She had been in about a week before, he recalled. They had talked on and off about nothing in particular through much of the evening, and she had left alone. She was from California, liked Gershwin, the theater, old movies, and dogs, had been curious about Ireland, and seemed to know something about computers. Her name, he remembered moments before she sat down on a barstool with a quick smile of recognition, was Lilly.
Chapter Six
Lilly made a living of sorts at a shoe-finishing shop—shoes were imported plain and unadorned from factories in Asia, then colored and trimmed locally to reflect the current buying patterns before tastes had time to change. That in itself seemed odd to Corrigan, for she displayed all the qualities that he would have thought equipped her for something more challenging and rewarding.
Her eyes, which were dark and depthless, studied the world with a reflective awareness that Corrigan hadn’t seen in a half-dozen people during as many years. She had the kind of intelligence that was intelligent enough not to flaunt itself; the quiet self-assurance that doesn’t mistake misapplied assertiveness for confidence. In short, she exuded style of a quality that was very rare; and that was also very puzzling, for it didn’t add up to the kind of woman who would show any interest in bartenders. Yet for some reason, Lilly seemed to be very curious about Corrigan indeed.
“Do you live in the city, Joe?” She asked when the workload eased and he sauntered back to the end of the bar where she was sitting.
“In a flat in Oakland, the East End.”
“Are you married, or what?”
“I was until this morning.”
“What happened?”
“She left last night for the weekend. But then the house computer told me that it’s for keeps and played a billetdoux.”
Lilly’s eyes searched his face for a moment. She had shifted her stool so that her back was to the body of the room, where everybody else seemed determined to prove that they were potential celebrity material too. “What’s called for, commiserations or congratulations?” she asked.
Most people would have spouted a set line from a soap—with no thought that it might or might not be appropriate, let alone the notion of trying to find out. But Lilly didn’t. She thought; she asked; she listened. That was how she had struck Corrigan the last time she was here.
“I’m not breaking my heart over it,” Corrigan replied. “Sometimes these things happen a long time before, and are just waiting to be acted out.” She understood, nodded. There was no pointless interrogation. No more needed to be said. “How about yourself?” Corrigan asked.
Sherri deposited another tray of empty glasses and bottles on the bar before Lilly could answer. She was looking worn. “Another round of everything for Dree’s people. Four beers for the tab on table three. One gin and tonic, one scotch on the rocks, two white coolers.”
“They’re working you hard tonight, Sherri,” Lilly said.
Sherri exhaled a sigh. “You can say that again.” She looked at Corrigan. “When the guy gave me the big order I told him, `That’s nice.’ Did I get it right?”
Corrigan stared down at the glasses as he poured, not knowing what to say. How did you explain inappropriateness to somebody who just didn’t have the wiring to feel it intuitively? This wanting to know why he thought something funny was another thing that he found all the time with people—and the main reason why he had stopped telling jokes. He was unable to understand why something that they obviously didn’t share should be so important to them. He could see why Sarah Bewley would be interested: trying to understand him was her job. But why would anyone else care about his peculiarities when he was the odd person out?
“Hey, bar,” the Merlyn Dree aide in charge of ordering called from across the room. “Back up on that order there. Make it another one for everybody!” He looked around. “When we drink, everyone drinks. Right, guys?” The room yelled its approval.
Then another group arrived, and things got hectic. Corrigan worked nonstop until they finally closed things down around 3:00 A.M., in all of which time Lilly never did get a chance to answer his question. In one brief lull, however, they did agree to going for a coffee somewhere, afterward.