13: Nora

<body topmargin=0 leftmargin=0 marginheight=0 marginwidth=0> <table cellpadding=0 cellspacing=0 border=0><tr> <td valign="top" colspan=2 height=90 BGCOLOR="#CC9900" TEXT="#080000" bgproperties="fixed" background="047005a0dwnjzk.gif"> <div> <A HREF="index.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Cassies Writing"><U><B>home</B></U></A><B>     | </B><B> </B><B> </B><B>  </B><FONT SIZE="5" COLOR="#FFCC66" FACE="Arial" ><B>Cassie's Writing</B></FONT></div> <div> <A HREF="id53.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="1: New Orleans"><U><B>1:  New Orleans</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id54.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="2: Mary Margaret"><U><B>2:  Mary Margaret</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id55.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="3: Rumrunners Row"><U><B>3:  Rumrunners' Row</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id56.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="4: Speakeasy"><U><B>4:  Speakeasy</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id57.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="5: Sys Deal"><U><B>5:  Sy's Deal</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id58.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="6: Reunion"><U><B>6:  Reunion</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id59.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="7: Disaster"><U><B>7:  Disaster</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id60.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="8: Petofi"><U><B>8:  Petofi</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id63.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="9: Cuddeback"><U><B>9:  Cuddeback</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id64.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="10: Angelique"><U><B>10:  Angelique</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id65.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="11: Making Plans"><U><B>11:  Making Plans</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id66.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="12: Chicago"><U><B>12:  Chicago</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><B>13:  Nora</B><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id68.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="14: The Gypsy"><U><B>14:  The Gypsy</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id69.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="15: The Trap"><U><B>15:  The Trap</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id70.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="16: The Gift"><U><B>16:  The Gift</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id71.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="17: Beth"><U><B>17:  Beth</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id74.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="18: Together Again"><U><B>18:  Together Again</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id75.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="19: Petofi Strikes"><U><B>19:  Petofi Strikes</B></U></A></div> <div> <A HREF="id51.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Taking Wooden Nickels"><U><B>Taking Wooden Nickels</B></U></A></div> </td> </tr><tr> <td valign="top" width=210 BGCOLOR="#FFFFFF" TEXT="#080000"> <div> <B>13:  Nora</B></div> <bR> </td> <td valign="top" height=390 BGCOLOR="#FFFFFF" TEXT="#080000"> <div>      Quentin was relieved to see Nora go out early the next morning with Phillip Jr.  He made his way downstairs to see if there was anything left from breakfast; Mrs. Cleary was such a sweet soul and usually saved a plate for him because she noticed he tended to get up late. He knew that Nora didn't approve because he'd overheard her reprimanding the kindly housekeeper.  That didn't prevent that her from continuing to save meals for him.  He felt a little guilty about causing problems for her but she cheerily sat him down at the kitchen table and brought out a plate of hotcakes and Canadian ham for him.  "Has everyone gone already?" he asked, a little hopefully.</div> <div>      "Mr. Billings is about the house somewhere.  I believe he is expecting someone," Mrs. Cleary began.</div> <div>      "And I'm here!" shouted Mary Jane, crawling out from under the table.  Quentin pretended to be startled and jumped, and the child laughed merrily, her eyes dancing.  "Did I scare you, Uncle Frank?  Really and truly?"</div> <div>      "Really and truly," Quentin swore.  "My heart is in my throat."  He swallowed very hard.  "Hasn't quite gone down yet."</div> <div>      Mary Jane went into spasms of giggles.  Mrs. Cleary said, "Ah, it's good to see someone who appreciates the child's sense of imagination."  The little girl had begun pirouetting around the room, pretending to be a ballerina.</div> <div>      "I'm sure you do, Mrs. Cleary," Quentin said between bites of breakfast.  "Do you stay here just for her?"</div> <div>      Mrs. Cleary gave him a sudden, frightened look.  "Mr. Healey--"</div> <div>      "Please.  Call me Frank," Quentin said.  He noticed her expression and smiled at her gently.  "Your secret is safe with me, Mrs. Cleary.  I'm not blind to my cousin, you know."</div> <div>      "Well," Mrs. Cleary was obviously uncomfortable.  "It's not my place to speak about it--" She broke off as Mary Jane, hearing something, ran out of the kitchen.  "It wouldn't be right."</div> <div>      "How can you stand how she treats you?" Quentin wondered.</div> <div>      "She is my employer.  She has the right to say as she pleases.  If I don't like it, I can leave," Mrs. Cleary replied, surprised.</div> <div>      "I just think you deserve to be treated better."</div> <div>      "Oh, go on with you then.  It's spoiled you are, that's all."  Mrs. Cleary had turned a bright red. </div> <div>      Before Quentin could answer, Mary Jane skipped back in with a bag in her hands.  "Want a gah-nole?" she asked.</div> <div>      Quentin dropped his fork.  "Is Uncle Al here?"</div> <div>      Mary Jane's little mouth popped open and she looked around at Mrs. Cleary.  "He's a secret--" she began.</div> <div>      "Don't worry, dear," Mrs. Cleary reassured her, her mouth pressed in a firm line.  "I know about Uncle Al.  I know about the secret."</div> <div>      Mary Jane sighed with relief.  She opened the paper bag to share her treats with Quentin and Mrs. Cleary.  Quentin bit into the cannolli and thought it was sweet but tasteless.  No big deal.  "Where is Uncle Al?" he asked conversationally.</div> <div>      "Probably in the library," Mrs. Cleary replied, looking at him curiously.  "Why don't you run along and play outside, dear?" she said to Mary Jane.  The child skipped out the door.  Mrs. Cleary looked at Quentin.  "I don't know if the child mentioned it to you. This is one of Mr. Billings' special clients."  She seemed to be becoming more and more uncomfortable.</div> <div>      "Al Capone?" Quentin asked.</div> <div>      "Well--"</div> <div>      "In the library?"  </div> <div>      "Mr. Healey--"</div> <div>      "Frank.  Call me Frank.  I won't tell," Quentin assured her.  He put his forefinger on his lips and slipped out of the kitchen.  He made his way down to the library and stood outside quietly, listening.  He could hear two voices but was disappointed because their words were muffled.  He could make out a few words here and there.  He understood they were talking about the Gennas, and the fact that other people were "taking care" of the problem for him; the power of the Gennas would be broken.  There was also something about Bugs Moran and having to "get" him because he'd almost killed "Johnny."  