King Cole Read online

  “Nothing. It’s me, Read.”

  “You?”

  “I don’t belong here anymore. Everything is too… too simple. Black and white. Do you see what I mean? I lived too long abroad. Things are so different there.”

  “So I see in the papers.”

  “Please don’t be sarcastic, Read. I’m serious, really serious. This is the most important decision I’ve ever had to make. When I married Henry I didn’t know anything. I was just a kid. I had no mind to make up. Now it’s different.”

  “You seem to like the Riquetti family all right.”

  “Vince is just like Henry.”

  Eileen got up; she was very pale. Read was startled by the intensity of her expression.

  “Read, you belong here. I don’t. We couldn’t make a go of it. I’d just make you terribly unhappy. You’re so simple and good. I’m not like that. I’m like the Riquettis. Can’t you see?” She burst out crying violently.

  Read didn’t know what to do. He sat stammering, then he got up clumsily and tried to comfort her.

  She cried a moment, then she said:

  “Oh, damn. My mascara’s running. I’m a mess. Please don’t go, Read. I’ll be right back.”

  She went out. Read got up and began to pace the floor again. Presently, the Major put his head in at the door. His face was red and apologetic.

  “Governor,” he said, “can’t you persuade her to stay? She’s all I’ve got. Why must she marry that fool Riquetti? Don’t you think one experience would be enough?”

  “It’s something we can’t understand, Major.”

  “It will kill me. I’m an old man.”

  “It’s her own life. She’s got to live it according to her own ideas.”

  “That slick fool is after her money. I told her so. She says she knows it.”

  Read and the Major stood shaking their heads. For the first time, Read felt a certain kinship with this rich old man. They were both uncomplicated males. The Riquettis of this world understood things that were hidden from them.

  The Major cleared his throat nervously when he heard his daughter’s steps on the stairs.

  “Maybe she’ll change her mind.”

  “Maybe,” said Read.

  Eileen put her hand on the Major’s shoulder as she came through the doorway.

  “Feel better, Dad?”

  “A little. Well, I’m going in the den. Yard Meadows is coming over after a while for a game of chess. Ever play chess, Governor?”

  “I’ve tried.”

  When the Major had gone, Read and Eileen sat down on a divan, holding hands.

  “Sorry I’m so emotional tonight, Read. You must think I’m a hysterical fool. I think I am. Want to

  hear a funny story?”

  “It would be a relief.”

  “Well, once upon a time… No, I won’t make a joke of it. Read, remember how Vince was looking at Jean?”

  “I didn’t notice.”

  “You wouldn’t. Well, I could see that Vince had made up his mind that Jean would be quite easy for a man of his talents. Don’t be offended, Read. I don’t say he was right. I know Vince. I know how his mind works. I know the look in his eye. So I said to myself: ‘Mr. Vincent Riquetti, I’m going to give you a battle.’ Read, I like Jean. She’s a nice fresh girl. I didn’t want her getting silly over Vince; he’s no earthly good. So at the hockey game, I turned on the heat. Poor Vince! He didn’t know what to do. You see, I’d been snubbing him ever since he came here. Well, in ten minutes he was running around after me like a little poodle. When I was married to his brother his style was cramped a little as he was deathly afraid of Henry. Oh, it was pathetic. I know Jean was furious. But I couldn’t help that.”

  “Why,” said Read, brightening, “then you…”

  “Wait a minute. Before I knew it, I wasn’t joking any longer. I was serious. And here I am.”

  Read stared at her for a long time.

  “I see.”

  “Know anything about the unconscious, Read?”

  “No. Can’t say that I do.”

  “Well, I think my unconscious slipped up on me. That was just a subterfuge, my saving Jean. You know I’m no heroine. Although I didn’t realize it at the time. Do you see?”

  Read was bewildered.

  “I don’t understand you at all, Eileen.”

  “You’re better off.”

  It was after eleven when Read started home and he was very tired. He and Eileen had argued futilely for two hours. Read felt more than a little hurt and sat staring gloomily at Barney’s back. Suddenly, he sat bolt upright. Kitten! One o’clock! He’d almost forgotten.

