(Did he want to hear about it?)

(Wouldn't you want to?)

(Yes, but no two men are alike and some husbands get headaches from horns.)

(Some do. Maybe most of them, Joan. I was always careful of Joe's feelings. Sometimes I strayed and carefully kept it from him—I never told him about Jake.)

(Why not? I would think that Joe would approve of Jake for you if he approved of anyone. Jake respects Joe very highly—you know it, too; you heard him.)

(Yes. But Jake is rich and Joe is dirt poor. Perhaps Joe could have accepted Jake—I now think he could have. But I wasn't sure, so I didn't risk hurting him. But Anton and Fred—well, they are just mobile guards; Joe treated them as friends and equals, and secretly—I think—felt a little superior to them, since he is an artist and they are just stiffs. I knew they wouldn't trouble Joe's mind... and I was right; he was delighted for me. Happy that I was happy. Can't explain it, Joan; you get an instinct for it. But a man's pride is a fragile thing and it is all the armor he has; they are far more vulnerable than we are. You have to be oh so careful in handling them. Or they droop.)

(I know, Eunice. Literally droop in some cases. Did I tell you that my second wife made me psychically impotent for almost a year?)

(Oh, you poor darling!)

(Got over it. Not through a shrink. Through the warm and generous help of a lady who didn't assume that it was my fault. And I was never troubled again until I was too feeble for any sort of proper physical functioning.)

(I'm glad you found her; I wish I could thank her. Joan I wasn't born knowing this about men; I found out the hard way. Twin, I made some bad mistakes in. high school. Look—males are so much bigger and more muscular than we are, I didn't dream that they could be so fragile. Until I hurt one boy's pride so badly he dropped out of school, and I've tried never to hurt any boy, or man, since. I was stupid, Boss. But I did learn.)

(Eunice, how long has it been since I last told you I love you?)

(Oh, at least twenty minutes.)

(Too long. I love you.)

Finchley's voice interrupted her reverie. "We're about to park, Miss Eunice."

"What's this ‘Miss Eunice' nonsense? We're not in public."

"Seemed like a good compromise."

"It does, huh? Why just dabble your toes? Why not go whole hawg and call me ‘Miss Smith?' and I won't kiss you good-night."

"Very well—Miss."

"Oh, Tom, don't tease me. It's been a perfect day; don't remind me that I must be ‘Miss Smith' again. You know I'll kiss you good-night if you'll let me... or the real Eunice wouldn't speak to me. Hugo, make him behave!"

"I'll fix his clock, Eunice. Tom, you call her ‘Eunice,' real nice."

"I'm sorry, Eunice."

"That makes me feel better, Tom. Are you going to be able to park this wagon close enough that you can come with me?"

"Sure thing, Eunice—but keep quiet right now, please; I've got to work close with the traffic computer to get us in."

20

"Good evening, Chief." Joan rested her hand on O'Neil's forearm, stepped lightly down.

"Good evening, Miss. Message from Mr. Salomon. His respects to you and regrets he will not be back for dinner. Twenty-one o'clock, he hopes."

"I'm sorry to hear it. Then I shan't dine downstairs; please tell Cunningham or Della that I want trays in my lounge for Winnie and me. No service."

"Two trays and no service, Miss—right."

"And tell Dabrowski that I want him to drive me tomorrow."

"He's gone home, Miss. But he knows he has the duty. He'll be ready."

"Perhaps you didn't understand what I said, Chief. I want to tell him, now, that I want him to drive me tomorrow. Ten, possibly—not earlier. So after you phone the pantry, call Dabrowski and give him that message from me. Leave the call in until you reach him. And phone me at once when Mr. Salomon's car returns, no matter what hour. Don't consult him; do it. Before Rockford unbuttons."

"Yes, Miss. Phone the pantry. Phone Dabrowski immediately thereafter. Phone you instantly when Mr. Salomon's car returns, before he is out of his car. If I may say so, Miss, it feels good to have your firm hand back at the controls."

"You may say so, to me. But not to Mr. Salomon. For his firm hand has been invaluable. As you and I know."

"As we both know. He's a fine gentleman, Miss; I respect him. Shall I tell Cunningham to send down for your packages?"

"No, Finchley and his guns can handle them—though I did go on quite a shopping spree." Joan gave her security boss Eunice's best happy-little-girl grin. "I was drunk with excitement, bad as a kid on Christmas, and tried to buy out the town. Finchley. Split those packages three ways and you three come up with me. Yes, I know it's not your work, so don't report me to your guild."

Packages, three men, and one woman almost filled the front lift. Joan waited until Finchley had punched for her floor and the lift had started, then she quickly punched the "Stop" touchplate, held them between floors. "Put those packages down."

She went first to Shorty, took his face between her hands. "Thank you, Hugo. Thank you most of all, as your gentle wisdom got us all straightened out." She pulled his face down, kissed him softly and unhurriedly, lips closed. "Good night."

She turned to Fred. "Thank you, Fred. I thank you—and Eunice thanks you." As his arms closed she let her lips come open. (See what. I mean, twin? That's a sample.) (I see—I shall be very careful not to get him alone unless I expect more than a sample.) "Good night, Fred."

"Tom, it's been the best day of my life. I hope you enjoyed it half as much as I did. Thank you." Joan went straight into the kiss without waiting for Finchley to answer, her face up, eyes closed—and with her back to Shorty in case her driver decided to take advantage of it—which he did. (Goodness! Eunice, are you sure you never laid him?) (Quite sure, darn it! Are you going to?) (I don't know, I don't know!)

Breathless she broke from him, turning her back to all of them to punch again for her floor and trying to regain her composure.

The car stopped and she said, "Put everything in my bedroom, boys. Winnie! Wait till you see!"

The little redhead had been waiting at the lift. "Miss Joan! You've been gone all day!"

"And why not? Put them anywhere, on the floor, on the bed. Winnie, have you had dinner? That's all, thanks. Good night and thank you all."

"Good night, Miss Smith."

As soon as the door sealed, Joan hugged her maid, lifting her off her feet. "You didn't answer. Did you eat with the staff? Or did you wait?"

"Couldn't eat. Oh, Joan, I've been so worried. You ran away and didn't tell anybody where you were going. Bad girl—to worry me so."

"Pooh. I had guards with me; you knew I was safe."

"But guards aren't nurses. I'm supposed to watch you, for Dr. Garcia."

"And pooh all over dear Doctor, too. Winsome, I'm no longer a patient, I'm no longer a ward; I'm a free woman and healthy as a horse and you can't mother me every minute like a broody hen. All right, we've got supper coming up and they'll leave it in the lounge and we'll eat when we feel like it."

"I know, I was backstairs when the order came in—so I hurried up the service lift and thought I had missed you as the indicator was stopped. Then it started again."

"Something wrong with that lift, it stalled. But we kept punching buttons until the Yehudi woke up. Too many gadgets in this house." (Eunice, I thought a stalled elevator was a safe as a grave. Is there no privacy anywhere?) (‘Fraid not, Boss honey. But I never worried much about such things; I just worried about hurting people.) (I stand corrected. Ever been caught with your legs up, hussy?) (Only once when it was embarrassing—and that's all it was. It's nothing to worry about.)