She did not see him right away and he took his time crossing the lobby. She was wearing a hat, which he wanted to regard as an anachronism, but Karen had told him not long ago that hats were in fashion again. This was a small, round, flat-topped thing with a bit of net attached, the whole business a light, minted green, lighter than her medium green coat. The loose ankle-length robe she had worn on Tuesday had given only hints of the curves of her figure, Leland was learning now. As he came up she was unbuttoning her coat; she was wearing a green wool suit with three large buttons down the front. It was a tailored suit, very snugly fit, and no man would notice the buttons or color for long. Maybe she was used to men staring, or maybe staring men had helped make her the jumpy, unhealthy woman she was. It was something he never would have had the chance to learn if she had not called his office. Norma would not want to hear it, but he thought that it was something to know. The presentation Betty Kaminsky was making today compelled Leland to think that what was beneath the strong will he had seen already was a desire to be tenderly but firmly handled. He did not want to think it was in his imagination, but there was really nothing he could point out. She did not seem to fit the role—there was still a certain reserve, a coolness—but she had him thinking she could be had.

She turned to him.

“Hello,” he said. “You look well. Are you feeling better?”

“Yes. Oh, yes. Were you in Port Smith yesterday? I’m sorry to bother you. I feel awfully guilty.”

“Don’t. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t think you could help.” She wore a light lipstick. Her makeup was sparingly applied, neat, a mite proper, and attractive. He saw that it contributed to her air of vulnerability. Her perfume, now, too: something mild, different. “Did you pick this place for the restaurant? I don’t care where we eat.”

She looked around, her hair tossing on her shoulders. “The important thing is the quiet. I’m not hungry. After a cold it takes me days to regain my appetite.”

“You drink a lot of tea,” he said.

She smiled. “You remembered. No, I drink tea all the time.”

The hotel was old-fashioned, plush and potted palms, the style from which the old movie palaces had been derived. Perhaps MacIyer’s mother patronized the restaurant and her former daughter-in-law had learned of it from her.