第 60 页

'I suppose you had better go and wait on him,' said Florentyna.

Maisie hurried obediently away. Florentyna nearly laughed out loud when, a few minutes later, the young man departed with another pair of dark blue gloves.

'Two pairs,' declared Florentyna. 'I think I can say on behalf of Bloomingdale's, he deserves you.'

'But he still didn't ask me out,' said Maisie.

'What?' said Florentyna in mock disbelief. 'He must have a glove fetish.'

'It's very disappointing,' said Maisie, 'because I think he's neat.'

'Yes, he's not bad,' said Florentyna.

The next day when the young man arrived in the shop Maisie leapt forward, leaving an old lady in mid-sentence. Florentyna quickly took her place, once again watching Maisie out of the corner of her eye. This time the two of them appeared to be in deep conversation and the young man finally departed with yet another pair of dark blue leather gloves.

'It must be the real thing,' ventured Florentyna.

'Yes, I think it is,' replied Maisie, 'but he still hasn't suggested a date.'

Florentyna was flabbergasted.

'Listen,' said Maisie desperately, 'if he comes in tomorrow could you serve him? I think he is scared to ask me directly. He might find it easier to make a date through you.'

Florentyna laughed. 'A Viola to your Orsino.'

'What?' said Maisie, 'It doesn't matter,' said Florentyna. 'I wonder if I will be able to sell him a pair of gloves?'

If the man was anything he was consistent, thought Florentyna, as he pushed his way through the doors at exactly the same time the next day and immediately headed towards the glove counter.

Maisie dug Florentyna in the ribs, and Florentyna decided the time had come to enjoy herself.

'Good afternoon, sir.'

'Oh, good afternoon,' said the young man looking surprised - or was it disappointment?

'Can I help you?' offered Florentyna.

'No - I mean, yes, I would like a pair of gloves,' he added unconvincingly.

'Yes, sir. Have you considered a dark blue pair? In leather? I'm sure we have your size - unless we're all sold out.'

The young man looked at her suspiciously as she handed him the gloves. He tried them on. They were a little too big. Florentyna offered him another pair but they were slightly too tight. He looked towards Maisie for inspiration but she was surrounded by a sea of male customers but she wasn't sinking because she even found the time to glance towards the young man and grin. He grinned back nervously. Florentyna handed him another pair of gloves. They fitted perfectly.

'I think that's what you're looking for,' said Florentyna.

'No, it's not really,' replied the embarrassed customer.

Florentyna. decided the time had come to let the poor man off the hook and lowering her voice, she said, 'I'll go and rescue Maisie. Why don't you ask her out? I'm sure she will say yes.'

'Oh no,' said the young man. 'You don't understand. It's not her I want to take out - it's you.'

Florentyna was speechless. The young man seemed to muster courage.

'Will you have dinner with me tonight?'

She heard herself saying, 'Yes.'

'Shall I pick you up at your home?'

'No,' said Florentyna a little too firmly. The last thing she wanted was to be met at her apartment where it would be obvious to anyone that she was not a salesgirl. 'Let's meet at a restaurant,' shb added quickly.

'Where would you like to go?.

Florentyna tried to think quickly of a place that would not be too ostentatious.

'Allen's at Seventy-third and Third?' he ventured.

'Yes, fine,' said Florentyna, thinking how much better Maisie would have been at handling the whole situation.

'Around eight o'clock suit you?'

'Around eight,' replied Florentyna.

The young man left with a smile on his face. Florentyna watched him disappear on to the street, and suddenly realised that he had left without buying a pair of gloves.

Florentyna took a long time choosing which dress she should wear for her evening out. She wanted to be certain that the outfit didn't scream of Bergdorf Goodman. She had acquired a small wardrobe especially for Bloomingdale's, but the clothes were strictly for daytime use, and she had never worn anything from that selection in the evening. If her date - heavens, she didn't even know his name - thought she was a salesgirl she mustn't disillusion him. She couldn't help feeling that she was actually looking forward to the evening more than she ought to be, She left her flat on East Fifty-seventh Street a little before eight and had to wait for several minutes before she managed to hail an empty taxi.

