The Prodigal Daughter (Kane & Abel 2)

The following day he told his father he was still in New York because he had to gather some data from Wall Street to complete a paper. As soon as his father had left for the bank, he headed off to Bloomingdale’s. This time he had a plan for ensuring he spoke to the other girl. He marched up to the glove counter fully expecting Maisie to rush up, when the other assistant came forward to serve him.

“Good morning, sir,” she said.

“Oh, good morning,” said Richard, suddenly at a loss for words.

“Can I help you?”

“No—I mean yes. I would like a pair of gloves,” he added unconvincingly.

“Yes, sir. Have you considered dark blue? In leather? I’m sure we have your size—unless we’re sold out.”

Richard looked at the name on her lapel badge: Jessie Kovats. She passed him the gloves. He tried them on. They didn’t fit. He tried another pair and looked toward Maisie. She grinned at him encouragingly. He grinned nervously back. Jessie Kovats handed him another pair of gloves. This time they fit perfectly.

“I think that’s what you’re looking for,” said Jessie.

“No, not really,” said Richard.

Jessie lowered her voice and said, “I’ll go and rescue Maisie. Why don’t you ask her out? I’m sure she’ll say yes.”

“Oh, no,” said Richard. “You don’t understand. It’s not her I want to take out—it’s you.”

Jessie looked totally surprised.

“Will you have dinner with me tonight?”

“Yes,” she said shyly.

“Shall I pick you up at your home?”

“No. Let’s meet at a restaurant.”

“Where would you like to go?”

Jessie didn’t reply.

“Allen’s at Seventy-third and Third?” Richard suggested.

“Yes, fine” was all Jessie said.

“Around eight suit you?”

“Around eight,” said Jessie.

Richard left Bloomingdale’s with what he wanted and it wasn’t a pair of gloves.

Richard couldn’t remember a time when he had spent all day thinking about a girl, but from the moment Jessie had said “Yes” he had thought of nothing else.

Richard’s mother was delighted that he had decided to spend another day in New York and wondered if Mary Bigelow was in town. Yes, she decided, when she passed the bathroom and heard Richard singing, “Once I had a secret love.”

Richard gave an unusual amount of thought to what he should wear that evening. He decided against a suit, finally selecting a navy-blue blazer and a pair of gray flannel slacks. He also spent a little longer looking at himself in the mirror. Too Ivy League, he feared, but there wasn’t much he could do about that at short notice.

He left the house on Sixty-eighth Street just before seven. It was a crisp, clear evening and he arrived at Allen’s a few minutes after seven-thirty and ordered himself a Budweiser. Every few moments he checked his watch as the minute hand climbed up toward eight o’clock, and then every few seconds once it had passed the agreed hour, wondering if he would be disappointed when he saw her again.

He wasn’t.

She stood in the doorway looking radiant in a simple blue dress that he assumed had come from Bloomingdale’s, though any woman would have known it was a Ben Zuckerman. Her eyes searched the room. At last she saw Richard walking toward her.

“I am sorry to be late—” she began.

“It’s not important. What’s important is that you came.”

“You thought I wouldn’t?”

“I wasn’t sure,” Richard said, smiling. They stood staring at each other. “I’m sorry I don’t know your name,” he said, not wanting to admit he had seen it every day at Bloomingdale’s.

She hesitated. “Jessie Kovats. And yours?”

“Richard Kane,” he said, offering her his hand. She took it and he found himself not wanting to let go.

“And what do you do when you’re not buying gloves at Bloomingdale’s?” asked Jessie.

“I’m at Harvard Business School.”

“I’m surprised they didn’t teach you that most people only have two hands.”

He laughed, already delighted that it wasn’t going to be her looks alone that would make the evening memorable.

“Shall we sit down?” suggested Richard, taking her arm and leading her to his table.

Jessie began to study the menu on the blackboard.

“Salisbury steak?” she inquired.

“A hamburger by any other name,” said Richard.

She laughed and he was surprised that she had picked up his out-of-context quotation so quickly, and then felt guilty, because

as the evening progressed it became obvious that she had seen more plays, read more novels and even attended more concerts that he had. It was the first time in his life he regretted his single-minded dedication to studying.

“Do you live in New York?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said as she sipped the third coffee Richard had allowed the waiter to pour. “With my parents.”

“Which part of town?” he asked.

“East Fifty-seventh Street,” Jessie replied.

“Then let’s walk,” he said, taking her hand.

Jessie smiled her agreement and they zigzagged back across town on their stroll toward Fifty-seventh Street. To prolong their time together, Richard stopped to gaze into store windows he would normally have passed on the trot. Jessie’s knowledge of fashion and shop management was daunting. Richard felt sorry that she had not been able to finish her education but had left school at sixteen to work in the Baron Hotel before going on to work at Bloomingdale’s.

It took them nearly an hour to cover the sixteen blocks from the restaurant. When they reached Fifty-seventh Street, Jessie stopped outside a small, old apartment house.

“This is where my parents live,” she said. He held on to her hand.

“I hope you will see me again,” said Richard.

“I’d like that,” said Jessie, not sounding very enthusiastic.

“Tomorrow?” asked Richard diffidently.

“Tomorrow?” queried Jessie.

“Yes. Why don’t we go to the Blue Angel and see Bobby Short?” He took her hand again. “It’s a little more romantic than Allen’s.”

Jessie seemed uncertain, as if the request was causing her a problem.

“Not if you don’t want to,” he added.

“I’d love to,” she said in a whisper.

“I’m having dinner with my father, so why don’t I pick you up around ten o’clock?”

“No, no,” said Jessie. “I’ll meet you there. It’s only two blocks away.”

“Ten o’clock then.” He leaned forward and kissed her on the cheek. It was the first time he was aware of a delicate perfume. “Good night, Jessie,” he said, and walked away.