Whistling in the Dark (38 page)

- Forty-Seven -

Jack woke to Harry shaking him gently. Sleepy, he noticed Harry's glance at the bedside table. Jack shook his head. "Didn't drink." His growling stomach reminded him he hadn't eaten, either.

"It's nearly eleven," Harry said. "You just come home and go to bed?"

"Eleven in the morning?" That woke him a little more. "God, I'm sorry, Harry. It just took me so long to get some shut-eye."

"I was worried you'd gone out last night--" Harry fell silent, then patted him on the shoulder. "It's been a brisk morning. We could use your help."

Harry knew he had lied about Sutton. "So...anyone asking when the program's going to start back up?"

"Everyone." Harry stood. "Don't worry about lunch. Esther brought over some sandwiches." He stopped in the doorway. "You all right?"

"I'll let you know in a day or two."

It wouldn't take much longer, he knew, when Sutton telephoned at the end of the day to ask him to supper. He didn't suppose anyone turned down a supper invitation with the Albrights and he wasn't going to be the first. But when he hung up the telephone, vague misgivings became genuine alarm. He went upstairs to dress and came back down as Harry was closing, to make certain he was shined up suitably for whatever supper palace the Albrights had in mind.

Harry looked him over and couldn't seem to fight back a grin. "Never seen you so spit-and-polished. Quit pacing, will you? You're making me dizzy."

Jack sat on the piano bench and clasped his hands in his lap. "I can't do it, Harry. What if there are eight forks? I don't know what the hell to do with eight forks."

"Well, you're only going to be using one at a time, so I wouldn't worry about it."

"Yeah, but which one?"

"I think we got an etiquette manual over in the books," Harry said. Jack started to get up and Harry sat him back down. "Take a deep breath. You'll be okay."

He wanted to believe it, but by the time a motorcar stopped at the corner, he wasn't feeling any steadier. Sutton came in, spit-and-polished himself and smiling as he pulled Jack into a hug. It was a moment's respite that made them a twosome on an island safe from the world. "Missed you so goddamned much," Jack whispered. "Has it been bad?"

"No, it's all right. I've apologized all around and things have settled into much as usual. Phillip can't believe he's had the misfortune to be related to me, Mary scolds him, and Father goes on about what I must do if I want to make good."

"What's your mother say?"

"Not a lot. She hugs me the way she did when I came home from France, like she can't stand to let go. I feel worse about that than anything else. I guess she's like your dad. Never angry, just--worried."

"They've missed you."

"Well, Mother and Mary have." Sutton tilted his head, studying Jack with a deepening smile. "It's so good of you to come with me tonight."

"Just don't go around all moon-eyed," Jack said with a teasing push. "They'll know for sure, if they don't already. Say--they don't, do they?" He had to go into it some prepared.

"I haven't told them."

Jack had an uneasy feeling Sutton wouldn't need to. One wrong glance, one word spoken before it was carefully measured and weighed, would give them away. He could only hope Sutton, in a moment of recklessness, wouldn't sever his ties completely.

No cab sputtered at the curb. Instead, a rented touring car idled at the hands of a chauffeur, while in the closed back seat waited disaster. Jack took a deep breath and sent up a wry prayer as Sutton opened the door and ushered him in.

Mr. Albright, seated beside his wife and son, nodded genially. "Mr. Bailey. We're glad to have you join us."

As welcoming as that felt, it was Mary's smile and her little pat of the seat beside her that made it easier to climb in and make himself comfortable. Sutton was next to him in an instant and they were off, with an apparent destination in mind.

Mrs. Albright, a softly-rounded motherly sort, her blond hair going even lighter with the first touch of white, smiled at him with an air of reserve, though her blue eyes were as kind as her daughter's. Beside her, hovering, her lanky elder son looked at Jack with a puckered suspicion to his mouth. Phillip Albright Jr. took after his father in other ways that Jack could see--the neatly tamed waves of brown hair, thick disapproving brows, judgmental set of the jaw--and, Jack suspected, in a whole lot of ways not yet apparent.

