please?”
As soon as he was away from the table, Prescott said, “You’re making me feel bad.”
“I have to watch what I eat. It’s not my fault,” she said, not meeting his eyes. “I have to make a living.”
“Do you like fish?”
“I love fish.”
He beckoned and the waiter returned. “The lady and I will have a salad with no dressing, and we’ll both have broiled swordfish and another glass of wine.”
The waiter went off, and she looked at Prescott, puzzled.
“It’s only a few more calories. We’ll have martinis sometime, and you can skip the olive.”
She met his eyes this time. “It’s much more expensive than I thought,” she whispered.
“At a bad restaurant, the food is worth less than they charge—sometimes it’s worth nothing. At this place, the food is going to be worth more than they charge, so it’s a bargain.” He smiled again. “I can’t make you eat it, and I can’t make you have a good time. All I can do is put them both in front of you.”
She said, “You’re not like Hobart at all, are you?”
He shook his head. “I like money because it buys things like nice dinners. When I run out of money I get more.”
“You’re so sure?”
“Yes,” he said. “I am. And given the choice of the purse or the body, I don’t hesitate, either. If a man even looks at the purse, he loses her, because she knows he doesn’t deserve her.” He smiled again. “A man looks ridiculous with a purse anyway.”
In the middle of the entree, she said, “You were absolutely right. I would have been stupid not to have this.”
“I knew the chef would convince you,” said Prescott.
She ate a few more bites, then stopped. “I can’t eat any more. I’m just not used to it. I don’t want to make you think I’m not doing what you asked, not having a good time. I love this restaurant. I love being here.”
“I’m very glad,” Prescott said. “It was the right place to take you, then. Being with the most attractive woman in the place is a special treat for me, and the food is the only reward for you.”
She looked around the room—a little nervously, he thought—as she compared herself to the other women. Then she looked down at her plate. “You say things that I should think are insulting, because no woman would believe you. But I don’t. It’s nice.”
They lingered for a long time over coffee. He had a small pastry for dessert, but she could not be induced to touch it. When they were outside and the valet brought the Corvette, she turned back toward the restaurant and stared into it. He said, “What’s wrong? Did we forget something?”
“No.”
“Is there somebody I forgot to tip?”
She got into the car, shook her head, and giggled. “No, I think you tipped everybody—even a couple of customers. I was just taking a last look.”
“If you like it, let’s come back. When are you going to have a night without classes again?”
“Not right away,” she said. “We can talk about it sometime, if you still want to.”
He drove along the Mississippi, looking at the lights on the water, glancing now and then at the huge concrete arch that dominated this side of the river. She said, “What do you think of it?”
“I’m not sure,” he said. “It’s pretty remarkable. I’m not sure yet what it’s for.”
“I’ve lived around here all my life, and neither am I.”
They drove on for a time, not speaking. Finally, she said, “I’d invite you to my place for a drink, but I’m afraid I don’t usually drink, so there’s nothing there. Besides, the place is sort of a mess, and—”
“Then let’s go to mine.”
She hesitated for a few seconds, then said, “All right.”
When they entered his apartment and he turned on the light, he could see her looking around with extreme care, like a small animal sniffing for danger. He directed her attention where he wanted it. “The apartment is still kind of tentative. I’m not really unpacked, so try to ignore that stuff.” He pointed, and watched her eyes settle on the boxes and open bags of cameras, binoculars, expensive small furnishings, and the smaller, open boxes of wristwatches, women’s jewelry, and gold coins.
While he went to the kitchen to make the drinks, he could tell by the sound of her high heels on the bare hardwood floor that she was looking more closely. He returned carrying two martinis, and handed her one. “I remember you said you don’t drink very often, so you might want to take that in little sips over time.”
She looked at him guardedly. “Are you married?”
He jerked his head back in surprise. “Me? Don’t you remember? I’m one of the sad, lonely men you were talking about on the way to dinner. I think I might be their president.”
“I said they were sad and lonely. That doesn’t mean they’re not married.”
“Not me,” he said. “Never been married. I guess the ones I liked well enough all liked somebody else better. I’m hoping it was the car washes—that they weren’t glamorous enough—because that’s solved.”
She didn’t appear amused. “Then why do you have all this jewelry?”
“What jewelry?”
She pointed at the top tray, which was full of rings and bracelets and necklaces in little compartments. “Duh?”
“Oh, that stuff. It’s a small speculation. The company that bought one of my car washes is owned by a Malaysian family that has been buying up stuff in Hawaii and California. First they wanted to negotiate the sale in their currency instead of dollars. I said, ‘Forget it.’ A week later, the son comes back with another deal: half in dollars, and the rest in stock from a pawnshop they just bought in Phoenix. They wanted to close it and turn it into an office building. They had the permits and everything ready to demolish and build, so they were willing to give me an incredible discount. Look at this stuff: cameras, watches, all kinds of things. I figured I could write down the value a bit for tax purposes. Okay, write it down a lot. Come to think of it, I forgot to mention this stuff on my tax return at all. That’s why I took a loss on my car wash.” He grinned. “This is only part of it, too.”
Jeanie took a deep breath and let it out in a sigh, shaking her head in amusement. “You’re worse than Hobart. If I were your accountant, I’d have told you to stick with cash. Besides violating tax laws, you probably got screwed.”
“Oh?” he said. “Come take a look.” He pulled her to the side of the room, knelt, reached into an open box, rummaged around carelessly. He stood up behind her and pulled something around her neck.
“What are you doing?” she said. “That’s cold.”
He clasped the chain of the necklace and said, “That’s probably true. Do you suppose that’s why they call it ice? No, I guess it looks sort of like ice.” He picked up an antique oval wall mirror with an ornate gold frame and a convex surface. “Here. Take a look.”
She stared at herself in the mirror and saw the sparkle of diamonds against the black of her dress. The gold chain held a pear-shaped stone set as a pendant with a pea-sized round stone on either side of it. Prescott could see her chest rise and fall as she looked at herself. “It’s beautiful,” she said. “These can’t be real.”
“Of course they’re real,” he said. “I’m not the one who just got off the boat ready to buy everything in sight. I had all the stones appraised before I went into this thing. It’s not the most up-to-date setting, but they can be reset. Maybe the two side stones as earrings or something. That’s not important. I got them for a tenth of what you could get them for at Tiffany’s.” He laid the mirror on the floor beside the wall, picked up his drink again, and walked into the living room toward the couch.
Jeanie stopped beside the row of boxes, her hands behind her neck fiddling with the clasp. “Wait. Help me get this off.”
He stopped and looked back at her for a moment, studying her critically. “No, I don’t think so. It doesn’t look anywhere near as good as that in a box. You’d better keep it.”
Her eyes widened, and she froze, her hands still behind her neck. “You can’t be serious. You hardly know me.”
He smirked and waved a hand at her. “I don’t know anybody else any better, and what I know about them isn’t all good.”
She shook her head. “I can’t take something like this.” She undid the clasp, carefully lifted the necklace off
