Whenev~r Richard returned to his parent's home in New York on a Friday evening, he would always leave the house on East Sixty - eighth Street to go and pick up something from Bloomingdale's, normally a useless and unwanted item, simply so that he could let Jessie know that he was back in town; he had already given a pair of gloves to every relation he possessed. That Friday, he told his mother that he was going out to buy some razor blades.
'Don't bother, darling, you can use your father's,' she said.
'No, no, it's all right,' he said. 'I'll go and get some of my own. We don't use the same brand in any case,' he added feebly. 'I'll only be a few minutes.'
He almost ran the eight blocks to Bloomingdale's and managed to rush in just as they were closing the doo rs. He knew he would be seeing Jessie at seven thirty, but he could never resist a chance to chat with her. Steve had told him once that love was for suckers. He had written on his steamed - up shaving mirror that morning 'I am a sucker'. But when he reached Jessie's counter, she was nowhere to be seen. Maisie was standing in a comer filing her finger nails, and he asked her if Jessie was still around. Maisie looked up as if she had been interrupted from her one important task of the day.
'No, shes already gone home, Richard. Left a few seconds ago. She can't have gone far. I thought you were meeting her later.'
Richard ran out on to Lexington Avenue without reply~ ing. He searched for Jessie among the faces hurrying home, then spotted her on the other side of the street, heading towards Fifth Avenue. Since she obviously wasn't going home, he somewhat guiltily decided to follow her. As she reached Scribner's at Forty - eighth Street, he stopped and watched her go into the bookshop. If she wanted something to read, surely she could find what she wanted from Bloomingdale's. He was puzzled. He peered through the window as Jessie talked to a sales clerk who left her for a few moments and then returned with two books. He could just make out their titles : The Affluent Society by John Kenneth Galbraith and Inside Russia Today by John Gunther. Jessie signed for them - that surprised Richard - and left as he ducked around the comer.
'Who is she?' said Richard out loud as he watched her enter Benders. The doorman saluted respectfully, leaving a distinct impression of recognition. Once again Richard peered through the window as assistants fluttered around Florentyna with more than casual respect. An older lady appeared with a package which she had obviously been expecting. She opened it to reveal a simple, stunning, evening dress. Florentyna smiled and nodded as the assistant placed the dress in a brown and white box.
Florentyna mouthed the words 'Thank you' and turned towards the door without even signing for her purchase. Richard was mesmerised by the scene and barely managed to avoid colliding with her as she ran out of the shop and jumped into a cab. He grabbed one himself, telling the driver to follow her. When the cab passed the small building outside of which they normally parted, he began to feel queasy. No wonder she had never asked him in. The cab in front continued for another hundred yards and stopped outside a spanking new block of flats complete with a uniformed hall porter who opened the door for her. With mingled anger and astonishment, he jumped out of the cab and started to march up to the door through which she had disappeared.
That'll be ninety - five cents, fella,' said a voice behind him.
'Oh, sorry,' said Richard and thrust five dollars at him showing no interest in his change.
Thank you,' said the driver. 'Someone sure is happy today.'
Richard ran to the door of the building and managed to catch Florentyna at the lift. Florentyna watched the door slide open and stared at him speechlessly.
'Who are you?'demanded Richard.
'Richard,' she stammered. 'I was going to tell you everything this evening.
I never seemed to find the right opportunity.'
'Like hell you were going to tell me,' he said, following Florentyna into her apartment. 'Stringing me along with a pack of lies for nearly three months. Now the time has come for the truth.'
Florentyna had never seen Richard angry before and suspected that it was very rare. He pushed his way past her brusquely and inspected the flat. At the end of the entrance hall, there was a large living room with a fine oriental rug. A superb grandfather clock stood opposite a side table on which there was a bowl of fresh flowers. The room was beautiful, even by the standards of Richard's own home.
'Nice place you've got yourself for a sales girl,' said Richard. 'I wonder which of your lovers pays for this.'
Florentyna slapped him so hard that her own palm stung. 'How dare you?' she said. 'Get out of my home.'