that everything he sees becomes important, and he won't give it up, not to himself, until he's past seeing and past remembering.
I don't know.
All I know is that I almost let out a yell that they could have heard over in the next county.
I had to put my hand over my mouth to hold it back. I got back into bed, shivering, and finally dozed off again. But it wasn't good sleep. Not sound, I mean. I kept dreaming that Elizabeth was in the room with me. And it was like I was looking back or ahead on something that had happened.
She was climbing up on a chair to get something down from the ceiling-I don't know the hell what- and anyone could see that the chair was made out of straw and wasn't going to hold her up. But she kept climbing up on it and I'd run and catch her, and then she'd throw herself back in my arms and kiss me.
Then, there was a little guy that kept coming to the door and trying to get in. And there wasn't a damned bit of sense in her being afraid of him, because he was so damned little and funny-looking. But anyway he kept coming and I'd go to the door and tell him to get the hell out, and he'd beat it for a minute or two. And then I'd go back over to the bed and pull the covers off of Elizabeth, but instead of doing what I should have done I'd stand there and laugh. Because, dammit, I know it's crazy, but she'd turned into a statue. She had and she hadn't. We had to do it first or she would be, but if we didn't she was. And-
And then it was our wedding anniversary, it seemed like, and she was reminding me how, wherever we were, we'd promised that we'd always get together on our anniversary. And even dreaming, I knew it really was our anniversary, and I kind of remembered that we'd said that, that we'd promised like, I suppose, every couple does when they're first married.
She kneeled down at my side and put her hand on my forehead. She leaned forward and kissed me on the mouth.
And I woke up, and it was Carol.
'How are you feeling?' she whispered.
I blinked my eyes.
'All right,' I said.
'Your fever seems to have broken.'
'Yeah,' I said, 'I'm all right. Just weak.'
'What would you like for breakfast?'
I told her just a little toast and coffee would do. 'Better bring up some whisky, too. I'm chilling.'
She was back in ten minutes or so with a tray. I sat up and made out like I was going to eat.
'You'd better run along, Carol. It won't look good for you to spend too much time up here.'
'I-there's something I want to say to you, Joe.'
'Well?'
'But I've got to know something first. I've got to know the truth. Do-do you really love me?'
'Oh, Jesus Christ!' I slammed down my coffee cup. 'If you've got anything to tell me, spit it out! If you haven't, leave me alone for a while. We're not supposed to be together and I'm sick, and I've got a thousand and one things to think about. I'm sorry, but-'
'That's all right, Joe. I'm going.'
'I do love you, Carol,' I said. 'You know that.'
But she was already gone.
I took a bite or two from the toast, and put the rest in a bureau drawer under some shirts. I drank the coffee down halfway, and filled up the cup with whisky. After a second cup of the stuff, I felt pretty fair. I could have got up as well as not. But I stayed where I was. I wasn't ready to face people yet. Andy Taylor and Appleton and Happy Chance. Maybe I'd never be, but I sure wasn't now.
Around noon of the third day, right after I'd got through taking a bath, I heard a car coming up the lane from the road. I looked out the window to see who it was, but it was already up and in front of the house by then.
A minute or so later Carol tapped on the door, and I told her to come in.
'There's a man here to see you, Joe. He said to tell you it was Sol.'
'Oh,' I said. 'Tell him to come up.'
'Who is he, Joe? Is there-'
'Tell him to come up,' I repeated.
She got that hard, stubborn look on her face like she used to get around Elizabeth. But finally she turned and went back downstairs, taking her time about it.
22
Sol Panzer looked more like a jockey than the owner of a ninety-house chain. He was maybe five feet tall, and he might have weighed a hundred and ten with his clothes wet. I guess he had something wrong with his vocal cords, because his voice matched up with the rest of him. It was thin and soft; not much more than a whisper.
If Carol tried to listen, and I figured she would, she wouldn't hear much.
He stood by the door a moment, looking at me out of the big horn-rimmed glasses he wore. Then he moved over to the bed like greased lightning, grabbed my hand and shook it, and dropped into a chair right in front of me.
'Joe,' he said, speaking in his fast half-whisper. 'I'm sorry to see you sick. I was sorry about Mrs. Wilmot. I hope you got our flowers. This is a nice place you have here.'
'Thanks,' I said. 'Stick around and maybe you can buy it cheap.'
'I'm sorry, Joe.' He began to slow down. 'It's nothing personal.'
'That's all right. Have a drink.'
'No, no. I never drink during business hours.'
'If this is business,' I said, 'maybe we'd better get down to it.'
'Cold turkey?'
'Without the stuffing.'
'Well-a dollar and other valuable considerations.'
'Remember me?' I said. 'I own the place. How many valuable considerations?'
'Say, about five thousand.'
I let out a grunt. 'Five thousand wouldn't pay for my projectors and sound heads.'
'Probably not, Joe.'
'Then there's my chairs,' I said. 'Fifteen hundred of 'em with a factory list of eighteen seventy-five.'
'You bought cheap. They'll run you twenty-two fifty, now.'
'I've got a thousand yards of six-bucks-a-yard carpeting. I've got four grand in air conditioning. I've got-'
'Joe.'
'Oh, all right,' I said. 'You don't want the stuff.'
'I couldn't buy it if I did want it, Joe. I got friends in the theatrical supply line. Close friends, y'know. What would they think if I didn't patronize 'em? They'd be hurt, Joe. You know they would.'
'Yeah,' I said, 'I guess they would.'
I'd known how it was going to be. But I couldn't fight, and when a man can't fight the best thing he can do is stall.
'Well, Joe?'
'Well,' I said. 'Twenty-five grand isn't a bad price for the location. I'll take it.'
'I don't speak very loud, Joe. Maybe you didn't hear me say five.'
'Twenty.'
'Five. But don't be afraid to beg, Joe. My way of refusing is very polite.'
I took another drink and lighted a cigarette. I looked down at the floor, pretending to study. Stalling.
'I don't know, Sol,' I said. 'Doesn't it strike you that this is a pretty hard thing to do to a friend?'
'A friend, Joe?' He looked puzzled. 'I hardly know you when I see you.'
'Make it an enemy, then,' I said. 'You're obligated to come into this town. I don't know how much you're already in on the deal, but it must be plenty. You've got to come in, and I'm sitting on the spot you want.'
'Yes, Joe?'
'Well, maybe you'd better take it from there.'
