“Well, will you?” Wally asked with a trace of exasperation.
Smith nodded and opened the front door for himself. “Young people today. Whatever you say, Mister Bayer.” Then to the blushing Sally, “You two will make a fine young couple.” To the empty truck, as he walked around to the passenger side of the cab, “Young people. All this ‘jazz’ I’ve heard about must be getting into the new generation’s head.”
############
“Well, it’s not the Ritz, but it’ll do.”
Wally looked up from his newspaper and across the bedspread at his bride brushing her hair in front of the room’s single mirror set above the dresser. “We’re only going up from here, I promise.”
“Promises, promises,” Sally chided with a smile at his reflection in the mirror. “How did you know about this little place?”
Wally set the Sports section down on the nightstand after reading about Babe Ruth and the Boston Red Sox, and reached for International. “Oh, I just heard about ‘em, some nice little cottages with views of the Hudson,” he replied, without mentioning the jetliner that had carried him from Chicago to a night spent at the Hudson Inn before his move into an apartment the next day.
Sally set the brush back down on the dresser and sat herself on the empty side of the bed with a coy smile directed away from her husband of two hours, two hours after a brief ceremony in the living room of the local justice of the peace. “Wally, don’t you think it’s time we turned the lamp off?”
|
