The Trouble With Eden - Lawrence Block [68]
He looked great and felt great. He had planned to take a week or ten days away from the book, and it had been three and a half weeks since he covered his typewriter and he had not yet uncovered it, nor did he intend to for another five days or so. He was not working and it did not bother him in the least. He looked great and felt great and he was taking a bright and charming and damned attractive young woman to dinner, and he was happier than he had been in months.
“Hugh, Hugh Markarian!” Trude boomed his name, then followed her voice across the room with arms outstretched. She hugged him furiously. “I saw your name on the reservation list and was so pleased. And you look so good! And is this Karen? Liebchen, I have not seen you—”
“This is Miss Robshaw,” he said. “Linda, this is our hostess, Trude Hofmeister.”
“Miss Robshaw,” Trude said. “But it is so difficult to distinguish between beautiful young women. Hugh, I have a table for you by the window. It is a such a beautiful night for the view.”
They went to their table and ordered drinks. Linda said, “When she drops a brick she certainly picks it back up in a hurry. Her face didn’t show a thing.”
“She’s pretty good. I doubt that she’d recognize Karen if she stepped on her, but she must have heard she was in town and came to the obvious conclusion.”
“Do Karen and I look alike?”
“Only insofar as it is zo difficult to distingvish betveen beautiful young vimmen,” he said, his accent a good imitation of Trude’s. “Does it bother you being taken gar my daughter?”
“No. Should it? It’s slightly flattering, but I own a mirror and I know I don’t look—how old is Karen? Eighteen?”
He nodded. “I’m still old enough to be your father.”
“Well, you’re not my father, and he’s almost old enough to be your father, as far as that goes. Are you feeling very conscious of your age or is it that you’re getting a kick out of my youth?”
“Well, it can’t be the first, because I haven’t felt this good in I don’t know how long. I should have gone back to work on the book a week ago and I haven’t even set foot in that room. Excuse me, I went in there the night before last to look something up in the dictionary. And walked on out without even glancing at my desk.”
“And it evidently doesn’t bother you.”
“I couldn’t care less. It’s not as if I were stalled on the book, trying to get back to it and unable to get anywhere. But it’s fine, it’s coming fine and sometime next week I’ll start working again. Meanwhile I’m getting to know my daughter. It’s an exhilarating experience, getting to know an eighteen-year-old girl who happens to be your daughter. Girl. I was going to say eighteen-year-old woman: Neither word is right. An eighteen-year-old female?”
“That sounds like something in a statistical abstract. The percentage of eighteen-year-old female dope peddlers in Elyria, Ohio.”
“Girl-woman would be the word if it wasn’t so precious. What were you like when you were eighteen?”
She thought for a moment. “Not a girl-woman, certainly. Just a girl, I’m afraid. What’s Karen like?”
“You’ll have to meet her sometime, and then I can ask you the same question. I’ve been spending my time trying to learn the answer myself. It’s—what did I call it before? An exhilarating experience. Very enjoyable, but also something of a challenge in a way. Oh, here’s Robert. I almost didn’t recognize you with that mustache, Robert.”
“I’m not sure if I’ll keep it or not, sir.”
“Well, you want to give it a chance before you decide. Did you want to order, Linda?”
“Yes, I’m starved.”
It was an exhilarating experience, getting to know an eighteen-year-old girl-woman who happened to be your daughter. It was exhilarating and it was a challenge. You could not pretend that she was not your daughter because there were ghosts in every room that held the two of you. You had seen her in the nurse’s arms before they had a chance to clean her up, still filthy with the detritus of the delivery, and that ghost was present along with