“Minm. My darling, I hope we never have to run for it, but have you noticed that I keep this vessel fully stocked at all times even though we anchor almost every night and can shop for supplies any time we wish?”
“I’ve noticed, sir.”
“Nor is it an accident that I gave Doctor Bob an unlimited budget and saw to it that he equipped for any conceivable obstetrical problem.”
“I did not notice that, quite.”
“You weren’t meant to, nor was Winnie—no need to give you gals something to worry about. But since you have been doing the same sort of planning ahead, I decided to tell you. Bob used the time the ‘Pussy Cat’ was being refitted in taking a refresher in O.B. And he spent twenty times more money on our sick bay than one would expect for a seagoing yacht.”
“I’m pleased to hear it, sir. With such foresight, money can do almost anything. Except turn back the clock.”
“It even did that in your case, beloved.”
“No, Jacob. It gave me added years . . . and a wonderful body. . . and you. But it did not turn back the clock. I’m still almost a century old. I can never feel young the way I once did—because I’m not. Not the way Winnie is young. Or Gigi. Jacob, I have learned that I don’t want be young.”
“Eh? Are you unhappy, dear?”
“Not at all! I have the best of two worlds. A youthful, vital body that makes every breath a sensuous joy…a century of rich experience, with the wisdom—if that is the right word—that age brings. The calmness. The long perspective. Winnie and Gigi still suffer the storms of youth, which I don’t have and don’t want. I’ve forgotten the last time I had a tranquilizer but I think it was the day they unstrapped me. Jacob, I’m a better wife for you than either of those two lovely girls could be; I’m older than you are, I’ve been where you are now and understand it. I’m not boasting, dear; it’s simply true. Nor would I be happy married to a young man—I’d have to spend my time trying desperately not to upset his delicate, youthful, unstable balance. We’re good for each other, Jacob.”
“I know that you are good for me, my darling.”
“I know I am. But sometimes you have trouble remembering that I am not truly ‘Eunice,’ but ‘Johann.’” (Hey! What is this, Boss? We’re both.) (Yes, beloved, always—but Jake needs to be reminded of Johann— because all he ever sees is Eunice.) “For example, Jacob, a while ago you thought I was twitting you about Gigi.”
“‘Thought,’ hell—you were.”
“No, dear. Close your eyes and forget that I have Eunice’s voice. Think back at least ten years when I was still in passable health. If your older friend Johann had twigged that you had kicked the feet out from under some young and pretty woman, would he have twitted you?”
“Huh? Hell, yes. Johann would have slipped me the needle and broken it off.”
“Would I have, Jacob? Did I ever?”
“You never caught me.”
“So? I might have congratulated you, Jacob, just as I did today—had I felt that I could do so without offending you. But I would not have twitted ‘you. Do you recall a young woman whose first name was—or is—Marian? Last name had the initial ‘H’—your pet name for her, ‘Maid Marian.’”
“How in the hell?”
“Steady, darling—you let your helm fall off. That was sixteen years ago, just before I asked you to spend all your time on my affairs. So I ordered a fresh snoopsheet on you before I put the deal up to you. May I say that the fact that you had dealt so carefully with her reputation was a strong factor in my deciding that I could trust you with anything, too?—including my power of attorney, which you have held ever since and never abused. May I add, too, that I wanted to congratulate you on both your good taste and your success as a Lothario?—for of course I then had to have her snooped, too, and her husband as welt, before I could entrust my grisly secrets to you. But—also of course—I could not say a word.”