Read Online The Caves of Steel by Isaac Asimov - Free Book Online Page B

we want to—Lije is quite successful at the Bureau and we have very nice status—and I thought that just for this occasion, if you wanted to join us, we would have a little private feast of our own, though Ido think that people who overdo their privacy privileges are just a bit antisocial, you know.”
    R. Daneel listened politely.
    Baley said, with an undercover “shushing” wiggle of his fingers, “Jessie, I’m hungry.”
    R. Daneel said, “Would I be breaking a custom, Mrs. Baley, if I addressed you by your given name?”
    “Why, no, of course not.” Jessie folded a table out of the wall and plugged the plate warmer into the central depression on the table top. “You just go right ahead and call me Jessie all you feel like—uh—Daneel.” She giggled.
    Baley felt savage. The situation was getting rapidly more uncomfortable. Jessie thought R. Daneel a man. The thing would be someone to boast of and talk about in Women’s Personal. He was good-looking in a wooden way, too, and Jessie was pleased with his deference. Anyone could see that.
    Baley wondered about R. Daneel’s impression of Jessie. She hadn’t changed much in eighteen years, or at least not to Lije Baley. She was heavier, of course, and her figure had lost much of its youthful vigor. There were lines at the angles of the mouth and a trace of heaviness about her cheeks. Her hair was more conservatively styled and a dimmer brown than it had once been.
    But that’s all beside the point, thought Baley, somberly. On the Outer Worlds the women were tall and as slim and regal as the men. Or, at least, the book-films had them so and that must be the kind of woman R. Daneel was used to.
    But R. Daneel seemed quite unperturbed by Jessie’s conversation, her appearance, or her appropriation of his name. He said, “Are you sure that is proper? The name, Jessie, seems to be a diminutive. Perhaps its use is restricted to members of your immediatecircle and I would be more proper if I used your full given name.”
    Jessie, who was breaking open the insulating wrapper surrounding the dinner ration, bent her head over the task in sudden concentration.
    “Just Jessie,” she said, tightly. “Everyone calls me that. There’s nothing else.”
    “Very well, Jessie.”
    The door opened and a youngster entered cautiously. His eyes found R. Daneel almost at once.
    “Dad?” said the boy, uncertainly.
    “My son, Bentley,” said Baley, in a low voice. “This is Mr. Olivaw, Ben.”
    “He’s your partner, huh, Dad? How d’ya do, Mr. Olivaw.” Ben’s eyes grew large and luminous. “Say, Dad, what happened down in the shoe place? The newscast said—”
    “Don’t ask any questions now, Ben,” interposed Baley sharply.
    Bentley’s face fell and he looked toward his mother, who motioned him to a seat.
    “Did you do what I told you, Bentley?” she asked, when he sat down. Her hands moved caressingly over his hair. It was as dark as his father’s and he was going to have his father’s height, but all the rest of him was hers. He had Jessie’s oval face, her hazel eyes, her lighthearted way of looking at life.
    “Sure, Mom,” said Bentley, hitching himself forward a bit to look into the double dish from which savory vapors were already rising. “What we got to eat? Not zymoveal again, Mom? Huh, Mom?”
    “There’s nothing wrong with zymoveal,” said Jessie, her lips pressing together. “Now, you just eat what’s put before you and let’s not have any comments.”
    It was quite obvious they
were
having zymoveal.
    Baley took his own seat. He himself would have preferred something other than zymoveal, with its sharp flavor and definite aftertaste, but Jessie had explained her problem before this.
    “Well, I just can’t, Lije,” she had said. “I live right here on these levels all day and I can’t make enemies or life wouldn’t be bearable. They know I used to be assistant dietitian and if I just walked off with steak or chicken every other week