  “I want to go home now, Barney,” he said. “But I’ll want the car again at quarter to one.”

  Barney nodded but said nothing.

  IV

  Barney grumblingly obeyed orders and stopped just beyond the corner of Front and West Broad streets. Read glanced at his watch. Five after one. Would she be on time? Would she come at all? Something might have come up that would keep her from… Read glanced at his watch again. Six after one. Then he noticed that his heart was beating unevenly.

  “This won’t do at all,” he told himself; and settling back comfortably, he took out a cigar and lit it.

  Barney turned, glanced back at Read; then after clearing his throat nervously and scratching his head, he said:

  “Governor, it’s none of my business. I get my pay and I’m satisfied and I sure get a kick out of being your chauffeur. But, Governor, if I was you, I’d be mighty careful who I was meeting.” There was a pause. Read said nothing. “That is, supposing you are meeting anybody.”

  “I appreciate your feelings, Barney,” said Read. “Don’t worry. I know what I’m doing.”

  Barney sighed and turned back. Finally he said:

  “Excuse me. Can I smoke?”

  “Go ahead.”

  Barney lit up. They sat in silence.

  A cold wind was blowing up from the river, and there was frost in the air. The double row of boulevard lights stretched off in diminishing perspective along the broad, deserted street. Each light had a little halo of mist about it and was faintly reflected on the wet black asphalt. The houses were dark. There was not a sound. At the end of a black alleyway to the west Read saw a faint light shining on the dark river.

  Read glanced at his watch again. She was late. It was a quarter after. Suddenly Read was furious and swore at himself; then he grew calmer and began to wonder what had happened to the old Read Cole. Somehow he had lost his sense of proportion. Here he was, Governor of Ohio, facing an election crisis, waiting in a back street for a little check-girl.

  “It won’t do,” he said to himself, his lips tightening; then he leaned forward to tell Barney to take him home, but hesitated. Finally, he sank back, muttering: “I really should wait a few more minutes,” and ignoring the voice inside him which said: ”You’ll wait for an hour if necessary.”

  A car drove slowly past, and at the next intersection it made a U turn and came back. Read could hear Barney cursing softly. The car drove past again. There were two men in the front seat.

  “Governor,” said Barney, in an agitated voice, “you sure somebody ain’t putting the finger on you? Look,; that car’s turning right. I’ll bet he’s going around the block. Let’s get going. Once I get this old kettle rambling we’re safe.”

  Read hesitated. The men in the car might be watching him, or it might be a mere coincidence. He was just getting ready to tell Barney to drive on when he heard the sharp tattoo of high heels hurrying over the pavement. He looked up Broad Street. Kitten was coming on the run. She was hatless and was carrying a big paper sack. When she passed under a street light near the corner Read saw that she had a blue ribbon in her hair. She looked like a schoolgirl hurrying to school. Read thought of Jean and flushed.

  Barney jumped out quickly to open the door.

  “Will you take this sack, please?” Kitten said to Barney.

  “What’s i
n it?”

  “Why, food.”

  “Take the sack,” said Read, sharply. “Get in, Kitten. You’re late.”

  “Oh, I know.” Kitten jumped into the car and, when Barney had closed the door, she threw her arms around Read and kissed him. “I nearly died,” she cried.

  “Why, what’s wrong?”

  “Oh,” said Kitten, sitting very close to Read and holding his hand, “that old fool, Mr. Baugh, the assistant manager, just wouldn’t let me get away. He kept talking and talking. I was afraid you’d get sore at me and not wait.”

  Read winced slightly at her reference to “old” Mr. Baugh, who was barely forty.

  “We were just starting.”

  “Oh, was I lucky!”

  Barney cleared his throat.

  “Where to?”

  “Take Miss Reese home, of course,” said Read.

  “Oh, no,” cried Kitten; then she hesitated. “I thought we were going someplace. I thought…”

  “Where would we go?”

  Kitten stammered.

