I was excited about the opportunity to be a case officer in a foreign capital. My only hesitation was Julia, which surprised me. I was supposed to be mad at her for turning me into a walking box of Wheaties. But if you can’t ruthlessly exploit your friends for career advancement what good are they?
I called her at home. I had a double sawbuck in my wallet now. I would ask her out to dinner and tell her I’d been offered a job overseas and see if she gave a hang.
“I’d like to Hal but I can’t,” is what she said.
“Why not?”
“We’d be spotted together.”
“You turn me into Hal the Hero and now you can’t risk being seen with me?”
“It would look like we were on a date. I’m supposed to be objective.”
“We could meet someplace out of the way.”
“Hal, I’m sorry, I can’t risk it.”
“You said we were on the same team.”
“We were, Hal. We were.”
“So,” I said, not taking the hint, not wanting the conversation to end, “how was Jeannie?”
“Who?”
“Jeanne Pappas, my high school sweetheart.”
It had been profoundly disorienting to think of Julia, talking to Jeannie, about me.
“I called her at home, at dinnertime. She said she was busy. I said it was important and gave her my home number and told her to call collect.”
“And she called back late.”
“Yes, quite late.”
When the old man was sawing logs.
“She seemed eager to talk this time but something cut our conversation short. I think it was a crying infant in another room.”
Had Jeannie had another baby? I didn’t know. I had been a good boy, kept my distance since our Kelleys Island adventure.
“Oh,” was all I managed. That was followed by a long awkward pause. We were done.
“It has been a distinct pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Hammond.”
“And yours as well, Mr. Schroeder.”
Miss Julia took a moment before she hung up to say, “You know how I feel about you, Hal.”
I didn’t. Know how she felt about me. But that’s the thing about women, you never know from one minute to the next.
And I never got to so much as nuzzle that perfumed neck.
Oh, boo hoo, Schroeder. Is the poor famous hero feeling sorry for himself?
Well yes, as a matter of fact, he was.
I was going to have to reject Frank Wisner’s job offer tomorrow morning, check out of the Mayflower and return to my third-floor walkup in Mrs. Brennan’s rooming house in Cleveland till it was time to ship out with Bill Harvey. Provided he could slide that by the powers that be.
Tomorrow, that was tomorrow. Tonight I had a taste for a thick juicy ribeye with cottage fries and a chocolate sundae chaser.
I dialed room service one last time.