“Why this rule all of the sudden?”
“Apparently you don’t read the local papers, Mr. Fredericks. That young woman who was killed right before Christmas — the man who put that car right through the trunk of that tree—he’d been drinking too, and drinking heavily. He’d been to a party — just as you are going to a party. She was his children’s babysitter, Mr. Fredericks. Just as I am your children’s babysitter.”
“Miss Stillwell, it isn’t necessary for you to speak to me as if I’m still in the third grade.”
“I’m simply trying to make you understand. I won’t brook it. Not ever again. It’s irresponsible for a man to get behind the wheel of a car when his eyesight and his reflexes are encumbered by strong drink. I sincerely hope, Mr. Fredericks, that you are not in the habit of endangering your wife and children in this manner.”
Cliff sighed and slumped. “I assure you, madam, that I do not. I generally only drink during that one hour that conveniently falls between ‘Hi honey, I’m home,’ and ‘Dinner looks great!’ Oh, and I have a few beers on the weekend. I’m not the dipsomaniac that you paint me.”
“I wasn’t painting you in any such way! I was merely asking if you would in the future—”
“All well and good, Miss Stillwell. All well and good, but what about tonight? I am taking my wife and myself to a New Year’s party given by a very important potential client. It isn’t a party that we can afford to miss. I believe that Janice secured your services for this evening several weeks ago. That’s how important it is that we have someone to babysit our children tonight. If you decline, you’ll be putting me in a terrible bind. And you’ll be in breach of our oral agreement.”
“Every agreement carries certain unspoken expectations, Mr. Fredericks. One of these expectations is that both parties will act in good faith. This isn’t good faith. You tripped on my front walk because you’re sozzled. I will not ride with you. I’ll be very sorry if you happen to miss your party, but you should have used better judgment before you left the house.”
Cliff thought for a moment. “May I come in and use your phone? I’ll see if I can get you a cab.”
“Certainly.”
Cliff knew before he began to dial the various cab companies that covered this section of Westchester County that it would be a lost cause. But he still had to try on the outside chance that he might get very lucky. He didn’t even care if the companies wanted to gouge him. He’d pay whatever they asked. This was an important party. He had told Gilbert Powell that he and his wife were looking forward to it. He cursed Janice now for never having learned to drive. And why didn’t Miss Stillwell drive? Did she just sit around like royalty and expect people to ferry her to wherever she needed to go? It was infuriating. But he tried his best to keep calm. Keeping calm might help Adelaide Stillwell to change her mind.
After striking out with the fifth cab company he phoned, Cliff turned to look up at Adelaide, who was standing next to the little phone table. It was a heavy table — Stickley maybe. Miss Stillwell wouldn’t be caught dead with a house filled with Heywood-Wakefield’s Contessa Danish Modern, thought Cliff. She was practical. She was sensible. Miss Stillwell didn’t even get into a car unless she knew that the ride would be safe. “No dice,” he said.
Adelaide tutted. Forever the school marm, thought Cliff.
“Any chance you might reconsi—?”
“Absolutely not.”
“May I have some coffee?”
“I’ll be happy to make you a cup of coffee, Mr. Fredericks, but studies have shown that simply drinking a cup or two of coffee doesn’t magically sober a person up.” She cleared some phlegm from her throat. “If that’s what you’re aiming at here.”
“And just how long do you think it will take for me to sober up, Miss Stillwell?”
“It depends on how many drinks you’ve had. Will you be honest and tell me that, Mr. Fredericks? And would you also take a guess at how strong you made each one of them? Or was it Janice who made them?”
“No, no. I mix my own drinks. I think I had two. I got home a little late and I had to shower and dress for the party. Two. I’m sure that was it.”
“It smells like more.”
“I can’t help what it smells like. I’m telling you two. How long for two drinks, Miss Stillwell? How long before you think I’ll be clearheaded enough to drive you the six or seven miles to my house?”
“Two hours, I should think. One hour for each drink. Yes, I’m fairly certain I’d be comfortable riding with you after I was sure that you hadn’t been drinking for two hours.”
“I suppose we could be late. I could just say that something came up with one of the kids. Yes. That might be doable. Can I use your phone to call Janice and tell her?”
“Of course.”
Cliff called Janice and explained where things stood. “So, I’ll come on home and wait there and then in a couple of hours—”
Adelaide interrupted. “Not acceptable. How do I know that you aren’t going to treat yourself to another drink once you get home?”
Cliff snorted. It was actually a half-snort, half growl. He spoke into the phone’s mouthpiece: “She doesn’t trust me.”
“Yes, I heard her,” said Janice.
“Can’t you promise her that you’ll keep me on the straight and narrow?”
“I can try.”
Cliff handed the phone to Adelaide. “Hello, Adelaide,” said Janice.
“Hello, Janice. I hate to be so difficult, but you know what happened to Dot Sparrell last week.”
“Yes, I do. It was so tragic. She was going to be a nurse.”
“Janice, I would certainly trust you to keep an eye on Cliff, but that isn’t the only issue. When he drives in this condition he puts other people at risk besides himself and whomever happens to be in the car with him — other motorists, other passengers, innocent pedestrians. It’s best, I think, that he stay here with me until he sobers up.”
“You’re probably right,” said Janice. “Maybe you could feed him while he’s there. He didn’t eat much for dinner. It’s no wonder the alcohol went straight to his head.”
“The alcohol went straight to his head because there was a great lot of it, Janice. Let’s not kid ourselves. I made myself a little New Year’s Eve hors d’oeuvres platter to take with me to your house tonight. He can have some of that. Do you want me to put your husband back on the line?”
As Janice was saying that it wasn’t necessary, Cliff was shaking his head as well. Adelaide returned the phone receiver to its cradle and placed her hands on her hips.
“Well, little man, let’s get you some coffee. I have Eight O’Clock coffee. That’s the A&P brand. Would that be all right?”
“It’ll be eight o’clock soon. Why not?”
Cliff sat at the kitchen table drinking coffee and reading a Red Smith sports column in the New York Herald Tribune. Adelaide sat across from him. She pushed the hors d’oeuvres plate a little closer to him. “Are you sure you wouldn’t like a canapé?”
“Well, hell, why not?” Cliff picked up a cracker with a thin slice of prosciutto on it and popped it into his mouth.
“You like it?”
Cliff nodded.
“Have another. I can make more.” She sat back in her chair and studied Cliff.
“What is it? Am I chewing recklessly?”
She shook her head. “You look like a boy I used to know.”
“When was this?”
“Oh, years and years ago. He died in the Spanish flu epidemic. We were engaged to be married.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It wouldn’t have worked out. He drank.” She looked embarrassed. “That was rude. I’m sorry. I’m sure you aren’t nearly the drinker he was. It’s terribly ironic — the fact that he died so close to the start of Prohibition.”