She was a selfish woman, but she was no fool. She was certainly aware, after she began denying him herself, that he was getting satisfaction elsewhere. She never suspected, however, his actual method before Donna, and it would have been better for her if she had. She thought that he probably kept a mistress, despising him for it as a man too weak for pure devotion, but she never despised herself for her part in it. The irrational thing about her reaction was the really virulent hatred she developed for the woman who was giving and getting what she herself did not care to give or accept, and there was a time when she felt that it was absolutely necessary, if she was to retain her sanity, to know who the woman was. She hired a detective to follow Aaron for one month, but the detective, a reasonable fellow who did not consider a whorehouse and a mistress synonomous, submitted a negative report. After that she did not try to discover the identity of the woman, but she remained convinced that she existed, certain in her own mind that the detective was an incompetent and Aaron a monster of deception. She found solace in suffering, and began going frequently to Florida.
They turned into the drive and stopped beside the house, and Joslin came around to open the door on her side of the car. With one hand lightly on her elbow, he assisted her into the house and upstairs, and waited in the hall outside her room until she called to him to enter. When he went in, she was reclining on a chaise longue, wearing a pale negligee that emphasized the pallor of her skin and the shadows under her eyes. She incited in him a kind of delicate crawling revulsion, a faint unpleasant tickling below the diaphragm. He was here because he was Aaron’s lawyer and because of a genuine liking and regret for Aaron himself. But as soon as he had settled Aaron’s affairs, he never again wanted to see Aaron’s widow.
“You look exhausted,” he said courteously. “Don’t you think we had better postpone everything for a few days?”
“No. I’m feeling better now, and I want your advice about several things. Tell me again the terms of the will.”
“They’re quite simple. Everything comes to you except the two bequests to Miss Ingram and Miss Buchanan.”
“One thousand to Miss Ingram and ten to Miss Buchanan?”
“That’s right.”
“It’s quite a substantial difference. I wonder why.”
“As I told you, Miss Buchanan is quite a talented young woman. Her original designs have contributed a great deal to the reputation of the shop, and you may remember that she managed the business very competently when Aaron was laid up with his second heart attack. I’m sure the ten thousand is only a kind of bonus in recognition of these services.”
“Which one was she?”
“At the chapel?”
“Yes, of course.”
“The one with glasses. Quite a striking young woman, I think.”
He paid the compliment in malice, but he paid it deftly with the intent and without the appearance. “Can the will be broken?” she asked. “Just the two bequests, you mean?”
“Naturally.”
“No. I can see no possibility at all. Even if there were, I’d hardly advise it. After all, the amount involved is insignificant compared to the total estate. The action would cost too much for so little. Moreover, if you’ll excuse my saying so, I feel that Aaron’s last wishes should be respected.”
“It’s the principle. You know perfectly well what everyone will think when this woman receives such a large amount.”
“Oh, nonsense. I’m sure no one will think anything of the sort. Besides, a court action would certainly be a poor way of detracting attention.”
“All right, I won’t make an issue of it if you think I shouldn’t. I want your opinion on the shop.”
“What about the shop?”
“What would you estimate it is worth?”
“Off hand, it’s impossible to be accurate. I’d guess not less than two hundred thousand dollars as it now stands.”
“Will it be difficult to find a buyer?”
“I shouldn’t think so. Its reputation is superb. Probably has the most desirable patronage in town. However, if you really want my opinion, I advise you not to sell.”
“Why not?”
“The shop is a highly successful enterprise. Nowhere else could you invest your money to receive such large returns.”
“I’m not a business woman. Besides, I am not well. I couldn’t possibly run it.”
“Of course not. You would have to employ a manager who is skilled in that type of business.”
“I wouldn’t even be able to judge the efficiency of a manager. I’d be vulnerable to all sorts of errors and impositions.”
“Do you still want my advice?”
“Certainly. That’s why I asked you to stay.”
“Very well, then. I advise you to keep the shop and to keep Miss Buchanan as its manager.”
“The woman who gets the bequest?”
“That’s right. Donna Buchanan. I know that Aaron had the highest regard for her, and I know from other sources that she’s truly a fine designer. The line of originals she’s initiated compares favorably, I’m told, with the best anywhere, and it’s gaining recognition from women who are willing and able to pay very fancy prices for their original gowns. There’s simply no way to estimate the potential of this kind of enterprise.”
“No. I don’t wish to be encumbered with it. I wish to liquidate all assets and leave this city as soon as possible.”
“Just as you say, of course.”
“Will you handle it for me?”
“Certainly.”
“That’s settled, then.”
“You understand, I hope, that the final settlement of an estate requires time.”
“Oh, yes. Naturally. Just expedite it as much as you can.” She closed her eyes, pressing her fingers upon the lids. “Now I think I had better rest. It has been a difficult day, and I’m really feeling quite ill. Please excuse me for not seeing you out.”
“It’s perfectly all right.”
He stood up. Screened by her lowered lids, he permitted his revulsion to show for a moment in his face. Turning, he walked silently out of the room and downstairs and out of the house.
Behind him, on the lounge in the room where Donna had lately walked with pride in herself and contempt for the room’s owner, Shirley Burns lay quietly with her eyes still closed. She had told for once the truth about herself. She was really quite ill with a functional illness, and the illness was fury and hate.
Her lips moved soundlessly in the shape of an epithet.
3.
From the crematorium chapel, Donna and Gussie walked together to a stop where they caught, after a few minutes, a bus downtown. They got off near the shop and walked from there to a nearby cocktail lounge. Entering it, they sat at a tiny table in a corner. Soft light was admitted through perforations in the patterns of constellations, and on three walls, at intervals, were tapestries of Persian design. They ordered two Martinis. Gussie lifted her fragile glass at once and took a generous swallow. Then she sat for thirty seconds and looked at the olive.
“Well,” she said, “that’s that.”
“Yes, it is,” Donna said, “isn’t it?”
“I’m glad he wasn’t buried,” Gussie said. “What a filthy dismal day it would be to be buried! Do you mind if I’m morbid, darling?”
“Not at all. I’m feeling rather morbid myself.”
“I may even get slightly drunk as well, which would only have the effect of making me more morbid. Would you object to that?”
“Whatever you want to do is all right with me, Gussie.”
“Thank you kindly, Mistress Mary. That’s from a nursery rhyme, you know. That Mistress Mary bit. Do you know why I am thinking of that particular nursery rhyme at this moment? It’s because Mary had a garden, and we have a garden, and the question was and is, how the hell does it grow? Well, not so well, I guess. Ours, that is. The garden surely looks like it’s going to hell, doesn’t it, darling?”