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“Nonsense. This was important.” He wanted to end the call quickly, but he didn’t want to leave her worrying over Daniel. Concern might bring her rushing back. “Maris, don’t worry about Daniel,” he said tenderly. “He’s a tough old bird, stronger than we give him credit for. There’s really no cause for alarm. If anything, over the past few days he’s seemed more like his old self. Full of piss and vinegar.”
“I’m sure you’re right. It’s just that when I’m not with him, my imagination gets away from me and I start worrying.”
“Unnecessarily, I assure you. Now, forgive me, but I really must run.”
“Apologize to Howard for me. Tell him it’s all my fault that you’re late.”
“Don’t worry. I will.” He chuckled. “ ’Bye, now.”
“Noah,” she added just before he disconnected, “I love you.”
For a moment, he was taken aback. Then, in the absentminded way of a devoted but preoccupied husband, he replied, “I love you, too, darling.”
Professions of love meant nothing to him. They were sequences of words without any relevance. He’d told many a woman that he loved her, but only when trying to woo her into bed. He’d vocally expressed his love for Maris when they were courting because it was expected. He’d vowed his love for her in order to win her father’s blessing on their marriage, and he’d played the expressive newlywed husband to the hilt. But in the last several months his avowals had become increasingly infrequent.
By contrast, Maris had an affectionate nature. She was touchy-feely to an irritating degree. She declared her love at least once a day, and while he’d become accustomed to hearing it, he still felt no connection to the sentiment.
But this most recent profession of love gave him pause. It wasn’t the words themselves that had been curious, but the manner in which she’d spoken them. It had sounded to him almost as though she were trying to reestablish, either in his mind or her own, that she loved him. Had the surprise anniversary party failed to reassure her of his devotion? Did she still suspect him of infidelity?
As he breezed past Bancroft’s assistant with barely a nod and entered the counsel’s private office, the exchange with Maris lingered on his mind. It had raised questions that required further thought. Her “I love you” had been declared with an undercurrent of desperation. He must determine what, if anything, that signified.
One thing was certain: She would not be proclaiming her love for him if she knew the contents of the folder he carried into the lawyer’s office with him.
“Hello, Howard. Sorry I’m late.” He banged ahead to prevent Bancroft from remarking on his tardiness. “I was on the telephone with Maris, informing her that she would be receiving this document either tomorrow or the day after at the latest. She’s in the boonies, on the outskirts of nowhere, but she assured me that the parcel carriers deliver.”
Without invitation he sat down on an upholstered love seat and spread his arms along the back of it, a study in nonchalance. Lookin
g through the windows behind the attorney’s desk, he remarked, “You know, Howard, I don’t know what you did to rate this office. It’s got an incredible view.”
His cavalier attitude was calculated to distract Bancroft from the business at hand. But he knew from experience that the little Jew was no pushover. His wizened appearance added a decade to his age. He stood five feet five inches tall in elevated shoes. He had a bald, pointed head with a distinct knob on the crown. He favored wide suspenders and wore them with tweed trousers regardless of the season. On his nose were perched small round reading glasses. Howard Bancroft looked like a gnome. Or exactly what he was—a shrewd legal mind.
“Is the document ready?” Noah asked, even though the referenced document was lying in plain view on the lawyer’s desk.
“It’s ready,” Bancroft replied.
“Thank you for preparing it so expediently.”
Noah leaned forward and reached for the document, but Bancroft laid his heavily veined and spotted hand on it. “Not so fast, Noah. I’m unwilling to let you have this today.”
“Why’s that?”
“I followed your directives and drew up the document as you requested, but… May I be candid?”
“That would save time.”
“I was reluctant to write the document as you specified. Its content is troubling.”
The lawyer removed his glasses and began polishing them with a large white handkerchief he’d taken from his pants pocket. Shaking it out, it looked to Noah as though he were waving a flag of surrender, which he might just as well do. Howard Bancroft could not win this fight.
“Oh? How is it troubling?” Noah gave his voice just enough edge to caution the attorney that Noah’s reasons for requesting the document were not open for discussion. They weren’t even to be questioned. Bancroft, however, did not take the hint.
“You’re certain that Maris approves of this?”
“I made the request on her behalf, Howard.”
“Why does she feel that such a document is necessary?”
“You know as I do, as Maris does, that publishing isn’t the gentleman’s cottage industry it was a century ago. It’s gone cutthroat like everything else. If you stand still in this marketplace, you’d just as well be backing up. If you’re merely maintaining the status quo, your competitors will pass you by, and before you can blink, you’re in last place. We don’t want Matherly Press to be choking on the heel dust of the others, do we?”
