She jumped two more volumes, and now she turned pages in whole-issue clusters, finding each "Notes on Newcomers" in its page-two box.
… Mr. Ferretti is an engineer in the systems development laboratory of the CompuTech Corporation.
… Mr. Sumner, who holds many patents in dyes and plastics, recently joined the A meriChem- Willis Corporation, where he is doing research in vinyl polymers.
"Notes on Newcomers,"
"Notes on Newcomers"; stopping only when she saw one of the names, skipping to the end of the article, telling herself she was right, she was right.
… Mr. Duwicki, known to his friends as Wick, is in the Instatron Corporation's microcircuitry department.
… Mr. Weiner is with the Sono-Trak division of the Instatron Corporation.
… Mr. Margolies is with Reed amp; Saunders, the makers of stabilizing devices whose new plant on Route Nine begins operation next week.
She put volumes back, took other volumes out, dropping them heavily on the table.
… Mr. Roddenberry is associate chief of the CompuTech Corporation's systems development laboratory.
… Mr. Sundersen designs optical sensors for Ulitz Optics, Inc.
And finally she found it.
She read the whole article.
New neighbors on Anvil Road are Mr. and Mrs. Dale Coba and their sons Dale Jr., four, and Darren, two. The Cobas have come here from Anaheim, California, where they lived for six years. "So far we like this part of the country," Mrs. Coba says. "I don't know how we'll feel when winter comes. We're not used to cold weather."
Mr. and Mrs. Coba attended U.C.L.A., and Mr. Coba did postgraduate work at the California Institute of Technology. For the past six years he worked in "audioanimatronics" at Disneyland, helping to create the moving and talking presidential figures featured in the August number of National Geographic. His hobbies are hunting and piano-playing. Mrs.
Coba, who majored in languages, is using her spare time to write a translation of the classic Norwegian novel The Commander's Daughters.
Mr. Coba's work here will probably be less attention getting than his work at Disneyland; he has joined the research and development department of Burnham Massey-Microtech.
She giggled.
Research and development! And probably less attention getting!
She giggled and giggled.
Couldn't stop.
Didn't want to!
She laughed, standing up and looking at that "Notes on Newcomers" in its neat box of lines. PROBABLY be less attention-getting!
Dear God in heaven!
She closed the big brown volume, laughing, and picked it up with a volume beneath it and swung them down to their place on the shelf.
"Mrs. Eberhart?" Miss Austrian upstairs. "It's five of six; we're closing."
Stop laughing, for God's sake. "I'm done!" she called. "I'm just putting them away!"
"Be sure you put them back in the right order."
"I will!" she called.
"And put the lights out."
"Jawohl!"
She put all the volumes away, in their right order more or less. "Oh God in heaven!" she said, giggling. "Probably!"
She took her coat and handbag, and switched the lights off, and went giggling up the stairs toward Miss Austrian peering at her. No wonder!
"Did you find what you were looking for?" Miss Austrian asked.
"Oh yes," she said, swallowing the giggles. "Thank you very much. You're a fount of knowledge, you and your library. Thank you. Good night."
"Good night," Miss Austrian said.
SHE WENT ACROSS TO THE pharmacy, because God knows she needed a tranquilizer. The pharmacy was closing too; half dark, and nobody there but the Cornells. She gave the prescription to Mr. Cornell, and he read it and said, "Yes, you can have this now." He went into the back.
She looked at combs on a rack, smiling. Glass clinked behind her and she turned around.
Mrs. Cornell stood at the wall behind the side counter, outside the lighted part of the pharmacy. She wiped something with a cloth, wiped at the wall shelf, and put the something on it, clinking glass. She was tall and blond, long-legged, full-bosomed; as pretty as-oh, say an Ike Mazzard girl. She took something from the shelf and wiped it, and wiped at the shelf, and put the something on it, clinking glass; and took something from the shelf and- "Hi there," Joanna said.
Mrs. Cornell turned her head. "Mrs. Eberhart," she said, and smiled.
"Hello. How are you?"
"Just fine," Joanna said. "Jim-dandy. How are you?"
"Very well, thank you," Mrs. Cornell said. She wiped what she was holding, and wiped at the shelf, and put the something on it, clinking glass; and took something from the shelf and wiped it- "You do that well," Joanna said.
"It's just dusting," Mrs. Cornell said, wiping at the shelf.
A typewriter peck-peck-pecked from in back. Joanna said, "Do you know the Gettysburg Address?"
"I'm afraid not," Mrs. Cornell said, wiping something.
"Oh come on," Joanna said. "Everybody does. 'Fourscore and seven years ago-"'
"I know that but I don't know the rest of it," Mrs. Cornell said. She put the something on the shelf, clinking glass, and took something from the shelf and wiped it.
"Oh, I see, not necessary," Joanna said. "Do you know 'This Little Piggy Went to Market'?"
"Of course," Mrs. Cornell said, wiping at the shelf.
"Charge?" Mr. Cornell asked. Joanna turned. He held out a small white-capped bottle.
"Yes," she said, taking it. "Do you have some water? I'd like to take one now."
He nodded and went in back.
Standing there with the bottle in her hand, she began to tremble. Glass clinked behind her. She pulled the cap from the bottle and pinched out the fluff of cotton. White tablets were inside; she tipped one into her palm, trembling, and pushed the cotton into the bottle and pressed the cap on. Glass clinked behind her.
Mr. Cornell came with a paper cup of water.
"Thank you," she said, taking it. She put the tablet on her tongue and drank and swallowed.
Mr. Cornell was writing on a pad. The top of his head was white scalp, like an under-a-rock thing, a slug, with a few strands of brown hair pasted across it. She drank the rest of the water, put the cup down, and put the bottle into her handbag. Glass clinked behind her.
Mr. Cornell turned the pad toward her and offered his pen, smiling. He was ugly; small-eyed, chinless.
She took the pen. "You have a lovely wife," she said, signing the pad.
"Pretty, helpful, submissive to her lord and master; you're a lucky man."
She held the pen out to him.
He took it, pink-faced. "I know," he said, looking downward.
"This town is full of lucky men," she said. "Good night."
"Good night," he said.
"Good night," Mrs. Cornell said. "Come again."
She went out into the Christmas-lighted street. A few cars passed by, their tires squishing.