Expecting to be peppered with questions, Jack found himself listening as Phillip carried on a conversation with his father regarding railroad business. The trip was mercifully short, but that it ended at Delmonico's did nothing for Jack's peace of mind. He and Harry had often joked about dining at the most expensive place in town. Now he would have given his last dollar to be eating at the automat.

As they disembarked in a light drizzle and stood under the awning, Jack offered his arm to Mary and she accepted.

"You mustn't be nervous, Mr. Bailey. Father is brusque at times, but be assured he is quite happy Sutton's playing piano again--even if it is ragtime," she said with a rueful laugh.

"Don't suppose they approve of jazz either?"

"Good heavens. I wouldn't even mention it. Father is head of a committee that means to keep that music out of restaurants back at home." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "Is it as indecent as they say?"

Jack choked back a laugh. How she reminded him of Sutton. "It's a lot of fun, if that's what you mean. Haven't you ever heard any?"

"Once or twice. A group of traveling musicians tried to play at the fair and they were made to leave. I should like to hear some, but I don't think I will ever have the chance."

They did not have to wait for a table. Jack took the chair opposite Sutton's, Mary on his right, Mrs. Albright on his left. The silver was laid in abundance, as he'd feared, but he could get by, just watching the others. The orchestra played a waltz and waiters glided to and fro.

"I'd like to contribute a bottle of champagne to the evening," Jack said. "No use letting it all go to waste." When both Mr. and Mrs. Albright hesitated, Jack tried to clarify. "This place must have one hell of a wine cellar, right? If we don't do our part, come January they'll have to throw it all out." Too late, he caught Mary's little shake of the head and Sutton's sympathetic grimace. It occurred to him Kansas was one of those states already long dry to the bone. "Of course, if you don't--"

"We don't," Mrs. Albright said with a faint smile.

Mr. Albright turned to Jack. "If you would prefer wine, sir, be our guest."

"Thank you. It's probably good for me to pass it up, now and then." Jack took an intense interest in the menu, determinedly ignoring Sutton's smile.

"I suppose it's rather harder to stay away from in New York," Mary ventured. "There seems to be a party in progress everywhere you go."

"Playing that impossible cacophony." Phillip wrinkled his nose. "I'd thought it was restricted to nightclubs and lower class restaurants. Now you can't escape it."

"You ought to give it a fair listen before you judge it," Jack said.

"You like it?" Mrs. Albright asked with an innocent and genuine surprise.

"I like it," Sutton said before Jack could reply. As they looked at him, he added with smiling chagrin, "All music enchants me equally."

"Oh, my dear," Mrs. Albright said. "However can you call that music?"

"It does deserve a fair hearing," Sutton said. "You know, there's a restaurant--"

"Respectable?" Mr. Albright sent a dubious glance Sutton's way, and Jack nearly laughed aloud. Phillip Jr. did laugh, disparagingly.

"You can't intend to drag us into that neighborhood--" His glance skittered to Jack and he had the grace to look uncomfortable. "No offense, sir."

"It seemed a perfectly nice neighborhood." Mary offered Jack an apologetic look.

"I've always thought so," Jack said. "You're welcome to come see for yourselves."

Everyone fell quiet and, to Jack's relief, the waiters glided in with bread and soup. He supposed someone would change to a safer subject, but Mrs. Albright looked at him with such grave attention, he suspected things were about to get worse. "Sutton tells us he is playing again because of you."

"He's exaggerating." Jack met Sutton's too-revealing gaze. "He just needed more time to heal, that's all."

"We owe you a debt," Mrs. Albright said.

"You don't owe me a thing, ma'am."

He wondered if she would feel as indebted when she found out. If any of them would. As supper progressed, they confirmed his suspicion that their united goal was to whisk Sutton away home. They talked of the world he'd left behind, the home, friends--and girls. It wasn't until Mr. Albright spoke of a job in the railroad offices that Jack realized they weren't taking any too seriously Sutton's return to music.

Sutton put up no argument, though Jack sensed he wanted to. It wasn't until Mrs. Albright mentioned Christmas that Sutton balked. "I can't leave now. I can't abandon my audience just as we're beginning to do well."

