‘Can I help you, sir?’ she asked.
‘Yes,’ said Richard. He glanced toward the dark-haired girl. ‘I need a pair of gloves, dark blue, leather, with no pattern,’ he said without letting his eyes return to the blonde.
Maisie selected a pair and put them on Richard’s hands, pushing the leather slowly down each finger and then holding them up for him to admire.
‘If they don’t suit you, you could try another pair.’
‘No, that’s just fine,’ he said. ‘Do I pay you or the other girl?’
‘I can take care of you.’
‘Damn,’ said Richard under his breath. He left reluctantly, determined he would return the next day. Until that afternoon he had considered love at first sight the most ridiculous cliché, fit only for readers of women’s magazines.
His father was delighted with the ‘sensible’ present, as he referred to the gloves over dinner that night, and even more delighted with Richard’s progress at Business School.
‘If you are in the top ten percent I shall be happy to consider offering you a position of trainee at the bank,’ he said for the thousandth time.
Virginia and Lucy grinned. ‘What if Richard comes out number one, Daddy? Will you make him chairman?’ asked Lucy.
‘Don’t be frivolous, my girl. If Richard ever becomes chairman it will be because he will have earned the position after years of dedicated, hard work.’ He turned to his son. ‘Now, when are you returning to Harvard?’
Richard was about to say tomorrow, when he said, ‘I think tomorrow.’
‘Quite right’ was all his father said.
The next day Richard returned not to Harvard, but to Bloomingdale’s, where he headed straight for the glove counter. Before he had any chance of letting the other girl serve him, Maisie pounced; he could do nothing about it except purchase another pair of gloves and return home.
The following morning, Richard returned to Bloomingdale’s for a third time and studied ties on the next counter until Maisie was busy serving a customer and the other girl was free. He then marched confidently up to the counter and waited for her to serve him. To Richard’s horror, Maisie disengaged herself in midsentence from her customer and rushed over while the other girl took her place.
‘Another pair of gloves?’ giggled the blonde.
‘Yes... Yes,’ he said lamely.
Richard left Bloomingdale’s with yet another pair of gloves, dark blue, leather, with no pattern.
The following day he told his father he was still in New York because he had to gather some data from Wall Street to complete a paper. As soon as his father had left for the bank, he headed off to Bloomingdale’s. This time he had a plan for ensuring he spoke to the other girl. He marched up to the glove counter fully expecting Maisie to rush up, when the other assistant came forward to serve him.
‘Good morning, sir,’ she said.
‘Oh, good morning,’ said Richard, suddenly at a loss for words.
‘Can I help you?’
‘No — I mean yes. I would like a pair of gloves,’ he added unconvincingly.
‘Yes, sir. Have you considered dark blue? In leather? I’m sure we have your size — unless we’re sold out.’
Richard looked at the name on her lapel badge: Jessie Kovats. She passed him the gloves. He tried them on. They didn’t fit. He tried another pair and looked toward Maisie. She grinned at him encouragingly. He grinned nervously back. Jessie Kovats handed him another pair of gloves. This time they fit perfectly.
‘I think that’s what you’re looking for,’ said Jessie.
‘No, not really,’ said Richard.
Jessie lowered her voice and said, ‘I’ll go and rescue Maisie. Why don’t you ask her out? I’m sure she’ll say yes.’
‘Oh, no,’ said Richard. ‘You don’t understand. It’s not her I want to take out — it’s you.’
Jessie looked totally surprised.
‘Will you have dinner with me tonight?’
‘Yes,’ she said shyly.
‘Shall I pick you up at your home?’
‘No. Let’s meet at a restaurant.’
‘Where would you like to go?’
Jessie didn’t reply.
‘Allen’s at Seventy-third and Third?’ Richard suggested.
‘Yes, fine’ was all Jessie said.
‘Around eight suit you?’
‘Around eight,’ said Jessie.
Richard left Bloomingdale’s with what he wanted and it wasn’t a pair of gloves.
Richard couldn’t remember a time when he had spent all day thinking about a girl, but from the moment Jessie had said ‘Yes’ he had thought of nothing else.
Richard’s mother was delighted that he had decided to spend another day in New York and wondered if Mary Bigelow was in town. Yes, she decided, when she passed the bathroom and heard Richard singing, ‘Once I had a secret love.’
Richard gave an unusual amount of thought to what he should wear that evening. He decided against a suit, finally selecting a navy-blue blazer and a pair of gray flannel slacks. He also spent a little longer looking at himself in the mirror. Too Ivy League, he feared, but there wasn’t much he could do about that at short notice.
He left the house on Sixty-eighth Street just before seven. It was a crisp, clear evening and he arrived at Allen’s a few minutes after seven-thirty and ordered himself a Budweiser. Every few moments he checked his watch as the minute hand climbed up toward eight o’clock, and then every few seconds once it had passed the agreed hour, wondering if he would be disappointed when he saw her again.
He wasn’t.
She stood in the doorway looking radiant in a simple blue dress that he assumed had come from Bloomingdale’s, though any woman would have known it was a Ben Zuckerman. Her eyes searched the room. At last she saw Richard walking toward her.
‘I am sorry to be late—’ she began.
‘It’s not important. What’s important is that you came.’
‘You thought I wouldn’t?’
‘I wasn’t sure,’ Richard said, smiling. They stood staring at each other. ‘I’m sorry I don’t know your name,’ he said, not wanting to admit he had seen it every day at Bloomingdale’s.
She hesitated. ‘Jessie Kovats. And yours?’
‘Richard Kane,’ he said, offering her his hand. She took it and he found himself not wanting to let go.
‘And what do you do when you’re not buying gloves at Bloomingdale’s?’ asked Jessie.
‘I’m at Harvard Business School.’
‘I’m surprised they didn’t teach you that most people only have two hands.’
He laughed, already delighted that it wasn’t going to be her looks alone that would make the evening memorable.
‘Shall we sit down?’ suggested Richard, taking her arm and leading her to his table.
Jessie began to study the menu on the blackboard.
‘Salisbury steak?’ she inquired.
‘A hamburger by any other name,’ said Richard.
She laughed and he was surprised that she had picked up his out-of-context quotation so quickly, and then felt guilty, because as the evening progressed it became obvious that she had seen more plays, read more novels and even attended more concerts that he had. It was the first time in his life he regretted his single-minded dedication to studying.
‘Do you live in New York?’ he asked.
‘Yes,’ she said as she sipped the third coffee Richard had allowed the waiter to pour. ‘With my parents.’
‘Which part of town?’ he asked.
‘East Fifty-seventh Street,’ Jessie replied.
‘Then let’s walk,’ he said, taking her hand.
Jessie smiled her agreement and they zigzagged back across town on their stroll toward Fifty-seventh Street. To prolong their time together, Richard stopped to gaze into store windows he would normally have passed on the trot. Jessie’s knowledge of fashion and shop management was daunting. Richard felt sorry that she had not been able to finish her education but had left school at sixteen to work in the Baron Hotel before going on to work at Bloomingdale’s.