Now people were coming to him all the times about all kinds of things--it was unexpected.  He never thought he'd be left with "all this." The voice spoke with a strong New York accent and came out sounding like "awl dis".</div> <div>      The voices got a little softer.  Quentin understood Phillip's client was asking about "legit" activities, and how to look good in the public eye.  Phillip seemed to have a number of good ideas, one of which sounded really strange:  reading aloud.  The purpose of that was to try and lose the accent.  The voices seemed to be coming toward the door so Quentin moved away quickly, hoping he could get to the stairs before they opened the door.  He remembered there was a window in Mary Jane's play room that looked out onto the front yard, and so he made his way up there.  Luck was with him this time.</div> <div>      He shut the playroom door behind him and positioned himself on the floor near the open window so he could  look out.  He saw a sedan parked at the curb; a driver sat inside waiting.  The window was open; Quentin could hear Mary Jane's voice somewhere.  She sounded as if she were singing to herself or her dolls.  Now he could hear voices just outside the door.</div> <div>      "Okay, so we'll see you tonight then?"</div> <div>      "I wouldn't miss it," Phillip was saying.  "I noticed her picture a while ago.  I was there the other night, thinkin she might be there."</div> <div>      "Nah, I never start a singer like that in the middle of the week.  Okay, I'll have the boys get a couple cases ready for you.  Thanks, Phil."</div> <div>      Mary Jane's voice was directly below now.  "Uncle Al!  Are you going?  Thanks for the gah-noles!  I gave some to my friends!"</div> <div>      "Ah, that's nice sweetheart," the man's voice said.  The door closed and Quentin could hear the child's footsteps running up the stairs.  "Friends?" The voice sounded concerned.</div> <div>      "Ah, the kid makes up things in her head," Phil replied.  He sounded a little nervous.</div> <div>      "Right."</div> <div>      The door to the playroom opened, and Quentin half-turned and put his finger to his lips.  Mary Jane, wide eyed, got down on her hands and knees and crawled to the window.  "Whatcha lookin at, Uncle Frank?" she asked.  Quentin was watching the man from behind.  He was tall and very stocky.  He couldn't get a clear glimpse of him.  The man got into the back seat.  "Oh, that's just Uncle Al," Mary Jane said, sounding disappointed.</div> <div>      "Does he come here a lot, Mary Jane?" Quentin asked.</div> <div>      "Sometimes."</div> <div>      Quentin sat, cross-legged on the floor with Mary Jane, turning ideas over in his head. Mary Jane looked at him curiously, and propped her chin in her hands too as if she was also giving something serious consideration. He was surprised when the door opened again and Phil stood in the doorway.  "What are you doing in here?"  He sounded more dismayed than surprised or angry.</div> <div>      "Why, I was just visiting Mary Jane," Quentin answered ingenuously, a very wide-eyed, innocent expression on his face.</div> <div>      "Yes, and we were both watching Uncle Al," Mary Jane added, and Quentin groaned inwardly.</div> <div>      "Sweetheart, Daddy needs to talk to Uncle Frank," Phillip said in a wheedling tone.</div> <div>      "Okay, Daddy," Mary Jane said good-naturedly and skipped out.  Phillip shut the door and looked down at Quentin.  He didn't look like such an easygoing guy at the moment; he looked like the large bouncer he'd originally reminded Quentin of.</div> <div>      "Look, you don't have to worry about your client," Quentin said to try and settle it right away.  "I don't care who he is.  I told you why I'm here."  He stood up so that they could look at each other eye-to-eye.</div> <div>      "Right.  And that trial is going on now in Tennessee.  So why aren't you there?"</div> <div>      "Well, I'll probably go for the verdict," Quentin said, trying to think.  "I don't really need to listen to Bryan reinventing Genesis.  Besides, I'm not interested in Scopes or monkeys.  I'm more interested in Darrow and the insanity defense he used."</div> <div>      "Why don't you go talk to him about it?"</div> <div>      "I'm planning to--once he's not so busy. His office is here in Chicago, isn't it? I can get more done here, where the kid was killed.  I can talk to people here about Leopold and Loeb," Quentin lied smoothly.  He added reassuringly, "Phil, after the other night--you know I don't care about what you do."</div> <div>      At that, Phil smiled a little.  "All right.  I just wanted to make sure that you understood, Frank.  This isn't just any client, you understand that?  He's very important.  He's not even supposed to be my client, and technically, he isn't.  That would be a conflict of interest."</div> <div>      "I understand.  But he pays well, doesn't he?  Scotch?  Women?  Money?"</div> <div>      "Which you are going to forget about, correct?  And this is definitely something that Nora knows nothing about."</div> <div>      "Absolutely," Quentin agreed.</div> <div>      "So I have your word you're going to forget about all this?"</div> <div>      "Of course."  Mentally, Quentin crossed his fingers, an old-fashioned superstition to ward off bad luck for lying.</div> <div>      Phillip looked relieved.  "Good. Because I want to warn you, Frank--that is one powerful young man.  You don't want to be on the wrong side of him, you understand?  He can be a very nice fellow, but he's very jealous about protecting what's his.  He can be extremely ruthless.  If you don't believe me, I'll tell you about the fella that used to run things before this guy and his ex-partner, Johnny Torrio."</div> <div> "I believe you."  He did, too.</div> <div> "All this stuff is still new to him.  His partner just hadda get out of town this year.  Shot in the throat, very nasty.  He just needs a little advice from time to time, and he likes to show his appreciation."</div> <div> "I understand, Phil."</div> <div> "Good.  And Nora knows nothing, all right?"  Quentin zipped his lip, crossed his heart and held up his left hand.  Phil laughed. "Good. Remember the singer I was telling you about?  She opens tonight at the Gardens.  Tonight Nora does some church lady committee shit.  How about it, Frank?"</div> <div>      "Sure," Quentin agreed.  He might be able to catch Dave between sets.  He wondered if Al Capone would be there tonight.  He hoped not; he really didn't want to meet the man.  He still had to formulate a complete plan in his head, but he thought he had a general idea of how to work it.  He wished Angelique were around so he could ask her.  He remembered what she'd said though:  it would be a long time before they were together again and that he'd see her when she wanted him to.  He just hoped she didn't leave him alone for too long.  He felt like he was getting in way over his head.</div> <bR> <div>      Phil and Quentin were shown to another table facing the band and dance floor.  "Some people will be joining us later," Phil explained as they waited for their drinks.  Quentin was looking at the faces of the band members; he spotted Dave and nodded to him.  He wondered what kind of people Phil was talking about and hoped they wouldn't be gangsters.  The waiter brought them a bottle and said, "Compliments of Mr. Capone."  He indicated a table across the room, and both men looked over.  Phillip inclined his head and held up his glass.</div> <div>      Quentin saw one of the men get up and make his way across the room.  It must be Mr. Capone, because he had a round, pudgy face and although he was tall, he was also paunchy for such a young man.  Quentin remembered that Mary Jane had described him as "kinda fat".  