  “Well, I thought… Well, gee; I went out this afternoon and bought a lot of stuff. I thought I’d cook you a nice lunch and we’d have fun. Wait! We can go down to my house. I’ll make Maude go over and sleep with the girl across the hall. I got a little hot-plate stove.”

  Read was touched and pressed her hand.

  Barney turned.

  “Excuse me, Governor,” he said. “You can go over to my place. I got a nice little three-room apartment in the alley back of the Mansion. Excuse me; but I’m going to look after you, Governor, if I get fired for it.”

  Read laughed.

  “All right,” he said. “We’ll go there.”

  Kitten put her lips to Read’s ear and whispered: “Is he going to be there?”

  “He’ll probably wait in the car.”

  “I don’t like him. Why don’t you fire him?”

  “Oh, I couldn’t get along without Barney.”

  “He shouldn’t talk to you the way he does. If I was Governor, he wouldn’t talk that way to me.”

  “What would you do, have him shot?”

  “I might.”

  Barney drove off. Turning slightly, he said:

  “Excuse me, Governor, but I guess that car was a false alarm.”

  Barney drove to his apartment behind the Mansion by an out-of-the-way route. It was pitch dark where he parked.

  “Up these outside stairs,” he said. “Follow me. I’ll see if everything’s all right.”

  They went up the dark stairs, groping their way. Kitten stumbled, then giggled. They waited while Barney went inside. After a moment he came back.

  “Did you take my package?” Kitten asked.

  “Yes,” said Barney. “Step right in this way, Governor. This is the living-room. Wait; I’ll turn on the lamp for you. It don’t make much light. Anyways, the shades are down.”

  They went in and Read took off his coat and hat, then rubbing his hands together and looking around him, he said:

  “I didn’t know you had such a nice place, Barney. A man with a place as nice as this ought to be married.”

  “Sorry, Governor. I’m paying alimony to one frail already. Never again. Excuse me. You sit down. Make yourself comfortable. I’ll get the food ready.”

  He went toward the little kitchenette with the sack, but Kitten ran after him.

  “You don’t need to get the food ready,” she cried. “I’ll do it.”

  “No,” said Barney. “You go back and entertain the Governor.”

  Kitten stamped her foot.

  “No. I’m going to get the Governor’s lunch for him. I been thinking all day about doing it.”

  Barney scratched his head carefully and stood staring at Kitten, then he grinned broadly at her.

  “All right. I’ll be outside in case you need anything. Sister, I really believe you’re all right. Kind of go for the Governor, eh?”

  “None of your business.”

  Barney winked at her, then stepped into the living-room. The Governor was sitting in an easy chair, smoking a cigar. He looked very comfortable and relaxed. Barney smiled.

  “I’ll be out in the car, Governor.”

  Read nodded and Barney went out. As soon as he was gone, Kitten rushed into the room and sat on Read’s lap.

  “What fun!”

  Read saw admiration and respect in her eyes and it pleased him. But, Lord! she looked so young with that ribbon in her hair and that plain blue skirt and white blouse. He began to feel slightly paternal. He grew conscious of the years that had rolled over him; of the gray in his hair; of the fact that he was far from a young man and was a little dizzy and sickish sometimes in the morning till he had his coffee. Why, Kitten looked like a kid. She seemed about the age of Johnny. While she talked and laughed, happy as a boy on Christmas morning, Read guardedly studied her. Her face was absolutely unlined. Her cheeks were smooth and there were faint traces of a delicate golden down on them. Her eyes were blue and young and somewhat innocent. Her hair was thick and curly and lustrous, carelessly tied up with a blue ribbon. But it was the mouth that decided him. It had an unformed, immature look to it. He felt certain she had lied to him about her age.

  “Kitten,” he said, “you don’t look over sixteen tonight.”

  “It’s the hair ribbon; anyway, I’m happy.”

  “Why so happy?”

  “Because I’m with you.”

  “Why do you want to be with me? I’m old enough to be your grandfather. At least in looks.”

  “Silly. You look young. How old are you? Are you thirty?”

  “Thanks.”

  “No, really. Are you older than that?”

  “Didn’t you call Mr. Baugh ‘old’?”

  “Sure. He is.”

