A Pinch of Poison Read Free Page B

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    â€œYes,” Lois said. “Of course. A little higher in front, Anna.”
    That would account for Buddy’s insistence, Lois realized. “He wants to talk to me before I talk to Mother,” she thought. “To find out what I’m going to say to Mother.” She smiled to herself. “Poor Mother,” she thought. “And after all, what do I care?” But somebody had to be—well, call it judicious. And it couldn’t be Mrs. Ashley; it couldn’t be Buddy. It had to be Lois and—she smiled to herself again—Madge. Being judicious in opposite directions. Because you couldn’t, certainly, deny that Madge thought things out.
    She heard quiet steps in the carpeted hall outside. That would be Mary, coming to report that Mr. David McIntosh was calling. She hoped that this was going to be an evening of the McIntoshy David, or at least the reasonably McIntoshy David. Not the one who sometimes seemed to be pulling and jerking at her; not the one who, once or twice, had grown so hard and bitter in jealousy and made so much of so little. She could do with the nice, comfortable David, or with the gay David, or even, and perhaps just now that would be best, with the reasonably McIntoshy David. But not with the one who glared.
    She held up her arms while Anna lowered the blue print to her shoulders. It was a pretty dress, she thought, turning before the long mirror, watching its soft folds swing at her feet.
    â€œAnd,” she thought, smiling at the girl in the mirror, “there’s nothing really wrong with the lady. Not with the lady who shows, anyway.”
    David was reasonably McIntoshy. He was quiet and gentle and said nice things about the way she looked.
    â€œIt makes me cooler just to look at you,” he said.
    â€œWell,” she said, “I don’t know whether that is quite the effect—”
    He said she didn’t need to worry about that. As she knew perfectly well. And that he thought the Ritz-Plaza roof, unless she had some place else in mind? The Crescent Club on the river?
    â€œOh,” she said, “the roof, I think. And no lovely view of Welfare Island. I’ve had about enough welfare for one day.” He started to speak. “All right,” she said. “I know how you feel. And you know how I feel. And let’s talk about it again—oh, a month from Friday. Shall we?”
    A taxicab came politely up to them at the curb. “The Ritz-Plaza,” Dave said, and they waited for the lights to cross Park Avenue. The lights changed and they poked west through the still hot street, with the sun slanting in the driver’s eyes. But there was a breeze with the top down.
    There was a breeze, too, twenty stories above the street, with blinds cutting off the sun and higher buildings casting long shadows across the city. There was a cord stretched warningly between brass uprights at the entrance to the roof and several men and women standing disconsolately on the wrong side of it. But Nicholas smiled at them and beckoned.
    â€œI have your table, Mr. McIntosh,” he said. “Near the floor, yes?”
    â€œNot too near,” David said.
    â€œBut of course,” Nicholas assured him. “Not too near, certainly.” He led between tables, walking as if he were threading a needle. He whisked a “Reserved” sign from a table which was, as he promised, near the dance floor but not too near. He beamed approval on the table, and on Mr. McIntosh for receiving and himself for bestowing it. He seated Lois with delicacy; summoned waiters with the assurance of a magician whose effects have never failed.
    â€œThis be all right?” David asked, very McIntoshy and down to earth. Lois smiled at him.
    â€œPerfect,” she said. She waited until he was seated too, and smiled at him.
    â€œWhat if I had said the Crescent Club, though?” she asked. David looked puzzled.
    â€œWhy?” he