'Allen's, please,' she said to the taxi driver.

'On Third Avenue!

'Yes.'

'Sure thing, miss,' he replied.

When Florentyna arrived at the restaurant, she was a few minutes late.

Her eyes began to search for the young man. He was standing at the bar, waving. He had changed into a pair of grey flannel slacks and a blue blazer. Very Ivy League, thought Florentyna, but very good looking.

'I'm sorry to be late,' she began.

'It's not important. What's important is that you came!

'You thought I wouldn't?'said Florentyna.

'I wasn't sure!' He smiled. 'I'm sorry, I don't know your name.'

'Jessie Kovats,' said Florentyna determined not to give away her alias.

'And yours?'

'Richard Kane.' said the young man, thrusting out his hand.

She took it and he held on to her a little longer than she had expected.

'And what do you do when you're not buying gloves at Bloomingdale's?' she teased.

'I'm at Harvard Business School.'

'I'm surprised they didn't teach you that most people only have two hands.'

He laughed and smiled in such a relaxed and friendly way that she wished she could start again and tell him they might have met in Cambridge when she was at Radcliffe.

'Shall we order?' he said, taking her arm and leading. her to a table.

Florentyna looked up at the menu on the blackboard, 'Salisbury steak?' she queried.

'A hamburger by any other name,' said Richard.

They both laughed, in the way two people do when they don't know each other, but want to. She could see he was surprised that she might have known his out-of-context quotation.

Florentyna had rarely enjoyed anyone's company mom Richard chatted about New York, the theatre and music -so obviously his first love - with such grace and charm that she was fully at ease. He may have thought she was a salesgirl but he was treating her as if she'd come from one of the oldest Brahmin families. He hoped he wasn't too surprised by her passion for the same things because, when he inquired, she told him nothing more than that she was Polish and lived in New York with her parents. As the evening progressed the deception became increasingly intolerabbi, Still, she thought, we may never see each other again after tonight, and then it will all be irrelevant.

When the evening did come to an end and neither of them could drink any more coffee, they left Allen's and Richard looked for a taxi, the only ones they saw were an full.

'Where do you live?' he asked.

'Fifty-seventh Street,' she said, not thinking about her reply.

'Then's let's walk,' said Richard, taking Florentyna's hand.

She smiled her agreement. They started walking, stopping and looking at shop windows, laughing and smiling. Neither of them noticed the empty taxis that now rushed past them. It took them almost an hour to cover the sixteen blocks and Florentyna nearly told him the truth. When they reached Fifty-seventh Street she stopped outside a small old apartment house, some hundred yards from her own home.

'This is where my parents, live,' she said.

He seemed to hesitate and then let go of her hand.

'I hope you will see me again,' said Richard.

'I'd like that,' replied Florentyna in a polite, dismissive way.

'Tomorrow?' asked Richard diffidently.

'Tomorrow?'

'Yes, why don't we go to the Blue Angel and see Bobby Short?' He took her hand again. 'It's a little more romantic than Allen's.'

Florentyna was momentarily taken aback. Her plans for Richard had not included any provisions for tomorrows.

'Not if you don't want to,' he added before she could re)cover.

'I'd love to,' she said quietly.

'I'm having dinner with my father, so why don't I pick you up at ten o1clock?'

'No, no,' said Florentyna, 'I'll meet you there, It's only two blocks away.'

'Ten o'clock then,' he bent forward and kissed her gently on the cheek.

'Good night, Jessie,' he said, and disappeared into the night.

Florentyna walked slowly back to her apartment, wishing she hadn't told so many lies about herself. Still, it might be over in a few days. She couldn't help feeling that she hoped it wouldn't.

Maisie, who hadn't yet forgiven her, spent a considerable part of the next day asking all about Richard. Florentyna kept trying unsuccessfully to change the subject.

Floreneyna left Bloomingdale's the moment the store closed, the first time in nearly two years that she had left before Maisie. She had a long bath, put on the prettiest dress she thought she could get away with, and walked to the Blue Angel. When she arrived Richard was already waiting for her outside the cloakroom. He held her hand as they walked into the lounge where the words of Bobby Short came floating through the air.

