Twilight at Mac's Place by Ross Thomas Read Free Book Online Page B

find it completely restored in brand-new Second Empire style with just a touch of Potomac baroque thrown in. There’re also some old ladies sitting in its lobby who I’d swear were sitting there when I first came through Washington in nineteen fifty.”
    “I already like it,” Haynes said.
    “Want me to make you a reservation?”
    “You’re sure it’s no trouble?”
    “No trouble at all,” McCorkle said, again picking up the telephone.
    He was just putting it down a few minutes later when someone knocked twice at the door. Before McCorkle could say “Come in” or “Who’s there?” the door opened and a yellow-haired woman of twenty-one or twenty-two swept in, wearing a belted camel’s-hair polo coat and a smile that, for some reason, reminded Haynes of California sunshine on a smog-free day.
    Her smile was aimed at McCorkle but vanished at the sight of Haynes. She frowned, gasped slightly—or pretended to—and said, “My God. The ghost of Steady Haynes.”
    “The son,” Haynes said.
    “I was very fond of Steady.”
    “As he must’ve been of you, whoever you are.”
    McCorkle sighed. “My daughter, Erika; Granville Haynes.”
    In only two long strides she was in front of Haynes, her right hand extended. Haynes discovered that the right hand of Erika McCorkle felt strong and dextrous, as if it could change a tire or sew a fine seam with equal proficiency. She was only a few inches shorter than Haynes, and her eyes, he noticed, were a far, far lighter blue than his own. They were, indeed, almost gray.
    She held onto his hand just long enough to say, “I’m so very sorry about Steady and, God, you do look like him.”
    “You’re very kind,” Haynes said.
    “I left at seven this morning,” she said, turning to McCorkle. “I wanted to say good-bye to Steady at Arlington. But that piece of GM junk broke down again and by the time I got it fixed it was too late for Steady and too late to pick you up at Dulles. How’s Mutti bearing up under all the relatives?”
    “Nobly,” McCorkle said. “How’s school?”
    “It’s over. Done with.”
    “You quit?”
    “Graduated.”
    McCorkle looked at Haynes. “Can this be June?”
    He smiled. “For some perhaps.”
    “A diplomat,” she said to Haynes and turned again to McCorkle. “My junior year?”
    “At Heidelberg.”
    “Well, there’s this very nice little man down in the basement of an administration building who, armed with nothing more than a Radio Shack computer, just happened to be running my midterm records through it and discovered I hadn’t been given nearly enough credits for the Heidelberg year. In fact, I have more than I need for a degree. So I said auf Wiedersehen and told them to mail me the diploma.”
    McCorkle rose, went around the desk and gave his daughter a long hug. “I’m awfully damned proud of you.”
    “You’re also off the fees and tuition hook.”
    “And now your mother can have her warm winter coat.”
    Her alarmingly sunny smile reappeared. “Where’s Mike?”
    “He went for a swim,” McCorkle said. “Are you okay for dinner?”
    “Of course. I only wish Mutti were here.”
    “We’ll call her.”
    “Around ten. It’ll be around three in the morning there. She’ll love that.”
    His daughter went up on her toes to give McCorkle a quick kiss, turned to Haynes and said, “I’m glad we met. Steady spoke of you often.”
    “I have to be going, too,” Haynes said.
    “Can I give you a lift?”
    He smiled then, the smile that McCorkle suspected could melt both rocks and female hearts. “If you’re heading out Connecticut.”
    “Let’s go,” she said.
    The sudden discomfort McCorkle felt as they left was in the region where his heart was supposed to be. For a moment he experienced a mild shortness of breath. The symptoms vanished as quickly as they came and McCorkle found himself hoping it was his first angina. If it weren’t, then he knew he had just suffered his first serious attack of male