The Tenth Month by Laura Z. Hobson

Author:Laura Z. Hobson [Hobson, Laura Z.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-1-4532-3878-3
Publisher: Open Road Media
Published: 2011-08-20T04:00:00+00:00

EIGHT

IT WAS TEN THIRTY that night when the phone rang and Celia thought, Dorr, something’s wrong. The one worry that still fretted her was that Dori might suddenly wake up one night, sick, and be there all alone, without even a maid to summon help. But the voice on the phone was a man’s voice, not very familiar.

“Celia, it’s Matthew Poole, I didn’t wake you, did I?”

“Heavens. In this house?” She laughed. “Even the kids are awake.”

“I gathered you were night owls. Something Marshall said once about Nachtmusik.”

“And not always kleine.” She was ridiculously glad to hear from Matthew Poole. All at once she knew she had been right at Dori’s a couple of weeks ago, though they had not referred to it since. “It’s rather fun to get late phone calls, unless it’s some drunk, so did you want Marshall?”

“As a matter of fact, it’s you, not Marshall.” He was keeping his voice light and wondered if she knew he was. “I’ve been trying to reach Dori Gray and having no luck, and I hoped you’d give me an address that would find her.”

“She’s away for a few weeks.”

“That’s what her doorman said; I went by there. Some sort of cruise, and you pick up her mail every few days.”

“Yes, I do.”

“But I’d like to wire or cable her and I wondered if you’d give me the next stop on her itinerary.”

“I, well, you see—”

There was a pause. Like Dori she had rehearsed the answer to every foreseeable comment or question, but this was one she had not foreseen and she was caught. To say to Matthew Poole, You can’t wire or cable her, all you can do is write her at her regular address and I’ll forward it and she will get it in due time—this would be a rudeness so signal that it would flag his attention at once.

It was he who broke the silence. “Look here, Celia,” he said, no longer casual. “I know about Dori. She told me the last time I saw her. So even if you’re not telling anybody else where she is—”

“Know what about Dori?” It sounded cautious, and it was cautious. She did like Matthew Poole, but she did not know him very well, and how could she be sure that when he said he knew about Dori, he actually knew this? Dori certainly had not told her that he did.

“Know that Dori—I wish this weren’t the telephone.”

“We’re not bugged. Are you?”

He laughed; the whole concept was uncomfortable. “It might be better if you could let me see you tomorrow or next day for a few minutes. Would you?”

“Tomorrow if you like.”

“About five? For about ten minutes?”

“Even fifteen.”

As she was putting up the receiver she glanced again at the clock. Only five minutes had passed; Dori would not be asleep. Of course she would consult her as to whether to tell him where she was; the only question was whether it would distress her to know he was trying to see

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