On the beach, her problems seemed to vanish.
Swimming in the surf, lying on the sand afterward in her brief wet swim suit, she shut out the world and indulged in an orgy of the senses. The sun baked her, and the mild ocean wind cooled her naked limbs. There was the smell of salt in the air, the lulling whisper of the ocean in her ears. Occasionally a boat would appear on the far horizon, and she would sit up to look at it, feeling detached and irresponsible, suspended in a timeless coma. She took long walks along the lonely shore, searching the trackless dunes for seashells, stopping in complete freedom to study a sudden cloud formation. Pinecrest Manor seemed a million miles away. Here, on the edge of eternity, she felt at peace with nature and herself. As evening pressed on, as the sun vanished and purple dusk stained the sky, she would pick up her canvas bag, the wind whipping her hair over her shoulders, and alone she would walk back to the cottage feeling as wistfully fulfilled as a sixteen-year-old girl.
Her parents’ friends contributed to this, feeling of youthfulness she experienced. Sitting on the screened porch of the cottage, listening to the drone of their voices, sipping cocktails with them as stars invaded the sky, their advanced years contrasted sharply with the youth she felt surging through her body.
And late at night, lying alone in her narrow bed, looking through the screened window at the gleaming wheel of night, she felt a deep contentment she had not known since the summer began. She felt again like a young and desirable woman.
28
On the Monday after Eve returned from Easthampton, Felix Anders committed a series of blunders which might have been forgivable in a lesser man.
But Felix was not a lesser man. In his own estimation, he was possessed of keen observational powers, an excellent sense of timing, and a shrewd ability to judge character. He had learned through the development grapevine that Eve had gone out to the beach alone the week before. Silently, he wondered why Eve had felt the need to get away for a few days and, triumphantly, he concluded that a woman who left home was a restless woman. This was not too difficult to understand. With young Lawrence playing the field, was it not entirely plausible that Eve was being neglected? Felix did not like the idea of someone as attractive as Eve being shunted aside. This was extreme wastefulness which he could never condone.
Besides, he was firmly convinced that she was ripe.
He had seen her on the day after her return from Easthampton. She had acquired a beautiful tan, and her eyes were a shocking blue against her oval face. There was something patrician about this girl’s features, Felix thought, something untouchable, something almost rarefied. He would like to hold her face in his hands and watch those cool blue eyes explode in ecstasy. He would like that. She had been wearing a halter and shorts that Wednesday. The halter was very brief, and her breasts crowded it, and he could see the milk-white inch of flesh above the slender halter where the skin had been protected by her bathing suit, where the sun had not touched her. She worked barefooted in the back yard, her legs long and clean, stemming in firm three dimensionality from the turned-up cuffs of her shorts. He had walked past the house and nodded to her briefly. She had smiled back at him, her teeth dazzling white against the tanned skin.
Cool, Felix thought.
And, patiently, he waited.
His calculations on the following Monday seemed true and sharp, but of course he did not have the benefit of either Larry’s or Maggie’s counsel. He judged the events as they happened and formed what seemed to him logical conclusions. He was relaxing on the front steps of his house at eight o’clock that night, reading the Daily News. Dick Tracy was bound to a cake of ice, floating down a river. It looked like the end for Dick Tracy. Felix sighed, and then glanced up when he saw the front door of the Gault house opening.
Margaret Gault came out of the Cape Cod, hesitated a moment, and then rushed down the steps. Felix watched her. There was a smell on this one and Felix reluctantly admired Larry for having recognized it. There was, too, a sure femaleness to her walk, the tread of a jungle cat padding familiar paths. She turned left on the slate which ran past the big maple on the front lawn, and then walked to the garage at the back of her house. Felix watched her. She was wearing a green silk dress and high-heeled pumps. All decked out, he thought, and instantly assumed she was going to meet Larry. He watched the dress move up over her knees as she slid onto the seat of the Chevy. He waited while she started the car, and then watched as she backed it into the street. She seemed in a terrible rush. She didn’t even wave to him as she drove away.
Felix busied himself with his newspaper, and waited.
No matter how he read it, it still looked like the end for Dick Tracy.
In ten minutes Larry Cole drove past his house. He honked the horn at Felix and waved. Felix waved back. Hurry up, lover, he thought. She’s got a ten-minute start on you.
He folded his newspaper and walked into the house.
“Betty,” he said, “I’m going over to Larry’s. See if he wants a glass of beer.”
“Do you ever think of helping around here?” Betty asked.
“Do you ever think of going into the city every day to cut meat?” he asked “I may be late. I’ve got a big thirst.”
“You’re getting to be a drunkard,” Betty said, and she plunked another dish into the soapy water.
Felix went to the bathroom, combed his hair, and left the house. He assumed his calculations so far had been correct. The lovers had left to meet each other. It was close to eight-thirty, which meant that Eve would be through with the after-dinner mess, the children in bed. And even the weather seemed to be with him. Black clouds were piling up in the sky. That meant rain, and rain would drive everyone indoors. Not that it really mattered. There was certainly nothing suspicious about a visit from a friend and neighbor. Still, the rain wouldn’t hurt. He glanced skyward, and even as he did, the first drops started to fall in a slow, steady drizzle. He grinned and began walking faster, convinced that all of his observations were as true as the forecast of rain.
He didn’t know this was the only safe conclusion he’d drawn, or that he was yet to commit his biggest blunder.
To begin with, the haste with which Margaret Gault had left her house was occasioned by a dental appointment for eight o’clock in Dr. Bennuti’s office, an appointment for which she was already late. She was not hurrying to meet Larry. Her rendezvous was with a drill.
Nor had Larry driven past on his way to meet her. Larry was simply driving into town to pick up some art supplies, and he would not be gone all night as Felix had surmised. He was, in fact, not more than two miles away buying pencils and erasers when Felix knocked on his front door.
Nor had Eve, ripe or not, completely finished with the after-dinner duties. True, the children were in bed and the dishes done, but a shower was still on her schedule. She had gone to the bathroom, undressed, tied her hair back with a ribbon, and was adjusting the water preparatory to stepping into the tub when she heard the knocking at the door.
“Who is it?” she called.
The bathroom door was closed, so she could not be certain, but it sounded to her as if someone had entered the house without waiting for the customary “Come in.” Even in gregarious Pinecrest Manor, this was a little odd. She put on her robe, opened the bathroom door, and peeked out.
“Who is it?” she asked again.
“Me. Felix.”
“Oh,” she said. “Larry isn’t home, Felix.”
“I know.”
“I’m about to take a shower. Is it anything important?”
“It’ll just take a minute, Eve.”