Motel полностью

“That’s true. But we could discuss it in depth in the car on the way back to the city.”

“Yes, I guess we could do that,” he said. “Is that what you’d like to do?”

“What would you like to do?”

“Well, I thought I’d move the car to number sixteen, and then maybe we could discuss the film afterwards. In depth. If that’s what you’d like to do.”

“Well, whatever you want to do.”

“Well, fine then.”

“Fine.”

“I’ll move the car,” he said quickly, and went out, and closed the door behind him. She debated sitting on the bed, and decided against it. She debated sitting in one of the chairs near the windows, and decided against that as well. She settled for leaning on the dresser. She was leaning on it when he came back into the room, blowing on his hands.

“Whoo, it’s cold out there,” he said. “I can’t remember a January this cold, can you?”

“You should have put on your coat.”

“Well, I figured just to move the car...”

“Did you move it?”

“Yep,” he said, “all taken care of. Room sixteen in space sixteen.”

“What kind of car was it?”

“Mine? Oh, you mean room seventeen. A big black Caddy. With a fat old man behind the wheel.”

“Alone?”

“No, he had a girl with him. A frumpy blonde.”

“Probably has a film he wants to show her,” Millie said, and smiled.

“Probably,” he said, and returned the smile. “So... what’d you think of it?” Without waiting for her answer, he said, “I got quite a bit of praise for it. In fact, the Head of Creation called me personally to...”

“God?”

“No, Hope. Hope Cromwell. She’s the agency’s creative head. That’s her official title.”

“What’s your official title?”

“Me? I’m just a copywriter, that’s all.”

“Well, I wouldn’t say just a copywriter.”

“Well, Hope’s a vice president, you see. I’m just...” He shrugged. “Just a copywriter.”

“Michael’s a vice president, too,” she said. “My husband. He’s a stockbroker, did I tell you that?” She paused, and then said, “Is Hope attractive?”

“No, no. Well, yes, I suppose so. I suppose you could call her attractive. I suppose you could call her a beautiful redhead.”

“Oh,” Millie said. “Is she a nice person, though?”

“Actually, she’s a pain sometimes.”

“So’s Michael,” Millie said. “Especially when he starts discussing futures. Are you, for example, interested in soy beans?”

“No, but men like to discuss their work, you know. I guess he...”

“Oh, I understand that. But I’ve never even seen a soy bean, have you?”

“I’ve seen soy bean sauce,” Frank said.

“But have you ever seen a soy bean itself?”

“Never.”

“So why should I be interested in something I’ve never seen in my entire life?”

“You shouldn’t.”

“Or its future,” Millie said. “Of course, Michael’s interesting in other ways. He has a mathematical turn of mind, you see. I’m a scatterbrain, but Michael...”

“I wouldn’t say that.”

“I am, believe me. If it weren’t for Michael, I wouldn’t know how to set the alarm clock. Well, I’m exaggerating, but you know what I mean. He has this very logical firm grasp on everything, whereas I just flit in and out and hardly know what I’m doing half the time. I’m very impulsive. I do things impulsively.”

“Like coming to lunch today,” Frank said.

“Yes. And like coming here to the motel.”

“That was impulsive for me, too,” he said.

“Well, it wasn’t as impulsive for you as it was for me. Because, after all, you did put the projector in your car last night.”

“That’s right,” Frank said. “Yes, in that respect, it wasn’t as impulsive, you’re right.”

“What would you have said if your wife saw you putting the projector in the car?”

“I guess I’d have said I was bringing it in for repair or something.”

“Would she have believed that? Does she trust you?”

“Oh, sure. I’ve never given her reason not to trust me. Why shouldn’t she trust me?”

“Well, if you go around sneaking movie projectors into your car...”

“I didn’t sneak it in. I just carried it out. She wasn’t even home, in fact.”

“Where was she?”

“At the shop. Mae owns a little antiques shop in Mamaroneck.”

“Oh? What’s it called?”

“Something Old”

“Really?” Millie said. “That’s a darling shop! Does your wife really own it? I’ve been in there several times. Which one is your wife?”

“Well, there are only two of them in the shop, and one of them’s sixty years old. My wife’s the other one.”

“The little brunette? She’s very attractive. I bought an ironstone pitcher from her last month. What’d you say her name was?”

“Mae.”

“That’s a pretty name. Very springlike.”

“Yes. Well, it’s M-A-E, you understand.”

“Oh, not M-A-Y?”

“No, M-A-E,” he said, and they both fell silent.

“Well,” she said.

“Well,” he said.

“Did you register as Mr and Mrs Mclntyre?” she asked.

“Yes. Well, I couldn’t very well register as Mr and Mrs Di Santangelo, could I?”

“Why not?”

“I’d still be up there signing the card,” he said, and laughed. “Di Santangelo’s an unusually long name, you see.”

“My maiden name was longer. Are you ashamed of being Italian?” she asked abruptly.

“Ashamed? No, no, why should I be ashamed?”

“It just seems strange to me that you’d choose a Wasp name like Mclntyre...”

“It’s not a Wasp name.”