“He did, but apparently he went on to Mexico City later. He told me he might do that when he was in here the night before he left town.”
“Some guys sure lead a hard life. I suppose he’ll come back with the birds, after it gets nice and warm and everything. You a particular friend of Avery’s?”
“Not particular. I’ve known him sort of casually ever since we were kids.”
Emerson held the envelope against the light to locate the letter inside and tore a strip off the end of the envelope. Removing the single sheet of stationery, he began to read. The letter was very brief, only a note, and the reading required no more than half a minute. Marv lifted his coffee cup and drank from it and tried to act as if he wasn’t interested. Emerson put the letter back into the envelope and began to laugh.
“What’s funny?” Marv said.
“Nothing. Nothing’s funny.”
“What the hell you laughing for, then?”
“I was just thinking about something Avery told me once.”
“Oh, well, pardon me all to hell. I certainly wouldn’t want to intrude on a private joke. How’s Avery managing to get along down there with all those Mexican gals and everything?”
“Fine. He’s married.”
“The hell you say!”
“That’s right. He married a girl in Miami and took her to Mexico City with him.”
“Well, I’ll be! Imagine old Avery doing something like that. Maybe he got hooked. You think so? Sometimes when these highbrow guys get out of town on the loose, they really pop their corks.”
“I doubt that Avery popped his cork.”
“He never seemed like the kind that would. I’ll admit that.”
“He’s not highbrow, either. Avery’s a mighty nice guy when you get to know him.”
“Hell, I didn’t mean any offense. If you say so, Em, he’s a ring-tailed wonder. He’s the greatest guy in the world. Did he say who he married?”
“Yes. A girl named Lisa Sheridan. Apparently she’s the sister of some fellow Avery knew in college. She’s from Midland City. She and her brother and Avery got together down in Miami, and it was just a natural development from there, I guess. I’m glad for Avery myself. It was time he got married.”
“Why?”
“What do you mean, why? Because he’s thirty years old and the last of his family, that’s why. Because a man needs a warm bed to get into at night, that’s why.”
“Nuts. A guy with Avery’s dough wouldn’t have any trouble finding someone to warm his bed for him. The truth of the matter is, it just drives a married guy crazy to see another guy who’s had sense enough to stay single. Misery loves company, as the saying goes.”
“Well, speaking of misery, you’re just about the most miserable bastard I’ve seen in a long time, Marv. Maybe you better have a shot in spite of the rules.”
“Nope. Can’t do it, Em. Thanks just the same.” Marv finished his coffee in a big gulp, his prominent Adam’s apple jumping over the swallow, and stood up. “Got to be on my appointed rounds. Neither sun nor rain nor sleet nor snow, et cetera. Or something like that. See you tomorrow with another load of ads for bar supplies.”
“Just so you don’t bring anything from Aunt Lucy.” Marv heaved his bag onto his shoulder and walked toward the front door. He was wearing galoshes, and the tops flopped together in passing with a harsh rasping sound. At the door he met Roscoe coming in.
“Hello, courier,” Roscoe said.
“Crap,” Marv said.
He went on out into the street on Aunt Lucy’s business, and Roscoe walked back to the rear of the bar and hung his hat and overcoat and suit coat in a closet. From the same closet he removed a starched white jacket and put it on. Back in the old days, in the old owl diner, he’d been sloppy about his clothes, and his shirts had been more often soiled than not, but since he’d come to work as bartender for Emerson, there had been a complete reversal of this, and he was always scoured and polished and pressed until he looked positively antiseptic. He walked up behind the bar from the closet to where Emerson stood looking at the rest of his mail.
“Bills?” he said.
Emerson laughed and shook his head. “Too early for bills, Roscoe. Look for them next week.”
“Just ads, I guess. Everyone selling something.”
“Mostly. There’s a letter from Avery Lawes.”
“No kidding? Looks like he’s adopted you or something. Didn’t you get a card from Miami about a month ago?”
“Nearer six weeks. He’s in Mexico City now.”
“My God, isn’t it awful to have money? Here we are, wading around in this God-damn slop, and Avery takes it easy in the sun. Wonder when he’s coming home?”
“Early spring, probably. He said so in the letter.”
“Nice. Gets cold, go away. Gets warm, come back. Well, I wish I could afford to do the same thing. Can’t take the winters like I used to. When you get older, they get rougher. Can’t shake the colds, somehow. I’ve had a snotty nose for three months.”
“You been feeling bad? Why the hell didn’t you say so? Anytime you’re feeling bad, you knock off work, Roscoe. You hear me? Anytime.”
“Who wants to knock off? As far as I’m concerned, this is the best place in the world to be. Right here in this bar. I hope I die here. Go out fast, before I know what’s hit me, no regrets and no expectations, right here with this strip of mahogany between me and the world. Mahogany’s nice, you know? Best wood there is. Only request I’ve got to make, Em, is to be buried in a mahogany box. Will you see to it?”
“You’re tough as cowhide, Roscoe. I’ll be six under long before you are.”
“Not so, Em. How old do you think I am? Close to seventy, I’ll tell you. I’ve damn near had my three score and ten. Biblical allotment, you know. The old pump has to work at things now. I can hear it breathing with its mouth open. Well, to hell with that. Anything new with Avery?”
“A wife.”
“What?”
“You heard me. A wife, I said. He’s got himself married.”
“Jesus Christ, just wait until that news breaks!”
“Why? What happens?”
“Are you kidding? It’s treason, that’s what it is. When Avery got hitched, it was supposed to be with a Corinth gal. You know that. Among the mothers with eligible daughters there will be such a weeping and wailing and gnashing of teeth as hasn’t been heard since the fall of Jerusalem.”
“You think so? You can start listening for the first sounds, then, because I just told Marv Groggins, and you know what that means.”
“Sure. If Marv had been living in 1775, Paul Revere wouldn’t have had a chance. And where would that have left Longfellow? What the hell rhymes with Groggins?”
“Noggins, toboggans, floggin’s.”
“No fair dropping g’s. Longfellow was a Harvard graduate. Wasn’t he?”
“I wouldn’t know. Anyhow, I think you’re exaggerating a little. About the reaction to Avery’s getting married, that is.”
“Well, maybe. It may not be noisy, but it will damn sure be real. Foreigners are all right in their places, you know, but Avery Lawes’ bed isn’t one of the places where they’re all right. Not with a license for it, anyhow. If I were Avery’s wife, I’d be preparing myself for dissection. Who’d you say she is?”
“I didn’t say. Her name was Lisa Sheridan, though, according to Avery’s letter. She comes from Midland City.”
“Native state, anyhow. That may help a little. How did it happen?”
“It was just a short letter. Just a note. All I know is, Avery knew her brother in college, and they happened to be staying in the same hotel in Miami. The girl and her brother were there together. I don’t think Avery had ever met her before.”
“I had an idea Avery was a confirmed bachelor. Like me. Anyhow, the best of luck to him. Good bedding, good breeding, good fortune.”