“Hallie!” yelled Mac, as he saw her coming out of the elevator in the lobby of the Park Cameron.
She was not alone, as a handsome, swarthy looking character, not much older than Mac, followed Hallie out of the elevator, at eleven o’clock in the morning.
“Mac! Oh, my God! You’re back! Why didn’t you tell me?” asked Hallie, looking like a cat that had swallowed a canary.
“I just got back. Only here for a couple of weeks, then it's back to Rome, I’m afraid.”
“Oh, where are my manners?” asked Hallie, as she turned to put her arm through the arm of her male friend. “Mac, this is Alfredo. He is from Italy, Sicily. Alfredo, this is my neighbor, Mac.”
“It is a pleasure to meet you, Alfredo. Great gal you got there. Hallie is a good neighbor,” said Mac, attempting to lessen the awkwardness of the situation. “It's been a while, Hallie. I have so much to tell you. We must catch up while I am here. I am running up to Poughkeepsie tomorrow to see my parents, but I will be back in a few days,” said Mac, deciding not to prolong the conversation by mentioning his meeting with the president.
Hallie blew a kiss to Mac, and mouthed a thank you, behind the back of her young beau, as he walked first through the revolving door, out onto West Eighty-Sixth Street.
“Whitey! How are you, old boy?” asked Mac, to the doorman standing behind the marble reception desk.
“I’m well, Mr. Martin. Welcome home, sir!”
“Thanks, Whitey,” said Mac, as he got in the elevator, dying to see his apartment, and to get a shower, before heading down to Wall Street.
Everything was as he left it, the now not so new sofa, the mahogany end table, the telephone, and the windows with no treatments. Mac drew a chuckle from himself, as he thought back to Sara hiding naked behind the kitchen cabinet. His thoughts went to their short time together, but he was immediately returned to the present by his love for Carla. Not even the sight and scent of Hallie first thing in the morning deterred his resolve.
I thought she was going to do some decorating while I was gone. She must be real busy.
Mac took a shower, he shaved, and he put on a blue summer suit he had hanging in his closet. A white button down, and a set of paisley braces with a matching tie, made Mac feel as if he was back in the sultry summer of New York. The subway was hot and smelly, but Mac smiled, as he knew he was home. He rode down to Wall Street, past Times Square, Penn Station, and City Hall.
Mac sauntered into Sullivan & Cromwell, taking the elevator to the sixteenth floor. He had a big hello for Mrs. Appleton, before he started to walk towards his office, it now being after noon.
“Mr. Martin, that is no longer your office, sir,” informed Mrs. Appleton.
“What? I no longer have an office?” asked Mac. “How soon they forget.”
“You do, but you have been moved upstairs, sir.”
“What do you mean?”
“They moved you up to Mr. Dulles’ floor. I helped to move your things. You now have a beautiful office on the twenty-sixth floor, with a great view of the Brooklyn Bridge.”
“No kidding? But, what about you?”
“I am still assigned to you when you are here. But I have a recruit here to break in, as well,” laughed Mrs. Appleton. “Go upstairs. Ask Mrs. Schlipp to get you settled into your new digs. I will come up to see you later.”
“I will, Mrs. Appleton. As you probably know, I am traveling to Poughkeepsie tomorrow. I plan to return early next week. Maybe, we can have lunch, and catch up?”
“I would really like that. By the way, your train ticket to Poughkeepsie is on your desk, along with your return flight arrangements to Italy. You are leaving the fifteenth of July, sir. I hope that is time enough to do what you need to do?”
“That will be fine, Mrs. Appleton. Thank you very much! As always, you are the best! Oh, wait, I almost forgot. I brought you something back from Rome,” said Mac, as he reached into the inside breast pocket of his suit jacket, pulling out a wrapped flat box, with a white silk ribbon.
“I hope you like it. I picked it out myself, thinking of you. I had to get good at doing things for myself, without you around to help me.”
“It is beautiful!” marveled Mrs. Appleton, as she removed an Italian twisted gold rope necklace from the box, with a clasp in the shape of a heart. “That is so thoughtful!” she said softly, as she began to weep. “I missed you so much,” cried Mrs. Appleton, as she reached up to give him a kiss on his cheek.
“I missed you too. You have no idea!”
“Mr. Martin?”
“Yes, ma’am?”
“Please call me Dorothy, at least when we are alone. I think we know each other long enough to be on a first name basis.”
“Yes, Dorothy, of course. Call me Mac.”
“Yes, Mac. Thank you, sir. You mean a lot to me. My best work to date!” whispered Mrs. Appleton, with a smile.
