She unpacked a few things and hung them in the closet, and all the while her heart was high and going a little faster than it should have. She was in New York. Laura was in New York. Things would work out, they had to.
And what if they did? What if Laura could be found, and fast? And what if she fell into Beth’s arms as though the nine years between them didn’t exist, their lives apart didn’t exist? Then what?
Then, Beth thought, almost timidly, divorce. I’ll have to divorce Charlie. I’ll never get the children back. My children. My babies. My own flesh. But I’ll have Laura again. Was it worth it? It had to be.
Quickly she went to the phone book, the Manhattan directory, and looked for Laura Landon. Maybe the one in Chicago was wrong. After following her shaking finger down several columns she got the answer she secretly expected; the answer the phone book at the Chicago airport had already given her: no listing. She sighed and lighted a cigarette. It was not going to be a cinch, this strange mission of hers. She checked the book again for Nina Spicer’s name.
Nina was there. With relief and some trepidation she dialed the number. It was ten-thirty in the morning, but the voice that answered was obviously newly roused from sleep. It was a low pleasant feminine voice, almost sultry. Beth liked it. It made her curious to meet the owner, curious to see what she looked like.
“Nina Spicer, please,” she said.
“This is Nina.”
“This is Beth Ayers, Nina. Do you remember me?”
“How could I forget? The girl with all the problems.”
“I’m sorry I woke you up.”
“Sure.” Her breezy lack of courtesy threw Beth for a moment.
“Did you get my note?” she asked.
“I did.”
“Could we meet for lunch?” Damn, I sound like a question box, Beth thought. But Nina was playing things her way. Beth had to go along.
“Let’s make it dinner. I’m tied up at noon,” Nina said.
“Okay. You’ll have to name the place. New York is all new to me.”
“Where are you?”
“The Beaton.”
“Good enough. They have a decent bar on the top floor. I’ll pick you up in the lobby about four-thirty. We can go on from there.”
“Fine.” Beth was both repelled and attracted by the girl on the phone. The voice was lovely, but the attitude was hardly warm and welcoming. Curious, amused, a little supercilious, somewhat intimidating.
Beth hung up. She wasn’t afraid of Nina, just on her guard. And she was so eager to meet her, to ask her about Laura, that the day dragged unbearably. She was too excited to rest. She ended up writing letters, one to Merrill Landon, one to Cleve.
“Did you have much trouble with Vega?” she asked Cleve reluctantly. “Tell me everything’s okay. It would mean so much. I’ll send you a box number in a day or two. Don’t know how long I’ll be in New York.”
When there was nothing left to write and no one to write to, she walked. She saw the United Nations buildings and she poked around the shops. A tailor across the street from the Beaton sewed a button on for her and told her about his international clientele.
She was in her room by four, in case Nina should come early, but Nina was late. It was a quarter to five when she called Beth’s room, and Beth, almost beside herself with impatience, went down to the lobby to meet her. She looked for a light blue linen suit, which was Nina’s description of herself, and found her standing by a square pillar near the desk.
Beth walked straight to her and took her hand, pleased to see that her directness threw Nina offstride slightly. Nina expected to have that effect herself, mainly by fixing people with a go-to-hell stare. But Beth was not interested in Nina for Nina’s sake and it made her less susceptible to Nina’s notions of who was running the show.
They went directly up to the bar, speaking softly, feeling their ways with one another. They ordered martinis.
“How long will you be in New York?” Nina asked.
“That depends.”
“On what?”
“A lot of things. You, maybe.”
Nina smiled at her martini glass. She was not a pretty girl, though her eyes were green and well shaped, and she wore her brown hair long in a soft bob. Her nose was too sharp and prominent and her mouth too small and irregular to be pretty, but she had a nice figure. Unusually nice, Beth had noticed on the way up in the elevator.
“What have I got to do with how long you stay in New York?” Nina asked, sizing her up silently. “You don’t even know me.” She spoke suggestively, with the hint of a smile on her face, as if she had only to keep leading a little and Beth would soon take a pratfall.
“I’m looking for someone,” Beth said. “I thought you might be able to help me find her.”
“Oh. Romance?”
“No,” Beth lied, speaking briefly and annoyed at Nina’s tone of voice.
“You’re not at all horsey, are you?” Nina said, changing the subject suddenly and grinning.
“Horsey?” Beth stared at her. “Should I be?”
“Frankly, yes. I got the impression from your letters.”
“It’s not the impression I meant to give.” Beth didn’t like Nina’s expression. It was too cocksure, too well acquainted with all the ins-and-outs of gay life in New York City that Beth yearned to know herself. She felt suddenly reluctant to bring Laura’s name up. Maybe later in the evening, if Nina got more congenial.
“So you’re leaving your husband, hm?” Nina said. It was part of her technique with people to startle them, embarrass them, leave them stammering.
“I didn’t say that,” Beth protested.
“You don’t need to. Your letters said enough. He isn’t here
