Frank and Fiona Storm, as well as Stephanie and Neil Landry, were clearly subdued by Jim’s mood, Jim’sfrail-looking wife rose to the occasion, quietly carrying the conversation on her own. And she was talking, if Louise was hearing right, about flower metaphors in poetry. “… The blue flower, for instance, was the symbol of yearning in German Romantic literature,” Louise overheard her say.
Louise was sure the reason for Jim’s bad humor was the presence of the skulking Neil Landry, who was joining the group for the first time since Barbara Seymour fell down the staircase.
Sighing, Louise took another bite of the scrumptious meal. Even at their own table, Dr. Freeling’s formal manner discouraged a free flow of conversation and squelched the usually talkative Janie and Chris.
When Louise questioned him about his projects in plant genetic engineering, the scientist would touch only on generalities. “Mrs. Eldridge,” he told her quietly, raising a graceful hand to adjust his glasses, “I am a scientist. Surely you can’t expect me to reveal what’s going on in our laboratories. There are some projects to alter major crops, and thus deeply impact the American economy. It’s premature, and indiscreet, to talk about them, since it can affect all sorts of things …”
“… even crop futures, I suppose,” she said breezily. “It’s funny how forthcoming a business like Monsanto Chemicals will be: It’s heavily into this field. I’m just anxious to do a program on it for my show, and I can’t do it without specifics.”
Freeling smiled in what Louise thought was a rather supercilious way. “I’m sure that Monsanto will tell you everything you need to know.”
“And that implies that your work is so secret that you can’t even mention it.”
“It does, doesn’t it,” he said, and then turned to Nora, who was sitting to his right. She had on a show-stopping red silk dress. As if to be sure he was rid of the inquiring busy-body,Freeling bent deliberately toward Nora and asked her more about her poetry.
Louise had seldom felt so rebuffed.
Janie had drifted away from the dinner table, but now she returned, swinging back into her chair with blond hair and light pleated skirt twirling after her. Louise noticed she had been talking to the personable young employee, Teddy, who, it turned out, ran the dining room. He made it a point to introduce himself fully—first name and last. Teddy Horton. This cowlick-haired individual looked as if he should be munching on a hayseed: He was straight out of a Norman Rockwell magazine cover. Yet he had handled the crowd with the panache of a Parisian maître d’hôtel. Now, he followed Janie’s movements with his eyes, and Louise suspected that it was a case of love at first sight.
“Guess what, folks?” Janie told them. “After dessert and coffee, there’s going to be dancing, right out here in the evening air.”
“Good,” said Freeling. “I like to dance.”
Ah
, thought Louise,
the man has an Achilles’ heel, a genuine human weakness: He likes to dance
.
The professor also had his eye on Janie, not covetously, but as if she were the image of someone he knew. Louise suspected he was the kind of man who had had a wife who died young, rather like one of the great tragic figures in literature whose true love died of tuberculosis.
Yet if she was wrong and the man was a bachelor, she had certainly caught a glimmer of why: Though attractive enough, Freeling had an irksome quality about him. It was almost as if he wanted her to dislike him. Conversely, he was finally beginning to open up to the others, especially Bill and Chris. Maybe he was more comfortable talking to men—but if so, why had he spent two hours with Nora?
As the twilight deepened, the tables were cleared andpushed to the side. Inside the large adjacent sunroom, someone turned on 1940’s music that reminded Louise of World War II movies. She could hardly imagine the impact of that war,
Louise was sure the reason for Jim’s bad humor was the presence of the skulking Neil Landry, who was joining the group for the first time since Barbara Seymour fell down the staircase.
Sighing, Louise took another bite of the scrumptious meal. Even at their own table, Dr. Freeling’s formal manner discouraged a free flow of conversation and squelched the usually talkative Janie and Chris.
When Louise questioned him about his projects in plant genetic engineering, the scientist would touch only on generalities. “Mrs. Eldridge,” he told her quietly, raising a graceful hand to adjust his glasses, “I am a scientist. Surely you can’t expect me to reveal what’s going on in our laboratories. There are some projects to alter major crops, and thus deeply impact the American economy. It’s premature, and indiscreet, to talk about them, since it can affect all sorts of things …”
“… even crop futures, I suppose,” she said breezily. “It’s funny how forthcoming a business like Monsanto Chemicals will be: It’s heavily into this field. I’m just anxious to do a program on it for my show, and I can’t do it without specifics.”
Freeling smiled in what Louise thought was a rather supercilious way. “I’m sure that Monsanto will tell you everything you need to know.”
“And that implies that your work is so secret that you can’t even mention it.”
“It does, doesn’t it,” he said, and then turned to Nora, who was sitting to his right. She had on a show-stopping red silk dress. As if to be sure he was rid of the inquiring busy-body,Freeling bent deliberately toward Nora and asked her more about her poetry.
Louise had seldom felt so rebuffed.
Janie had drifted away from the dinner table, but now she returned, swinging back into her chair with blond hair and light pleated skirt twirling after her. Louise noticed she had been talking to the personable young employee, Teddy, who, it turned out, ran the dining room. He made it a point to introduce himself fully—first name and last. Teddy Horton. This cowlick-haired individual looked as if he should be munching on a hayseed: He was straight out of a Norman Rockwell magazine cover. Yet he had handled the crowd with the panache of a Parisian maître d’hôtel. Now, he followed Janie’s movements with his eyes, and Louise suspected that it was a case of love at first sight.
“Guess what, folks?” Janie told them. “After dessert and coffee, there’s going to be dancing, right out here in the evening air.”
“Good,” said Freeling. “I like to dance.”
Ah
, thought Louise,
the man has an Achilles’ heel, a genuine human weakness: He likes to dance
.
The professor also had his eye on Janie, not covetously, but as if she were the image of someone he knew. Louise suspected he was the kind of man who had had a wife who died young, rather like one of the great tragic figures in literature whose true love died of tuberculosis.
Yet if she was wrong and the man was a bachelor, she had certainly caught a glimmer of why: Though attractive enough, Freeling had an irksome quality about him. It was almost as if he wanted her to dislike him. Conversely, he was finally beginning to open up to the others, especially Bill and Chris. Maybe he was more comfortable talking to men—but if so, why had he spent two hours with Nora?
As the twilight deepened, the tables were cleared andpushed to the side. Inside the large adjacent sunroom, someone turned on 1940’s music that reminded Louise of World War II movies. She could hardly imagine the impact of that war,
Similar Books
