Michael as an infant. Hope and excitement were both absent from her face now, replaced by a chilly sort of composure. Ben, standing behind mother and son, one possessive hand on his wife's shoulder, looked stern and smug and commanding. For some reason the picture repelled Alex; he put it down hastily. The rest were mostly of Michael at various ages. He saw that he had been a rather sickly child, but never less than physically beautiful, a skinny, tow-headed angel.
"Very well, yes. How many, then? Yes, all right, I said I'd take care of it." She rang off abruptly, and when she appeared in the doorway she hadn't taken the time to compose her face. Alex felt shock when he saw the strain and resentment and, under that, her desperate unhappiness. He looked away.
"That was Ben," she said with artificial ease, and when he looked back she was serene again. "He's so sorry to have missed you. He sends his apologies, but there was an unexpected situation at his office, it seems—I didn't get all the details—and he simply couldn't get away. He's so terribly sorry."
He admired her then—lying through her teeth for that son of a bitch, carrying on for courtesy and civility on behalf of a man who wasn't worth one of her little fingers. He moved toward her, wanting to touch her, but he stopped when he was three feet away.
"He asked if you'd leave the drawings, and he promised to look at them tonight. Unfortunately, he has to leave tomorrow now, not Tuesday, for Chicago. But he said he'd either call you with any new instructions or—or leave them with me."
"Well, that's fine. That's fine," he repeated, wanting to reassure her. "You could tell me what he says when I see you on Tuesday."
"Tuesday." Her somber face lightened as she remembered. "I'd forgotten—I'll see you on Tuesday."
There was a pause, while they dealt separately with the gladness they were both feeling because they would meet again on Tuesday.
"Well," Alex said. "Until then. Thank you for tea. I enjoyed it immensely."
"So did I." She went with him out into the hall. "Ben wondered if you could come to dinner on the twenty-seventh—that's Friday next."
"The twenty-seventh? Yes, thanks, I'd like that very much."
"He said to bring a friend. That is, if you'd care to. A lady, I think he meant."
She colored; he stared. It was the first time he'd ever seen her fumble in a social situation. "Thanks," he said smoothly, "I'll let you know, shall I?"
"Yes, all right."
She gave him her hand. As he held it, he wondered what she would do tonight, and whether she would accept an invitation to dinner in some discreet downtown restaurant. Too risky, of course; the moment slipped by. For just a few seconds he found himself thinking how different his life would be if he were married and had a child. She opened the door for him. He said good-bye and left her, walking west toward Fifth Avenue. At the corner he turned around. She was still there, illuminated by the house light, standing between the pretentious pair of stone lions and looking up at the pink sky.
Chapter Five
"There it is!"
"That's it. It's called the Tower Building. How many floors does it have?"
Michael counted carefully. "Thirteen?" Alex nodded. "Wow! How does it stay up?"
"I was hoping he'd ask me that," he said, grinning at Sara. All three leaned back against the brick wall of a bank and gazed east across Broadway at Number Fifty. "How thick do you think the walls have to be to hold up a building that tall?"
"Thick!"
"How thick?"
Even Michael could see that this was a trick question, but he answered gamely, "A
mile
thick."
Alex laughed. "The whole building is only twenty-one and a half feet wide. How thick do
you
think?" he asked Sara. Taking Michael's cue, she humored him. "Three or four feet?" He shook his head, smiling with satisfaction. "Only twelve inches."
"Wow!"
"But how is that possible?" Sara asked leadingly.
"Well, it all started when a man named Stearns bought an empty lot on that
"Very well, yes. How many, then? Yes, all right, I said I'd take care of it." She rang off abruptly, and when she appeared in the doorway she hadn't taken the time to compose her face. Alex felt shock when he saw the strain and resentment and, under that, her desperate unhappiness. He looked away.
"That was Ben," she said with artificial ease, and when he looked back she was serene again. "He's so sorry to have missed you. He sends his apologies, but there was an unexpected situation at his office, it seems—I didn't get all the details—and he simply couldn't get away. He's so terribly sorry."
He admired her then—lying through her teeth for that son of a bitch, carrying on for courtesy and civility on behalf of a man who wasn't worth one of her little fingers. He moved toward her, wanting to touch her, but he stopped when he was three feet away.
"He asked if you'd leave the drawings, and he promised to look at them tonight. Unfortunately, he has to leave tomorrow now, not Tuesday, for Chicago. But he said he'd either call you with any new instructions or—or leave them with me."
"Well, that's fine. That's fine," he repeated, wanting to reassure her. "You could tell me what he says when I see you on Tuesday."
"Tuesday." Her somber face lightened as she remembered. "I'd forgotten—I'll see you on Tuesday."
There was a pause, while they dealt separately with the gladness they were both feeling because they would meet again on Tuesday.
"Well," Alex said. "Until then. Thank you for tea. I enjoyed it immensely."
"So did I." She went with him out into the hall. "Ben wondered if you could come to dinner on the twenty-seventh—that's Friday next."
"The twenty-seventh? Yes, thanks, I'd like that very much."
"He said to bring a friend. That is, if you'd care to. A lady, I think he meant."
She colored; he stared. It was the first time he'd ever seen her fumble in a social situation. "Thanks," he said smoothly, "I'll let you know, shall I?"
"Yes, all right."
She gave him her hand. As he held it, he wondered what she would do tonight, and whether she would accept an invitation to dinner in some discreet downtown restaurant. Too risky, of course; the moment slipped by. For just a few seconds he found himself thinking how different his life would be if he were married and had a child. She opened the door for him. He said good-bye and left her, walking west toward Fifth Avenue. At the corner he turned around. She was still there, illuminated by the house light, standing between the pretentious pair of stone lions and looking up at the pink sky.
Chapter Five
"There it is!"
"That's it. It's called the Tower Building. How many floors does it have?"
Michael counted carefully. "Thirteen?" Alex nodded. "Wow! How does it stay up?"
"I was hoping he'd ask me that," he said, grinning at Sara. All three leaned back against the brick wall of a bank and gazed east across Broadway at Number Fifty. "How thick do you think the walls have to be to hold up a building that tall?"
"Thick!"
"How thick?"
Even Michael could see that this was a trick question, but he answered gamely, "A
mile
thick."
Alex laughed. "The whole building is only twenty-one and a half feet wide. How thick do
you
think?" he asked Sara. Taking Michael's cue, she humored him. "Three or four feet?" He shook his head, smiling with satisfaction. "Only twelve inches."
"Wow!"
"But how is that possible?" Sara asked leadingly.
"Well, it all started when a man named Stearns bought an empty lot on that
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