Then it got cold everywhere.
The sun began to sputter, putting out less and less heat. Slowly but surely the Little Ice Age arrived, with serious consequences. Glaciers ate towns in France, an ice-skating craze swept Holland, and all the Vikings in Greenland died. That's right, Vikings didn't make it through the winters. That's pretty cold.
And everyone started wearing scarves, indoors and out.
At some point, of course, some Innovator became bored with this ice-age dress code and started playing with his scarf, making it thinner and easier to tie and coming up with new ways to tie it. The craze caught on, giving people something to do during those long winters, I guess. Neckwear exploded. The cravat, the stock, and the Steenkirk were all invented, to be tied in complicated knots called the "philosophical," the nineteenth century, Neckclothitania, lists seventy-two ways to tie a tie. Talk about mathematical.
Fortunately for you and me, the sun came back, and things got warmer and simpler.
Nowadays some lucky men manage to wear ties only for weddings, funerals, and job interviews. The last knots standing are the Windsor, the half Windsor, and the four-in-hand. And only three varieties of neckwear remain: the bow tie, string ties for cowboys, and the regular kind. And with global warming ratcheting up the heat, it may only be a matter of time before we get rid of those.
Until that fine day comes, however, there's always the information desk of the New York Public Library.
"Hello? I need to know how to tie a bow tie."
"Yes, we have books on etiquette and grooming."
"Actually, I don't have time for a book. I need to know now." I checked the kitchen clock. "I have to be out the door in twenty-six minutes."
"Uh, hold, please."
While she went to get a copy of Neckclothitania or, I hoped, Bow Ties for Dummies, I pulled the landline phone to the bathroom mirror. Mandy's cell phone would have been easier, but it didn't feel right to use up her minutes. The squiggly landline cord stretched the distance reluctantly, shivering with the quiet fury of massive potential energy. If it slipped from my grasp, it was going to shoot back into the kitchen at a speed that would shatter linoleum.
I secured it carefully between neck and shoulder, preparing to do battle.
Don't try this at home.
"Okay, sir. Post or Vanderbilt?"
"Excuse me?"
"Emily Post's book of etiquette or Amy Vanderbilt's?"
"Post, I guess."
"Okay, the first thing to remember is that it's just like tying your shoes."
"But around your neck."
"Right. First, the tie should be hanging loose, one end longer than the other. From now on I will refer to this as 'the long end. "
"Done." This wasn't so hard.
"Now cross the long end over the short end, then pass it back and up through the loop. Tighten the knot loosely around your neck. It'll be much easier if you imagine you're tying a shoe."
"Uh…" The awesome complexity of Jen's rising-sun laces swam before my eyes. I banished all thoughts of shoes from my mind. "Okay, done."
"Now fold the lower hanging end up and to the left. Make sure the unfolded end is hanging down over the front of the bow. Okay?"
"Er,yes."
"Now form an angle loop with the short end of the tie, which should be crossing left. Then drop the long end that's up by your neck over this horizontal loop. Still with me?"
"Nnnyes."
"Now place right forefinger, pointing up, on bottom half of hanging part. Pull the bow ends forward and gently squeeze them together, forming an opening behind them."
"Erf?"
"Now pass up behind the front loop and poke the resulting loop through knot behind the front loop."
"Wait, how many loops are there now?"
She paused, presumably to count. "Two, plus the one around your neck. You should be ready to tighten the knot by adjusting the ends of both of them."
"I think it's—"
"Emily says, 'Remember to express your individuality. It shouldn't be too perfect. "
"Oh, I wish you'd told me that earlier. We may have to start over."
"Well, maybe perfect is okay."
"Not this kind of perfect."
"All right." Rustle of pages. "First, the bow tie should be hanging loose around your neck, one end longer than the other. From now on I will refer to this as 'the long end"
And so on, for the most arduous seventeen minutes of my life, which from now on I will refer to as "bow tie hell." Eventually, however, and mostly of its own volition, the bow tie became tied, displaying a degree of imperfection that exaggerated my individuality only slightly.
I was ready to go, but in my post-bow-tie exhaustion, I realized that I hadn't eaten since breakfast. Whether or not the anti-client would see through my disguise and kidnap me tonight, I wouldn't make it very far without blood sugar.
In the kitchen my hand paused a few inches from the refrigerator door. Atop the fridge the message light on my parents' answering machine was blinking. I swore at myself for not having checked earlier. Normally no one ever called me on the landline, but with my cell phone missing in action, someone might have tried the parental number.
When I pushed the button, my mom's voice declaimed this chirpy, chilling message:
"I hope you check this, Hunter. Good news: Some guy called me and said he found your phone. I didn't know you'd lost it. Anyway, he was really nice. He said he was going to be up in Midtown this afternoon, so he's dropping it by my office. See you tonight."
Beep.
I grabbed the phone and dialed her office, one of the few numbers I knew by heart. Her assistant answered.
"She's already left."
"Did a man come by, a strange man, to leave something?"
He laughed. "Relax, Hunter, he showed up. Really nice guy. Your mother's got your phone and she's bringing it home. I swear—you kids and your phones."
"When did he come by?"
"Uh, right after lunch?"
"And she's okay? She didn't go anywhere with him, did she?"
"Sure, she's okay. Go anywhere? What are you talking about?"
"Nothing. It's just that…" He must have dropped by the office to get a look at her. Then he would wait outside until she left and headed for home. He'd bump into her, strike up a conversation, get her somewhere alone. Plenty of chances for that. Mom always took the subway home. Or they could have staged a purse snatching to gather more information.
"It's nothing. Thanks." I hung up.
They might already have my mother as well as Mandy. And even if they'd only gone for her purse, they would definitely have this address now, not to mention the—
I heard keys jangling in the door.
Chapter 15
THE APARTMENT DOOR SWUNG OPEN, AND WE EXCHANGED terrified stares.
I recovered first, given that it was in fact my mom. Not held hostage with a knife to her neck, just Mom.
She, on the other hand, freaked out. She stared at me for a moment, then down at her keys, at the number on the apartment door, and then back at me.
"Hunter…?"
"Hi, Mom."
The bag of groceries hit the floor, slumping to one side as its forgotten contents settled. She took a few steps forward, taking in my two-thousand-dollar black-tie splendor with her mouth wide open.
"Good God, Hunter, is that you? What happened?"
"I decided to go for a new look."
She blinked once in slow motion. "No shit!"
Having induced mom profanity, I had to chuckle.
She took a few more steps, shaking her head, and reached out to touch my platinum hair.
"Don't worry, Mom, it won't break."