thursday’s okay.”

“Anyway, he’s to ring you up this evening. It’s evening now, and he may be trying to get you, so I shall buzz off. Call me when you have it settled, will you? I’ll pick you up.”

She was in the midst of dinner preparations when the phone rang again. “Is this a bad time to call?” Jack asked. She said no, it was a good time to get her and if she sounded tearful not to wonder about it. “I’ve been peeling onions. Rodney said you tried to get me earlier. I’ve only been home a short while.”

“As for the onions,” he advised, “munch on a piece of bread. It does the trick, at least for me. I won’t keep you long, I just wanted to know if you and Rodney could come over for afternoon drinks on Thursday. If not, what day would be better for you?”

“I can make it and so can Rodney. He said you had a nice talk over the phone.”

There was a slight hesitation. “I — uh, didn’t say we’d met the other day. Possibly I thought his nose might be out of joint. For some reason I — ”

“It’s all right, I didn’t say anything either. It’s of no importance at all. What time would you like us on Thursday?”

“About two or so?”

“Very good. I take it your sofa’s back home?”

“And looking very posh, I don’t even recognize it.”

“So they did a good job.”

“Fantastic. It exceeds my wildest expectations.”

“And we won’t have to sit on the floor.”

“Or the toilet seat.”

“I would call that a giant step.”

“So would I. Now I can offer you a place to sit down, ain’t that ritzy?”

“Seriously, I’m so eager to see the apartment again. I felt like moving in myself when I was there. It’s just the kind of place I adore. Okay, Jack, around two on Thursday, and I’ll be looking forward to it.”

She went back to the onions. He said to munch on a piece of bread, she remembered, and broke off part of a slice from the loaf. It didn’t do much, but then of course the damage had already been done. Thursday, two o’clock — she would take something, of course. Maybe a plant. Plants would do well in that big sunny room. Perhaps a little orange tree, it would be a cut above your philodendron or baby’s tears.

“Keep the aspidistra flying,” was one of Rodney’s British phrases. She had no idea what an aspidistra looked like. Out of curiosity she might ask the florist, but it wouldn’t be an aspidistra anyway, it would be an orange tree. He seemed like the sort of guy who’d enjoy eyeing those brilliant little fruit-lings. Thursday, two o’clock, she scribbled on the counter-top calendar. Allerton.

She couldn’t remember the address number, but it didn’t matter, she knew the house. The house had reminded her of her first apartment building, after leaving home, on Ninety-second Street. She wouldn’t live that far up now, in these changing times, but in those days it had been a safe area. She had loved that apartment, and still thought of it with pensive fondness. The first home of her own. She never went that far uptown now, ending her walks in that direction at Eighty-sixth Street, which was only wise. But it was also because she didn’t want to see the building that had housed her young self. Better to remember it with a sentimental affection. It would be like confronting a ghost to come across it again, in some careless moment. It would be like resurrecting the dead.

“Oh, you brought a present too,” Rodney said when Christine opened the door for him.

“Just an obligatory one, I couldn’t really pick out anything else without knowing his tastes. This is just a plant, an orange tree. What have you got there, Rodney?”

“An ashtray for him. He smokes, and probably a lot when he’s writing, so I got a big one.”

“That’s thoughtful. If you’ll carry this I’ll carry your package.”

He hefted the foil-wrapped plant, which was of considerable size and weight. “It’s heavy,” she said. “We’ll get a cab.”

“No, let’s walk.”

“You don’t want to tote that all the way over to Sixty-first.”

“I don’t mind at all.”

“It’s up to you.”

“You said an orange tree? I’d like an orange tree.”

“You can’t have one in your place. You have a good, soft, gentle light, but you need strong, direct sun for a fruit tree. You don’t think a plant’s too chintzy for a gentleman, then?”