He was surprised at how young the man looked and how old he seemed.  Phil stood up as the man drew nearer, and Quentin got to his feet, too, feeling nervous.</div> <div>      "Phil, good to see you," the man said, shaking hands firmly with Phil.  It was as if they hadn't seen each other in a long time.  "I think you'll like this singer.  I heard her myself and had Tony sign her up."  His eyes moved to Quentin, curious.</div> <div>      "Al, I'd like you to meet a cousin of my wife's," Phillip said.  "Al, this is Frank Healey, from New York.  He's staying with us a few weeks or so.  Frank, this is a friend of mine, Al Capone.  He owns this fine establishment."</div> <div>      "You flatter me," Capone said with a smile.  He shook hands with Quentin firmly.  "From New York, eh?  How's things there?  I was born there, y'know?"</div> <div>      "Oh?" Quentin said politely.  His hands were shaking, so he kept them at his side.  "I was staying with a friend in Greenwich Village.  It was hot there."</div> <div>      Capone pulled a chair back to Quentin's left and they all sat down.  "Yeah, well, you can swim in the East River, ya know."</div> <div>      "I like to swim."</div> <div>      "Yeah?  What else do you like to do?"</div> <div>      "He's a writer.  He's here doing a piece on that Bobby Franks case."</div> <div>      Capone wagged his head.  "That was some sick shit.  You don't think them two shoulda got off?"  He almost sounded accusing.  "They shoulda got the death penalty, you ask me."</div> <div>      "I think so too," Quentin agreed prudently.  "I'm writing about Mr. Darrow's defense--the insanity defense--"</div> <div>      "Insanity!"  Capone interrupted.  "They were insane all right!  Two rich kids who were bored and decide to kill a little kid for fun."  He shook his head again.  "That is really sick.  You just don't DO that."  </div> <div>      He looked disturbed by it, frowning.   He felt disturbed by a murder?  Was it possible?  Quentin also noticed that Capone was careful to keep the left side of his face turned away.  He remembered that Dave mentioned the scars and the powder Capone used to cover them. It never occurred to him that a gangster might have feelings of compassion or shame. "I'm wondering what would make two kids from a good background behave that way.  And if they were insane, why?  I'll probably talk to some psychiatrists--"</div> <div>      Capone smiled thinly. "Yeah? I got a friend of mine trying to talk to one of those guys.  Why don't you tell me if they make any sense to you once you talk to one or two of them, willya?  What else do you do?"</div> <div>      Surprised by the sudden change in subject, Quentin didn't answer at first, but then said impulsively, "I like to play the piano and chase women for fun."</div> <div>      At that, Capone burst out laughing.  "You'll like it here, then."  He turned his attention back to Phil and the two of them talked for a few more minutes.  Then Capone excused himself.  "Have a little business to discuss," he explained.</div> <div>      "Thanks for the bottle, Al," Phil said.</div> <div>      "Ah, everything's on the house tonight.  Maybe I'll send you two over a little treat."  He kissed his fingers and threw his hand open.  "Beautiful."  He got up and nodded to them both, then turned and made his way back to his own table.  Quentin picked up his drink, found his hands were still shaking a little, and sipped slowly.</div> <div>      A man came out and introduced the new singer, CaraLinda Romano.  The singer was an exotically beautiful woman.  Her thick dark hair fell in ringlets around her shoulders.  She was wearing a lavender gown, low cut, that showed off a lithe, slender frame.  Quentin was fascinated with her shoulders and her long arms.  Her skin had a healthy glow to it, as if she'd been sunbathing all afternoon.  From here, they could see her luminously large dark eyes, turned up in the corners.  She had a wide, generous mouth, and when she smiled to the applause, her white teeth gleamed.</div> <div>      "Gorgeous, isn't she?"  Phillip said in admiration.  "Boy, I'd like to pork her.  Too bad she's got black blood mixed in."</div> <div>      "Maybe that's why she's so beautiful," Quentin said, admiring the singer's beauty.  The band began to play the opening notes to the first song.</div> <div>      "Yeah, what a waste," Phil sighed.</div> <div>      The singer had a sultry, powerfully sexy voice.  Quentin felt entranced by it; the last time he'd felt that way was with that singer at Dave's place almost two years ago.  What was her name?  He couldn't remember; he only remembered her voice, her eyes, and how hot she'd been.  He wondered if CaraLinda exuded the same sexuality off stage as on.  He thought he'd like to find out.</div> <div>      "Ah, what the hell," he heard Phil saying into his ear.  "I won't fuck her but I'll bet she'd do a good blowjob."  He felt irritated, first by Phil's crassness and then by the possible competition.  He couldn't  help it--he looked at Phil  contemptuously.  Phil said, "Hey, well, y'know they have all these diseases, those colored people--"</div> <div>      "What makes you think she'd want to give you a blowjob?" Quentin interrupted.</div> <div>      Phil laughed.  "Oh, they usually will--once they find out who I am.  I'll have a bottle of champagne sent to her with a note."  He noticed Quentin's expression and misunderstood.  "Tell you what.  I'll get her to do us both."</div> <div>      "Ah, no thanks," Quentin said, barely able to contain himself.  Who did this jerk think he was?</div> <div>      "What?  You don't think she'd be any good?  Look at that mouth!"</div> <div>      "Phil--" Quentin began, losing his temper.  Before any of the things he wanted to say spilled out, two women came to their table.  They weren't Peggy and Lou Ann, but they were equally attractive and equally made up.  More Capone whores, Quentin thought, exasperated.  </div> <div>      Phil was already inviting them to sit down and have a drink.  He gave their names, and they said their names were Bonita and Lee.  Phil called a waiter over.  He was scribbling a note on the back of his napkin.  Quentin began trying to think of a way to extricate himself even as he conversed with Lee.  She had a rich southern accent; her voice was husky and sexy.  Even so, he wanted to get out because he didn't want the singer associating him with that idiot Phillip. After </div> <div> CaraLinda had sung several songs, the band began to play a dance tune. He asked Lee to dance with him, and she readily agreed.  Bonita pouted a little because Phil kept his eyes on the singer.</div> <div>      "Do you want to have a good time tonight, Frank?" Lee was whispering into his ear.</div> <div>      He pulled her close to him so that she could feel he was aroused. Let her believe that she was the one who caused it; that was so much the better.  "Where can we go?" he whispered back to her.</div> <div>      "I have a little place if you don't."</div> <div>      "Uh-uh, I'm staying with family."</div> <div>      "We'll go to my place then."</div> <div>      He put his hand a little lower on her back, and she used the opportunity to rub up against him a little.  When they returned to the table a few minutes later, Phil had finally begun talking to Bonita but it was clear that the young woman was not pleased.  </div> <div> The band took a break, and Quentin excused himself.  He went looking for Dave, and located him in the alley.     He was having a smoke with his two friends, Tom and Nick--one of those specially rolled cigarettes.  "Hey, Franky," Dave said and offered the marijuana cigarette to Quentin.  He decided to join them to help him relax.  