A Million for Eleanor: A Contemporary Story on Love and Money by Danil Rudoy Page A

become such an egoist only once in a lifetime. But I can’t open the door anyway.”
    Eleanor let him out, and he waited for her to lock the door, surprised at how fast she found the right one on the chain that seemed to have every key she used in life. The street was dark and quiet, and the only noise competing with the sound of jazz music flowing from one of the houses down the road was that of the wind draggin g piles of fallen leaves.
    “ Wanna guess something?” he said when they began moving along a narrow sidewalk to the place where he parked his car.
    “Your games again!” Eleanor said with a sigh of resignation. “What now?”
    “What color is my car?”
    “Black. Or did you make an exception today?”
    “I did. Black is the color I use for work and funerals.”
    “Then it’s white. I must be wrong because a maniac like you would never dress to the car, but I can’t think of anything else.”
    “Even if I tell you it’s my favorite color?”
    “ Especially then.”
    “It’s something a maniac like me couldn’t avoid mentioning. Remember, your professor once asked you to housesit for him, and you invited me over? We drank tea and went for a walk. You were telling me why you always wanted to live on the East coast when I showed you a maple tree which shined like it was on fire. Does it click?”
    “No.”
    He laughed and suddenly slowed his pace.
    “What happened?”
    “I just remembered you always told me I walked too fast.”
    “Didn’t you calculate that your three steps are the same as my five?”
    “Three and a half. I’m surprised it stuck in your head.”
    “If you had to jog every time you walked with me you wouldn’t be.”
    “Usually I don’t walk fast unless I am in a hurry. Only if I am excited,” he said guiltily.
    “Listen, it’s easy! If someone is a foot shorter than you, their steps physically can not be as wide! I can’t believe I am the only one who ever told you that. Or did you date only supermodels? Speaking of which: you still didn’t breathe a word of your exes. You told me all about your money, but nothing about your love.”
    “What exactly are you interested in: quantity, or quality?”
    “Both, unless you start to count every romance you had.”
    “What’s your definition of a romance? But I wouldn’t count anyway.”
    “Richard, have you been in a relationship?” Eleanor asked suddenly.
    He remained silent, trying to decide how to answer. In conversations with Eleanor he always told her the truth but never went into details unless she demanded. She never did, so he could afford amusing himself by touching upon the most delicate topics without fearing to be interrogated. But this time was different.
    “Yes,” he said finally. “But only once.”
    “And what happened then?”
    “Then we were no longer together,”
    “Who called it off?”
    “It was a mutual decision.”
    “A complicated relationship, it seems. And who was to blame?”
    “Both.” He was trying to imagine what she was thinking to tailor responses to her thoughts. “Guilt never lies on one person alone. Especially in love affairs.”
    “Sounds like a Christian truth,” Eleanor remarked.
    “A universal one,” he said, suddenly stopping.
    “Is this your car?” Eleanor said in bewilderment, staring at the scarlet Cadillac DTS in front of her.
    “What did you expect?”
    “I actually remembered you telling me your favorite car was Lamborghini.”
    “There is no point driving them in cities: they accelerate too fast and shake to the core on every bump. Besides, I have a soft spot for Cadillacs. They remind me of battle-cruisers.”
    “You granddad was a sea captain?”
    “You nailed it.” He smiled. “Perhaps for the first time.”
    “Surely not. Will you tell me more about it?”
    “You’ll hear enough of my genealogy tonight,” he said, putting the valises down and opening the passenger door for her. “I’m sure my mother will educate you to your heart’s