“Tannis root?” Hutch said.
“It’s one of the herbs in the drink,” Rosemary said. “Or is it an herb?” She looked to Roman. “Can a root be an herb?” But Roman was watching Hutch and didn’t hear.
“ ‘Tannis?’ “ Hutch said. “I’ve never heard of it. Are you sure you don’t mean ‘anise’ or ‘orris root’?”
Roman said, “Tannis.”
“Here,” Rosemary said, drawing out her charm. “It’s good luck too, theoretically. Brace yourself; the smell takes a little getting-used-to.” She held the charm out, leaning forward to bring it closer to Hutch.
He sniffed at it and drew away, grimacing. “I should say it does,” he said. He took the chained ball between two fingertips and squinted at it from a distance. “It doesn’t look like root matter at all,” he said; “it looks like mold or fungus of some kind.” He looked at Roman. “Is it ever called by another name?” he asked.
“Not to my knowledge,” Roman said.
“I shall look it up in the encyclopedia and find out all about it,” Hutch said. “Tannis. What a pretty holder or charm or whatever-it-is. Where did you get it?”
With a quick smile at Roman, Rosemary said, “The Castevets gave it to me.” She tucked the charm back inside her top.
Hutch said to Roman, “You and your wife seem to be taking better care of Rosemary than her own parents would.”
Roman said, “We’re very fond of her, and of Guy too.” He pushed against the arms of his chair and raised himself to his feet. “If you’ll excuse me, I have to go now,” he said. “My wife is waiting for me.”
“Of course,” Hutch said, rising. “It’s a pleasure to have met you.”
“We’ll meet again, I’m sure,” Roman said. “Don’t bother, Rosemary.”
“It’s no bother.” She walked along with him to the front door. His right ear was pierced too, she saw, and there were many small scars on his neck like a flight of distant birds. “Thanks again for stopping by,” she said.
“Don’t mention it,” Roman said. “I like your friend Mr. Hutchins; he seems extremely intelligent.”
Rosemary, opening the door, said, “He is.”
“I’m glad I met him,” Roman said. With a smile and a hand-wave he started down the hall.
“’By,” Rosemary said, waving back.
Hutch was standing by the bookshelves. “This room is glorious,” he said. “You’re doing a beautiful job.”
“Thanks,” Rosemary said. “I was until my pelvis intervened. Roman has pierced ears. I just noticed it for the first time.”
“Pierced ears and piercing eyes,” Hutch said. “What was he before he became a Golden Ager?”
“Just about everything. And he’s been everywhere in the world. Really everywhere.”
“Nonsense; nobody has. Why did he ring your bell?-if I’m not being too inquisitive.”
“To see if I needed anything from outside. The house phone isn’t working. They’re fantastic neighbors. They’d come in and do the cleaning if I let them.”
“What’s she like?”
Rosemary told him. “Guy’s gotten very close to them,” she said. “I think they’ve become sort of parent- figures for him.”
“And you?”
“I’m not sure. Sometimes I’m so grateful I could kiss them, and sometimes I get a sort of smothery feeling, as if they’re being too friendly and helpful. Yet how can I complain? You remember the power failure?”
“Shall I ever forget it? I was in an elevator.”
“No.”
“Yes indeed. Five hours in total darkness with three women and a John Bircher who were all sure that the Bomb had fallen.”
“How awful.”
“You were saying?”
“We were here, Guy and I, and two minutes after the lights went out Minnie was at the door with a handful of candles.” She gestured toward the mantel. “Now how can you find fault with neighbors like that?”
“You can’t, obviously,” Hutch said, and stood looking at the mantel. “Are those the ones?” he asked. Two pewter candlesticks stood between a bowl of polished stones and a brass microscope; in them were three-inch lengths of black candle ribbed with drippings.
“The last survivors,” Rosemary said. “She brought a whole month’s worth. What is it?”
“Were they all black?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said. “Why?”
“Just curious.” He turned from the mantel, smiling at her. “Offer me coffee, will you? And tell me more about Mrs. Castevet. Where does she grow those herbs of hers? In window boxes?”
They were sitting over cups at the kitchen table some ten minutes later when the front door unlocked and Guy hurried in. “Hey, what a surprise,” he said, coming over and grabbing Hutch’s hand before he could rise. “How are you, Hutch? Good to see you!” He clasped Rosemary’s head in his other hand and bent and kissed her cheek and lips. “How you doing, honey?” He still had his make-up on; his face was orange, his eyes black-lashed and large.
“You’re the surprise,” Rosemary said. “What happened?”
“Ah, they stopped in the middle for a rewrite, the dumb bastards. We start again in the morning. Stay where you are, nobody move; I’ll just get rid of my coat.” He went out to the closet.
“Would you like some coffee?” Rosemary called.
“Love some!”
She got up and poured a cup, and refilled Hutch’s cup and her own. Hutch sucked at his pipe, looking thoughtfully before him.
Guy came back in with his hands full of packs of Pall Mall. “Loot,” he said, dumping them on the table. “Hutch?”
“No, thanks.”
Guy tore a pack open, jammed cigarettes up, and pulled one out. He winked at Rosemary as she sat down again.
Hutch said, “It seems congratulations are in order.”
Guy, lighting up, said, “Rosemary told you? It’s wonderful, isn’t it? We’re delighted. Of course I’m scared stiff that I’ll be a lousy father, but Rosemary’ll be such a great mother that it won’t make much difference.”
“When is the baby due?” Hutch asked.
Rosemary told him, and told Guy that Dr. Sapirstein had delivered two of Hutch’s grandchildren.
Hutch said, “I met your neighbor, Roman Castevet.”
“Oh, did you?” Guy said. “Funny old duck, isn’t he? He’s got some interesting stories, though, about Otis Skinner and Modjeska. He’s quite a theater buff.”
Rosemary said, “Did you ever notice that his ears are pierced?”
“You’re kidding,” Guy said.
“No I’m not; I saw.”
They drank their coffee, talking of Guy’s quickening career and of a trip Hutch planned to make in the spring to Greece and Turkey.
“It’s a shame we haven’t seen more of you lately,” Guy said, when Hutch had excused himself and risen. “With me so busy and Ro being the way she is, we really haven’t seen anyone.”
“Perhaps we can have dinner together soon,” Hutch said; and Guy, agreeing, went to get his coat.
Rosemary said, “Don’t forget to look up tannis root.”
“I won’t,” Hutch said. “And you tell Dr. Sapirstein to check his scale; I still think you’ve lost more than three pounds.”
“Don’t be silly,” Rosemary said. “Doctors’ scales aren’t wrong.”
Guy, holding open a coat, said, “It’s not mine, it must be yours.”
“Right you are,” Hutch said. Turning, he put his arms back into it. “Have you thought about names yet,” he asked Rosemary, “or is it too soon?”
“Andrew or Douglas if it’s a boy,” she said. “Melinda or Sarah if it’s a girl.”
“ ‘Sarah?”’ Guy said. “What happened to ‘Susan’?” He gave Hutch his hat.
