“The hell you did,” I said.
“What do you know about it?”
“Plenty.” I kissed her again, and then I said, “Shall we spend the night here or at my place down in Canarsie?”
“We? What do you mean, we?”
“You know what I mean.”
She disengaged herself from my arms, backed up a couple of steps, and looked me over. “You’re going to run that bar again?”
“I guess not,” I said. “The organization won’t be operating it any more, and my contract with the organization ended with Uncle Al. I guess I’ll just have to settle down and find myself a sensible job somewhere with good pay and nice fringe benefits and a top-flight retirement plan.”
“You’re overstating it,” she said. “But you do really mean to settle down and start behaving like an adult.”
“Definitely,” I said.
“In that case,” she said, “I imagine you’ll ask me that question again a little later this evening, in a more acceptable manner.”
“I imagine I will,” I said. “And how would you like to eat dinner in a real restaurant?”
“Fine. Just—”
The doorbell rang.
We looked at each other. Chloe said, “Do you suppose that’s Artie?” Her voice was hushed.
I said, “I don’t know.”
“What if it is?”
“You mean, because of us?”
She nodded.
“I’ll talk to him,” I said. “Don’t worry, I know Artie pretty well. He never had any long-term plans with you anyway, you or anybody else.”
“I know,” she said.
So I went over and opened the door and it wasn’t Artie, it was a Western Union boy. He handed me the envelope and went away, and I shut the door and opened the envelope and Chloe came over and put an arm around my waist and rested her cheek against my upper arm, and we read the telegram together.
It was from Huntsville, Alabama. It was addressed to both Chloe and me at this address, and it said:
ALTHEA AND ME MARRIED HERE THIS AFTERNOON STOP FLYING SWITZERLAND MORNING STOP WHY DON’T YOU TWO GET TOGETHER QUESTION MARK
“Oh!” said Chloe. “If that isn’t the end!”
She was right.