WITH THE CURTAINS DRAWN in the office and the jewels strewn across the desktop in a multicolored swath, Bernhardt looked at Louise. “I make it two hundred sixty-three altogether,” he said. “And twenty gold coins.”
“So that’s twenty-six jewels for us,” she said, “and two gold coins.”
Bernhardt nodded agreement, saying, “You make the division.” He handed her the ruler they’d just used to separate the jewels for counting. “Then we’ll—”
“Jesus,” Tate blurted, “you want my opinion, you’re both crazy. My God, take a goddam handful, why don’t you? Who the fuck’s to know?” As he spoke, his eyes were fixed on the treasure. In that moment Bernhardt saw an indefinable nakedness in Tate’s face, something elemental, therefore arresting. Just as, in his own face, he could feel the tug of a companion expression. Here—now—life had suddenly come down to its elemental parts, no longer a civilized whole.
“No,” Louise answered, for the first time speaking calmly, firmly, finally in control of herself. “No, we’re not going to do that.” As, methodically, she began to count. Her lips, Bernhardt noticed, were moving.