Those Who Walk Away by Patricia Highsmith Read Free Book Online

He grimaced slightly when he saw that the Smith-Peters were here, too. Ray was glad to see that they had been served coffee.
    Inez lifted a hand to him and smiled.
    “Hello, Ray!” said Coleman.
    “Good evening,” Ray said to everyone. Antonio was also present, and tonight his smile looked more genuine.
    “How nice of you to come all the way out here,” said Mrs Smith-Peters to Ray.
    Ray sat down. “It’s a pleasant trip.”
    “That’s why we came,” Coleman said, a little pink in the face. “I can’t say the food would bring anybody. I’ve had better in lots of trattorias.”
    “Sh-h! After all, Mrs Perry is inviting us,” Inez said to Coleman, frowning.
    A slender, sixtyish woman in a blue evening dress, neck and wrists glittering with jewellery, an Edith Sitwell type, was approaching, and Ray then noticed that there was an extra setting, a full cup of coffee, where she had been. Ray got to his feet.
    “Mrs Perry,” Inez said to her, “this is Mr Garrett, Mr Coleman’s son-in-law.”
    “Former son-in-law,” Coleman corrected. He had not stood.
    Mrs Perry shot him a worried look, but the expression on her face was permanently worried, Ray saw.
    “How do you do, Mrs Perry?” Ray said.
    “How do you do?” Mrs Perry sat down. She smiled and lifted her head, like someone under strain, and said, “Well! Shall we all have a brandy? What kind does everyone prefer? Or does anyone care for something else?” Tendons stood out under her chin, slack under delicately wrinkled skin. She wore mauve shadow on her thin eyelids.
    “I would like a brandy, thank you,” said Antonio.
    “Courvoisier, please,” said Ray, seeing that orders from her guests would please her.
    When the brandy arrived, Mrs Perry engaged Ray in conversation about his art gallery. She had been told by Inez, she said, that he was starting one in New York. She asked Ray its name.
    “That’s not decided yet. Just the Garrett Gallery, unless we think of something better. I’m hoping to get space on Third Avenue.”
    Mrs Perry said she loved paintings, and had two Gauguins and one Soutine at home. Her home was in Washington. She seemed very sad, and Ray felt automatically sorry for her, perhaps because he did not know what had made her sad, and if he had known, could have done nothing about it. He also realized he would never know, because he would not ever know Mrs Perry long enough to find out. Ray watched Coleman for signs of departure. Inez had finished her brandy. The Smith-Peters were gathering themselves.
    “We were told there was a boat back at midnight, and I think Francis and I ought to catch it,” Mrs Smith-Peters said. “It’s been so lovely, Ethel.”
    “Must you go? We can always hire a motoscafo,” said Mrs Perry.
    But they were determined, and Inez too was saying to Antonio in Italian that they should go back with the Smith-Peters, because Edward wanted to talk with Signor Garrett. Antonio obligingly stood up.
    “Edward, we can leave the Marianna for you, and you can bring Ray back with Corrado,” Inez said to Coleman.
    Coleman started to protest at this arrangement, then said, “Oh, well, if the twelve is the last vaporetto—”
    “I’m sure it’s not,” Ray said, but he wasn’t really sure.
    “It might be.” Inez turned to Ray and smiled. “We engaged a motor-boat for four days. Maybe you will take some rides with us if you are here.”
    Ray nodded and smiled at her. He supposed Corrado was the pilot.
    Inez, Antonio, and the Smith-Peters left. Mrs Perry lit another cigarette—she smoked only half before putting her cigarettes out—then said that since they wanted to talk, she she would say good night. Coleman stood up now, as Ray did, and they both thanked her, and Coleman said carelessly, as if he did not mean it, that he would give her a ring tomorrow. Coleman walked with her across the dining-room, a clumsy and reluctant escort of the woman who was taller than he. He turned back. Coleman was going to