He passed the cigarette to Nick, who gave him an odd expression, but took it and said nothing.</div> <div> "Did you meet her?" Quentin asked.</div> <div> "Why, sure.  She sure is beautiful.  Got a voice like  honey," Dave answered and sighed.</div> <div> "Good.  Do you think she'll talk to us?"</div> <div> Tom and Nick snickered.  Quentin glared at them but turned his attention back to Dave, who was taking his turn with the cigarette.  He passed it back to Quentin.  "Naw, she's a real cautious type lady.  She ain't the type to go off with you first time she sees you.  She gonna be here a while.  Let her get used to seein you here.  Then we can talk to her."</div> <div> Quentin passed the cigarette back to Nick.  "Good.  Then Phillip will strike out."</div> <div> "Whatcha mean?" Dave asked.  Quentin explained.  The other two laughed out right.</div> <div> "Just what the hell is so funny?" Quentin asked in irritation.</div> <div> "Man, the lady is a gypsy.  She's not a colored whore," Nick explained.  "White folks always think colored and gypsy women be whores."</div> <div> "Well, I don't," Quentin snapped.</div> <div> Nick looked intimidated.  "Okay, okay, I'm sorry.  Didn't mean no harm."</div> <div> "I'm not a threat to you either," Quentin continued, still feeling irritable.  Nick looked doubtful but didn't say anything.  Tom was edging away.</div> <div> Dave sighed.  "This boy is color blind.  You fellas might not b'lieve it now, but you get to know him, you'll see."</div> <div> "Fine, fine.  I just didn't mean no harm, okay?"  Nick said.  He was backing away, too.</div> <div> "No offense taken," Quentin said.  He sighed.  Tom and Nick backed off together, and he decided there was no use trying to convince them that he really didn't mean them any harm.  Dave was right.  They'd just have to see for themselves.</div> <div> "Look, you got to understand, Franky," Dave began.  "They ain't got no reason to trust a white man--"</div> <div> Quentin waved his hand.  "It's all right.  Forget it.  I understand.  I'm just glad she's not the type to go with some scum like Phillip."</div> <div> Dave grinned.  "Oh.  But you wouldn't mind if she went someplace with you, would you?"</div> <div> Quentin shut his mouth.  He wanted to defend himself and say "that's different", but of course it wasn't.  "What's Nick mean about gypsies?"</div> <div> "He says they won't have no truck with white men--nor colored neither.  They stick to their own kind."</div> <div> "Really?  I didn't know that.  My wife was a gypsy."</div> <div> "She was?  I didn't know that, Frank!  Did she get throwed out of her tribe?"</div> <div> Quentin thought.  "I don't know.  She wasn't with them when I met her."</div> <div> "Well, maybe she was already throwed out.  But, look, we get to know this lady a little better, she'll explain it to us--see?"  Quentin nodded.  "Okay, let's go back.  My break be over."</div> <div> "Maybe I can stop and see you later," Quentin said hopefully as they went in the back door.  "I think I'm going to leave early with the brunette whore at the table.  I don't want to be here to see Phillip make a damn fool of himself."</div> <div> "Well, if you want to come round, that's fine.  I usually get there 'round 4:30.  I'll leave the door unlocked.  If you don't show up, I'll just assume she was better than you thought."</div> <div> Quentin laughed.  He went back to the table and leaned over and whispered to Phil that he wanted to leave with Lee.  Phil seemed unhappy about that.  "What about CaraLinda?" he hissed.</div> <div> "I toldja, I'm not interested," Quentin whispered back.</div> <div> "Well, hold on a minute.  Whaddam I gonna do with HER?" Phil jerked his head toward Bonita.  Quentin thought that was not his concern.  Phil leaned over and whispered in Bonita's ear.  She looked at Quentin with frank interest and a smile.  She turned and whispered to Lee, who smiled and nodded.  Quentin had a feeling he knew what was going on and if it would get him the hell away from Phil, it was fine with him.  He'd been with two girls before and could even feel himself becoming excited by the thought.  Phillip was pushing money into his pocket under the table.  "Think you got enough for the two of them?" he was whispering.</div> <div> "No doubt," Quentin answered.  He was surprised when Phillip also gave him the car keys.  "Won't you need these?"</div> <div> "I have a feeling I'm not gonna need them," Phil answered with a lewd grin.  Quentin wanted to laugh out loud in Phil's face, but he carefully controlled himself.  Ah, what justice!  He nodded and pocketed the keys.  Phil turned with a smirk and said in a low voice:  "Ladies?  The gentleman is all yours."</div> <div> Quentin left the Gardens with a woman on either arm, blood surging rapidly and with pleasant warmth toward his groin, and a deep feeling of satisfaction in his heart.  He only wished he could see the look on Phillip's face later.  The next best thing was being able to tell Dave all about it later.  His experiences with the two girls had left him feeling very self-satisfied but physically drained.  He showed up at Dave's at about quarter to five, and Dave laughed at the sight of him.</div> <div> Quentin grinned too.  "Geez, I am sore," he complained good-naturedly.</div> <div> "You get too much of that, you know it'll fall off," Dave teased him.</div> <div> "It almost did.  That one--what was her name?  Lee?  She had a mouth like a vacuum cleaner."</div> <div> Dave howled and slapped his knees.  He wiped his eyes and looked at Quentin.  "You wanna hear about your friend, Mr. Phillip?"</div> <div> "Yeah, come on, Dave."</div> <div> "He sent her this bottle of fine champagne.  He also sent her a note--on a napkin, if you can believe that.  She done showed it to me before he showed up to see her after the show.  Know what it said?"  Quentin shook his head, no. "'How about it, beautiful?' Just them four words.  She's tellin me somethin in a language I don't even understand, but I got her meanin all right.  She tells me he aint worth--what did she call it now?  Sound like she said Mary-May, but it wasn't that.  It was some other language, Franky.  Boy, she was hot!  You thought she was beautiful just singing?  Shoo.  You should see her, mad.  Her dark eyes all flashing like they was going to start shooting out lightning bolts.  Hair flying all around her face."  Dave paused, remembering, a look of admiration and appreciation crossing his features.</div> <div> "So what happened when Phillip showed up?"  Quentin pressed impatiently.</div> <div> "Oh, she let him in the room, and I stood outside, shinin the horn, busy-like, you know.  And I could hear her screamin at him.  Who did he think she was, some no-count whore who thought he was some kind of hot stuff?  And she say he didn't look like the type to have one of the size to make her happy anyway--"  They both laughed at that.  "He was just some soft white bread <I>gaucho</I> and he should go back and stick it to his wife, less'n of course, his wife had wised up and taken herself to get poked somewheres else.  Then I hear this SMASH!  And she's screaming at him, 'Get out!' and just cussing him out in English and whatever that other language is.  Well, the door flies open, and out he comes, whiter than white and drenched to boot.  Look like he mighta even had pieces of glass stuck in that suit of his."</div> <div> Quentin doubled over, roaring.  Dave shook him.  "Franky, hush!  Ssh!  Don't want the landlady hearin!"  However, Dave was grinning and chuckling, too.  "That man, he don't say a word.  He goes out the back door, obviously thinkin he's goin somewheres else.  Only he done give you the keys, didn't he?"  Quentin nodded, unable to speak, trying to suppress his howls of laughter.  "And he done give you most all his money becuz he had to go on his belly to Mr. Capone and get him some cash to get his sorry self home."</div> <div> "Oh, no!"  Quentin cried out, and he doubled over again in paroxysms of laughter. </div> <div> After they'd calmed down, Dave said, "Look, I don't wanna throw you out, Franky, but it's getting light out.  People gonna be up and around soon."</div> <div> "Okay," Quentin said, standing up.  "I wish I could crash here.  You really think they'd pay that much attention?"</div> <div> "You got that fancy car parked out front?  Yes, Frank, they'd notice.  Go on home.  They probably all passed out from shock anyway."</div> <div> Quentin laughed again, but he didn't really want to go back to the Billings' house.  He left Dave reluctantly and got into that fine, shiny car.  He decided to drive to Lincoln Park and the North Avenue Beach.  He'd found refuge at Lincoln Park many times to get out of that oppressive house on Woodlawn Avenue.  He'd taken Mary Jane along with him a few times after he discovered the zoo there.  It might be an idea for today; it didn't seem like it would be too terribly hot.</div> <div> He parked the car and walked down to the beach.  He took his shoes and socks off and walked barefoot along the shore.  There were signs up to warn swimmers about the sharp rocks under the water.  He knew enough to be cautious around the boulders, and the lake itself was very deep.  Even still, if it had been earlier, he might've considered pulling his clothes off and going for a swim.  He wouldn't do it now that the sun was coming up.  He sat down for a while to watch the sun come up.  He decided he might be more comfortable if he lay back and did, dozing off without intending to.</div> <div> He woke up hungry and had no idea what time it was.  The sun wasn't too high in the sky, though, and Mrs. Cleary was faithful about keeping a breakfast plate for him.  He put his shoes and socks back on and looked around.  This was a really nice, relaxing place to come to--if he had someone to bring.  Mary Jane was just a little girl, and he knew he'd never convince Dave because of this segregation business.  He actively missed Angelique for the first time.  She'd been the first real person to him since he lost first Beth and then Amanda.  Feeling lonesome, he got back into the car and drove back to the Billings' house.</div> <div> On his way up the steps, the door opened, and the two boys came out.  They stopped short, when they saw him.  The older one sneered at him.  "You are in some hot water, my friend!  I wouldn't want to be YOU!"</div> <div> Quentin had had enough of this snotty kid.  He bounded up the steps until he was facing Phillip Jr. and grabbed him by the lapels.  "Listen, you snotty little punk, if nothing else, I'm a grown-up and you're just a little kid.  I'd appreciate it if you would keep your damn mouth shut around me, since you apparently haven't learned any manners!"  He shoved the boy, who stumbled backwards and fell down the steps.  As soon as the words were out and he'd shoved the boy, he instantly regretted it.  He turned toward the younger boy, whose eyes had become huge with fear.</div> <div> The younger boy edged around him and ran down the steps to assist his brother.  Quentin started down the steps too, cursing himself.  "I'm sorry," he said, reaching down to give Phillip Jr. a hand up.  The boy, obviously surprised and scared now, reluctantly took it and let Quentin help him get up.  This was a cowardly kid, Quentin realized, and he really felt ashamed of himself then.  "Are you all right?"</div> <div> "Yuh-yuh-yeah," Phillip Jr. stuttered, backing away.  "M-Mother wants to see y-you and Fa-father--"</div> <div> "He's not back yet?"</div> <div> "Na-na-no," Phillip Jr. continued to stutter miserably.  He grabbed his younger brother by the elbow and they turned away, walking quickly down the street.  </div> <div> The door opened behind him.  He turned to see Nora standing in the doorway, glaring at him.  "Come in.  I want to speak to you!" she snapped, holding the door open.</div> <div> Oh, damn it all, he thought miserably.  He wondered if she'd seen him manhandling her son.  He didn't wonder long because as soon as he was in the door, she'd slammed it and yelled at him.  "How dare you!  You are a guest in MY house!  How dare you push my son!"</div> <div> "I'm sorry.  I lost my temper.  He was rude to me," Quentin explained, feeling himself becoming angry again.  He tried to remember the sweet little child with the long flowing brown hair, but he couldn't get hold of the image.  He could see little Elizabeth and, more than ever, Mary Jane.</div> <div> "That doesn't give you the right to bully him!  You've always been a bully, haven't you?  I heard Uncle Carl telling Aunt Judith what a bully you are!  And what have you done with my husband?  Where is he?"</div> <div> "Nora!  Stop shouting at me!" he yelled back.  He'd had enough of the nasty way she treated him.  "I'm your uncle, Nora! I'm not some kid!"</div> <div> "Oh, they were right about you!" she continued to shout, advancing on him.  "You are a trouble-maker!  Phillip never came home!  What have you two been doing?  What did you get him into?"</div> <div> "Nora, will you calm down?  I didn't get him into anything!  I left him--" he broke off, momentarily speechless.  "Nora, he was alone when I left him.  I thought he'd be back here already.  It was still early when I left him yesterday."</div> <div> He didn't expect her attack.  She flew at him, trying to scratch his face.  Then she began punching his chest and kicking at his legs.  "Nora!  For God's sake, stop it!" he cried out, trying to restrain her and protect himself at the same time.  He managed to turn her around so that her back was to him.  He'd crossed her arms in front of her and held on while she struggled and fought.  It was like trying to hold Jenny when she'd lost control of herself and attacked Laura.  "Nora!  Please!"  She continued to struggle wildly for a few moments, trying to stamp on his feet but he was able to outmaneuver her.  Finally, she burst into frustrated, angry sobs and stopped fighting.  "Nora, please, can we just talk?" he asked softly.</div> <div> "I don't care what you have to say," she spat back, continuing to sob.  "I HATE you, do you hear me?  I HATE you!"</div> <div> It hurt-a lot.  He swallowed and answered calmly, "I'm really sorry, Nora.  I am, because I love you.  I've always loved you.  Please, can't we talk about this?"</div> <div> "Would you just let me go?" she spat the words out, and he released her cautiously.  She made no move against him, though.  She covered her face and sobbed like a broken-hearted child.  When he tried to put his arms around her to comfort her, she pulled away angrily.  "Don't you dare touch me, Uncle Quentin!  I meant what I said!"</div> <div> "And I meant what I said too," Quentin could feel his emotions rising again.  "What have I done to make you hate me so, Nora?"</div> <div> "The same thing everyone else has done," she wept.  "You didn't love me.  It was Jamison you always loved.  It was Jamison you always wanted to go on hikes with, and Jamison you always played with.  If you went away, you'd take Jamison with you.  And when you came back, you didn't call me.  You called Jamison."</div> <div> The really terrible part of it all was that she was absolutely right.  He tried to think of a good excuse.  He could say, well, Jamison was a boy and interested in the same things he was interested in.  He could say that Jamison was tougher and could put up with tramping around in the cold.  He could say that Jamison was just more fun to hang around with.  He could see how much that would hurt her, though.  Instead, he said, remorsefully: "You're right, Nora.  