Cheryl was almost as excited as she was, but she reluctantly refused Karen's invitation to supper. "I've got a class. I don't dare skip it, there's a test tonight. Unless- would it be all right if I came over afterwards? I could be there by nine, unless you're set on getting drunk right this minute."
"I think I can hold off for a few hours," Karen admitted.
After inspecting the larder, she decided there was nothing on hand worthy of the occasion. Snatching her purse, she ran out to shop, treating herself to veal chops (two very small chops) from the Georgetown Market. She did not buy Alexander's steak at the Georgetown Market. She hoped he couldn't tell the difference between supermarket fare and that of a French butcher, but she did not count on it.
Cheryl arrived at 9:10, brandishing a bottle. "I figured one bottle of champagne wasn't enough for your first big sale. Let's open it right this minute."
They drank with simulated solemnity-"to Miriam and her millions." Karen filled the glasses again. "I'd like to propose another toast. Feel free to throw the wine and the glass out the window if you hate the idea, but… How about drinking to our new partnership?"
Cheryl stopped with her glass halfway to her lips. She stared at Karen; then her eyes suddenly brimmed with tears. "I thought you'd never ask," she said.
AT midnight they were halfway through the second bottle and neither one of them had stopped talking.
"Might as well finish it," Cheryl said seriously, pouring the wine. "It'd be a shame to let it go flat. Here's another toast. To the greatest business brains in the state-"
"This isn't a state," Karen said, with only the slightest difficulty over the sibilants.
"And a damn shame, too," Cheryl cried. "Here's to self-gov'ment for the District of Columbia!"
"Right on!"
"No, but I mean we are the best business brains in whatever it is," Cheryl insisted. "Do you realize that in the last three hours we've figured out everything we're gonna do, even the way we're gonna decorate the shop?"
"We haven't got the shop yet."
"But I'm gonna start looking tomorrow. In all those places we talked about. You know, this town closes down and dies in August, after Congress lets out. My classes are over the end of July, and soon as your friend gets back you can give her your notice and work at this full-time."
"I think we can do it," Karen agreed. They looked at one another, at once sobered and exhilarated by the prospect. "I really think we can do it, Cheryl."
"Sure we can do it. You know, Karen, you don't know what this means t'me. I can't tell you-"
"You did tell me. About ten times."
"An' I'll say it ten more times," Cheryl declared. "Can't say it too often."
For some reason this struck both of them as hilariously funny, and they laughed until they were breathless.
"We're drunk," Karen said, in surprise.
"Maybe you are, but I'm not. I'm just a little tipsy. Here we go-this is the last. A final toast?"
"To us," Karen said.
"Couldn't've said it better myself."
They had retired to Karen's room to inspect the merchandise and go over the books. "I tell you what," Karen said, trying to collect her wits. "You better not go home in that condition. Oh, I know you aren't drunk. But neither of us is exactly sober, now are we? Why don't you spend the night?"
"Okay," Cheryl agreed. "I better call Mark. Ask him if I can spend the night."
"What do you mean, ask him?"
"You're right, you're right. Don't ask him-tell him. Only…" Cheryl's mouth drooped. "Only I don't have my toothbrush or my nightie."
"No problem. Ruth is one of those perfect hostesses who always has extra toothbrushes for guests. And if you want a nightgown-" Karen walked, none too steadily, to the wardrobe and threw open the door. "Take your pick. Victorian with handmade eyelet ruffles, Edwardian with pin tucks and tatting, bias-cut peach satin-"
"What, wrinkle the merchandise?" Cheryl's eyes widened in horror. "I'll sleep in my skin. First, better call ol' Mark."
Cheryl pulled herself together enough to sound relatively coherent when she announced to her brother that she would not be home that night. Karen, preparing Ruth and Pat's room for a guest, overheard enough to deduce that Mark had been properly congratulatory about the partnership and rather pleased than otherwise that he would not have to deal with a giggling, tipsy sister.
After she had tucked her new partner into bed, Karen went downstairs to let Alexander out. It was not until she looked into the darkened garden that she remembered her ghost. "Nothing like cash in hand to scare away spooks," she thought with a smile as she called Alexander in, checked the doors and windows, and went up to bed.
"Karen! Karen!"
Muzzy with sleep and champagne, it took her a while to recognize the voice. She struggled to sit up, muttering, "Whazzamatter?"
Cheryl stood in the doorway, silhouetted against the light from the hall. She had been persuaded to wear one of the older, more tattered nightgowns; it was too big for her and puddled around her bare feet.
"What's the matter?" Karen repeated.
"There was somebody in my room."
The only body in Cheryl's room belonged to Alexander, who was engaged in a thorough sniff of every corner. Someone had certainly been there, however, or else Cheryl was guilty of walking in her sleep. The wardrobe doors were flung wide, and most of the clothes had been removed from the hangers.
297
"What happened?" Karen gasped, reaching for some of the garments that littered the floor.
Cheryl caught her arm. "Don't touch anything yet. Did you feel a draft when we came through the hall?"
They stared at one another. Then Karen ran for the stairs, with Cheryl close behind. The draft of air became stronger as they descended. Karen heard Cheryl stumble and swear as Alexander scooted between her legs. He passed Karen, tumbled down the last few steps, and scrambled wildly on the slippery floor before achieving a right-angle turn and vanishing in the direction of the kitchen.
When Karen reached the room he was gone. The back door stood wide open.
She stopped to catch her breath, and Cheryl caught up with her. "For God's sake, Karen, wait a minute. You don't know what the hell is out there."
Clinging to one another, they ventured cautiously out the door and onto the terrace. A faint, far-off rumble of thunder shivered in Karen's ears, and a gust of wind hot as a breath from an inferno stirred her hair. There was a storm brewing; but the stars overhead were still bright, and a sliver of moon hung low in the sky. The white forms crowding the garden shone faintly in the starlight, stirring feebly like victims of a massacre who had been thrown in broken, distorted attitudes across the bushes. A limp sleeve fluttered, as if in a last futile appeal for help.
They got the clothes in before the storm broke. Thunder crackled overhead as Cheryl made coffee, just in time; the electricity went out soon after the kettle had boiled. The telephone was also dead. They sat at the kitchen table with candlelight throwing gruesome shadows across their strained faces.
"I shouldn't have shut Alexander in with me," Karen reproached herself. "When I think what could have happened-"
Cheryl was equally angry with herself. "Lord knows how long he was in there rummaging around before I woke up. If only I hadn't had so damned much to drink!"
"Thank God you did. If you had screamed, or made a sudden move…" She couldn't finish the sentence, or decide what horrified her more-the thought of what the intruder might have done to Cheryl, or Cheryl's appalling nonchalance.
"Try the phone again, Karen," Cheryl urged. "The storm seems to be letting up."
"I'm not sure I want to call the police."
Cheryl's jaw dropped. "Why not? This is the second time-"
"That's just it. It isn't the second time I've complained to the police, it's the third; and it would be the fourth if I had reported what happened last night… Damn. I'm so shaken up I can't keep my mouth shut. I wasn't going to tell anyone about that."