decided he would give her something—a symbol of his love. Something expensive and worthy of his feelings. Jewelry. It had to be jewelry. And not something new from a store, but something more personal: his mother’s diamond bracelet. Energized by this decision, he wrapped the Tiffany box in silver paper and drove to Shawna’s apartment. It wasn’t Tuesday, but that didn’t matter. What he felt wasn’t anything a person could schedule. He rang the bell and waited. Minutes passed, which was strange; Shawna was always very prompt about the bell. He rang again. This time the speaker made a little burst of static and he heard her voice. “Hello?”
“It’s Horace.”
A pause. “I don’t have you in the book. Do I? Maybe this is my fault. Did you call?”
“I have something for you.”
The speaker seemed to go dead. Then: “Hang on a second.”
A few minutes passed. Guilder heard footsteps descending the stairs. Perhaps the buzzer wasn’t working; Shawna was coming down to open the door. But the figure that turned the corner wasn’t Shawna. It was a man. He looked about sixty, bald and heavyset, with the piggish face of a Russian gangster, wearing a rumpled pin-striped suit, his necktie loosened. The implications were obvious, yet in its agitated state, Guilder’s mind refused them. The man stepped through the door, giving Guilder a cursory glance as he passed.
“Lucky you,” he said, and winked.
Guilder hurried up the stairs. He knocked three times, waiting with buoyant anxiety; at last the door swung open. Shawna wasn’t wearing the dress, just a silk robe cinched at the waist. Her hair was disheveled, her makeup smeary. Perhaps he’d caught her taking a nap.
“Horace, what are you doing here?”
“I’m sorry,” he said, suddenly breathless. “I know I should have called.”
“To tell you the truth, it’s not really the best time.”
“I’ll only be a minute. Please, can I come in?”
She eyed him skeptically, then seemed to soften. “Well, all right. It’ll have to be quick, though.”
She stood aside to let him enter. Something felt different about the apartment, though Guilder couldn’t say exactly what. It seemed dirty, the air unpleasantly dense.
“Now, what’s this I see?” She was eyeing the silver-papered box. “Horace, you shouldn’t have.”
Guilder held it out to her. “This is for you.”
With a warm light dancing in her eyes, she undid the wrapping and removed the bracelet.
“Isn’t that thoughtful. What a pretty thing.”
“It’s an heirloom. It belonged to my mother.”
“That makes it even more special.” She kissed him quickly on the cheek. “You give me a minute to clean up and I’ll be right with you, baby.”
A titanic wave of love broke over him. It was all he could do not to throw his arms around her and press his mouth to hers. “I want to make love to you. Real love.”
She glanced at her watch. “Well, sure. If that’s what you want. I don’t have the full hour, though.”
Guilder had begun to undress, madly unbuckling his belt, yanking off his wingtips. But something was wrong. He sensed her hesitation.
“Isn’t there something you’re forgetting?” she asked.
The money. That’s what she was asking for. How could she think about money at a time like this? He wanted to tell her that what they shared couldn’t be counted in dollars and cents, words along those lines, but all he managed to say was “I don’t have it with me.”
She frowned. “Honey, that’s not how this works. You know that.”
But by this time Guilder was so frantic he was barely processing any of it. He was also standing in front of her wearing only his boxers and undershirt, his pants bunched around his ankles.
“Are you all right? You don’t look so good.”
“I love you,” he said.
She gave an airy smile. “That’s sweet.”
“I said, I love you.”
“Okay, I can do that. That’s no problem. Put the money on the dresser and I’ll say anything you want.”
“I don’t have any money. I gave you the bracelet.”
Suddenly there was no sign of warmth or even friendship in her eyes. “Horace, this is a cash business, you know that. I don’t like the way you’re talking.”
“Please, let me make love to you.” Guilder’s pulse was throbbing in his ears. “You can sell the bracelet if you want. It’s worth a lot of money.”
“Baby, I don’t think so.” She held it out to him with unconcealed contempt. “I hate to break it to you, but this is glass. I don’t know who sold it to you, but you should get your money back. Now