537: She glances . . .
Reservations Recommended, chapter 6 continues
She glances around the room, to give the appearance that she has no intention of speaking further, but her glance falls on the angular beauty and she discovers that the angular beauty is looking at her, so she turns back to Matthew in self-defense. She finds him staring at her. He’s wondering whether he ought to tell her that she doesn’t play the game of waiting to be asked what she means as well as she used to when she smoked.
“How long has it been since you quit smoking?” he asks.
“How long since I quit smoking? Wow. I don’t know. Years. It was right after we moved to Lincoln, wasn’t it? What made you ask that?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Just popped into my mind. Once upon a time, we both would have been puffing away here. That’s all. Just struck me.”
Good, Matthew, says BW. Quite good. You didn’t give her the satisfaction of asking what she meant. I’m proud of you.
“I hope I haven’t hurt you, Matthew,” says Liz, but the way she purses her lips and puckers her brows makes it seem a lie. “I just didn’t want you to get the wrong idea. The other night was just — the other night. I was curious. That’s all.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
“I don’t want you to misunderstand.”
“I don’t think I’m misunderstanding. Let me see if I’ve got it. You were just curious. You saw the snappy furniture I bought, and you wanted to find out if my furniture had made me a little snappier, too.”
Good, Matthew, says BW. This is good.
“Come on — ”
“Sorry. Just kidding. I really do understand. Of course you were curious. You wanted to find out if Belinda had taught me any tricks.”
Oh, excellent, says BW. I like the way you got her off guard there and then hit her with Belinda.
“Let’s order some food, okay?” says Liz. “I don’t like the way this is going.” She looks around, trying not to let her eyes rest too long on the beautiful couple. “Who’s our waitress, anyway?”
“We don’t have one. The waif will take our order if we ask her to. She can’t figure out what else to do.”
He twists around, looking for the waif. In a moment she drifts around the central divider, her eyes vacant, her mouth in a goofy, unfathomable grin. “Excuse me,” he says as she passes. His tone suggests that something is wrong, not with the restaurant or anyone connected with it, but with him. He seems embarrassed.
“Yes?” says the waif, warily.
“I’m hoping you can help us. We have a question.”
“I’ll try to help you if I can. What’s the question?”
“Have you noticed that couple just over there, the ones — ”
The waif begins to turn around to look.
“No, no,” says Matthew. “Don’t look at them. Just glance in the mirror beside me. You’ll see who I mean. The beautiful couple.”
“Oh, I know the ones you mean. Of course I’ve noticed them. You’re kidding, right?”
“What I want to know is, are they plants?”
“Plants?”
“I mean, did they just happen to come here, or did you hire them to sit there and look beautiful?”
“No, they just walked in.”
“I see. Well, that settles that, then.” He folds his hands. The waif turns aside. “Oh,” says Matthew. “Just one more question.”
“Yes?”
“Could someone bring us menus?”
“Oh. I’ll get them.”
“Did you notice them?” Matthew asks Liz after the waif has gone.
“I don’t want to talk about them. I don’t want to think about them. Already I’m starting to feel thick.”
For a moment he stares at the couple, in the mirror, unnoticed.
They are probably the scions of a couple of the first families of Argentina, to take the first example that comes to mind, suggests BW. The streets of Boston are full of them these days, also Peruvians and such, rich, haughty, and gorgeous, all of them. What do you suppose these families do with their unattractive children? One shudders to think.
[to be continued]
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