Ellie’s face, the kind of surprise women show at being unexpectedly complimented. “You mean quit living here and travel with you?”
“I mean run with me,” Roebuck said. “I never pulled any punches. You’d be in this thing with me all the way. They might even think I told you the formula and try to get it out of you. That’s why I wouldn’t tell you the formula, for your own sake. It’s all up here.” Roebuck touched his forefinger to his temple.
Ellie looked down at the table. “I don’t know, Lou….”
“It might not be a picnic. Nothing worthwhile is a picnic.”
Ellie leaned toward him. “All right, Lou, I’ll come.”
Roebuck hadn’t expected her to be convinced so easily. “Like I said—”
“I know,” Ellie interrupted. “I don’t expect a honeymoon trip. But do you know how much happens around here, I mean really happens? Nothing. Boredom can be worse than anything.”
“That’s the only reason you’re coming? Boredom?”
“No, Lou, I’m coming because for some reason I don’t want to refuse you.”
Roebuck nodded in the face of what he did not quite understand. “There’s nothing in it for you….”
Ellie smiled across the table at him and laid her hand on his. She lifted his hand and brushed her lips on the back of his knuckles.
Early the next morning they rose, breakfasted, and Ellie began to pack her things in a small plaid suitcase. Roebuck observed that she had a meager wardrobe, inexpensive but not in bad taste.
“We can leave some of this stuff,” she said, closing the last empty bureau drawer.
“How about the dishes?”
“They’re the motel’s. I’ve got a refund coming on my rent, too. I’ll go check out with Mr. Lane soon as we’re finished here.”
Roebuck was drinking his second cup of coffee, gazing out the window through the partly opened blinds.
“You better make up a story when you check out,” he said. “Why don’t you tell them I’m your brother, and you’re leaving because somebody in your family is sick?”
Ellie snapped the plaid suitcase shut. “I suppose that’s a fairly believable fib.” She went to the closet and opened the sliding doors one at a time to check the top shelf above the clothes hangers. “Funny,” she said, “everything I’ve got will fit into one suitcase and a grocery bag. I guess it’s funny, anyway.”
There was a knock on the front door and Roebuck bolted away from the window as if someone had shot at him. “Who is it?” he asked Ellie in a desperate whisper. “Who the hell could that be?” He hadn’t seen the man approach from the window. He must have come from the other direction. Or had he crouched and passed under the window, the way they did in Western movies?
Ellie glanced at the electric clock above the refrigerator. “I think it’s Billy,” she said.
“Billy?”
“The bartender at Fay’s. He comes by sometimes in the mornings on his way to work to drive me over there. You better get in the bathroom and shut the door.”
“Get rid of him quick as you can,” Roebuck said. He retreated to the bathroom and shut the door until only a narrow crack remained through which he could see. He turned his head and checked behind him to see if the small window was unlocked. If it wasn’t Billy at the door he could make his retreat that way.
From behind the bathroom door Roebuck could hear them talking but he couldn’t make out the words. Then he caught a glimpse of a fleshy face in front of Ellie and he knew that it was the bartender to whom she was talking. He relaxed slightly. Ellie would know how to handle him.
They talked a while longer, then Ellie stood back and closed the door. Roebuck waited in the bathroom until he heard a car door slam outside and the sound of an accelerating motor on the highway. When he stepped out of the bathroom Ellie was holding the curtains back a few inches, watching out the window. She turned.
“He’s gone,” she said. “I told him I wasn’t
“I mean run with me,” Roebuck said. “I never pulled any punches. You’d be in this thing with me all the way. They might even think I told you the formula and try to get it out of you. That’s why I wouldn’t tell you the formula, for your own sake. It’s all up here.” Roebuck touched his forefinger to his temple.
Ellie looked down at the table. “I don’t know, Lou….”
“It might not be a picnic. Nothing worthwhile is a picnic.”
Ellie leaned toward him. “All right, Lou, I’ll come.”
Roebuck hadn’t expected her to be convinced so easily. “Like I said—”
“I know,” Ellie interrupted. “I don’t expect a honeymoon trip. But do you know how much happens around here, I mean really happens? Nothing. Boredom can be worse than anything.”
“That’s the only reason you’re coming? Boredom?”
“No, Lou, I’m coming because for some reason I don’t want to refuse you.”
Roebuck nodded in the face of what he did not quite understand. “There’s nothing in it for you….”
Ellie smiled across the table at him and laid her hand on his. She lifted his hand and brushed her lips on the back of his knuckles.
Early the next morning they rose, breakfasted, and Ellie began to pack her things in a small plaid suitcase. Roebuck observed that she had a meager wardrobe, inexpensive but not in bad taste.
“We can leave some of this stuff,” she said, closing the last empty bureau drawer.
“How about the dishes?”
“They’re the motel’s. I’ve got a refund coming on my rent, too. I’ll go check out with Mr. Lane soon as we’re finished here.”
Roebuck was drinking his second cup of coffee, gazing out the window through the partly opened blinds.
“You better make up a story when you check out,” he said. “Why don’t you tell them I’m your brother, and you’re leaving because somebody in your family is sick?”
Ellie snapped the plaid suitcase shut. “I suppose that’s a fairly believable fib.” She went to the closet and opened the sliding doors one at a time to check the top shelf above the clothes hangers. “Funny,” she said, “everything I’ve got will fit into one suitcase and a grocery bag. I guess it’s funny, anyway.”
There was a knock on the front door and Roebuck bolted away from the window as if someone had shot at him. “Who is it?” he asked Ellie in a desperate whisper. “Who the hell could that be?” He hadn’t seen the man approach from the window. He must have come from the other direction. Or had he crouched and passed under the window, the way they did in Western movies?
Ellie glanced at the electric clock above the refrigerator. “I think it’s Billy,” she said.
“Billy?”
“The bartender at Fay’s. He comes by sometimes in the mornings on his way to work to drive me over there. You better get in the bathroom and shut the door.”
“Get rid of him quick as you can,” Roebuck said. He retreated to the bathroom and shut the door until only a narrow crack remained through which he could see. He turned his head and checked behind him to see if the small window was unlocked. If it wasn’t Billy at the door he could make his retreat that way.
From behind the bathroom door Roebuck could hear them talking but he couldn’t make out the words. Then he caught a glimpse of a fleshy face in front of Ellie and he knew that it was the bartender to whom she was talking. He relaxed slightly. Ellie would know how to handle him.
They talked a while longer, then Ellie stood back and closed the door. Roebuck waited in the bathroom until he heard a car door slam outside and the sound of an accelerating motor on the highway. When he stepped out of the bathroom Ellie was holding the curtains back a few inches, watching out the window. She turned.
“He’s gone,” she said. “I told him I wasn’t
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