🎧 291: When Herb and Lorna ...

WHEN HERB AND LORNA walked into the ballroom, everyone fell silent, and everyone turned to stare.
     Herb had no difficulty identifying the particular young man. Andy Proctor hopped up from the table where he was sitting with a group of friends and admirers (a couple of whom were, to be accurate, neither friends nor admirers but young men and women who were broke and out of work and entertained hopes that Andy would get them work at Proctor’s Products, lend them money, or at least pick up the tab for the evening). He bounded to the door to greet Herb and Lorna, producing exactly the effect he’d hoped for: a ripple of admiration for his big-heartedness ran around the room, and Andrew was a hero for the second time. (Elsa Burch, who had been inclined to think of him as an egotistical braggart, developed a fondness for him on the spot. Four months later they were engaged; they married the following spring. They lived together in Chacallit all their lives. Their youngest son still lives in Chacallit today. He owns the gay bar, 24-Karat Studs.)
     “So you’re the better man,” Andy said when Lorna introduced Herb. “What do you say we step outside?”
     Outside, Andy leaned against the railing on the open porch that reached out over Lake Serenity. Moonlight flickered on the rippling water. He reached into his jacket pocket and produced a small sterling flask manufactured by Proctor’s Products. The flask was a little outside the usual catalog of the company, but it was doing very well for them; Andy had suggested adding it to the line, and the suggestion had confirmed for his father the wisdom of grooming the boy for a future at the helm.
     “Drink, Herb?” Andy asked. He smiled a cheerless smile, a challenging, bellicose smile.
     “I will. Yes. Thanks,” said Herb. He wiped his palms on his jacket and accepted the flask.
     Other young men began drifting out of the ballroom and taking positions along the railing. Most made some attempt to appear to be talking among themselves, but it was clear to Herb that they had come outside not for a drink or a smoke, but to see what would happen between him and Andy.
     “Thanks,” Herb said, returning the flask and the smile.
     “Don’t mention it,” said Andy. The smile again. He drank. “You enjoying yourself in Chacallit?” he asked.
     “Yes,” said Herb. “Yes, I am. It’s a nice place.” He leaned on the railing, looking out over the lake, wishing he could think of something snappy to say.
     “Hey, Bump,” Andy called out. “Come over here and meet somebody.”
     Herb turned from the lake and saw that the invitation to “Bump” had drawn not only a large sandy-haired fellow — Bump, he supposed — but all the other young men on the porch, who drifted in his direction behind Bump.
     “Hello there,” said Bump. He gave Herb a nod. No smile.
     “This is Herb Piper,” said Andy. He smiled at Bump — the same humorless, antagonistic smile.
     “Herb Piper,” said Bump, pronouncing the name as if he thought it should be familiar to him. “Herb Piper,” he said again. His expression (pursed lips, twisted mouth, eyebrows drawn together) suggested that he was searching his memory for some information about Herb Piper that ought to be there. “I think I must have known a Herb Piper. You don’t look familiar, but the name sounds familiar. Ever live in Albany?”
     “No,” said Herb.
     “Baltimore?”
     “No.”
     “Didn’t work for the B & O, did you?”
     “No,” said Herb. “I’ve lived in Boston all along.”
     “Boston? Herb Piper. Herb Piper. Were you in France?”
     “Yes. I was in France.”
     “Where?”
     “Quelquepart-sur-Marne.”
     “Holy jumping Jesus!” exclaimed Bump. “Are you the guy from Boston? The one who fixed the cup handles?”
     “Yes,” said Herb. “That’s me.”

In Topical Guide 291, Mark Dorset considers Real Places, Fictional Places and Fiction: Responding to: Suspension of Disbelief from this episode.

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