“No doubt, Dorothy, no doubt!” laughed Mac. “The toughest work to date, I would imagine.”
Mac finished with the pleasantries with Mrs. Appleton, before taking the elevator to the twenty-sixth floor. There he found Mrs. Schlipp at her desk, wrestling with a tuna fish sandwich in a piece of brown butcher paper.
“Oh, my!” choked Mrs. Schlipp, “look what the cat dragged in! You caught me with my mouth full.”
“Take your time, Mrs. Schlipp. It is so good to see you, ma’am.”
“It is good to see you, Mr. Martin,” said Mrs. Schlipp, as she hustled from behind her desk, wiping an errant piece of sandwich from her mouth with a white cloth napkin. “Come, come, let me show you your new office. I had it decorated. I hope you don’t mind much. I wanted it to be all done by the time you got home.”
“It's incredible!” beamed Mac, as the woman opened the door to his new office, his eyes going directly to the captivating view of the Brooklyn Bridge. “It's beautiful,” said Mac, as he had seen the care she had taken to make sure the office was all that, and more.
The Wilton carpet, not the same as Foster's, was a pale lime green, with a white latticework around the borders. The window treatments, full silk drapes, matched the carpeting perfectly, as did the mats around all the Wall Street prints hanging on the cream-colored walls. The desk was huge, and dark, as was the woodwork moldings along the ceiling, and on the floor. The guest chairs were brown leather, tufted, as was the rolling, high-back, desk chair. But that was only one side of the room. The other side held two yellow flowered chintz sofas, with a glass coffee table between them. A bookshelf matching the color of the moldings, sat along the back wall behind the sofas, holding all of Mac's books, plus a full set of tan colored Supreme Court Reporters.
When Mrs. Schlipp left him to his new home, Mac sat at the desk, lighting up a Lucky Strike, while staring out of his windows. Shortly thereafter, as he watched the people scurrying across the Bridge to Brooklyn, the door to his office opened slowly. John Foster Dulles came walking in, his Wall Street attire just so, his demeanor as if he owned the World.
“Mac, son, it is so good to see you!”
“Mr. Dulles, how are you, sir?”
“Well, well, Mac. All is well, son! Just splendid!”
“Great, sir. Thank you for the new office. This is just incredible! I had never expected this!”
“You’re welcome, Mac. You have been voted in as partner, at the Spring partnership meeting. So, it was not all my doing. You have earned this, Mac. I waited to tell you in person.”
“Really? Oh, my! This is so exciting, sir!”
“Mac, you may call me Foster. We are peers, now.”
“Yes, Foster, I am very excited sir. This is a most incredible surprise. I am thrilled.”
“Good, good! Welcome aboard, partner! Mrs. Schlipp will give you the run down regarding your new salary, and your perks. I am sure you know that we calculate profits and partnership percentages at the end of the year, to be distributed at the following Spring meeting. You will get a draw in the meantime, which will be substantially more than you are currently making. And, of course, all your expenses in Rome, and here, will still be covered by the firm while you are in Italy, as a bonus.”
“Thank you, Foster. You know I appreciate the generosity.”
“Mac, it is you who should be thanked. You are single handedly out earning all the Rome office, combined. The Pontiff is very impressed. Very impressed, indeed. Apparently, he would like to steal you away! The letter he sent from Rome probably served to push everyone to give you your partnership early, so you would not join up.”
“Join up, sir?”
“The priesthood. The Pope wants to groom you to be Cardinal Martini one day.”
“That is not an issue, sir. I have met a nice girl in Rome, whom I intend to marry. We will be engaged when I return from the States.”
“Good, Mac, good! We will not tell the other partners just yet. Let them think their offer of partnership had an impact on your decision. Establish your ties to Italy. One day, you will be running that entire office for the firm, God willing.”
“Foster, Balsieri is a good man.”
“Yes, yes! I know! That is why I said one day, and not now. He is doing a great job. Listen, those reports you are sending back are setting Washington on its ear! Remarkable! I have seen some of them. So insightful! So alive! The president is most impressed, I understand. He may want to make you Secretary of State,” kidded Foster Dulles.
“I am very happy where I am,” smiled Mac. “Maybe, someday. Hey, Foster, I have a question for you. It's about Sara, Sara Mandakovich.”
“I figured that was coming. Yes, she worked for me. No, I did not send her to you, and no, I have not heard from her since she was in Rome. It seems she has disappeared, Mac, and no, she never gave anyone the original of the Fuhrer's Directive. If it was not for you, we would not have had the heads up about Operation Barbarossa before it happened.”