“Certainly not. I mean to buy some, I just don’t know what kind. The ashtray I bought is ceramic, interesting design. I went to Royal Copenhagen, as I intended to present him with something magnificent, but everything in the size I wanted cost about a hundred and fifty dollars. So I found this elsewhere. I didn’t want it to look ostentatious.”

“How are you doing moneywise?”

“Managing.”

“Talked to your mother lately?”

“You mean has she threatened to cut off my allowance due to wild extravagance?”

“No, I just meant how is she. Are you being wildly extravagant?”

“Not at tall. I’m really awfully tight. Stingy, you know. That’s why the girl I met suits me very well.”

“You met a girl? At last? Where?”

“Jack put me on to her. When he called on Monday. She lives in his old building, where he was before he moved to where he is now. She’s a Gaslight Girl.”

“A what?”

“She works at a place called the Gaslight Club. At night. It sounds seedy, but it’s not really.”

“You’ve been there?”

He was elaborately offhand. “I took her over there, so I could see what it was like. It’s rather amusing, quite harmless, no leather jackets.”

“Jack told you about her on Monday. You didn’t waste any time, I see.”

“I was naturally curious.”

“Naturally. Well, she must be a decent girl if Jack suggested your getting in touch with her.”

“As a matter of fact, very proper. I couldn’t get in her knickers even if I cared to try.”

She said it was nice to know that some girls were protective of themselves, but why
didn’t
he care to try? “Isn’t she comely?”

“Pretty as a pixie,” he assured her cheerfully.

“Well?”

“Too many other things to do,” he replied blithely. “Plus I don’t get worked up over a girl who doesn’t send out feelers.”

“Just like a man, you all want to be cozened with Delilah ways and suggestive perfumes. If she works at night how can you take her out?”

“During the day, I expect. She had me to lunch yesterday. Not a bad little cook. She’s a good stick.”

She glanced at him. Rodney certainly seemed unpreoccupied with sexual matters. Was he a fag, after all? But she thought not. He was very egoistic, even egotistic, absorbed with himself most of all. Also, he was lazy.

“She promised to make me a soufflé,” he announced. “I told her I was keen on them.”

“I see,” she said dryly. “Is she going to darn your socks as well?”

He grinned. “Haven’t got round to asking her yet.”

“As a rule what do you do about meals? I mean at night, dinner?”

“Take-out,” he enlightened her. “You can get a nice little roast chicken at a Safeway on Third, it does you for two meals. There’s a good deli on Eighty-sixth Street. Madison Avenue. All sorts of juicy meats, roast beef, and things like smoked salmon. Sturgeon too. Potato salad and all that. It’s not at all difficult.”

He grinned again. “And once in a while a friend of mine invites me to dinner, Christine Jennings. I believe you have a nodding acquaintance with her.”

“I’d ask you more often, but you have your own life to live, Rodney. I don’t want to be a mother hen.”

“I never think of you
that
way,” he said rakishly, shifting the plant from one arm to the other.

“We should have taken a cab, you’ll be muscle-bound.”

“It’s a bit awkward, that’s all. Anyway, we’re not far now.”

A few blocks farther he indicated a corner spot on the street. “A film crew was shooting a scene there the other day. Most interesting, you know. I’m told they make a lot of pictures in this city now.”

“I guess they do.”

“Two people running out of that house across the street, one in full chase of the other. I didn’t recognize the players. They did it over and over, about a hundred times. I was exhausted just watching them. I couldn’t see any difference in the way it was done, it all looked exactly the same. Much gesticulating and arm waving. It must be smashing to make movies, I know I’d certainly like to take a shot at it.”

They turned at Jack’s street, walking to Third, then down a little more than halfway to his building, Christine consulting her watch. It was two-ten. Just about right, give him a few last minutes’ grace. These stone steps must be hazardous in winter, she thought. She pressed Jack’s bell on the brass plate. The answering buzz sounded almost instantly.

Her original impression remained: this was a well maintained building, one of the better ones. It seemed there were still decent rentals at relatively reasonable cost left in this fast-changing city, though scarce as hen’s teeth.

