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Pulling himself together, Coombs stepped from the car. One leg was asleep; he had to stamp it on the pavement to restore circulation. Then, one hand in his coat pocket, he started at a jog toward the three-story house.
12
That morning, not having to be at the telephone company until three o'clock, Mary A
Evading the information counter, she went directly into the i
Arnold Gordon was pleased to see what he imagined and hoped was his son's fiancee. "Certainly, Mary," he said, getting up and showing her to a chair. "How are you today?"
"Great. How's the newspaper business?"
"Expanding all the time. Well, what can I do for you?"
"You can give me a job. I'm sick and tired of the telephone company."
Her request was no surprise to him. Gravely, Arnold Gordon said: "Mary, you know how much I'd like to."
"Sure," Mary A
"But," Arnold Gordon said, and it was true, "this is a small-town newspaper operating on a small budget. We have sixteen employees, not counting carriers. Most of those are typesetters and union men working in the shop. You don't mean that kind of job, do you?"
"Okay, I'm convinced." She got to her feet. "I'll see you again, Mr. Gordon."
"Going?" Eyes twinkling, he observed: "When you're finished with something, you're really finished."
"I have a lot to get done."
"How've you and David been getting along?"
She shrugged. "The same as usual. We went dancing last Thursday."
"Any date set, yet?"
"No, and there isn't going to be unless he wises up."
"What do you mean?"
"That gas station. He could be taking some kind of correspondence course. If I was a man I would; I wouldn't sit around doing nothing, just drifting, waiting. He could take business management. He could learn TV repairing, like you see in the ads."
"Or grow giant mushrooms in your basement? You're not really a practical person, Mary. You appear very efficient and realistic, but underneath that you're-" He searched for the term. "You're an idealist. If you had been born earlier, you'd have been a New Dealer."
Mary A
"Any time you want," Arnold Gordon said. "Mary-"
"What?"
"I think in spite of our differences you and I are going to get along well."
Mary A
Uncomfortably, he realized how his way of life looked to her. False and empty platitudes, ceremonies without content. A world of hollow ma
"What's yours, lady?" the tow-headed boy behind the Bobo's window inquired, when she approached.
She ordered a hamburger and milkshake. "Thanks," she said, accepting her order. He watched her move carefully away from the window, holding onto her purse and hamburger and container of milkshake.
"You go to Pacific High?" he asked. "I did once."
"That's what I mean. I think I used to see you."
Stopping a few feet from the window where the big, brightly painted sign cast a square of shade, she began eating.
"It's hot," the boy said.
"No kidding." She moved a little farther off. "When did you graduate?"
"Years ago."
"What's your name?"
With great reluctance, she said: "Mary A
"I think we were in a class together." He turned up a radio by his elbow. "Dig this." Progressive jazz drifted out and mixed with the sounds of traffic. "Recognize it?"
"Naturally. Earl Bostic's 'Sleep.' "You're good."
Mary A
"What's the matter?" the boy asked.
"I've got ulcers."
"You drink cabbage juice?"
"Why should I drink cabbage juice?"
"That's what cures ulcers. My uncle has had ulcers all his life; he drinks it by the gallon. You have to go up to the health food store in San Francisco to get it."
"Sleep" ended and a new tune took its place, a Dixieland number. Mary A
"What are you doing?" the boy asked, resting his arms on the counter of the window. "Going to work?"
"Not until three."
"Where?"
"Phone company." She wished he would stop pestering her; she hated to be pestered.
"That's a long way; that's across town. How are you going to get there?"
"Walk!"
The boy hesitated, and a strange expression fell over his face. Clearing his throat, he said squeakily; "You want a ride over?"
Mary A
"I'll be done with my shift in a couple of minutes. I've got a cool '39 Chevy; it's my brother's, but I get to use it. What do you say?"
"Go fly a kite." He reminded her of Dave Gordon; they were all alike. Wiping her hands with a paper napkin, she examined her appearance in the plate-glass window of the drive-in.
"You going?" the boy asked.
"You're a wizard."
"Sure you don't want a ride? I'll take you somewhere; anywhere you want. You want to drive up to San Francisco? We could go to a show and then maybe to di
"No, thanks."
An elderly white-haired gentleman approached the window, leading a little girl by the hand. "Two ice cream sandwiches," the elderly gentleman said.
"Strawberry!" the child shrilled.
"There's no strawberry," said the counter boy. "Just vanilla."
"Vanilla is quite satisfactory." The elderly gentleman brought out his purse. "How much will that be?"
The child, noticing Mary A
"Hello," Mary A
"Joan."
"Tell the young lady your whole name," the elderly gentleman instructed.
"Joan Louise Mosher."
"That's a nice name," Mary A
The child studied the drooping camellia she clutched. "A flow'r."
"It's a camellia," the elderly gentleman said.
"It's sweet," Mary A
"Three. My great-granddaughter."
"Gee," Mary A
"Well," the elderly gentleman began, but then the ice cream came, and he found himself involved in removing wrappers and giving out money.
"Good-bye," Mary A
As always, she located the house by the ragged palm tree growing in the front yard. Holding tight to the banister, she mounted the stairs. The door, of course, was locked. She got out her key and made her entrance.