Zoe finished her wine. Mittle rose immediately, took their glasses, headed for the bar.
'Refill time,' he said gaily.
While he was gone, Zoe watched the woman at the bar. She seemed very intimate with Vince Delgado, putting a hand on his arm, smiling at something he said, touching his face lightly, affectionately. They acted like lovers.
Zoe saw them take their drinks, walk over to one of the vacant tables. Susan Weiner was short but full-bodied. Almost chubby. She had a heavy bosom for a woman of her size. Her hair was worn in frizzy curls. Zoe Kohler thought she looked cheap. She looked available. Soft and complaisant.
Ernest came back with two more glasses of wine.
'I still can't believe it,' Zoe said. 'She looks so involved with the man she's with.'
'Vince?' he said. 'He's the 'beard.' That's what they call the other man who pretends to be the lover. He and Suzy and Mr. Kurnitz go out to lunch together, or dinner, or work late. If they're seen, everyone's supposed to think she's with Vince. She's not married, and he's divorced. But she's really with Mr. Kurnitz. Everyone in the office knows it.'
'That's so-so sordid,' she burst out.
He shrugged.
'What does he see in her?' she demanded.
'Suzy? She's really a very nice person. Pleasant and cheerful. Always ready to do someone a favor.'
'Apparently.'
'No, you know what I mean. I think if you met her, you'd like her. Zoe, I hope you won't breathe a word of this to Mrs. Kurnitz.'
'I won't say anything. I wouldn't hurt her like that. But she'll probably find out, eventually.'
'Probably. He just doesn't seem to care. Mr. Kurnitz, that is.'
'Ernie, why do men do things like that?'
'Oh, I don't know… Mrs. Kurnitz comes on strong; you know that. She's loud and brassy and sort of throws herself around. I know she's a lot of fun, but that can be wearing all the time. Maybe Mr. Kurnitz wants someone a little quieter and more submissive.'
'And she's younger than Maddie.'
'Yes. That, too.'
'It's just not fair,' Zoe Kohler said.
'Well…' he said, sighing, 'I guess not. But that's the way things are.'
'I know,' she said dully. 'That's why I'm divorced.'
He put a hand over hers.
'I hope I haven't upset you, Zoe. I guess I shouldn't have told you.'
'That's all right,' she said. 'It just makes me feel so sad and old-fashioned. When I got married, I thought it would be forever. I never even thought of divorce. I mean, I didn't think, Well, if this doesn't work out, we can always split up. I really thought it would be till death do us part. I was such a simp.'
'These things happen,' he said, but she would not be comforted.
'It's just so awful,' she said. 'I can't tell you how ugly it is. People get married and, uh, sleep together for a year or two. Then they wave goodbye and go somewhere else and sleep with someone else. Like animals.'
'It doesn't have to be that way,' he said in a low voice, looking down at their clasped hands. 'Really it doesn't, Zoe.'
Dinner was served at seven o'clock: roasted Rock Cornish hens with wild rice, baby carrots, and a salad of escarole and Bibb lettuce. Baked Alaska for dessert. Bottles of wine on every table and, with coffee, a selection of brandies and liqueurs.
Harry Kurnitz made a short, funny speech, and his employees applauded mightily. Then the trio started playing disco again; several couples got up to dance. Guests who lived in the suburbs thanked host and hostess and departed.
'Would you care to dance, Zoe?' Ernest Mittle asked politely. 'I'm not very good with that kind of music, but…'
'Oh no,' she said. 'Thank you, but I can't dance to that at all. I'd like to, but I don't know how. Would you be angry if I left early? I ate so much, I'd really like to get home and just relax.'
'Me, too,' he said. 'I think my cold is coming back; I'm all stuffed up. I have an inhaler at home; maybe that will help.'
'Take some Anacin or aspirin,' Zoe advised, 'and get into bed.'
'I will.'
'Be sure to cover up and keep warm. Will you call me tomorrow?'
'Of course.'
'I'll have a list of vitamins all made out and what strength to buy. I'll give it to you over the phone. You must promise to take them faithfully, every day.'
'I will. Really I will.'
They thanked Madeline and Harry Kurnitz for a pleasant evening and slipped away. They reclaimed their coats and hats downstairs. Ernest wanted to tip the hatcheck girl, but she told him that Mr. Kurnitz had taken care of everything.
Mittle said he wasn't feeling so great, and he was going to take a cab home. He would drop Zoe at her apartment house on his way downtown. Would that be all right? She said it would be fine.
The cab was unheated and Zoe saw he was shivering. She pulled his plaid muffler snugly about his throat and turned up the collar of his overcoat. She made him promise to drink a cup of hot tea the moment he got home.
He held the cab until he saw her safely inside her apartment house lobby. She turned to wave. She hoped he would take the hot tea and aspirin, and get into bed and stay covered up. She worried about him.
There were three letters in her mailbox: bills from Con Edison and New York Telephone, and a squarish, cream-colored envelope with her name and address written in a graceful script. Postmarked Seattle. She didn't know anyone in Seattle.
Inside her apartment, door bolted and chained, she turned on the living room lamp, hung away her coat and knitted hat. She glanced out the bedroom window before she lowered the Venetian blind and switched on the bedside lamp. She thought she glimpsed movement in the apartment across the street. That man was watching her windows again.
She let the blind fall with a clatter and pulled the drape across. She sat on the edge of the bed and looked at the squarish, cream-colored envelope. She sniffed at it, but it was not scented. The cursive script read simply: 'Zoe Kohler.' No Miss, or Mrs., or Ms.
She opened the envelope flap slowly, picking it loose. It seemed a shame to tear such thick, rich-looking stationery. Within the envelope was a smaller envelope. Then she knew what it was. A wedding announcement.
Mr. and Mrs. Arnold Foster Clark request the pleasure of your company at the marriage of thier daughter Eveltn Jane to Mr.Kenneth Garvin Kohler, Saterday, the tenth of May, at eleven o'clock, St. Anthony's Church, Pine Crest Drive, Rockville, Waqshington.
Reception immediatley following ceremony.
R.S.V.P. 20190 Locust Court, Rockville, Washington Zoe Kohler read this joyous message several times. Her fingertips drifted lightly over the raised type. She folded the small piece of tissue paper that protected the printed copy, folded it and folded it until it was a tiny square, so minute that she could have swallowed it.
The last she had heard of Kenneth, he was living in San Francisco. That's where his alimony checks were postmarked. Now here he was marrying Evelyn Jane Clark in Rockville, Washington.
She read the invitation again. St. Anthony's Church. Did that mean the bride was a Catholic? Marrying a divorced man? Had Kenneth taken instruction or agreed to raise the children in the Catholic faith? Would Evelyn Jane go to San Francisco to live or would the newly married couple make their home in Rockville? Or Seattle?
Pondering these absurd questions kept her mind busy for a few moments. But soon, soon, she had to let herself recognize the enormity of what he had done. Mailing his wedding invitation to her was a malicious gloat. 'I have found the woman you could never be. Now I shall be happy.'
It would have been simple, kind, human to tell her nothing of his marriage. He was legally free; he could do as
