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"No," he said. He didn't mind. He was lying with his arm around her, and her lips close to his ear, staring up at the ceiling and thinking how soft her voice was and how warm and smooth she felt in his arms.

"I don't know how it started," Molly said. "I guess one day he just kissed me, and I guess it was the first time I'd ever really been kissed by anyone, I mean really kissed by a man. And then, I don't know, we just began, not that same day, but a few days later, I guess it was a Friday, I guess it was after everyone had gone home. We made love in his office, look, I know you don't want to hear this."

"No, that's all right," he said.

"We did it every day," she said. "I loved it," she said.

That was when he got angry.

He could hear the snow squeaking under his shoes. Amelia held his arm tightly and said, "We're heading for the river, did you know that?"

"No, I didn't."

"What were you thinking?"

"Thinking?" He shook his head. "Nothing."

"Oh, yes you were. Just a few minutes ago. You were a million miles away."

"I was thinking I ought to be getting home."

"I must be a real fascinating girl. You're walking with me, and all you can think about is getting home."

"I didn't mean it that way. It's just my mother's all alone up there. Not really alone, I have a younger brother, but you know."

"Yes," Amelia said.

"It's just I'm the man in the family."

"Yes."

"That's all." He shrugged.

"Still, you are here," she said. "You are with me."

"Yes, I know. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have—"

"I mean, I am a fairly good-looking girl, you know, what with my rat-fitch collar and my sexy black sweater." She grinned. "I mean well, you know, a girl doesn't get all dressed up so some guy can think of running back home to Gulchwater Flats."

"Carey," he said, and smiled.

"Right?"

"Right."

"So what do you intend to do about it, look, there's ice on the river, you could probably walk clear across to the other shore."

"There wasn't any ice last night," he said.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"Were you here last night?"

"Well, I meant early this morning. About three o'clock."

"What were you doing here at three in the morning?"

"I wasn't here"

"But you said—"

"I had to make a delivery."

"A delivery?"

"Yes. Vegetables."

"Oh."

"So I had a chance to see the river, that's all I meant."

"And there was no ice." \

"No. I guess it must have been a little above freezing."

"It felt a lot colder than that yesterday," she said.

"Yes, it did. But the river wasn't frozen."

"Okay," she said. "You want to walk across to the other side?"

"No."

"Vegetables, did you say?"

"Yes, I got the job from a man, to pick up these vegetables and deliver them. With my truck."

"Oh." She nodded, and then said, "How cold do you think it is now?"

"I don't know. In the twenties, I'd guess."

"Are you cold?"

"A little."

"My feet are cold," she said.

"You want to go someplace? For coffee or something?"

"I thought you had a room," she said.

"I do."

"Let's go there."

They walked in silence for several moments. The river was frozen from shore to shore. The bridge uptown spanned the ice, rose from the ice as if it were a silvery spidery extension of it.

"I don't want to hurt you," he said.

"Hurt me? How can you hurt me?"

"I don't know," he said, and shrugged.

"Honey," she said, "I've been had by experts."

"Amelia, there are . . ." He shook his head.

"Yes? What?"

"There are a lot of things . . ." He shook his head again.

"What is it, Roger?"

"I should do."

"What?"

"Things I should do."

"Yes, like what?"

"Well ... I want to be with you."

"Yes, I want to be with you, too."

"I want to kiss you again, I've been wanting to ever since—"

"Yes, yes—"

"But I don't want to hurt you."

"But, baby, how can you possibly—"

"I just want you to know that."

She stared at him silently. At last she said, "You're a funny person." She reached up and kissed him swiftly and then moved back from him and looked into his face and said, "Come," and took his hand.

12

The party in Roger's room started at about five-thirty when Fook Shanahan came in with a man who lived on the second floor and whom Roger didn't know at all. He and Amelia had just come into the room, had in fact barely taken off their coats when Fook knocked on the door and — without waiting for anyone to answer — opened the door and came in, followed by a very tall thin man with thick-rimmed eyeglasses and a thatch of brown hair turning white. His eyebrows were already completely white, thick and shaggy; they looked fake to Roger, as if they had been pasted on as a disguise. Fook had a bottle of bourbon in one hand, and two glasses in the other. He went immediately to the dresser where he put down the bottle and the glasses and then he turned to Roger and said, "Aren't you going to introduce us to the young lady?"

"Oh, sure," Roger said. "This is Amelia Perez. Amelia, I'd like you to meet Fook Shanahan, and I'm afraid I don't know the other gentleman's name."

"The other gentleman's name is Dominick Tartaglia," Fook said, "and he's no gentleman, believe me." Tartaglia laughed. Fook laughed with him and then said, "I gather you two have just come in from the frozen tundra out there, and would appreciate a drink."

"Well . . ." Roger said hesitantly, and then glanced at Amelia.

"Sure," Amelia said. "I'd love a drink."

"The problem is one of numerical disproportion," Fook said. "We seem to have four people and only three glasses."

"Roger and I can share a glass," Amelia said, and smiled gently at him.

"Then there's no problem," Fook said. He went to the dresser and opened the bottle. Amelia sat on the edge of the bed, crossing her legs and leaning forward, resting her elbow on her knee, one hand toying with the pearls at her throat. Tartaglia stood alongside the dresser, smiling as Fook poured the drinks. Roger glanced at Amelia to see if she minded them being here, but she seemed to be pretty happy. We'll make love as soon as they leave, he thought.

And suddenly he was frightened.

"We were waiting for you to come home, Roger," F/ook said, "because we wanted to know how you made out with the bulls."

"Oh, we had a nice talk," Roger said.

"Were the police here?" Amelia asked, and she suddenly sat up straight and looked at Roger.

"Yeah," Tartaglia said. "Our landlady had a refrigerator stolen from her."

"A refrigerator?" Amelia said. "Thank you," she said to Fook as he handed her the drink.

"I apologize for the lack of ice," Fook said. "Would you like a little water in that?"

"Spoils the taste," Amelia said, and grinned.

"Ah, an Irish colored girl," Shanahan said. "The best kind." He lifted his glass. "Cheers, Miss."

Amelia sipped at her drink and then raised her eyebrows and rolled her eyes. "Whoosh!" she said, and handed the glass to Roger. Roger sniffed it, and then took a short swallow.

"So what happened?" Fook asked.

"Nothing," Roger said. "They came in and they were very polite, and they asked me where I'd been last night, and I told them. Then, let me see, I guess we talked about how much I thought the refrigerator was worth, and then they said I could go home or stay here, whichever I wanted, they had no more questions for me."