  “He’s younger than I am.”

  “Quit kidding.” Kitten leaned forward and kissed Read, who drew back slightly.

  “I’m not kidding. I’m forty-three years old.”

  “My goodness, are you?” She looked at him with round eyes. “So what?” She giggled and patted his face.

  “Kitten, run and get the lunch. I can’t stay here very long. I’ve got a busy day ahead of me.”

  Kitten looked at him blankly, then she smiled, kissed him, and jumping from his lap, ran out into the kitchenette. Presently he heard her humming.

  He got up and began to pace the floor. The scene had a burlesque domesticity about it that troubled Read. Suddenly he thought of Eileen. Everything would have been fine if that damned perfumed dago hadn’t turned up; Eileen was flighty, and fickle. It would be a bad mistake for her to marry another Riquetti or anyone like him. She needed a steadying influence. He should have used a stronger hand with her. Made her listen to reason. She had been a little hysterical ever since the arrival of Riquetti. Oh, well!

  “Have I entirely given her up?” Read asked himself; he didn’t know the answer; he shrugged and was going to sit down, when Kitten appeared in the doorway, humming, clapping her hands in front of her, and doing graceful little dance steps.

  “Could we turn on the radio? I got things started. I want to dance with you again. Oh, I enjoyed it at Mr. Upham’s.”

  Read dialed till he got some dance music, then he turned it low, and they began to dance.

  “Kitten,” said Read, “how old did you say you were?”

  She glanced up at him; her face troubled.

  “Why, I’ll be twenty-six.”

  “You said twenty-five.”

  “Oh, yes. I always get it mixed up.”

  “What year were you born?”

  “Why, nineteen… Well, let’s see.”

  Read said nothing. Kitten was flushing.

  “I thought you wouldn’t like me if I was too young,” she said, finally.

  “Is twenty-six your idea of old?”

  “Well, for a girl it’s pretty old. If a girl isn’t married by that time, it’s tough.”

  “I see.”

  Kitten hugged
him.

  “What does it matter how old I am? That’s the bunk.”

  “How old are you?”

  “Shall I tell you?”

  “Yes, and don’t lie anymore.”

  “All right. I’m nineteen.”

  Read sighed.

  “That’s what I thought.”

  “That’s not so young. I’m no high school girl, if that’s what you mean. I been around.”

  “Kitten, I’ve got a daughter twenty-two and a son almost your age.”

  They stopped dancing. Kitten looked up at him incredulously.

  “You have!”

  “Of course.”

  She burst out laughing, then she whirled and ran out to the kitchenette, crying over her shoulder: ”Oh, the coffee’s boiling.”

  The lunch was very good. In a little while Read sat back, replete. He lit a cigarette and, smoking leisurely, sat watching Kitten eat. She was what Read’s father would have called “a pretty good feeder.”

  Finally she stopped eating, finished her coffee, and pouting a little, she said:

  “Just because I’m nineteen.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Why is it men think that just because you’re nineteen…?” She hesitated and gave a little laugh.

  Read was annoyed.

  “Oh, you have a lot of trouble that way.”

  “No. I mean… well, they think you’re so young.”

  “You are young. Come on, Kitten. Hurry. I’ve got to go.”

  She got up.

  “I really ought to do these dishes,” she said.

  “It isn’t necessary.”

  Read helped her into her coat and she smiled over her shoulder at him.

  “I always get a kick when you help me with my coat. I say to myself: ‘The Governor helping me with my coat.’ “

  “That’s it, really, isn’t it?” said Read. “It’s because I’m the Governor.”

  Suddenly, Kitten began to cry. She turned her head away from Read and put it down on her shoulder.

  “What’s the matter, Kitten?”

  “Oh, all day I’ve been thinking what a nice time we were going to have. I could just see us sitting in some big apartment, talking and smoking; everything was going to be swell; and then I thought we’d eat real late and maybe when we went out the sun would be just coming up and it would be all gray and pretty and nice outside, you know, like it is just before it really gets day. And here all we did was eat and I won’t see you anymore just because I’m not one of those old frowzy women like Mr. Upham has!”