It was a terrible thing to do to you.  I am sorry, though.  I mean it, do you hear?  I'm sorry."</div> <div> Nora shrugged.  She'd stopped sobbing as he'd spoken to her, and she had a mildly surprised look on her face.  "At least you're not lying to me," she said grudgingly.  She shrugged.  "It doesn't really matter, Uncle Quentin.  Father didn't love me as much as Jamison, either.  He still doesn't.  He doesn't have to say anything.  I can just tell by the way he doesn't listen when I speak."  She sounded depressingly resigned.  She walked into the sitting room and collapsed into a chair.  "My own mother didn't like me.  I could tell that, too.  I wasn't some dumb little kid.  You know who loved me?  Who really loved me?"  She looked up at Quentin.  "Why, Uncle Quentin! Do you really care that much?"</div> <div> He knelt down by the chair and took her hand.  This time, she allowed it, an expression of wonder crossing her face.  Thickly, he asked, "Yes, I do. Who loved you, Nora?"</div> <div> "Why, Aunt Jenny, of course.  She brushed my hair for me, and she sang to me.  She told me how pretty I was, and she made me a doll.  She really liked me.  She liked it when I would come and visit you.  Really and truly."  She looked at Quentin again, closely.  "But you killed her, didn't you?"</div> <div> "I'm sorry," he said again.  "I didn't know, Nora.  I'm not trying to make excuses for myself, but I just want you to know that I never meant to hurt you."</div> <div> "It doesn't matter," she repeated, indifferently.  "And Phillip is the same way.  He doesn't love me anymore."  Quentin started, and she laughed.  "I told you that I'm not stupid.  I know where he goes when I'm at my meetings.  I know he has women.  I know he buys women for other people.  Were they pretty, Uncle Quentin-Frank?"</div> <div> He looked at her, stricken, and reddened.  He couldn't answer.</div> <div> "You don't have to say.  I know they are.  And I know about his friends, too. I know about Mr. Torrio and Mr. Capone.  Everyone likes to think they're keeping big secrets from me, but they're not.  I know.  I've known for a long time."</div> <div> He couldn't look at her anymore; he was too ashamed.  "My God," he muttered.</div> <div> "Just tell me-Frank, just so that I'll know-did he leave me?  I refuse to be humiliated."</div> <div> "Nora, I honestly don't know.  I don't believe he had any intentions of leaving you," Quentin answered honestly.  Just then, the door opened and Phillip came in, furious, looking like he'd slept in a park in his clothes.  There was a tear in his coat.  Quentin stood up. "Perhaps I should go," he said.  That seemed the rational thing to do.  "Nora was worried about you, Phil.  I only just arrived myself."  He leaned down and kissed his niece very gently on the top of her head.  </div> <div> Then he walked out, without looking at either of them.  If possible, he'd walk all the way to the café to talk to Dave about what happened and about what to do about CaraLinda.  He needed to think about these things that Nora had been feeling all these years.  How could he have neglected the child so?  Not that it was all his fault-it wasn't.  He wasn't her father, after all, and her mother had been no mother at all.  He remembered all the times he'd favored Jamison over her.  He'd brought Jamison most of the presents and given Jamison almost all of his attention.  He knew why, and it might not be any different if he could do it over again.  He realized now realized how unfair it was to poor Nora. She was so angry now, though; he didn't know if he could ever make amends to her. It troubled him, which he found annoying.  He had so many things on his mind now.</div> <div> He found the younger boy, Eddie, sitting on the steps outside, hanging his head.  He was wearing a baseball mitt on one hand, dangling it between his knees.  Quentin wondered when he'd returned and where his ball was.  He stopped.  "What's wrong with you?" he asked.  The boy looked up at him, sullenly, and just shook his head.  "Can't talk?"</div> <div> "Ah, I was just gonna ask to go down to Lincoln Park, but I can't go in there now," the boy muttered.  "I don't got no change on me for the streetcar, and I sure as hell ain't goin in there for it."</div> <div> "Oh," Quentin said, understanding.  He thought.  Dave really wouldn't be expecting him until  later, and he didn't feel like hanging around the café by himself.  "Where's your sister?  Maybe we can all go."</div> <div> The boy made a face at him.  "What do you want to go for?"</div> <div> "I like it there.  What's it to you, anyway?  It'll get you there, won't it?"</div> <div> The boy nodded grudgingly.  "Well, she's probably in the kitchen with Mrs. Cleary.  Want me to get her?"</div> <div> "No, why don't you get a ball. Do you have another mitt?  Or a bat?"</div> <div> Eddie looked cautiously hopeful.  "Yeah.  Want me to bring them?"</div> <div> "Sure," Quentin said over his shoulder.  He thought he'd walk around the house to the kitchen.  There was no way he wanted to go back in through the front door.  He entered the kitchen and found Mrs. Cleary sitting at the table, rocking a sniveling Mary Jane.  "What's with her?"</div> <div> "Mr. Healey, the child isn't deaf," Mrs. Cleary answered.  Quentin wasn't sure if she was disapproving of him or if she was just upset for the child.  He thought it was probably the latter.</div> <div> "Frank, call me Frank," he said.  "Did you hear your mom and dad arguing?" he asked, turning his attention to Mary Jane.  Sniffling, she nodded.  "Well, moms and dads fight like that sometimes.  They get over it."</div> <div> "And then they do it again," Mary Jane objected.</div> <div> "Well, some do," Quentin agreed.  He felt sorry for her.  "Hey, do you want to come on a picnic with me and your brother?  We can go to Lincoln Park."  He looked at Mrs. Cleary hopefully.</div> <div> She smiled gratefully.  "Sure, and what a grand idea for a beautiful summer day like today-Frank, is it?  And do ye think ye'd be enjoying some nice thick ham sandwiches and some lemonade and cake, then?"  </div> <div> Mary Jane had stopped crying completely.  She grinned broadly, showing the gap in her teeth that made her look so endearingly cute.  "That's better," Quentin said, relieved.  "Why don't you bring your swim suit?  Maybe we can go swimming, too.  It's getting hot."</div> <div> "Oh, boy!"  Mary Jane danced up and down.  She raced up the kitchen steps to the next floor.  Normally only Mrs. Cleary would use the steps but under these circumstances, Quentin decided he'd want to as well.</div> <div> "Have you a swimsuit, Frank?"  Mrs. Cleary wanted to know.</div> <div> "Um, no, actually, I didn't think to bring one."  Until now, he hadn't really needed one.  The only swimming he'd done was at Cuddeback, and since only Dave and Angelique had been around, he had just gone skinny-dipping.  Well, it was too late now, and maybe he could just go wading.</div> <div> "Frank, I have something you might wear if you don't mind it being a little old-fashioned," Mrs. Cleary said shyly.  "It belonged to himself, and I haven't been able to throw all this things away since the cancer took him.  He was tall and thin like yourself, Frank, and people used to be calling us Jack Spratt and his wife."</div> <div> Quentin laughed.  "I don't mind," he said.  "What about the boy, Eddie?  Do you know where he'd keep his suit?"</div> <div> "Well, I've a mind," Mrs. Cleary answered.  "Come along and we'll see what we can find.  Then I'll make you a nice picnic basket to take along."  As they went up the stairs, she said softly, "It does me heart good to see you take an interest in the children, Young Frank.  Puir young things that they are.  I've often wanted to take them home meself."  