Are you telling me the truth, or am I just another lie?

As Florentyna walked in, Short raised his arm in acknowledgment. Florentyna pretended not to notice. Mr. Short had been a guest performer at The Baron on two or three occasions and it never occurred to Florentyna that he would remember her. Richard looked puzzled and then assumed he had been greeting someone else. When they took a table in the dimly-lit room, Florentyna sat with her back to the piano to be certain it wouldn't happen again.

Richard ordered a bottle of wine without letting go of her hand and then asked about her day, She didn't want to tell him; she wanted to tell him the truth - 'Richard, there is something I must . . .'

'Hi, Richard.' A tall, handsome man stood at Richard's side.

'Hi, Steve. Can I introduce Jessie Kovats - Steve Mellon. Steven and I were at Harvard together.'

Florentyna listened to them chat about the New York Yankees, Eisenhower's handicap - his golf, and why Yale was going from bad to worse. Steve eventually left with a gracious, 'Nice to have met you, Jessie.'

The moment had passed.

Richard began to tell her of his plans once he had left business school, how he hoped to come to New York and join his father's bank, Lester's. She had heard the name before but couldn't remember in what connection. For some reason it worried her. They spent a long evening together, laughing, eating, talking, and just sitting, holding hands, listening to Bobby Short, When they walked home, Richard stopped on the comer of Fifty-seventh and kissed her for the first time- She couldn't recall any other occasion when she was so aware of a first kiss. When he returned her to the shadows of Fifty-seventh Street, she left him and her white lies, aware that this time he had not mentioned tomorrow. She felt slightly wistful about the whole non-affair.

She was take aback by how pleased she felt when Richard phoned her at Bloomingdale's on Monday, asking if she would go out with him on Friday evening.

They wound up spending most of that weekend together: a concert, a film - even the New York Knicks did not escape them. When the weekend was over Florentyna found she had told so many innocent lies about her background that she became inconsistent in her fabrication and puzzled Richard more than once by contradicting herself. It seemed to make it all the more impossible to tell him another entirely different, albeit true, story. When Richard returned to Harvard on the Sunday night, she persuaded herself that the deception would seem unimportant once the relationship had ended. But Richard phoned every day during the week and spent the next few weekends in her company: she began to realise it wasn't going to end that easily. She was falling in love with him. Once she had admitted that to herself, she realised that she had to tell him the truth the following weekend.

33

Richard sat through his morning lecture, daydreaming. He was so much in love with that girl, he could not even concentrate on the 'Twenty-nine crash'. He wished he could work out how to tell his father that he intended to marry a Polish girl who worked behind the scarf, glove and woolly hats counter at Bloomingdale's. Richard was unable to fathom why she was so unambitious for herself when she was obviously very bright : he was certain that if she had had the chances he had been given, she would not have ended up in Bloomingdale's. Richard decided that his parents would have to learn to live with his choice, because that weekend he was going to ask Jessie to be his wife.

Whenever Richard returned to his parent's home in New York on a Friday evening, he would always leave the house on East Sixty-eighth Street to go and pick up something from Bloomingdale's, normally a useless and unwanted item, simply so that he could let Jessie know that he was back in town; he had already given a pair of gloves to every relation he possessed. That Friday, he told his mother that he was going out to buy some razor blades.

'Don't bother, darling, you can use your father's,' she said.

'No, no, it's all right,' he said. 'I'll go and get some of my own. We don't use the same brand in any case,' he added feebly. 'I'll only be a few minutes.'

He almost ran the eight blocks to Bloomingdale's and managed to rush in just as they were closing the doors. He knew he would be seeing Jessie at seven thirty, but he could never resist a chance to chat with her. Steve had told him once that love was for suckers. He had written on his steamed-up shaving mirror that morning 'I am a sucker'. But when he reached Jessie's counter, she was nowhere to be seen. Maisie was standing in a comer filing her finger nails, and he asked her if Jessie was still around. Maisie looked up as if she had been interrupted from her one important task of the day.