Nightwork

'A colonel? He seems like a colonel who's sorry the war ever ended. I bet he was a colonel. Was he?'

'I never asked him.'

'I get the impression that you're very close.'

We are.'

'And you never asked him what his rank was?'

No.'

That's a funny kind of very close,' she said, slipping out of my arms.

Fabian was standing in front of the mantelpiece, on which stood his half-drunk martini. He was staring at Angelo Quinn's painting of the main street. He made no comment when we came down the stairs and into the living room, but reached, almost guiltily, for his glass. 'As for refreshments,' he said, falsely hearty, 'let me buy you two dear children a magnificent seafood dinner. There's a restaurant in Southampton I...'

'There's no need to go all the way to Southampton,' Evelyn said. There's a place right near here in Sag Harbor that serves the best lobsters in the world.'

I saw Fabian's mouth tightening, but all he said was, 'Whatever you say, dear Evelyn.'

She went upstairs to get a coat and Fabian and I were alone for a moment. 'I do like a woman,' he said, a hard glint in his eye, 'who knows her own mind. Poor Douglas.'

'Poor nothing,' I said.

He shrugged, touched his mustache, turned to look at the painting over the mantelpiece. 'Where did she get that?' he asked.

In Rome,' I said. 'I bought it for her.'

'You did?' he said flatly, but with a hint of unflattering surprise. 'Interesting. Do you remember the name of the gallery?'

'Bonelli's. It's on the via,..'

'I know where Bonelli's is. Old man with sliding teeth. If I happen to be in Rome I may look in...'

Evelyn came down from the bedroom with her coat over her arm, and Fabian was quick to help her on with it. Somehow, as was the case with any woman whom he considered attractive, his movements at moments like that were caressing, like a lover's, not a headwaiter's. I took it as a good sign.

* * *

The lobster turned out to be every bit as good as Evelyn had promised, and Fabian ordered a bottle of American white wine from Napa Valley that he said was almost as good as any white wine he had drunk in France. Then he ordered another bottle. By then, the atmosphere had relaxed considerably and he teased me gently about my Roman suits, praised my skiing to Evelyn and told her that she must allow me to teach her, mentioned Gstaad, St-Paul-de-Vence, Paris, all very casually, told two funny, unmalicious anecdotes about Giuliano Quadrocelli, listened seriously as we described the blowing up of the boat in the harbor, did not bring up the names of Lily or Eunice, stayed away from the topic of business, deferred at all times when Evelyn wanted to say something, and in general behaved like the most charming and considerate of hosts. I could see that for better or worse he had decided to win over Evelyn and I hoped he would succeed.

'Tell me. Miles,' Evelyn said as we were finishing our coffee, 'in the war were you a colonel? I asked Douglas and he said he didn't know.'

'Heavens no, dear girl,' he laughed. 'I was the lowliest of lieutenants.'

'I was sure you were a colonel,' Evelyn said. 'At least a colonel.'

Why?'

'No particular reason,' Evelyn said carelessly. She put her hand on mine on the table. 'Just a kind of air of commanding the troops.'

'It's a trick I learned, dear Evelyn,' Fabian said, 'to cover up my essential lack of self-confidence. Would you like a brandy?'

When he had paid the bill, he wouldn't hear of our driving all the way to take him to his hotel in Southampton. 'And tomorrow morning,' he said to me, 'don't bother to get up early. I have to be in New York by noon and the hotel will find a limousine for me.'

As the taxi drove up to the restaurant, now half-obscured by fog rolling in from the bay, he said, 'What a lovely evening. I hope we will have many such. If I may. Gentle Heart ...'I did not miss the echo ... 'If I may...' He leaned toward Evelyn. I would love to kiss this dear girl good night.'

'Of course,' she said, not waiting for my permission, and kissed him on the cheek.

We watched him get into the taxi and the red tail-lights faded wetly into the fog. 'Whew! ' Evelyn said, reaching for my hand.

* * *

That night and the next morning I was glad Fabian was in a hotel and not in Evelyn's house.

He did not make it to the wedding, as he was in England that week. But he sent a superb Georgian silver coffeepot as a gift from London, hand-carried by a stewardess he knew. And when our son was born, he sent five gold napoleons from Zurich, where he happened to be at the time.

24