Rosemary told him. “Guy’s gotten very close to them,” she said. “I think they’ve become sort of parent-figures for him.”
“And you?”
“I’m not sure. Sometimes I’m so grateful I could kiss them, and sometimes I get a sort of smothery feeling, as if they’re being too friendly and helpful. Yet how can I complain? You remember the power failure?”
“Shall I ever forget it? I was in an elevator.”
“No.”
“Yes indeed. Five hours in total darkness with three women and a John Bircher who were all sure that the Bomb had fallen.”
“How awful.”
“You were saying?”
“We were here, Guy and I, and two minutes after the lights went out Minnie was at the door with a handful of candles.” She gestured toward the mantel. “Now how can you find fault with neighbors like that?”
“You can’t, obviously,” Hutch said, and stood looking at the mantel. “Are those the ones?” he asked. Two pewter candlesticks stood between a bowl of polished stones and a brass microscope; in them were three-inch lengths of black candle ribbed with drippings.
“The last survivors,” Rosemary said. “She brought a whole month’s worth. What is it?”
“Were they all black?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said. “Why?”
“Just curious.” He turned from the mantel, smiling at her. “Offer me coffee, will you? And tell me more about Mrs. Castevet. Where does she grow those herbs of hers? In window boxes?”
They were sitting over cups at the kitchen table some ten minutes later when the front door unlocked and Guy hurried in. “Hey, what a surprise,” he said, coming over and grabbing Hutch’s hand before he could rise. “How are you, Hutch? Good to see you!” He clasped Rosemary’s head in his other hand and bent and kissed her cheek and lips. “How you doing, honey?” He still had his make-up on; his face was orange, his eyes black-lashed and large.
“You’re the surprise,” Rosemary said. “What happened?”
“Ah, they stopped in the middle for a rewrite, the dumb bastards. We start again in the morning. Stay where you are, nobody move; I’ll just get rid of my coat.” He went out to the closet.
“Would you like some coffee?” Rosemary called.
“Love some!”
She got up and poured a cup, and refilled Hutch’s cup and her own. Hutch sucked at his pipe, looking thoughtfully before him.
Guy came back in with his hands full of packs of Pall Mall. “Loot,” he said, dumping them on the table. “Hutch?”
“No, thanks.”
Guy tore a pack open, jammed cigarettes up, and pulled one out. He winked at Rosemary as she sat down again.
Hutch said, “It seems congratulations are in order.”
Guy, lighting up, said, “Rosemary told you? It’s wonderful, isn’t it? We’re delighted. Of course I’m scared stiff that I’ll be a lousy father, but Rosemary’ll be such a great mother that it won’t make much difference.”
“When is the baby due?” Hutch asked.
Rosemary told him, and told Guy that Dr. Sapirstein had delivered two of Hutch’s grandchildren.
Hutch said, “I met your neighbor, Roman Castevet.”
“Oh, did you?” Guy said. “Funny old duck, isn’t he? He’s got some interesting stories, though, about Otis Skinner and Modjeska. He’s quite a theater buff.”
Rosemary said, “Did you ever notice that his ears are pierced?”
“You’re kidding,” Guy said.
“No I’m not; I saw.”
They drank their coffee, talking of Guy’s quickening career and of a trip Hutch planned to make in the spring to Greece and Turkey.
“It’s a shame we haven’t seen more of you lately,” Guy said, when Hutch had excused himself and risen. “With me so busy and Ro being the way she is, we really haven’t seen anyone.”
“Perhaps we can have dinner together soon,” Hutch said; and Guy, agreeing, went to get his coat.
Rosemary said, “Don’t forget to look up tannis root.”
“I won’t,” Hutch said. “And you tell Dr. Sapirstein to check his scale; I still think you’ve lost more than three pounds.”
“Don’t be silly,” Rosemary said. “Doctors’ scales aren’t wrong.”
Guy, holding open a coat, said, “It’s not mine, it must be yours.”
“Right you are,” Hutch said. Turning, he put his arms back into it. “Have you thought about names yet,” he asked Rosemary, “or is it too soon?”
“Andrew or Douglas if it’s a boy,” she said. “Melinda or Sarah if it’s a girl.”
“ ‘Sarah?”’ Guy said. “What happened to ‘Susan’?” He gave Hutch his hat.
Rosemary offered her cheek for Hutch’s kiss.
“I do hope the pain stops soon,” he said.
“It will,” she said, smiling. “Don’t worry.”
Guy said, “It’s a pretty common condition.”
Hutch felt his pockets. “Is there another one of these around?” he asked, and showed them a brown fur-lined glove and felt his pockets again.
Rosemary looked around at the floor and Guy went to the closet and looked down on the floor and up onto the shelf. “I don’t see it, Hutch,” he said.
“Nuisance,” Hutch said. “I probably left it at City Center. I’ll stop back there. Let’s really have that dinner, shall we?”
“Definitely,” Guy said, and Rosemary said, “Next week.”
They watched him around the first turn of the hallway and then stepped back inside and closed the door.
“That was a nice surprise,” Guy said. “Was he here long?”
“Not very,” Rosemary said. “Guess what he said.”
“What?”
“I look terrible.”
“Good old Hutch,” Guy said, “spreading cheer wherever he goes.” Rosemary looked at him questioningly. “Well he is a professional crepe-hanger, honey,” he said. “Remember how he tried to sour us on moving in here?”
“He isn’t a professional crepe-hanger,” Rosemary said, going into the kitchen to clear the table.
Guy leaned against the doorjamb. “Then he sure is one of the top-ranking amateurs,” he said.
A few minutes later he put his coat on and went out for a newspaper.
The telephone rang at ten-thirty that evening, when Rosemary was in bed reading and Guy was in the den watching television. He answered the call and a minute later brought the phone into the bedroom. “Hutch wants to speak to you,” he said, putting the phone on the bed and crouching to plug it in. “I told him you were resting but he said it couldn’t wait.”
Rosemary picked up the receiver. “Hutch?” she said.
“Hello, Rosemary,” Hutch said. “Tell me, dear, do you go out at all or do you stay in your apartment all day?”
“Well I haven’t been going out,” she said, looking at Guy; “but I could. Why?” Guy looked back at her, frowning, listening.
“There’s something I want to speak to you about,” Hutch said. “Can you meet me tomorrow morning at eleven in front of the Seagram Building?”
“Yes, if you want me to,” she said. “What is it? Can’t you tell me now?”
“I’d rather not,” he said. “It’s nothing terribly important so don’t brood about it. We can have a late brunch or early lunch if you’d like.”
“That would be nice.”
“Good. Eleven o’clock then, in front of the Seagram Building.”
“Right. Did you get your glove?”
“No, they didn’t have it,” he said, “but it’s time I got some new ones anyway. Good night, Rosemary. Sleep well.”
“You too. Good night.”
She hung up.
“What was that?” Guy asked.
“He wants me to meet him tomorrow morning. He has something he wants to talk to me about.”
“And he didn’t say what?”
“Not a word.”
Guy shook his head, smiling. “I think those boys’ adventure stories are going to his head,” he said. “Where are you meeting him?”