— It's two twenty, he said consulting no more than her hands seizing one in the other, following her haste through to where her coat lay flung over the newel.
— I won't be back till after dark/ I mean it gets dark so early now but if you need anything, if your work keeps you here I mean there's food in the refrigerator if you, if you get hungry before you go… She reached for the coat but he already had it, holding it up for her — because I won't get home till it's dark and that, Halloween out there, if they did that last night… she'd turned, a hand back to hold her hair up away from the sudden glint of perspiration beading the white of her neck where he settled the collar, — what they'll do tonight… All she'd get tonight would be the little ones in costume he told her, getting the door open on the blown leaves, the disconsolate streamers, the shaving cream exhortation across the black stream of the road where he watched her hesitant step down as one into the chill of unfamiliar waters, watched her down past the carrion crow raising scarcely a flutter before he pressed the door closed for the snap of the lock.
Then he stood there, his gaze foreshortened to the stitched silence of the sampler's When we've matched our buttons… and when he did turn it was to walk over to the alcove and stand there looking out; to pause over the cyclamen, flick its silk petals for dust; to stand running a hand over the rosewood curve of a dining room chair looking over the plants, looking out past them to the unraked lawn, pressing a loose moulding into place with his foot each step, coming through to the kitchen, retracing steps leading him back through the sliding door to stand, where he could approach them close enough, reading the titles of books, taking one down to blow it off and replace it or simply run a finger down the spine, before he got over to light another cigarette and spread another folder on the litter before him. There he turned papers, removed one, dropped another crumpled into the Wise Potato Chips Hoppin' With Flavor! carton at his feet, folded, tore, made another cigarette put down beside one still smouldering in the yellowed dip of marble at his elbow shattering its still blue curl of smoke with an abrupt exhalation of grey to stare at a page, at a diagram, a map detail, a torn shred of newspaper already yellowed and he was up again, staring out through the clouded pane at the halting drift of the old celebrant out there, broom and flattened dustpan going on before, his wavering course to the dented repository ahead broken by doubtful pauses, getting his bearings, gaping aloft at faith stretched fine in the toilet paper celebration overhead. Inside there he poured another ounce of the whisky and went back to the kitchen, to the dining room, stopping to square the table and draw the chairs up even around it, putting his hands on things, till finally his steps took him mounting the stairs themselves and down the hall to the open bedroom to stand in its doorway looking, simply looking at the empty bed there. He'd come back up the hall, past sodden mounds of towels, socks, a long glimpse in at the white frill there in the bathroom basin when something, a movement no more than the flutter of a bird's wing, caught his eye through the glass at the foot of the stairs and he stepped back. Then the sound, no more than the sharp rustle of a branch, and the door came open, went closed again on the figure abruptly inside, one small hand on the newel like something alighted there. — Lester?
— What are you doing here.
— You didn't know? It's my house… He came out on the stairs, — you should have told me you were coming, saved you some trouble… and down them, — you could have been up on a morals charge.
— What are you talking about.
— The ladies' room at Saks.
— Still getting it all wrong aren't you, McCandless… and in fact the plastic card he'd sprung the lock with was still in his hand. — Always getting it wrong… and the card went thrust into a pocket of the speckled tweed jacket that seemed, from behind now, to draw the narrow shoulders even more close as he stood by the coffee table looking about. — Interesting old house, you know what you've got here? the head cocked this way, that, — it's a classic piece of Hudson river carpenter gothic, you know that?
— I know that, Lester.
— All designed from the outside, that tower there, the roof peaks, they drew a picture of it and squeezed the rooms in later… darting now along the line of the ceiling moulding to the crumbled plaster finial where it met the alcove's arch, — you've got a roof leak there… as though he'd come to give an appraisal, come up to buy the place, — have it fixed before it gets worse. You getting into the redhead?
— You should have asked her.
From the alcove back to the chimneypiece and down, his steps followed his glance through to the kitchen as the phone rang and he stood there at the table studying the smudges, crosses, hails of arrows till it stopped ringing. — She got kids?
— You should have asked her.
And at the sliding door now, — I thought you were neater than this, McCandless. What was this, the garage? He stepped in over the cascaded books, a carton marked glass, fluttered a hand up to stir the still planes of smoke. — I thought you were going to quit those cigarettes… He turned half perched on the edge of an open filing cabinet. — You see these white doors from the outside, it still looks like a garage. Who did all the work in here, put in all these bookshelves, you? But all that came back was a puff of smoke, a hand reaching past him for the thumbprinted glass. — You know that's the worst thing you can do at your age? the cigarettes and the whisky? They work together, kill the circulation. Lose a couple of toes and you'll see what I mean.
— How about a couple of thumbs.
— Maybe you got it backwards. Maybe that never really happened, McCandless. Maybe what really happened was what happened in your rotten novel… The boots dangled bump, bumping against the metal file. — I didn't hear about it for a month. I didn't hear about it till I was back in Nairobi. Maybe it was just bar talk.
— No no no, don't try that on me no, you knew damned well I was still there when you pulled out. You knew they had Seiko.
— Seiko was theirs. He knew what was coming… Bump, bump, — trouble with you McCandless, you'd always blame somebody else wouldn't you. What do you know about the redhead.
— They rented the house, they got it through an agent that's all. Is that what you want to know? what you came all the way up here for? Worried about my health, chat about architecture is that what you…
— Just taking an interest… One of the boots thrust out to flick open a manila folder heaped on the floor. — You rented them the house, what are you doing here.
— Cleaning things up. I came up here to get things cleaned up what about you. What in hell are you doing here.
— What things.
— All of it. Everything.
— Quite a job. At your age that's quite a job isn't it… Pages spilled from the manila folder with a stab of his boot. — What's this.
— Read it. Take it with you and read it.
— I don't want to read it. I don't need to read it… He bent over the file drawer to push aside a folder, another, — maybe I can help you. Clean all this up you'll need some help won't you, he brought up papers in a handful, caught one from dropping with the rest — here's your accident policy with Bai Sim Casualty, Burundi, convenient offices everywhere. Loss of life five thousand dollars, taken out by Lendro Mining that's not very flattering is it.
— One trip, that was one trip across the… — Now wait, wait. Loss of both hands, both feet, both eyes, a hand or a foot and an eye you still pick up the five thousand. That's not bad is it. Nothing here about thumbs though… He'd glanced up at the tobacco spilling from the ends of a paper being drawn into a new cigarette, — or toes, it's got to be the whole hand or foot. Loss means actual severance through or above wrist or ankle joints for hands or feet, maybe you'll have better luck next time… and he let it fall with a new handful of envelopes, ticket folders, a prescription — didn't know you needed glasses, I never saw you with glasses here, you better hang on to this… He held out a bank note, — ever get back over there you may need it. What are these.