“I think we’re done,” Jorrecks said, seizing the opportunity and rising while Hatcher picked up the receiver. “We’ll leave you to it, guys.” Charlie Wade got up from his chair also and collected his notes together.
“Tom here. . . . Say, hi! Yes, he sure is.” He held the phone out to Corrigan. “It’s Eve, for you.” Jorrecks and Wade left the room with a wave and a nod each.
“Hello?” Corrigan said.
“Joe, Judy said you were probably with Tom. Just checking to see if we’re still having lunch.”
Corrigan frowned. Oh, yes, that was right—she had suggested it that morning. He had mumbled that it would probably be okay, and then forgotten to get back to her when Borth’s visit was confirmed. “Er, look, something’s come up and I’m not going to be able to make it,” he replied. “I should have got Judy to call you. I’m sorry about that.”
Evelyn sighed. “Oh dear. And you were so late that I never got to see you last night.”
“Everything’s insane. It’s all hectic now we’re getting close.”
“I know. Maybe dinner for a change?”
“I’ll try.” Corrigan looked across and caught Hatcher’s eye. “Tell you what, why not have lunch with Tom instead? He’s up to his neck too, but I’m sure he’d like the company.” He held a hand over the mouthpiece. “Like to have lunch with Eve? I was supposed to, but I’m grabbed. I know you two always find plenty to talk about.” Hatcher didn’t seem overly happy, but nodded. Corrigan spoke back into the phone. “He says that’s fine.”
“Okay. Tell him I’ll stop by there at, say, twelve. Okay?”
“She says how about twelve? She’ll stop by here.” Another nod. “That’s fine. Look, I’ve got a ten-thirty, so I have to go. Talk to you later, then. ‘Bye now.”
“Goodbye, Joe.”
“Thanks. You’re a pal,” Corrigan said to Hatcher as he put the phone down. “Borth’s coming with some people from Chase. I’m tied up to do lunch there.”
Hatcher shook his head in a way that said he didn’t buy that. “So? You could have taken Evelyn there too. You’re a head honcho and she’s staff. Hell, this outfit can afford it.”
Corrigan winked. “But the delectable Amanda will be there too. There are times and places for wives.”
Hatcher couldn’t contain his disapproval. “I’m sorry, Joe. Maybe I’m sticking my nose in, but I just don’t like to see it. Everything used to be fine with you two. You’ve changed a lot, you know—especially since we moved to this place.”
“Hey, give me a break, Tom. What’s the harm in a change of pleasant company once in a while? I do plenty of good-husbanding out of hours, when it’s the time for it.”
“Ain’t the way I’ve been hearing it.”
“Look, I’m not asking you to get involved or make it your business, Tom. Just a small favor to cover when I’m double committed. I happen to think that taking wives along just for the ride isn’t the proper thing to do. Whether the firm can afford it or not isn’t the point. I also think that honchos should set examples, don’t you?”
Hatcher turned back to his terminal. “This time, Joe,” he growled. “Just don’t do it to me again, that’s all.”
Chapter Twenty-nine
Today was the beginning of National Color Week, and Carson Street was filled with radiantly decked people marching to express themselves through visual combinations: yellow for happy, blue for somber, red for lively, green for simple, and other mixes and hues for other natures and dispositions—real, imagined, or self-fulfilling—in between. Self-playing instruments driven by microchips were all the rage, so nobody needed to be a musician to join in the festivities with a guitar, trumpet, accordion, or trombone, and “belong.” The TV shows and movie ad inserts had been plugging fiber-optic augmentations to hairstyles and clothes, and half the costumes glittered and glowed like slow-motion Christmas trees.
Corrigan stood with Lilly on a rise above the main body of the crowd, staring at the site that had once held a modern, eight-story commercial structure of shiny white tiling and green-tinted glass, with separate buildings for offices and administration. All that was left now was one of them turned into an apartment block that looked like a psychedelic gift-wrap pack, another adopted as a “temple” by a cult who believed themselves to be reincarnated aliens from Sirius, and the main building demolished to make room for a hotel that never happened, now a campground for vagrants.