dimly lit by the dripping candles at each table. In the rear, a crowded bar surrounded the dais where a woman in flowing white swayed over a piano, rippling out a wondrously convoluted version of “September Song.”
A colored waiter wove through the crush of small tables to stand attentively at theirs. “Evening, Mr. Ivory. Good to see you.”
“Hey, Martin, how’s it going? Honora, what’ll you have?”
She had already decided on a ginger ale, but since she was with Curt Ivory, a regular patron, no IDs would be demanded of her. “I’d adore a sloe gin fizz,” she said, picking a name that had always intrigued her.
Curt repeated her order. “The usual for me, Martin.”
After the waiter left, Curt sat back. “Now you know where I come when I have in mind to debauch underage waitresses.”
The remark, rather than embarrassing her, put them back on their old jocular footing.
“Is the mood often upon you?” she asked.
“Each time the new moon rises.”
She was luxuriously aware of his legs nearhers under the tiny round of table. Her drink was frothy and extraordinarily delicious, and she sipped it rapidly through the short pink straw. The badinage that passed between them was as light as a breeze-tossed shuttlecock. Honora had not eaten since her breakfast at five thirty, and her father had never spoken of the swift depredations of alcohol on an empty stomach, so she decided that her wit was entirely due to the sophisticated ambience at Vilma’s Place and the wry amusement that tugged one side of Curt’s mouth.
“Something I’ve always wanted to know,” she said, “is what, exactly, an engineer does.”
“Good Lord! Is this Gideon Talbott’s niece?”
“I’ve never truly understood.”
“Well, I’ll tell you, Honora. It’s not a complicated line of work at all. The client tells an engineer the impossibility that he wants done or built and the engineer makes the necessary designs and watches over the construction of everything from dams and highways to pyramids and rockets and land reclamation. He calculates the strength of material necessary. It’s up to the engineer to insure every structure will remain standing for a good long time under the most extreme conditions that it will be used.”
“One time Daddy took us to see Hadrian’s wall.”
“Ahh, those Romans, they built to last. I’m a civil engineer. As far as civil engineering goes, the Romans were the greatest. Their roads are still in use, and some of their aqueductsand bridges.” His voice went lower. “That’s my definition of immortality, having one of my projects still in use two thousand years from now.”
“I’m sure that it will be,” she said.
“Honora, I hate to break the news to you,” he said dryly, “but I’m Mr. Talbott’s assistant. Thus far I haven’t headed up a single project.”
“You will. Curt, explain about Talbott’s. I’m confused. You don’t only do engineering, do you?”
“We’re also in construction. Talbott’s will either bid on the plans and supervision for a client or take over the entire project.” Curt caught Martin’s eye and pointed at their table, a signal to bring another round. “Now it’s your turn. Tell me about
your
career.”
“What can I say about it?”
“For openers, what attracted you?”
“MGM begged me to come to Hollywood, but I said no, I need much more of a challenge. And it’s crass, but a lot of the brokers who eat at Stroud’s make less than I do.” Was she quoting Vi’s wisdom? No matter.
“So it’s the money?”
“The bare truth is, wonderfully qualified as I am, for some reason nobody else saw fit to hire me.”
“Waitresses there
do
pull down good tips, don’t they?”
Was Curt obliquely pointing out that her father was derelict in his fiscal responsibilities? Her high-voltage glow dimmed a trifle. “There’s a lot of expenses when you’re getting on yourfeet in a new country, you know.”
“You’re very different,”
A colored waiter wove through the crush of small tables to stand attentively at theirs. “Evening, Mr. Ivory. Good to see you.”
“Hey, Martin, how’s it going? Honora, what’ll you have?”
She had already decided on a ginger ale, but since she was with Curt Ivory, a regular patron, no IDs would be demanded of her. “I’d adore a sloe gin fizz,” she said, picking a name that had always intrigued her.
Curt repeated her order. “The usual for me, Martin.”
After the waiter left, Curt sat back. “Now you know where I come when I have in mind to debauch underage waitresses.”
The remark, rather than embarrassing her, put them back on their old jocular footing.
“Is the mood often upon you?” she asked.
“Each time the new moon rises.”
She was luxuriously aware of his legs nearhers under the tiny round of table. Her drink was frothy and extraordinarily delicious, and she sipped it rapidly through the short pink straw. The badinage that passed between them was as light as a breeze-tossed shuttlecock. Honora had not eaten since her breakfast at five thirty, and her father had never spoken of the swift depredations of alcohol on an empty stomach, so she decided that her wit was entirely due to the sophisticated ambience at Vilma’s Place and the wry amusement that tugged one side of Curt’s mouth.
“Something I’ve always wanted to know,” she said, “is what, exactly, an engineer does.”
“Good Lord! Is this Gideon Talbott’s niece?”
“I’ve never truly understood.”
“Well, I’ll tell you, Honora. It’s not a complicated line of work at all. The client tells an engineer the impossibility that he wants done or built and the engineer makes the necessary designs and watches over the construction of everything from dams and highways to pyramids and rockets and land reclamation. He calculates the strength of material necessary. It’s up to the engineer to insure every structure will remain standing for a good long time under the most extreme conditions that it will be used.”
“One time Daddy took us to see Hadrian’s wall.”
“Ahh, those Romans, they built to last. I’m a civil engineer. As far as civil engineering goes, the Romans were the greatest. Their roads are still in use, and some of their aqueductsand bridges.” His voice went lower. “That’s my definition of immortality, having one of my projects still in use two thousand years from now.”
“I’m sure that it will be,” she said.
“Honora, I hate to break the news to you,” he said dryly, “but I’m Mr. Talbott’s assistant. Thus far I haven’t headed up a single project.”
“You will. Curt, explain about Talbott’s. I’m confused. You don’t only do engineering, do you?”
“We’re also in construction. Talbott’s will either bid on the plans and supervision for a client or take over the entire project.” Curt caught Martin’s eye and pointed at their table, a signal to bring another round. “Now it’s your turn. Tell me about
your
career.”
“What can I say about it?”
“For openers, what attracted you?”
“MGM begged me to come to Hollywood, but I said no, I need much more of a challenge. And it’s crass, but a lot of the brokers who eat at Stroud’s make less than I do.” Was she quoting Vi’s wisdom? No matter.
“So it’s the money?”
“The bare truth is, wonderfully qualified as I am, for some reason nobody else saw fit to hire me.”
“Waitresses there
do
pull down good tips, don’t they?”
Was Curt obliquely pointing out that her father was derelict in his fiscal responsibilities? Her high-voltage glow dimmed a trifle. “There’s a lot of expenses when you’re getting on yourfeet in a new country, you know.”
“You’re very different,”
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