Page:Jay Little - Maybe—Tomorrow.pdf/77

 "Gay's such a child, really."

"Now that's where you're wrong Carol … He's going to …" He was interrupted by door chimes.

"That must be Jane." Carol left her husband and walked through the quiet living room where several lamps were still burning. She opened the front door.

"Are you ready, dear?"

"Come in a moment, Jane. I'll get my purse. Go see Clay, he's in the kitchen."

Jane Cervenka walked toward the kitchen. She was middle-aged, and the white collar on her dress was as neatly arranged as her coarse gray hair. She wore no makeup, still her plump cheeks glowed with a pale pink color.

"Well, how do you do, Mr. Le Claire," she said.

"Well, how do you do, Miss Cervenka. How about some stale coffee?"

She laughed. "No thanks, Mr. Smartie. Aren't you coming along?"

"Not tonight. I just got home from a poker game. I don't think I could stand the sight of a deck of cards."

"You must have lost, huh?" Jane chuckled.

"How'd you guess it?" he whispered like a boy who had swiped a piece of pie.

"Old maids are sort of clever at that. It's about the only thing they are clever about, though. You'd better come along."

"You two beautiful women run along. You'll have to count me out tonight. I'm going to bed. Hell, it's bed time now … why does Monita always start so damn late?"

Jane laughed. "You know her and her ideas."

"Yeah. I guess I do. Guess I'm just getting old."

"Yeah … you sure look it."

"I know it."

"Now don't start feeling sorry for yourself. You know you're still the best-looking guy in my life. If it wasn't for that wife of yours I'd try my luck in nabbing you. If I don't do some quick nabbing pretty soon, I'm going to be too darn old." 67