“We’re not going to sub-let and move,” Guy said.
“Yes we are,” Rosemary said, turning to him.
He picked up his new shirt. “We’ll talk about it later,” he said.
“He lied to you,” she said. “His father wasn’t a producer. He didn’t have anything to do with the theater at all.”
“All right, so he’s a bullthrower,” Guy said; “who the hell isn’t?” He went into the bedroom.
Rosemary sat down next to the Scrabble set. She closed it and, after a moment, opened the book and began again to read the final chapter, Witchcraft and Satanism.
Guy came back in without the shirt. “I don’t think you ought to read any more of that,” he said.
Rosemary said, “I just want to read this last chapter.”
“Not today, honey,” Guy said, coming to her; “you’ve got yourself worked up enough as it is. It’s not good for you or the baby.” He put his hand out and waited for her to give him the book.
“I’m not worked up,” she said.
“You’re shaking,” he said. “You’ve been shaking for five minutes now. Come on, give it to me. You’ll read it tomorrow.”
“Guy-“
“No,” he said. “I mean it. Come on, give it to me.”
She said “Ohh” and gave it to him. He went over to the bookshelves, stretched up, and put it as high as he could reach, across the tops of the two Kinsey Reports.
“You’ll read it tomorrow,” he said. “You’ve had too much stirring-up today already, with the memorial and all.”
Eight
Dr. Sapirstein was amazed. “Fantastic,” he said. “Absolutely fantastic. What did you say the name was, ‘Machado’?”
“Marcato,” Rosemary said.
“Fantastic,” Dr. Sapirstein said. “I had no idea whatsoever. I think he told me once that his father was a coffee importer. Yes, I remember him going on about different grades and different ways of grinding the beans.”
“He told Guy that he was a producer.”
,Dr. Sapirstein shook his head. “It’s no wonder he’s ashamed of the truth,” he said. “And it’s no wonder that you’re upset at having discovered it. I’m as sure as I am of anything on earth that Roman doesn’t hold any of his father’s weird beliefs, but I can understand completely how disturbed you must be to have him for a close neighbor.”
“I don’t want anything more to do with him or Minnie,” Rosemary said. “Maybe I’m being unfair, but I don’t want to take even the slightest chance where the baby’s safety is concerned.”
“Absolutely,” Dr. Sapirstein said. “Any mother would feel the same way.”
Rosemary leaned forward. “Is there any chance at all,” she said, “that Minnie put something harmful in the drink or in those little cakes?”
Dr. Sapirstein laughed. “I’m sorry, dear,” he said; “I don’t mean to laugh, but really, she’s such a kind old woman and so concerned for the baby’s well-being . . . No, there’s no chance at all that she gave you anything harmful. I would have seen evidence of it long ago, in you or in the baby.”
“I called her on the house phone and told her I wasn’t feeling well. I won’t take anything else from her.”
“You won’t have to,” Dr. Sapirstein said. “I can give you some pills that will be more than adequate in these last few weeks. In a way this may be the answer to Minnie and Roman’s problem too.”
“What do you mean?” Rosemary said.
“They want to go away,” Dr. Sapirstein said, “and rather soon. Roman isn’t well, you know. In fact, and in the strictest of confidence, he hasn’t got more than a month or two left to him. He wants to pay a last visit to a few of his favorite cities and they were afraid you might take offense at their leaving on the eve of the baby’s birth, so to speak. They broached the subject to me the night before last, wanted to know how I thought you would take it. They don’t want to upset you by telling you the real reason for the trip.”
“I’m sorry to hear that Roman isn’t well,” Rosemary said.
“But glad at the prospect of his leaving?” Dr. Sapirstein smiled. “A perfectly reasonable reaction,” he said, “all things considered. Suppose we do this, Rosemary: I’ll tell them that I’ve sounded you out and you aren’t at all offended by the idea of their going; and until they do go-they mentioned Sunday as a possibility-you continue as before, not letting Roman know that you’ve learned his true identity. I’m sure he would be embarrassed and unhappy if he knew, and it seems a shame to upset him when it’s only a matter of three or four more days.”
Rosemary was silent for a moment, and then she said, “Are you sure they’ll be leaving on Sunday?”
“I know they’d like to,” Dr. Sapirstein said.
Rosemary considered. “All right,” she said; “I’ll go on as before, but only until Sunday.”
“If you’d like,” Dr. Sapirstein said, “I can have those pills sent over to you tomorrow morning; you can get Minnie to leave the drink and the cake with you and throw them away and take a pill instead.”
“That would be wonderful,” Rosemary said. “I’d be much happier that way.”
“That’s the main thing at this stage,” Dr. Sapirstein said, “keeping you happy.”
Rosemary smiled. “If it’s a boy,” she said, “I may just name him Abraham Sapirstein Woodhouse.”
“God forbid,” Dr. Sapirstein said.
Guy, when he heard the news, was as pleased as Rosemary. “I’m sorry Roman is on his last lap,” he said, “but I’m glad for your sake that they’re going away. I’m sure you’ll feel more relaxed now.”
“Oh, I will,” Rosemary said. “I feel better already, just knowing about it.”
Apparently Dr. Sapirstein didn’t waste any time in telling Roman about Rosemary’s supposed feelings, for that same evening Minnie and Roman stopped by and broke the news that they were going to Europe. “Sunday morning at ten,” Roman said. “We fly directly to Paris, where we’ll stay for a week or so, and then we’ll go on to Zurich, Venice, and the loveliest city in all the world, Dubrovnik, in Yugoslavia.”
“I’m green with envy,” Guy said.
Roman said to Rosemary, “I gather this doesn’t come as a complete bolt from the blue, does it, my dear?” A conspirator’s gleam winked from his deep-socketed eyes.
“Dr. Sapirstein mentioned you were thinking of going,” Rosemary said.
Minnie said, “We’d have loved to stay till the baby came-“
“You’d be foolish to,” Rosemary said, “now that the hot weather is here.”
“We’ll send you all kinds of pictures,” Guy said.
“But when Roman gets the wanderlust,” Minnie said, “there’s just no holding him.”
“It’s true, it’s true,” Roman said. “After a lifetime of traveling I find it all but impossible to stay in one city for more than a year; and it’s been fourteen months now since we came back from Japan and the Philippines.”
He told them about Dubrovnik’s special charms, and Madrid’s, and the Isle of Skye’s. Rosemary watched him, wondering which he really was, an amiable old talker or the mad son of a mad father.
The next day Minnie made no fuss at all about leaving the drink and the cake; she was on her way out with a long list of going-away jobs to do. Rosemary offered to pick up a dress at the cleaner’s for her and buy toothpaste and Dramamine. When she threw away the drink and the cake and took one of the large white capsules Dr. Sapirstein had sent, she felt just the slightest bit ridiculous.
On Saturday morning Minnie said, “You know, don’t you, about who Roman’s father was.”
Rosemary nodded, surprised.
“I could tell by the way you turned sort of cool to us,” Minnie said. “Oh, don’t apologize, dear; you’re not the first and you won’t be the last. I can’t say that I really blame you. Oh, I could kill that crazy old man if he wasn’t dead already! He’s been the bane in poor Roman’s existence! That’s why he likes to travel so much; he always wants to leave a place before people can find out who he is. Don’t let on to him that you know, will you? He’s so fond of you and Guy, it would near about break his heart. I want him to have a real happy trip with no sorrows,