"We can get through the season," Jack said, "if you want to go home a couple of months." The words came before he gave them much consideration, but the more he thought, the more it seemed a good idea. A couple of months at home and Sutton would either stay there or break away again--whichever he wanted, deep down. And if he chose Topeka--well, it had always been a possibility.

The idea made sense to him, but it had a different effect on Sutton, who looked across at him with surprise he couldn't hide. "Jack, we can't just--"

"We usually get through Christmas without a problem," Jack said. "And your audience will still be around when you come back." He added a silent
so will I
.

"Thank you, Mr. Bailey," Mrs. Albright said. "I didn't know how I might persuade him to come home. New York has such a fascination to the young."

Phillip sniffed at that, but Mr. Albright shored up his wife's opinion with a gracious nod. "Indeed, we're grateful. A few months at home will do Sutton a world of good, though he does not believe it himself."

Sutton stayed quiet through the rest of supper. As they left, he pulled Jack aside while the others went to the car. "Come to the hotel later?" he whispered.

"That'll be risky. You might want to think about it before you set all your bridges on fire."

"If they're bound to burn, I'd rather be on this side of them. Unless--" He looked at Jack and the question was there in his eyes, but he didn't get to ask it. The doorman waited on them. During the ride back, while everyone chattered, Sutton said little and avoided Jack's gaze. If it was for fear of what he might give away, Jack understood. If it was something more--well, there was nothing to do about that at the moment.

But Jack was no sooner back in the apartment, curled up on the sofa in the quiet, than he thought he might dare go to the Plaza after all. It was either that or go upstairs and leap off the roof. If he couldn't bear two nights apart, how would he bear two months or longer? He had given Sutton his permission to go--and now he wanted to take it back, to talk him into staying, no matter how hurt his family might be. He could have gladly severed Sutton's ties, though he might feel wretched about it later on.

He knew as he stepped into the bright, brisk atmosphere of the hotel lobby that it was no place for a tryst, especially not of his sort. As he slipped into the lift, he thought belatedly for a way to explain his presence, should he bump into Mr. Albright coming downstairs to buy a cigar or send a telegram. Nothing convincing came to mind and, in an agony of certain exposure, he hurried along the corridor in search of the room. Finding it, he knocked barely loud enough to be heard.

The door opened and Sutton, still dressed, gasped at the sight of him. Then he was safely inside, with the door locked and Sutton's arms around him.

"I wasn't sure you would come."

"You're already in enough trouble. I don't want to get you into more."

Sutton only laughed and kissed him. Jack didn't think anything could pull them apart short of a fire in the hotel, but a sudden knock at the door had them scrambling in alarm. "The bath," Sutton whispered and pushed him inside.

Jack left the door ajar, just enough to peek through as Sutton admitted Mary into the room. Carrying her coat and hat, she dropped onto the bed and bounced like an eager schoolgirl. "Mother and Father have gone to sleep."

"Mary, I've already told you--"

"Oh, we must!" She caught his hand. "Please? We won't have another chance before Sunday and I don't want to go back without having done something exciting. Phillip will never go. You're all I have."

So he wasn't the only one intent on getting Sutton into trouble. But Sutton stood his ground. "Not tonight. Saturday's better."

"It isn't. We're leaving in the evening."

"Friday night, then, after the concert."

"I want to go tonight." Mary stood. "Will you go with me or not?"

"Mary, you're not being reasonable."

"Oh, you sound like Father." She put on her hat and fumbled with the pin. "You've had your fun, living here and doing as you please. You might at least show me a bit of it." She yanked out the hat pin with a frustrated air and spun to the bathroom, pushing the door so suddenly she sent Jack sprawling on the tiles.

Thankful he was still dressed, Jack looked up into her astonished face with a sheepish smile. "This would be the first bit."

- Forty-Eight -

Sutton groaned and hid his face behind his hands.

"Oh," Mary said, following it with a softer echo. Her cheeks put Sutton's blushes to shame. She turned to her brother. "I've wondered who's been helping you with your ties."

Sutton stared at her. "You know?"