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“Make it quick. They don’t like personal calls around here.”
“Okay. First and foremost, I wanted to assure you that I haven’t washed my face.”
“What?”
“I may never wash it again, as a matter of fact.”
“Oh,” Susan said, finally taking his meaning. “Jesus! Grow up, Matt!”
“You mean you washed your face?” he asked incredulously.
“Of course. . . . What’s on your mind, Matt?”
“I think you already know.”
“God!” she responded in what she hoped was an expression of disgust and disbelief.
“If you have a pencil, Susie, I’ll give you the telephone number of my new office. Very classy. It gives me a splendid view of the polished marble floors and ornate bronze fixtures of the lobby of the First Harrisburg Bank and Trust Company. In case you want to call me in the next couple of hours.”
“I don’t think that’s likely.”
“You never know when you’re going to need a cop, and in case you do, you’ll have my number right at your fingertips.”
“Next?”
“Where are we going for lunch?”
“Nowhere.”
“Then where are we going for dinner?”
“Nowhere.”
“I thought maybe we could drive out to Hershey and have dinner in the Hotel Hershey.”
“No.”
“Well, any place you like is fine with me. What time shall I pick you up?”
“You don’t know how to take ‘no’ for an answer, do you?”
“We have a deal, fair maiden.”
“I don’t know what you’ve got in your mind, Matt—”
“Really? No feminine intuition at all? I find that difficult to believe.”
“Damn you!”
“I seem to have offended you. Since—my intentions being so pure and noble—I can’t imagine how, what I am obviously going to have to do is call your mommy, tell her how sorry I am, and ask her if she can’t try to fix things up between us.”
There was a chuckle. Not a very pleasant chuckle, more one ringing of resignation.
“And you really would, wouldn’t you, you son of a bitch?”
“You can take that to the bank. The First Harrisburg Bank and Trust.”
“I’ll pick you up in front of the Penn-Harris at half past six. We’ll have a quick and early dinner.”
