“First he’ll revitalize El Barrio, and he’ll have to get into politics to do that. Then he’ll become mayor of New York—another La Guardia. Then he’ll run for president. By that time I’ll be a big-time banker and I’ll raise funds for him, and then when he’s president, Juan will reward me by sending me somewhere really nice as an ambassador.”

“Sounds great,” said Janet, with a laugh. “Where do you plan to go?”

“Maybe London, or Paris. I will accept either.”

“London,” said Juan firmly. He turned to Janet. “His French is terrible.”

“I’m impressed, Gorham,” said Janet. “You have your whole life worked out.”

“It all depends on Juan, though.”

“Did Juan ever take you round Harlem?”

“I took him round El Barrio several times,” Juan said. “He asked me to. And it’s not all bad in El Barrio—he got to like our music, and our food, didn’t you, Gorham?”

“I did.”

“Of course,” Juan continued, with a twinkle in his eye, “if you want to see something really impressive, you have to see Gorham’s apartment. He owns this big place, you know, on Park Avenue.”

But though he said this to Janet, it was the redhead at the next table that he was watching out of the corner of his eye. And sure enough, as he had planned, she turned to look at Gorham again.

Outside, there was a rumble of thunder. Rain started to fall. Juan glanced at the door. There was a young couple there, hoping to get in, but all the tables were now occupied. He saw his chance, and leaned across to the redhead.

“Excuse me, but are you waiting for someone?”

“Yes,” said the redhead tersely. And then, so as not to seem rude, she added: “My brother.”

“Do you think he’ll show up?”

Juan had such a charming way of being intrusive, that people usually forgave him.

“Maybe.” She glanced at her watch. “Maybe not.”

“I was just thinking,” said Juan politely, “that if you came to our table, those poor people at the door could get in out of the rain.”

The redhead stared at him coldly for a moment, glanced at the couple at the door, and then relented.

“And if my brother turns up?”

“I think,” Juan smiled, “we could fit him on the end of our table.”

The redhead shook her head with a wry amusement. “Okay,” she conceded, “I’m Maggie O’Donnell.” They introduced themselves. “I guess I already know what you all do, but I’m a lawyer.”

The meal passed very pleasantly. They learned that Maggie worked for Branch & Cabell, and Gorham said: “That means you’re going back to work after this, am I right?” And Maggie admitted that she was.