The voice was still jungle strident, high on the hog as a feasting hyena, and baying with status. Fangs still glittered yellowly at the corners of her lips, the beak was as predatory as ever, and the orbs seemed even redder and meaner than Llona remembered. An Indian sari had replaced the Hawaiian print of memory, but like the former it was slit up the side, and the leg displayed was'tic- tac-toe’d with the varicose updating of Mrs. Holdkumb’s veins. “Hello-hello-hello,” she greeted them. “E. Z.,” she called over her shoulder, “the honeymooners are here.”
“How have you been keeping, Mrs. Holdkumb?” Archer asked with intense sincerity.
“Neva,” Mrs. Holdkumb reminded him. “We’re very informal. Call me Neva.”
“Of course. Neva. You’ve been well, I hope.”
“Yes, thank you, Archer. I’ve been well, but I heard you had an accident. All healed now?”
“Oh, yes. Fit as a fiddle and raring to go.”
Llona didn’t miss the fact that the first-name basis had been denied her. “I’m fine, thank you, Mrs. Holdkumb,” she answered evenly.
“Well now, here we all are!” E. Z. joined them in the living room, rubbing his hands together convivially. “How have you newlyweds been, anyway?”
They replayed that routine as a foursome for a couple of minutes. Then E. Z. scooped up what looked like a small fur muff from one of the chairs and held it up for Llona and Archer to see. “Have you met Trikikidikki?” he asked, his voice cooing in singsong.
Llona and Archer looked mutually blank.
“Trikkidikki,” E. Z. repeated.
“Trikkidikki, Trikkidikki,” Neva Holdkumb crooned. “Izum Mama’s furry pooh-baby, love-fuzz, Trikkidikki!” She took the ball of fur from E. Z. and cuddled it against the scales of her rhino-bosom. “Trikkidikki, Trikkidikki!”
Archer squinted and Llona peered. Since Archer was nearsighted and Llona wasn’t, she was the one to perceive the true nature of the coddled cuddler first. “Why, it’s a dog!” she exclaimed.
“Of course.” ‘There was an edge to Mrs. Ho1dkumb’s voice. “What did you think it was?”
“Naturally, Llona.” Archer was fast on the pickup. “But she was just trying to be funny,” he explained. “She knew it was a dog all the time, same as I did. Isn’t that right, honey?”
“Oh, yes. Yes, of course,” Llona agreed. “It’s just that I’ve never seen a Chihuahua with so much hair.”
“Chihuahas are hairless,” E. Z. told her.
“Of course they are,” Llona purred. “But then where did you ever get such a tiny sheepdog?”
“Trikkidikki is not a sheepdog!” The icicles in Mrs. Holdkumb’s voice testified to Llona’s verbal faux pas. “He’s a Yorkie.” She relented just long enough to explain.
“He’s adorable.” Llona tried for a recovery, but there was too much enthusiasm in her voice. It called down a Neva-eye filled with bale and an irreversible judgment of insincerity.
E. Z. sighed, took the Yorkie from his wife and set it down on the floor. He patted it safely under the couch and then and only then—he invited Llona and Archer to be seated. There was an awkward pause after everybody sat down.
Mrs. Holdkumb finally deigned to fill it. “Well, I suppose the honeymoon is over for you two,” she said, her tone making it sound like a much-deserved punishment had been administered, and she, for one, was glad of it.
“Not at all.” Llona was prepared to bend over backward to be agreeable, but there were some things she wasn’t going to be pressured into denying. “It’s better than it ever was.” She took Archer’s hand and patted it fondly. flfifirrcher blushed, pleased, but wary, and didn’t say anything.
Really? Well, maybe there’s more to The Pill than I thought," E. Z. said without rancor.
“Oh, Llona doesn’t take The Pill any more,” Archer interjected quickly, afraid that his chance at a new job with E. Z. might be in jeopardy.
“Don’t tell me you’ve come around to the condom?” E. Z. asked.
“She probably uses that greasy kid stuff!” Neva Holdkumb couldn’t resist the dig.
“As a matter of fact, neither.” Llona determinedly maintained her equanimity.
“Well, it doesn’t matter,” E. Z. decided. He turned to Archer. “There have been some changes since you left, my boy,” he told him. “Policy changes.”
“What sort of changes, sir?” Archer snapped to -- alert, attentive, eager.
“I’ll come to that in a moment, my boy. The thing is that right now I might have an opening for you. Do you think you’d be interested?”
“Yes sir.”
“Good. Good. Now—”
“Wait a minute.” Neva Holdkumb had been brooding. “If you don’t use something and Archer doesn’t, then just how—?”
“Neva, you’re interrupting,” E. Z. pointed out gently. “I was just about to tell Archer about the firm’s changes in policy and our new product.”
“I’m sorry. But I’m curious to know . . .” Mrs. Holdkumb’s voice trailed off at the look of annoyance her husband shot her.
“New product, sir?” Archer picked up smoothly, brightly.
“Yes. We’ve decided if you can’t lick ’em, join ’em. No obscenity intended.” E. Z. paused for his laugh, received it, and continued. “We were taking such a beating from The Pill, that we decided that the only thing to do was to put out an oral contraceptive of our own. We’ll have one on the market by next month. And We’ll need an experienced man to promote it with the retailers. That’s where you come in, Archer. And if memory serves me, your wife was devoted to The Pill, and she should be of great help to you there.”
“But she doesn’t take it any more!” Mrs. Holdkumb was triumphant. She’d only been waiting for the pieces to fall into conversational place, and how they had. “If you’d been listening, E. Z., you’d have heard that before.”
“Oh? No?” E. Z. looked puzzled. “Then what—?”
“That’s exactly what I’ve been trying to find out, only you keep interrupting!” Mrs. Holdlcumb’s justification was now complete.
“Nothing,” Llona told them calmly.
“Nothing?” E. Z. thought that over and got nowhere. “Have one of you had some sort of operation or something?”
“Of course not, E. Z.,” Archer reassured him.
“Then you’ve decided to have children!” Mrs. Holdkumb’s tone said such a decision was unforgiveable in an overpopulated world.
“No, we haven’t,” Llona demurred.
“Abstinence?” E. Z.’s raised eyebrows said that was no more acceptable than parenthood.
“Hardly.” Llona giggled and squeezed Archer’s hand.
“Well, then how—?” E. Z. was becoming exasperated.
“The rhythm method.” Llona lowered her eyes and managed a maidenly blush.
“AIIEE!” E. Z. was speechless, but not soundless. He was quivering with indignation.
Mrs. Holdkumb nodded her head, satisfied; the infamy had been revealed—and she was the one who had caused it to be exposed.
Archer understood the reason for the Holdkumb’s response before Llona did. It didn’t matter whether the company was manufacturing condoms, or The Pill, or any other contraceptive device. The rhythm method was the common enemy! The company and its competitors might fight over the market, scrap for it with a variety of devices, but they would always present a united front when it came to the rhythm method. It was the one birth control policy which threatened the business and negated the products of all.
And now his wife, Llona, had admitted to practicing the rhythm method! It was worse than a betrayal of the company! It was an act of treason against the entire industry!
“Of course it’s only temporary.” Archer tried desperately to smooth it over. “Llona’s going back on The Pill just as soon as we can afford it, as soon as I start working again. Isn’t that right, dear?”