Jack stood looking down at them as they hiked up. “I knew you were coming so I baked a cake,” he said. “I’m kidding. Hello, Christine, good to see you again. Rodney …”

“I suppose I should have baked a cake,” she said. “I brought this along instead.”

“Ah, Christine …”

She watched him peeling off the protective foil. His hands were deft and quick. They were good hands, shaped well, long-fingered and with the nails clipped short and clean. He was such a dark-skinned man, with crisp dark hair extending from the rolled-up sleeves of his blue and white striped shirt to the wrist, where it came to a stop. He was probably six feet in height, but he gave the impression of being taller. It was because he was thin, markedly thin, and his bones were large enough to accommodate more weight.

He looked strong and capable, a sinewy type. He had a face that was grave in repose, sometimes even somber, but when he smiled it became open and boyish. He was smiling now, holding the plant in both hands, and he really looked delighted. “It’s a beauty,” he said. “Oranges, Christine, thanks. Thanks a hell of a lot. But you — ”

“It’s just a thought, nothing at all. And this is from Rodney. Here, you give it to him, Rodney.”

“My God, I feel like crawling in a hole. I didn’t think of you
bringing
anything, for God’s sake. I hate to mess up this nifty paper, it seems a shame. But an ashtray — one that won’t spill over, how great, how great. Rodney, it’s beautiful, the colors I like, it’s much too nice for a slob like me. Christ, you should both be spanked. I’m horribly embarrassed, I never thought you’d arrive bearing gifts.”

“Mine isn’t a gift, it’s just a token. Ah, this
is
a lovely room, Jack. Simply luminous with light.”

“I’m afraid it’s really precipitate, my asking you here so early in the game,” he apologized. “There’s no way I can get all that crap off the floor until I find something to put it in. I hope you can close your eyes to it. And I want to scrap that godawful coffee table and get a better one, and I need chairs, a lounge chair and two straight-backed ones. What do you think of the sofa? It’s a rather light color, the new stuff, but it’s stain resistant, so — ”

“It’s perfect. It’s not near the windows, so it won’t get sooty. It’s a beautiful fabric, sturdy too, it will wear well, Jack.”

“I’m kind of proud of it. It looked pretty sick before I had the reupholstering done, as a matter of fact decidedly tatty, but it has good lines and I couldn’t see investing in a new one. Listen to me, I sound like an old biddy.”

“You don’t look like an old biddy. You look very masculine and handsome and pleased with yourself.”

“Oh, I am, very pleased with myself. I keep opening and closing the shutters at the windows, like a witless fool, I’m nuts about them. I stretch out on the sofa and smirk at the ceiling, all that fantastic rococo, like a ballroom. Ain’t that something? Now if I can only fill in with the right items, get that shit off the floor and some seating other than the sofa I’ll be able to marshal my thoughts at the typewriter.”

He stood there, pounding one fist against the palm of the other hand, all energy and enthusiasm, so lean and tall and rangy, so dark-browed and lanky. She must have been out of her mind to let him get away, Christine thought, and wondered what bones of contention, mutual or unilateral, had led to that divorce. “About the stuff on the floor,” she said. “Rodney and I saw something that would be fine for this room, would you be interested? An armoire. Not for hanging clothes, you understand, but the kind of storage piece you want. Compartmented, large, with two big, deep drawers. I’m sure you could shovel all those things in with room to spare for more.”

She pointed. “Against that far wall. With a chair on either side of it. Very decorative, Jack. Grand Rapids, admittedly, but really very tasteful, with carved doors and brass handles with a dull finish.”

“And not pricey,” Rodney said. “I wanted it, but Chris said it was too big for my place.”

“Sounds fantastic. Sounds like just what the doctor ordered. How much, do you remember?”

“I do,” Rodney said. “Five hundred eighty-nine. I still wish I could have had it.”