She must've been feeling really upset, Quentin reflected, because he'd never heard her accent so pronounced before.  She stopped at her little room first and Quentin waited for her outside.  She returned with "himself's" swimsuit, which really wasn't too old-fashioned after all.  She retrieved a suit for Edward and then went back downstairs.</div> <div> Quentin put the swimsuit on under his pants.  He could still hear yelling and recriminations and Nora's sobs from downstairs.  Hurriedly, he went down the hall looking for Mary Jane.  She was just coming out of her room, looking a little sad, but when she saw him, her face brightened considerably and she skipped down the hall to take his hand.  Armed with the picnic basket and with Mary Jane in tow, he went back around front to meet Eddie, who now had two mitts, a bat, and a ball.  He looked surprised, but not displeased, at the sight of the picnic basket.</div> <div> "I hope you don't mind," Quentin said as they all fell in step together.  "I brought you a suit.  I thought maybe we could go swimming later after we have a catch."</div> <div> "Good thinking," Eddie said, sounding pleased.  "It is hot."</div> <div> Well, Quentin thought, at least there's two people that don't hate me.  Wonder how long that'll last.  He usually got on very well with children, but he was also mindful of the fact that he inevitably ended up disappointing them-as he had done with Jamison and Nora.  Maybe even Elizabeth-he hadn't seen her since he'd been dragged from the hotel suite.  He didn't know if she missed him or not.  He remembered hoping he'd be able to become closer to Jamison's children, but it didn't look like that was going to happen anytime soon.  As for Nora's children-he didn't want to hurt them, but it could only help to be kind to them right now.  He just wouldn't make any of the promises he'd made to Jamison and Nora when they were little.</div> <div> The afternoon was a success, thanks to Mrs. Cleary's food and to the good weather and to the good spirits of the two children.  The boy apparently liked baseball very much because he was a good player.  He threw a fast ball, Quentin very quickly found out when they played catch.  After he decided that this kid might take his hand off, Quentin suggested that he pitch to Eddie.  Eddie was enthusiastic about that; Quentin less so after the ball sailed way over his head for the fifth time.  "Hey, Mary Jane," Quentin called to the little girl, who was hanging upside down from a tree branch, "want to be my fielder?"</div> <div> The little girl jumped down.  "Sure!" she said, very honored.  She ran off into the bushes to retrieve the ball.</div> <div> "Ha!"  Eddie called.  "You aren't so dumb, areya?"</div> <div> "Not hardly," Quentin said.  Mary Jane ran back to him, proudly displaying the ball.  Quentin threw at Eddie again; there wasn't any need for a catcher because this kid apparently could hit anything that was thrown at him.  The ball sailed over Quentin's head again, and Mary Jane raced after it.  Quentin put his hands in his pockets and looked at Eddie appreciatively.  "So, kid, you gonna play for the Cubs?"</div> <div> Eddie's face clouded over.  "Nah, they're going to make me into a lawyer, too."</div> <div> Quentin didn't have to ask who "they" were.  He wanted to tell Eddie that he didn't have to listen to his parents; he could do as he pleased, and if he wanted to play ball, he should play ball.  He almost opened his mouth to say something but then closed it again.  He couldn't be sure he'd be around to back the boy up if he did decide to rebel.  Why make it harder for the kid?  If he was going to play ball, he'd have to do make the decision on his own-unless Quentin himself decided he was going to stick around.  He just didn't know.</div> <div> There was a bathhouse at this part of Lincoln Park so when the sun had climbed higher in the sky and it had become hot, Eddie retreated into the bathhouse to change.  For the sake of public decency, Quentin went just inside.  He just had to pull his pants off but some people got upset over that kind of "public display" and it was better to be safe than sorry.  When he came out, he saw Mary Jane already attempting to go into the lake.  "Hold on," he called to her, mindful of the warning signs.  She waited for him.  "Listen, Mary Jane, would you promise me that you'll always wait for a grown up before you go into the water?"</div> <div> She looked up at him very solemnly.  "Does Philly count?" she asked.</div> <div> "Who's that?  Your brother?  Yeah, he counts."</div> <div> She considered. "Okay, I promise." She put her little hand in his and they went into the cool water.  By the time Eddie joined them, Quentin had the little girl on his shoulders.  He tried to remember how Edward had given him the porpoise ride all those years ago.  He wasn't sure he was doing it the right way, but Mary Jane was having a wonderful time anyway.  She was squealing with delight.</div> <div> They spent the rest of the afternoon there, swimming and then drying out on the beach.  It was after five when they returned, the children happy and beet red, and Quentin feeling satisfied with his good deed.  The fight between Nora and Phillip had been over for hours, and only Nora was in the sitting room.  They spilled into the hallway from outside, and saw her sitting there.  </div> <div> She stood up but didn't say anything.  Eddie turned and went up the stairs two at a time, and Mary Jane timidly slipped her hand into Quentin's again.  "We went to Lincoln Park for awhile," Quentin explained.</div> <div> "Mrs. Cleary told me," Nora said formally. "I guess you had a good time.  You're sunburned.  I suppose the children are too."</div> <div> It was on the tip of his tongue to apologize, but he didn't. "I suppose they are," Quentin agreed.  "We all had a good time, though."</div> <div> She turned away.  He could barely hear the words, but they were just loud enough so that he could-as she had intended.  "I'm glad SOMEONE did."</div> <div> He led Mary Jane into the kitchen with the empty picnic basket.  Mrs. Cleary was helping the other young servant-Patricia was her name, Quentin had learned-with dinner.  "Ah, look at the glow on the two of you!"  Mrs. Cleary said.  She took the basket.  "Away with you now to change," she said to Mary Jane, who obediently skipped up the back stairs.  "If your face or shoulders do bother you later, I'll have something to ease the burns," Mrs. Cleary was saying.</div> <div> Quentin grinned.  "Is it really that bad?  I'm going out.  I don't think I'll feel it in a few hours." Mrs. Cleary grinned back at him.  "Where's Phillip?"</div> <div> "Mr. Billings left in quite a snit several hours ago.  I don't think he'll be returning this evening."</div> <div> "Ah." Quentin wondered if he'd turn up at the Gardens again.  He hoped not.  He also hated to leave Nora alone, but he needed to meet Dave to discuss how to approach CaraLinda.  "I'm going out myself.  I guess I'd better make my excuses to Mrs. Billings-Nora."</div> <div> "Don't pay no heed to whatever she says to you, Frank," Mrs. Cleary said kindly. "There's nothing would make her happy now, and there's everything would make her unhappy, if you understand my meaning."</div> <div> Quentin sighed.  If there was a way he could fix things with Nora, he'd do it.  He just didn't see a way of doing it, though.  She was still in the sitting room, working on some needlepoint.  She looked up when he stopped in the door.  "I'm going out to meet a friend of mine.  I probably won't be back until very late.  I'm sorry I won't be able to have dinner with you and the children."</div> <div> "Don't bother," Nora said.  "It doesn't matter to me whether you're here or not.  Just don't wake us up when you stumble back in."