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returned with two plates of hot hors d'oeuvres. When she was gone, he said, "You want to talk or continue with your Mount Rushmore impersonation?" |
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DeVoe took a sip of beer. "He's weak." |
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"Julius Wick. Someday he's going to have a fit of conscience and say something." |
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"You worry too much. When it's over, he'll settle. He's too much of an egomaniac to slip. And if he does, he brings his own roof down." |
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Frank DeVoe listened, then stuck his fork into a meatball. "What worries me is that it's our roof, too." |
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Early Saturday morning Calvin woke up to the sound of crying, and for a crazy moment, thought it was Matty lying beside him in the darkthat he was six or seven and had crawled into their bed because of a bad dream. He kissed the top of his head and put his arms around him |
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But it wasn't Matty, of course. Terry rolled toward him and buried her face in his chest. He could feel her body quake as she let it out. He put his arms around her and tried to comfort her, but broke down himself. He knew he should have shown more strength but he couldn't summon it. And for a while they cried against each other. |
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Later he got up, leaving Terry in her pillow. He took a shower and got dressed and headed downstairs, grateful for the mindless task of making coffee. He ground the beans and boiled the water and poured it through the filter. He made a cup for Terry and brought it upstairs, but her eyes were closed and she lay still. He glanced at the night table. The small vial of Valium sat beside an empty glass. He picked it up, and the rattle of pills relieved him that she had merely cried herself to sleep again. For a long moment he studied Terry. Her thick brown hair pooled around her shoulders, her beautiful Acropolis profile made a pallid cast against the blue pillow. |
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A short time later Terry came down. She had dressed in jeans and a baggy pullover. Her face was drawn and colorless, her hair roughly brushed. He felt the dumb, obligatory question are you |
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