«Ernestine Sage.»
«Your private line was busy,» Mr. Ernest Sage announced somewhat indignantly, as if he considered that a personal affront.
«Hi, Daddy! I'm fine. How are you?»
«Since you have a lamentable tendency to miss appointments, I thought it would be a good idea to remind you that we have one this afternoon.»
Oh, shit!
«I said I would meet you if I could, Daddy,» she said. «That's not quite the same thing as an appointment.»
«I gather you cannot? Aren't you getting a little tired of commuting to Washington daily?»
«I consider it my contribution to the war effort,» she said, and was immediately sorry. «And I didn't say I wasn't going to meet you. 1 said we didn't have an appointment.»
«Well, may I infer from that that you will meet me?» he asked. He sounded pleased.
«Ken and I will meet you,» Ernie said.
«Splendid,» he said, considerably less pleased. «Jack and Charley's at five-thirty?»
«We'd better make it six, or even six-thirty,» Ernie said. «Ken's coming up by train, and you never know if they're going to be on time.»
«Six, then,» he said, and hung up.
At half past three, Miss Ernestine Sage was notified by the BBD&O receptionist that a Mr. McCoy was in the lobby.
«Mr.
McCoy»? Doesn't she recognize a Marine officer when she sees one
?
BBD&O protocol dictated that when an executive-level employee had a visitor, the employee was to dispatch a secretary or other clerical employee from his or her office to the reception desk on the twentieth floor, to escort the visitor to the executive-level employee's office.
Miss Sage was well aware of this protocol, but decided to hell with it.
«I'll be right down,» she said, and hung up.
After a quick glance at her watch and her desk, she decided that doing any more work today was a lost cause, grabbed her hat and coat, and left the office.
«See you in the morning,» she said to Darlene.
«If someone calls?»
«Tell them I'll be in in the morning,» Ernie said, and went to the fire-exit stairwell. That was the quickest way down to the twentieth floor.
As soon as she pushed open the fire-exit stairwell door and entered the reception area, she saw Captain McCoy. What she saw immediately explained why the receptionist mistook him for a civilian and why Ed Banning asked her to do something about his clothes.
I
love him anyway
, Ernie thought.
But
my God.'
Where did he get those clothes? He looks like a coal miner all dressed up for a night out on payday
.
McCoy was wearing a two-tone sport jacket with a plaid body and blue sleeves. It had four pockets, with flaps, made of the same material as the sleeves. The open collar of a yellow shirt was neatly folded over the collar of the jacket. He had on a pair of light brown trousers, and was wearing his Marine Corps uniform shoes.
Ernie kissed him on the lips, not the cheek, which obviously made him uncomfortable.
«What are you doing dressed like that?» she asked.
«You don't like it, huh? Neither did Banning. I could see it on his face.»
«I meant, baby, what are you doing in civilian clothing?»
«It's sort of a long story,» he said. «Can we get out of here? I want to go to Brooks Brothers before they close.»
«You mean the clothing store?» she asked.
«Yeah. Sure. The clothing store.»
«You're going to buy some other clothes?»
«With you and Banning looking at me like I escaped from the circus, yes, I'm going to buy some other clothes.»
«Well, Brooks Brothers has nice things,» Ernie said. «That's a good idea.»
But, unless they're having a fire sale, nothing a Marine captain can afford. Doesn't he know that?
As if he had been reading her mind, he answered the question. «I finally paid off what I owed for my uniforms,» he said. «So I suppose my credit is good. And I've got a two-hundred-fifty-dollar civilian clothes allowance check.»
«You bought your uniforms at Brooks Brothers?» Ernie asked, as she led him onto the elevator.
«When Pick and I were about to graduate from OCS, he said the best place for us to buy officer's uniforms was Brooks Brothers,» McCoy said. «He didn't mention what they were going to charge for them.»
«Oh,» Ernie said.
Damn Pick! He should have known Ken couldn't afford Brooks Brothers!
«Anyway, I thought that since I don't know diddly-shit— Sorry, that slipped out…«
Ernie made a gesture meaning she wasn't offended by the vulgarity.
»… about civvies, Brooks Brothers was the place to go for them.»
«Good idea.»
«Can you go with me?» he asked, almost shyly.
My God, he wants me to help him!
«Of course.»
«I thought you would know the right thing to buy.»
«We'll find something,» Ernie said. «Are you going to tell me why you need civilian clothing?»
«Well, I'm going to grow a beard,» he said. «I am ordered to grow a beard, and a Marine officer with a beard would make people ask questions.»
«I don't suppose you're going to tell me why you've been ordered to grow a beard?»
«I can't, honey,» McCoy said.
What the hell does that mean? Where are they going to send him now where he needs to have a beard? And/or wear civilian clothing? What's he going to be doing? When is he going?
I
knew damned well when Darlene said Banning was on the phone that it was going to be bad news
.
«The first thing you're going to need is shoes,» Ernie said when they had pushed through the revolving door into Brooks Brothers.
«I suppose,» he said, looking down at his feet.
«Go in there and ask them to show you some loafers,» she said. «I'm going to the ladies' room. I'll meet you there.»
He nodded and headed toward the footwear department. She couldn't help but notice the look of amusement, surprise, and contempt one of the salesmen gave him as he walked past. Then she went looking for another salesman.
«I'd like to see the manager,» she told him.
«Perhaps I can help you, miss,» the salesman said.
«If I thought so, I wouldn't have asked for the manager,» Ernie snapped at him, and was immediately sorry.
He didn't look down his nose at Ken. The sonofabitch by the tie counter did.
«May I help you, madam?» a middle-aged man asked a moment later.
«You're in charge?»
«Yes, I am.»
«I'm not sure if I have an account here or not. I know my father does.»
«Perhaps you have a family account.»
«My father's name is Ernest Sage. It's probably billed to him at American Personal Pharmaceuticals.»
«I know your father,» he said, now smiling warmly. «I've known him for years. How may I assist you? It is Miss Sage?»
«I'm Ernestine Sage,» she acknowledged.
«I'm very pleased to meet you, Miss Sage.»