</div> <div> Stung, he almost answered in kind but then he bit the words back and thought he'd try a different approach  He had no idea what her life was like now, but he was getting a few glimpses of it, all very unpleasant.  There was no point in adding to the unpleasantness-especially not when he had so many good things to look forward to.  "Nora, would you like to come with us next time?"  She looked at him as if she had no idea what he was talking about.  "To Lincoln Park.  We really had a nice time there, Nora.  A picnic, too.  You used to like to swim.  Don't you care to anymore?"</div> <div> "No, I don't.  And I have more important things to do with my time."  She sounded so nasty, his resolve to be pleasant evaporated abruptly.</div> <div> He was speaking before thinking about what he ought to say.  "Is your needlepoint really so much more important than your children?  You have more than just the one, you know."</div> <div> "What did you say?"</div> <div> "Did you know that Mary Jane has a family of dolls, just like your family, Nora-and the mama doll is busy all the time.  Did you know that your son Eddie likes to play baseball, and he's really good at it?  He's a natural."</div> <div> Nora stood up and marched over to him, standing just about toe-to-toe.  She seemed to relish the confrontational, bellicose mode of communicating.  "You presume to tell me about my children?  How dare you?  You are just a guest here.  You have no business interfering in my life or those of my children!"</div> <div> "A guest?  I thought I was family, Nora!"  The words just came out, and he knew they were going in the wrong direction but couldn't seem to stop himself.  "I was hoping we might be able to become friends again, but you're just too bitter.  You complain that you were neglected and ignored as a child, and I'm just trying to stop you from doing the same thing to your own children."  He caught her hand in mid-swing.  "Look, Nora, I'm telling you for the last time I'm not some kid.  I'm your uncle, damn it.  I'll tell you what, though-I'll let you give me one good shot.  Just once.  But let's make it count."  Now he decided to say the worst thing he could think of-maybe that would shock her enough to make her see how she was behaving.  "You've turned into your mother and it's not a pretty sight.  What do you think Mary Jane'll have to say about you in twenty years?" He let go of her.</div> <div> He was not at all surprised when she swung at him again, slapping his face as hard as she could.  He closed his eyes, feeling pity mixing in with his anger at her.  She was in such a state of rage he could hear her almost gasping for breath.  Opening his eyes and looking at her, he saw her own eyes were filled with tears.  She'd gone a dusky red color and her mouth worked with strong emotion but no words were able to come out.  "Who did you hit just now, Nora?" he asked.  "Was it just me?  Or your mother and father, too?"</div> <div> "You'd better go," Nora finally managed to say through her gritted teeth.</div> <div> "Look, I'm no paragon of virtue, but think about what I said.  Please, Nora.  I'd like to try and be friends."</div> <div> "And I told you I'm not interested.  Now, please just go!"  She was already turning away.  He almost went after her, but decided he'd pushed her hard enough already.  He wasn't even sure he'd be around long enough to re-establish a relationship with her, so perhaps it wasn't fair to pick at her when she was so clearly unhappy.  He wouldn't have said anything at all if it hadn't been for the children.  He wasn't sure he'd done them any favors by speaking up.  He hoped he hadn't done them any harm.</div> <div>  </div> <div> He met Dave at the café and they ordered something to eat.  He told Dave about Nora and what had happened, and his friend made clucking sounds of sympathy.  "You just have got family problems right and left, don't you?  Now, I'm not saying I don't, mind you.  I guess I'm just far enough removed from it all not to notice."</div> <div> "Are you still worried about Mary Margaret?"</div> <div> Dave grinned; mischief gleaming in his eyes. "Not as `long as you sitting here next to me I ain't."  He ducked as Quentin playfully swung at him. "Actually, I only really worry about Joe.  And he's in a place where people takin good care of him anyhow. My other sisters are married; their men are good to them.  I worry `bout my daughter sometimes.  `Specially now she's getting older.  Well, look, we got to talk about this CaraLinda lady."</div> <div> "Right," Quentin agreed.</div> <div> "Well, I'll tell you, that blonde lady was right about one thing," Dave began, "and that is this lady can't be rushed.  I think she gonna have to get to know you a little bit `fore she'll even give you the time of day.  She done noticed you already, Franky."</div> <div> "Really?"  Quentin was pleased. "How do you know?"</div> <div> "Hard to miss someone goin out the door with a lady on each arm.  `Specially when he's got an idiot cousin that makes a fool out of himself with the lady."</div> <div> Quentin groaned.  "And I don't know where Phillip is either.  He might be there again, for all I know."</div> <div> "Don't sit there with him.  Sit by yourself-with another lady if you have to, but alone if you can.  Look, Frank, try and still `til closing time-like you used to in the other places.  This way you can play the piano like the old days.  You do that a couple times, and I think that'll work."</div> <div> "Good idea," Quentin agreed. "I don't really want to wait all summer to talk to the lady."</div> <div> Phillip showed up at the club but Quentin had already secured a table toward the back.  In the dim light, Phil either didn't see him or didn't care to notice him.  He sat with Al Capone and a few other men, drinking.  They didn't stay all evening; they stayed through the first part of CaraLinda's performance, and then they all left.  Quentin was enormously relieved.  He nursed his drinks along so that he would be relatively sober when the time came for the crowd to go home.</div> <div> In the wee hours of the morning, the band began putting their pieces away.  Quentin moved from the table to the piano and began to play.  Dave came over and joined him, and together they played "Yes, Sir, That's My Baby."  Quentin tried fiddling with the chord combinations and was enjoying himself immensely. He became aware of her presence.  She was wearing a light scent, very sexy.  He looked over his shoulder at her, and she smiled at him.  Again, he noticed how her teeth gleamed against her skin.  She had a golden glow to her, as if she'd been sunning herself over a period of several days.  "Ah, so the pretty one plays the piano too, as well as the women, no?" she asked teasingly.</div> <div> He nodded to the bench, indicating she should sit.  She slid onto the bench next to him. "You play well for one-such as yourself."</div> <div> "I've had good teachers," he said.  </div> <div> "I hear, I hear," she said, still smiling.  "Play another for me, pretty one."</div> <div> Quentin looked over at Dave, who winked and nodded.  It was a good beginning.  They were on their way.</div> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> <A HREF="id66.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="12: Chicago"><U>12:  Chicago</U></A>    <A HREF="id68.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="14: The Gypsy"><U>14:  The Gypsy</U></A></div> <div> <A HREF="id51.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Taking Wooden Nickels"><U>Taking Wooden Nickels</U></A>    <A HREF="index.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Cassies Writing"><U>Cassie's Writing</U></A></div> <bR> <bR> <bR> <div>      </div> <bR> </td> </tr></table></body>