She wouldn't make any firm decision until she had talked with Mel. Cindy didn't like decisions, anyway, and invariably put them off until they could be delayed no longer. Also, there were still imponderables involved: the children; memories of the years with Mel, which hadn't all been bad; and when you once cared deeply for someone, you never shook it off entirely. But she was glad she had decided, after all, to come out here tonight.
For the first time since leaving downtown Cindy leaned forward, peering out into the darkness to see if she could determine where they were. She couldn't. Through misted windows she could see snow and many other cars, all moving slowly. She guessed they were on the Kennedy Expressway, but that was all.
She was aware of the cab driver's eyes watching her in his rear-view mirror. Cindy had no idea what kind of man the driver was; she hadn't taken notice when she got into the cab back at the hotel, which she and Derek left separately since they decided they might as well start being discreet immediately. Anyway, tonight all faces and bodies merged into the face and body of Derek Eden.
"That's Portage Park over there, madam," the driver said. "We're getting close to the airport. Won't be long."
"Thank you."
"Lotsa traffic going out there besides us. Guess those airport people must have had their problems, what with the big storm and all."
Who the hell cares?, Cindy thought. And didn't anyone ever think or talk of anything besides that cruddy airport? But she kept quiet.
At the main terminal entrance Cindy paid off the cab and hurried inside to avoid wet snow which gusted under canopies and swirled along sidewalks. She threaded the crowds in the main concourse, moving around one sizable group which seemed to intend some kind of demonstration because several people were helping assemble a portable public address system. A Negro police lieutenant, whom Cindy had met several times with Mel, was talking to two or three men from the group who appeared to be leaders. The policeman was shaking his head vigorously. Not really curious---nothing about this place really interested her---Cindy moved on, heading for the airport administrative offices on the mezzanine.
Lights were on in all the offices, though most were unoccupied and there was none of the clatter of typewriters or hum of conversation, as during daytime working hours. At least some people, Cindy thought, had sense enough to go home at night.
The only person in sight was a middle-aged woman, in drab clothes, in the anteroom to Mel's office. She was seated on a settee from where she seemed to be looking vacantly into space, and took no notice as Cindy came in. The woman's eyes were red as if she had been crying. Judging by her clothes and shoes, which were sodden, she had been outside in the storm.
Cindy gave the other woman only a mildly curious glance before going into Mel's office. The office was empty, and Cindy sat down in a chair to wait. After a few moments she closed her eyes and resumed her pleasant thoughts about Derek Eden.
Mel hurried in---he was limping more than usual, Cindy noticed---about ten minutes later.
"Oh!" He appeared surprised when he saw Cindy, and went back to close the door. "I really didn't think you'd come."
"I suppose you'd have preferred me not to."
Mel shook his head. "I still don't think there's anything to be gained by it---at least, not for what you seem to have in mind." He looked at his wife appraisingly, wondering what her real purpose was in coming here tonight. He had learned long ago that Cindy's motives were usually complicated, and frequently quite different from what they appeared to be. He had to admit, though, that she looked her best tonight; positively glamorous, with a kind of radiance about her. Unfortunately, the glamour no longer affected him personally.
"Suppose you tell. me," Cindy said, "what you think I have in mind."
He shrugged. "I got the impression that what you wanted was a fight. It occurred to me that we had enough of them at home without arranging another here."
"Perhaps we'll have to arrange something here; since you're hardly ever home any more."
"I might be home, if the atmosphere were more congenial."
They had been talking for just a few seconds, Cindy realized, and already were sniping at each other. It seemed impossible nowadays for the two of them to hold a conversation without that