‘‘You can go to hell, Jim,’’ she said. With her face flushing with embarrassment and anger, she stormed out of the room.
‘‘Why the hell did you say that?’’ Canidy asked Whittaker as soon as she was gone.
‘‘Who the hell does she think she is, talking to me that way, my mother?’’ Whittaker replied. ‘‘And since when do you take her side? What happened between you when you were here before?’’
‘‘I didn’t make a pass at her, Jimmy,’’ Canidy said, ‘‘if that’s what you are asking, though I confess the possibility entered my mind.’’
‘‘Then what?’’
‘‘Could it be a case of mutual loathing, Jimmy?’’ Canidy said, with an angelically innocent smile. ‘‘In my experience, that’s the reason a man and a woman are at each other’s throats every time they see one another.’’
‘‘I think Dick is right,’’ Ed Bitter said, trying to keep a straight face. ‘‘It couldn’t be that you two actually like each other, could it?’’
‘‘Oh, fuck it,’’ Whittaker said, wanting to stop the conversation before he was really stuck on the hook.
A few moments later a young black woman in a maid’s apron and cap came into the room and set a tray with three bottles of beer and three glasses on the coffee table before the couch.
As she left, Cynthia Chenowith returned.
‘‘Can I get you something, Miss Chenowith?’’ the maid asked.
‘‘Nothing, thank you,’’ Cynthia Chenowith said, and then looked at Canidy.
‘‘Jim is sorry,’’ Canidy said. ‘‘Tell her you’re sorry, jack-ass! ’’
‘‘To the extent an apology is required, I apologize,’’ Whittaker said.
‘‘Accepted,’’ she said. ‘‘I don’t know why I thought I had a right to give you hell, and I’m sorry.’’
‘‘Truce?’’ Canidy said.
‘‘Truce,’’ she said.
‘‘That’s better,’’ Canidy said. He made the sign of the cross. ‘‘Bless you, my children. Go and sin no more!’’
Cynthia Chenowith smiled and shook her head.
‘‘Why do I suspect that isn’t your first of the day?’’ she asked Jim.
Canidy was afraid that would start it all over again, but Whittaker just grinned.
‘‘To counterbalance your breathtaking beauty and overwhelming desirability,’’ he said, ‘‘God has given you a nasty, suspicious nature. And it isn’t. I had a couple of beers at Anacostia waiting for Dick.’’
‘‘What brings you back to Washington, Dick?’’ Cynthia asked.
‘‘We’re on our way to New York,’’ Canidy said. ‘‘Tomorrow. ’’
‘‘They’re on their way to China,’’ Whittaker said. ‘‘The damned fools joined that American Volunteer Group.’’
‘‘Have you really?’’ she asked.
Bitter was surprised to see that Cynthia Chenowith seemed to know about the American Volunteer Group.
‘‘So,’’ Whittaker said lightly, ‘‘it seems to me the least you can do before these brave boys go off to China is feed them, and otherwise let them know how much the home front appreciates their sacrifice.’’
Before she could reply, the door from the foyer slid open again, and Chesty Whittaker came into the room.
‘‘Dick!’’ Chesty Whittaker said. ‘‘You’re back. How nice!’’