“That sounds like a toast. Did you make it up?”
“Right in my old bald head.”
“I’d like to drink it to him, Roscoe. To Avery and his new wife. In good bourbon.”
“Old Taylor, Old Crow, Old Grandad?”
“You pick it and pour it.”
Roscoe set out two glasses and reached for a bottle. “What’s given you this sudden affection for Avery Lawes?” he said.
“Can’t a man wish another man well in his marriage without being in love with him?”
“Sure, he can, Em. A guy like you wishes everyone well, because it’s the way he’s put together, but I’ve got a feeling this is a little more than that. It’s almost you’re worried about him. Like you’re afraid he isn’t going to have the luck you’re wishing for him.”
Emerson looked into the good bourbon and remembered the night he’d driven Avery home. He had remembered it often, and it bothered him, and he didn’t like being bothered, and he wished there was some way to get it out of his mind for good and all. The trouble was, he couldn’t lose the feeling that Avery had been appealing for help that night, and that he, Emerson, had given him none whatever. But what the hell! A guy all fouled up inside might need help, and he might need it bad, but Emerson Page was the last person on earth he ought to go to to try to get it. Emerson Page just wasn’t any good at that kind of stuff, even if he tried, and the only kind of trouble he could understand a guy’s having was something like going broke or getting arrested or having a fight with his wife.
“Did I ever tell you about the night I drove Avery home?” he said. “Last November, it was. The night before he left for Miami.”
“I remember the night. You never told me anything about it, though.”
“Actually, there isn’t a lot to tell. He was just all wound up, that’s all. But it didn’t seem like something recent. You know what I mean. Not like something that had come in a hurry, over something in particular, and would leave the same way. It was something that had been building up in him for a long time. For years.”
“Maybe he just needed what he found in Miami and took to Mexico City.”
“Sure. That’s probably it. Well, anyhow, here it is, Roscoe. To Avery Lawes and Mrs. Avery Lawes. Good bedding, good breeding, good fortune.”
They touched glasses and drank the mellow bourbon. Roscoe took the glasses and dripped them in a solution of disinfectant and began to polish them. Through the archway in the dining room, the luncheon crowd had started to gather, and Emerson stood listening to the undulation of voices in the aggregate and the small, brisk sounds of service. Three men came in from the street and lined up at the bar, and Roscoe went to take care of them. He set out three bottles of Budweiser with glasses and returned to Emerson.
“It’s almost noon. You having lunch now?”
“Pretty soon. I think I’ll go up and see if Ed wants lo come down. She was asleep when I left this morning.”
“Sure. You go see Ed. I’ll handle things here. Give Ed my best.”
“I’ll do that. How about you? You had anything to eat?”
“Not yet. I’ll grab a sandwich later.”
“Want me to have one sent in from the kitchen?”
“If you don’t mind. Make it roast beef.”
“Right. See you later, Roscoe.”
He went through the dining room, skirting the edge, and into the kitchen. After stopping long enough to give instructions about Roscoe’s sandwich, he went on up the stairs to the apartment, reflecting on the way that it was really quite remarkable how he kept on feeling year after year when he was returning to Ed, even after a very short time of being away, not exactly excited, because excitement is something that is for very special occasions and would not be possible or desirable as emotional accompaniment for every small event, but quietly alive with a feeling of anticipation and eagerness and expectancy. You never quite knew with Ed. You never quite knew what would be next, but you knew, whatever it was, that it would be interesting.
He went into the living room, and she wasn’t there, and so he crossed over to the bedroom door and looked in, and she was. She was dressed in a dark blue wool dress that fit her like a kid glove, and she was standing in front of the full length mirror on the back of the closet door, with her back to the mirror, and she was holding up the skirt of the dress and looking over her shoulder into the glass to see if the seams of her stockings were straight.
“They are,” he said.
She saw him in the mirror and smiled and turned her head lazily.
“Hello, darling. What are?”
“Your seams. Straight, I mean.”
“Yes. They do seem to be, don’t they? The stockings are a new shade. Do you like them?”
“They’re well-filled. I’ll say that for them.”
“Thank you. One of the very nicest things about you is the way you say flattering things with only the slightest prompting.”
“With you, it’s easy. Is that a new dress too?”
“I bought it a couple days ago. And don’t ask how much it cost, because I won’t tell you.”
“Who’s asking? All I want to know is, do you put it on or paint it on?”
“Really? Is it that tight?”
“I was just joking, darling. You have nothing to hide.”
“Oh, you. Was I asleep when you left this morning?”
“You were. With your mouth open.”
“That’s a dirty lie. Malicious slander. I could sue you for saying that.”
“For what? Divorce?”
“Well, no. I don’t think I want a divorce. Not even separate maintenance. Just wife support, let’s say. In return for a consistent and satisfactory performance of wifely duties, of course. I’ll tell you what. Right now I’ll settle out of court for enough to do some shopping with this afternoon.”
“Agreed. I always like to keep these family hassles in the home, if possible.”
He walked across to her dressing table, removing his billfold from the right hip pocket of his trousers as he went, and laid some bills on the glass top of the table beside her hair brush. She came over and picked them up and counted them and brushed his lips with hers for each bill.
“Thank you, darling.”
“Not at all. You smell very good. I like that scent you’re wearing. It’s sharp and clean. There’s a word to describe it, but I can’t think of the word.”
“Astringent?”
“That’s it. Astringent. Isn’t it lucky that I have a wife who reads too?”
“What’s the exact implication of that too, man?”
“Well, do you cook? Do you sew? Shall I continue making an inventory of your talents?”
“Never mind. The trouble with you is, you have a distorted sense of values. You’re just blind to all my other fine accomplishments.”
“It’s your fault. Once I was a clean lad with a pure mind, but you’ve corrupted me.”
“Whoa! Down, boy! Let’s think about lunch.”
“That’s what I really came up about, come to think of it, to see if you want to have lunch with your husband. However, I’ve been distracted. It always distracts me to see a wife in a new blue dress. There’s sautéed chicken livers.”
“Oh, good. That’s what I’ll have. Just give me time to go over my face lightly. Talk to me. Tell me what happened downstairs this morning.”
“Nothing much. I handled the bar until Roscoe came in. Marv Groggins had a cup of coffee on the house and bellyached about Aunt Lucy.”
“Marv Groggins has an Aunt Lucy? I find that incredible. I find it wholly incredible that Marv has any relatives at all. I assumed that he was born by a kind of spontaneous combustion in a rotten stump.”