“We saw it at Sloane’s. Well, their outlet store. You can get very good buys there, and no wait for delivery because they’re not floor samples. I don’t know whether you want to pay that much.”

“No no, it fits into my budget okay. Will it still be there?”

“If it isn’t we can find something else.”

He threw her a glance. “You said ‘we’?”

She laughed. “I didn’t mean to take over. Well, yes, I guess I was thinking along those lines. You’d better tell me to mind my own business, I’m a bossy type.”

“I’d give my eyeteeth to have you take over. Think twice before you go any further. You don’t know what you might be letting yourself in for. Okay, you’ve thought twice? Thanks very much, I accept your offer of help, Christine.”

They were all laughing now, Rodney saying that she should go in the business of furnishing flats for helpless bachelors, get a fee for her services. “Seriously,” Jack protested, “I really can’t ask you to go through all that again, Christine.”

“I enjoyed helping Rodney, I’d enjoy helping you, Jack. It’s just that I’m an old hand at this kind of thing, I have a good feel for where to pick up hard-to-find odds and ends. I know you’re keen to be of serene mind.”

“It would certainly be a Godsend,” he admitted. “I have no imagination at all and I’m always intimidated by salesclerks, I feel rotten when they spend their time with me and I don’t buy.”

“A writer with no imagination? Impossible.”

“That’s as far as it goes, plots and all that. All right, sit yourselves down and I’ll get our drinks.”

“First, may I see the rest of your place?”

“Sure, come on. Rodney?”

“Yes — well, do you mind if I look at your books in the shelves, Jack? You have a smashing library.”

“Not too bad. Go ahead. I don’t lend, I’m a crank about that, but I just might make an exception in your case, Rodney.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t borrow. I’d just like to browse through them, if I may.”

In the hall between the rooms Jack said he was going to put up a few prints. “Take the curse off its being so narrow. This is okay though, just the way it is,” he said of the kitchen. “Maybe an iron rack for pots and pans, but that’s about it. As I said, I don’t make a production over meals.”

The yellow wallpaper brightened the windowless room: it was cheery and cozy, with a white ice cream table against the wall. “You could have a couple of chairs for the table,” Christine suggested.

“Why a couple?” he countered. “There’s only one of me.”

“Just for the sake of symmetry.”

“For breakfast, you mean. I stand up at the counter.”

“I used to do that too, when I lived alone.”

He put his hands in his pockets, considering. “Maybe chairs, yeah. What kind should I get?”

“Ladder backs, rush seats. Simple and countryish. They cost very little.”

“You know where to find them, I gather.”

“I grew up in this city. I know where to find anything, everything.”

“Are you really going to take time out of your life to give me aid and succor?”

“I have a lot of time.”

“I would like to see that storage piece you spoke of. Where did you say it was?”

“Eighty-fifth between Second and Third.”

“The chairs, the ladder backs. I could latch onto those at the same time, maybe?”

“Could be. Would you like to take a run over tomorrow?”

“I’d like very much to take a run over tomorrow.”

“Then how about meeting me there at around ten-thirty?”

“It’s a date.”

“I hope it will fill the bill for you. I think it’s lovely. I like your centerpiece on the table, Jack.”

It was a glass liter filled with dried flowers. “It’ll do,” he said. “Understated. And with the rack for pots and pans — I thought I’d get some with copper bottoms. Mostly just for show. As I said, I don’t bother much. I can make a pretty good pot roast, though.”

“With a bay leaf?”

“Of course with a bay leaf. Eye of round, I don’t dig brisket.”

“Neither do I. This is fun. I like being here. May I see the bedroom?”

“Rather forward of you, but always glad to oblige.”

“Oh, stuff it,” she said, smiling, and followed him. “Voilà,” he said at the door. “I don’t plan to fuss this up, what’s here is all that’s going to be here. It’s too minuscule to do much with.”

“It’s cute. A narrower bed would give you more walking space, though.”