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“Yeah, Leon Leonwood. But he’s in Maine.”
“Uh-huh. That’s the main story—with and without the e—but there’s a small basement store on the other side of Union Square that sells last year’s clothes and returns at a deep discount.”
Canidy’s face lit up. “Perfect! Good stuff at a cheap price.”
Victor took a slip of paper and wrote “Leonwood’s, 867 Broadway @ 17th” on it and slid it across the polished stone.
“Thank you,” Canidy said and turned to go through the revolving door.
An hour and a half later, a grinning Canidy walked up the basement steps of Leonwood’s and out onto Broadway.
He carried a big, nondescript brown paper bag packed with three pairs of khakis, two in navy and one brown; a pair of tobacco-colored, waxed-canvas pants; three flannel shirts in dark, solid colors; a pair of black leather boots; a dark brown field coat; three pairs of black woolen socks; two packages of white cotton boxers and T-shirts; a woolen knit cap; and one wooden duck call, something that he had always wanted and Leonwood’s was just about giving them away.
Jesus, I spent a bundle. But for what I got, I saved a bundle, too.
And for what I saved, I can now go to that nice lingerie store and then over to Kiehl’s.
Canidy had more trouble in the lingerie store than he had in Leonwood’s. A lot more trouble. He had been shopping for a half hour and had yet to pick out one nice thing to buy for Ann.
Operative word: nice.
He kept looking at items, picking them up, then feeling guilty and putting them back on the shelf.
This was a helluva lot easier at Leonwood’s. There, I knew what I needed.
Now I don’t know if I’m shopping for Ann—or for me.
He was finally rescued by a pleasant young woman salesclerk.
She walked and talked him through the merchandise, starting out with the silk hosiery.
Damn! I could have picked those out on my own, but no, I had to go straight to the lacy stuff.
One very small but very expensive box later, he was
on his way to Third and Thirteenth, his brown bag only slightly heavier and his wallet significantly lighter.
Filling a shopping basket at KIEHL’S SINCE 1851 was accomplished with much more ease. Canidy pretty much went through the women’s section of the store, putting one or two of everything in it.
How can I go wrong? This stuff’s been winning women’s hearts for almost a hundred years.
He had various bottles of skin moisturizers, face cleansers, bath oils, some kind of cream that softened and removed calluses from feet—and more.
And he splurged on himself, buying a small bar of moisturizing soap to use when he shaved and a stick of antiperspirant.
Now, as he headed back to the hotel, he had a second bag, one nearly the size of—and at least the weight of—the one containing the clothing.
This day is getting more surreal by the moment.
Who would believe I’d be shopping at the same time that I have a date with the mob?
Canidy went through the revolving door of the Gramercy Park Hotel. He looked toward the front desk; if Victor was there, he wanted to thank him for sending him to Leonwood’s. But Victor wasn’t, so Canidy went to the elevators and caught the next one up.
In his room, he put down the bags on the big bed and went through the one containing his clothes, laying out what he would wear that night.
He checked his watch. Six o’clock.
He realized that he had not eaten since breakfast that morning. In Washington.
