wasn’t at all in need of lunch. The bedroom encounter with Hedra seemed to have killed her appetite. Intense emotion did that to her, be it anger or pity.
There was piped-in music in the bar, heavy-metal rock, but it wasn’t loud. The restaurant was through a low arch; Allie could see several people seated at red-clothed tables, eating lunch.
She and Hedra sat in the bar, at one of the small wooden tables against the wall. Allie looped her purse strap over the back of her chair, close to the wall where no one could snatch it, and looked around.
The place was darkly paneled, with a lot of high shelves lined with fancy beer mugs. Spicy cooking scents wafted in from the adjoining restaurant. Half a dozen people were perched on stools at the long bar. About a dozen more sat at tables. Allie’s gaze drifted back to the mugs. A few of them looked like antiques. She wondered if they were worth something to collectors. The bar owner might not know, might be ignorant of such things.
Not likely, she told herself, not in New York. Everybody but tourists seemed to know the price of everything in the city. Except for the slowly exacted price they were paying for living here.
A tired-looking barmaid plodded over to their table. She stood poised with her order pad, waiting, looking indirectly and dispassionately at them as if she didn’t know or care if they were genuine human beings or cardboard cutouts. She finally said, “Yeah?” then took their order.
Allie had two martinis. Hedra drank a Tab, then a martini. She seemed to enjoy the olive more than the drink. A matched pair of guys in gray business suits interrupted their loud conversation about the Jets long enough to size up the two women. One of the men had bad teeth and appeared drunk. Allie looked away before Hedra did. She saw in the mirror that the other man winked at Hedra.
Swiveling in her chair to face Allie, Hedra said, “No thanks.”
“They didn’t offer,” Allie said.
“They would if we gave them encouragement.”
“Most likely.”
Football talk began again. Louder. Then the subject was changed abruptly to the stock market. Probably to impress anyone who might overhear. Be a bear, said the guy with crooked teeth. The one who’d winked at Hedra was bullish on more than America.
Hedra glanced again in the men’s direction. “Couple of creeps.”
“Maybe not,” Allie said. “You never know.”
“Nobody knows for sure about anything,” the philosopher Hedra said.
That was the truth. When they got back to the Cody Arms, Sam had just come out and was jogging down the steps.
11
Sam saw Allie and Hedra and took the last few steps slowly, then came to a complete halt outside the Cody Arms and stood still, like a wind-up toy that had run down. He was wearing gray sweatpants, a blue pullover shirt, and his maroon Avia jogging shoes. He needed a haircut badly. Allie thought he might have lost a few pounds. Not in a healthy way, but as if he’d been sick. She stifled a thrust of concern for him, watching his eyes dart from her to Hedra and then back.
He said, “I was out for a run, and I thought it might as well be in this direction so I could see you.”
Allie said, “About what?”
He frowned. “Is that where we are? It has to be about something?”
“ ’Fraid so, Sam.”
He stared at Hedra until silence began to build on itself and someone had to speak.
Finally Allie said, “This is Hedra Carlson. Hedra, Sam Rawson.”
Allie saw him give Hedra a quick up-and-down glance, show mild surprise as he recognized the beige dress. She’d worn it one weekend they’d spent in the Catskills; he’d removed it from her in a way she couldn’t forget. Sam shook Hedra’s hand gently. “You an old friend of Allie’s?”
Ill at ease, Hedra said, “Not so old. I mean, we haven’t been friends all that long. But we’re friends.”
Sam showed his amiable smile. “Wait a minute! We met the other day when I came by the apartment to see Allie.
There was piped-in music in the bar, heavy-metal rock, but it wasn’t loud. The restaurant was through a low arch; Allie could see several people seated at red-clothed tables, eating lunch.
She and Hedra sat in the bar, at one of the small wooden tables against the wall. Allie looped her purse strap over the back of her chair, close to the wall where no one could snatch it, and looked around.
The place was darkly paneled, with a lot of high shelves lined with fancy beer mugs. Spicy cooking scents wafted in from the adjoining restaurant. Half a dozen people were perched on stools at the long bar. About a dozen more sat at tables. Allie’s gaze drifted back to the mugs. A few of them looked like antiques. She wondered if they were worth something to collectors. The bar owner might not know, might be ignorant of such things.
Not likely, she told herself, not in New York. Everybody but tourists seemed to know the price of everything in the city. Except for the slowly exacted price they were paying for living here.
A tired-looking barmaid plodded over to their table. She stood poised with her order pad, waiting, looking indirectly and dispassionately at them as if she didn’t know or care if they were genuine human beings or cardboard cutouts. She finally said, “Yeah?” then took their order.
Allie had two martinis. Hedra drank a Tab, then a martini. She seemed to enjoy the olive more than the drink. A matched pair of guys in gray business suits interrupted their loud conversation about the Jets long enough to size up the two women. One of the men had bad teeth and appeared drunk. Allie looked away before Hedra did. She saw in the mirror that the other man winked at Hedra.
Swiveling in her chair to face Allie, Hedra said, “No thanks.”
“They didn’t offer,” Allie said.
“They would if we gave them encouragement.”
“Most likely.”
Football talk began again. Louder. Then the subject was changed abruptly to the stock market. Probably to impress anyone who might overhear. Be a bear, said the guy with crooked teeth. The one who’d winked at Hedra was bullish on more than America.
Hedra glanced again in the men’s direction. “Couple of creeps.”
“Maybe not,” Allie said. “You never know.”
“Nobody knows for sure about anything,” the philosopher Hedra said.
That was the truth. When they got back to the Cody Arms, Sam had just come out and was jogging down the steps.
11
Sam saw Allie and Hedra and took the last few steps slowly, then came to a complete halt outside the Cody Arms and stood still, like a wind-up toy that had run down. He was wearing gray sweatpants, a blue pullover shirt, and his maroon Avia jogging shoes. He needed a haircut badly. Allie thought he might have lost a few pounds. Not in a healthy way, but as if he’d been sick. She stifled a thrust of concern for him, watching his eyes dart from her to Hedra and then back.
He said, “I was out for a run, and I thought it might as well be in this direction so I could see you.”
Allie said, “About what?”
He frowned. “Is that where we are? It has to be about something?”
“ ’Fraid so, Sam.”
He stared at Hedra until silence began to build on itself and someone had to speak.
Finally Allie said, “This is Hedra Carlson. Hedra, Sam Rawson.”
Allie saw him give Hedra a quick up-and-down glance, show mild surprise as he recognized the beige dress. She’d worn it one weekend they’d spent in the Catskills; he’d removed it from her in a way she couldn’t forget. Sam shook Hedra’s hand gently. “You an old friend of Allie’s?”
Ill at ease, Hedra said, “Not so old. I mean, we haven’t been friends all that long. But we’re friends.”
Sam showed his amiable smile. “Wait a minute! We met the other day when I came by the apartment to see Allie.
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