Auberson read it through, frowning softly. Then he read it again. It was — nice. Very nice. But he wasn’t sure whether he liked it or not. He rolled it out of the machine and carefully tore it off and folded it into his pocket. He’d have to think about this before he sent it to Annie. It almost said — too much.
When she finally did catch up to him, it was two days later. He was walking down the fluorescent-colored hallway to his office when he saw the flash and bob of her red hair. She saw him at the same time and smiled and waved as she quickened her step toward him. Even if he’d wanted to, there was no way to avoid her.
“Hi, what’s up?” he called.
“I should be asking that of you. Where’ve you been all week?”
“Busy,” he said.
“Obviously. I just came from your office. It looks a mess. Sylvia says you haven’t stopped running since Monday.”
“Has it really been only two days? It seems a lot longer.”
“Have you had lunch yet?” she asked.
He shook his head.
“Well, then — come on.” He tried to protest, but she took his arm and turned him around, saying, “It’s on me. I’ll put it on my expense account. It’s all part of my campaign to keep a scientist from starving.”
He smiled at that and allowed himself to be led down the hall. “I got your card. I was going to send you one in return, but I haven’t had a chance to go looking.”
“So why not telephone?” She said forwardly. “I’ll even lend you the dime — or call collect if you want.”
He was embarrassed. “Uh, I haven’t even had the chance for that.”
“All right.” She let it go at that.
They decided to avoid the company cafeteria and go to a quiet place in town instead. They paused at the plant gate long enough for Auberson to buzz his office and tell his secretary that he would be gone for at least an hour and a half. While she was waiting, Annie put the convertible top down and pulled a pale blue scarf from his glove compartment. She had put it there precisely for this type of occasion. She was putting it on when he came back.
As he got into the car, she said, “I’m going to have to put a couple more of these things in here. This blue doesn’t go well with this dress.”
He laughed, a genial good-natured sound. But underneath it was an unspoken, half-formed thought: Isn’t that awfully possessive of her? He shrugged it off and put the car into gear. As they rolled easily away from the plant, he asked, “Where’re we going?”
“How about the Tower Room?”
“Uh uh. Too many of the wrong kind of people.” He paused, then added in explanation, “Company people.”
“Oh,” she said. “Okay. If not there, where?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. We’ll drive into the city proper and see.” He clicked on the stereo and eased the car into the light mid-day traffic.
She looked at him. He was a relaxed driver, not like so many who hunch frightenedly over the steering wheel. Auberson enjoyed driving. The line of his jaw tightened momentarily as he concentrated on the road ahead. With one hand he maneuvered a pair of sunglasses out of his coat pocket and onto his nose. The wind whipped at his hair and his tie.
The feel of the road changed abruptly as they swung onto the freeway — the self-conscious rolling of city-laid concrete became the smooth floating glide of state-sculptured asphalt. The tugging fingers of the wind grew stronger as Auberson gunned the little sports car up to sixty-five miles per hour.
She waited until he had slid into the far left lane before she asked, “What’s wrong with company people?”
He shrugged. “Nothing. I just don’t want to be seen by them, that’s all.” The stereo mumbled softly to itself, something about fixing a hole where the rain comes in. He turned it down to a whisper and added, “It wouldn’t be a good idea. The two of us, I mean.”
“You’re afraid people will talk?”
He shrugged again. “I don’t know. They are already, I guess.” He frowned at a momentary lumpiness in the stream of traffic.
As he maneuvered through it, she turned over in her mind possible things to say. “Ashamed to be seen with me?” — No, that wasn’t right. “We have nothing to hide—” No, not that either. “Do we have something to hide—?” At last she decided to say nothing. It was just as well — the moment was long past.
They were gliding across the rooftops of cluttered suburbia — black roofs and red, two-car garages and stationwagons out in front — green-pea lawns and a cacophony of architectural voices. Early-American-Al-most-Slum next door to Ancient-Gingerbread-With-Original-Icing, followed by Plastic-Cracker-Box and Flag-stone-Walking-Pseudo-Caüfornian. Ugly stucco boxes; white walls stained with brown streaks and greasy smoke from kitchen windows; rust-outlined screens on brown faded apartment buildings.
From their vantage above they could see housewives in green shorts hanging damp sheets on wire lines, and blue-gray mailmen with heavy brown bags, white-filled with envelopes. Children, too small to be in school, chased after dogs bigger than they were and too smart to be caught Collies and poodles and black-and-brown mutts…
… were replaced by shopping centers, elegant plastic arches and pseudo-gaudy frills — great glass windows, bright-lit and full of wishes and temptations. Then more houses, more shopping centers, neon-glaring, harsher and shriller — then taller buildings, stucco-sided offices and torn-paper-flapping billboards — and warehouses, big and featureless and ugly — more office buildings, this time concrete and glass-sided slabs — and then even taller buildings. They slid down an off ramp between two of the biggest, a narrow canyon with sunglaring walls. Down into the rough, potted street — it hadn’t been resurfaced in years.
Abruptly, Auberson realized where he was heading — the Red Room, the restaurant where they had gone on their first date. Now why did I do that? It was too late to change his mind, though — he swung around a corner and they were there.
They didn’t get the same booth, though, so at least he was spared that uncomfortable parallel. Uncomfortable? Why should it be uncomfortable?
She didn’t mention the choice of restaurant; instead she seemed to accept it as an inevitable spot for the two of them. After they had ordered, she looked at him sharply. Her green eyes were deep. “What’s the matter?” she asked.
“Huh? What do you mean?”
“Nothing, I guess. I just say that sometimes.”
“Oh.” He said it like he understood, but he didn’t.
She decided to talk about something else. “I hear you’ve been having trouble with HARLIE again.”
“With HARLIE? No, not with HARLIE — because of HARLIE.”
“Well, you know what I mean. The whole company is in an uproar. Something about some unauthorized specs — 1 haven’t had a chance to pay too much attention to it. I’ve been troubleshooting the annual report for Dome.”
“Oh? I thought it was finished already.”
“Well, it was supposed to be — but the statistics keep coming out wrong. Er, that is, they keep coming out right.”
“Huh?”
“Well—” She hesitated, then made a decision. “I guess it wouldn’t hurt to tell you. The company has two sets of books, you know.”
“Huh?” Now he was even more confused.