“Thank you, Foster, I needed to know.”
“I do understand, Mac. This business breeds more questions than answers.”
“That's the truth.”
“So, we are both going to be at the dedication on Monday,” said Foster, looking to change the subject. “I will see you there. In the meantime, enjoy your office. Get Mrs. Schlipp to order you in some food. Anything you want, Mac! Whatever!”
“By the way, Bill Donavan will be there, as well,” said Mac. I rode back from Europe with him, on the Dixie Clipper. He sends his regards.”
“Yes, thanks Mac. I have seen the guest list already. Eleanor is a friend, and she takes care of us, here at the firm.”
“Great, and one more thing before you leave. About Mrs. Appleton. I feel bad she got left behind downstairs.”
“She did not want to come up until you returned for good, Mac. Said she would have nothing to do. Anytime she is ready, you bring her right up here, right near Mrs. Schlipp. She knows she is welcome. Don’t you worry about it, I will periodically check with her. Keep up the good work, son. I must run to Federal Court. I have a conference this afternoon. I will see you on Monday. Just relax today, son,” said Foster, as he walked out of the office door, closing it behind him.
Mac called down to Mrs. Appleton, asking her to get them lunch, and for her to join him. They spent an hour together, discussing her future, his future, and catching up with each other. Mac was delighted to show Mrs. Appleton the pictures he had of Carla, over which she fussed, like he knew she would.
Mac left the office shortly thereafter, deciding to walk home through Central Park, it being a lovely June evening. He was thrilled to see the young children playing, the couples walking hand in hand, and the old people, just being old, on the park benches. His mind was thousands of miles away, as he was consumed with his thoughts of young Carla, and their times together. Mac ate dinner by himself at La Mirabelle, the French restaurant across Eighty-Sixth Street from his apartment, sitting there, pushing the delicious duck around on his plate, wondering what Carla was doing at that moment.
When Mac returned to his apartment, he poured himself a single malt, and then another, while smoking Lucky Strikes, and attempting to pack for Poughkeepsie and Hyde Park. He forgot to ask Foster about what to wear, but he had a pretty good idea of what he should put on for an afternoon dedication.
Just as he was finishing his packing, and getting undressed for bed, his apartment still warm from the summer heat, there was a light knock on the apartment door. He hesitated before opening it, knowing full well whom he would find on the other side of that door.
“Hallie!” said Mac, acting surprised when he opened the door, as he stood there in his boxer shorts and t-shirt.
“Mac!”
“Where is Alfredo?” asked Mac, to the beautiful woman standing before him in her flowered silk robe, with clearly nothing on underneath, as every contour of her incredible body caught on the soft, shiny, silk.
“I sent him home!”
“Hallie!”
“Mac! I have missed you!” she cooed, letting her robe fall to the floor, confirming Mac's suspicion.
“Hallie!”
“Mac! Please!”
“I can’t, darling. As much as I might want to, I cannot!”
“Why not?” whined Hallie, grabbing for her robe on the floor, holding it in front of her, but covering basically nothing.
“Hallie, I am sort of engaged!”
“What does that mean? Sort of? To whom?” asked Hallie, as she put the robe on, tying it at her waist. “Tell me, Mac!”
Mac proceeded to tell Hallie about Carla, the whole story, with the Christmas ball, the trips to the relatives, the intimacy at the beach, as he poured her a light scotch and water.
“You mean you have not had sex with her yet?” giggled Hallie.
“We want to wait. I guess. We really have not discussed it. It just has not happened. It is a bit different there in Italy.”
“Oh, boy, Mac. You must really love this one. Holy Hanna! This is not like Sara, where you were just in lust?”
“That is not fair, Hallie. I had deep feelings for Sara. It just didn’t work out. This is different. The whole family expects us to be together, at this point. It's kind of an old-fashioned thing. I must ask her brother for his permission to ask her to marry me when I get back, if that makes sense?”
“What about you, Mac? What do you want?”
“Hallie, if I was not sure, when you dropped your robe, I would have caved. That was a good test. Thank you,” laughed Mac.
Hallie laughed, grabbing Mac, giving him a big hug, while she finished her drink.
“Mr. Martin, you are truly one of a kind. Truly, a good man! I love you, Mac Martin!”
“I love you too, Hallie. Really, I do!”
“I know you do, honey, I know you do. Now let me get out of here before I jump on you, with you being half naked already!”
“Yeah, you better go, before I change my mind.”