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Mary knew she was talking fast, too fast, but she had to make Van hear out the bare bones of her idea before he cut her off. “You didn’t do any of those things. But so few people know about your triumph, and they should. You can spread the message that things really don’t have to be that way. The way you did it — that’s what this country needs.”
“Why, that’s really very good, young man,” said Mrs. Kazinski.
Mr. Kazinski harumphed. “I’m not so sure this youngster could do any of those things, but if you say he did, Mary, I’d read that book.”
“It might be even better,” Mary said. “I hear the company has an incredible new project — ”“No,” said Van.
Well, that was certainly a vehement no.
The dogs had decided to stroll back from the farthest reaches of their leashes to see what was happening on the ground. Guinevere nudged her new swain. He gazed up at her in adoration, then thrust his nose in Van’s ear. The man yelped.
Yay, you wonderful Basset Hound! That’ll teach your significant person to say no to Guinevere’s significant person.
Was this no to any interview? No to a feature written by a gossip columnist? No to a book? She wishedhe’dbemorespecificaboutwhichofhisarms she had to twist.
“Why do you say no?” Mrs. Kazinski asked. “Oh, you’re probably too modest to take credit for what you are doing at Van Deventer Ventures. I can assure you, though, it is very good.”
“Yes, I would,” said Mr. Kazinski.
“Oh,dear,”Mrs.Kazinskisaid.“Idowishyouwould wear your hearing aid.”
“I mean the interview and the book,” Van said. “No to any stories about me. I don’t mean the country doesn’t need this, Mrs. Kerplanski. Well, I do mean that, but … I don’t mean that you wouldn’t read the book, Mr. Kerplanski.”
More misnaming. He must be really, really disconcerted. Or distracted by rolling around on the ground in the park with someone who wanted an interview. Marydefinitelydidn’tplantodoanymorerolling,but she’d be glad to distract him in just about any other way from saying no. And now he had his own double negativestosortout.Marycouldalmostseehisbrain working on that, but he finally set the thought aside and gamely forged on.
“I mean — ” He stopped, staring down at Mary, eyes lingering on the deep V her torn coat had formed on her chest. He dragged his gaze up to the nearby treetops and almost shook himself. “No interview. No book. Absolutely not.”
Maybe Mary didn’t want him to be more specific.
“It’s Kazinski,” Mr. Kazinski said.
“Huh?” Van said. “Could someone please talk about one thing at a time and tell me what we’re talking about now?”
“We’re the Kazinskis,” Mrs. Kazinski said. “But why?”
“How the hell am I supposed to know why you’re the Kerdunskis?” Van said.
Mary suspected his frustration level had risen to the height of deliberate mispronouncing.
“Watch your language there, son,” Mr. Kazinski said. “We have ladies present. And try to keep up with the conversation, will you?” He eyed Mary and shifted into sotto voce. “I wonder even more whetherthisbigbusinessbull’s-eyeyoutalkedabout was actually his doing. If he can’t follow a perfectly ordinary conversation — ”
“Now, Seymour,” Mrs. Kazinski said. “Try to be charitable. It’s early in the morning, and maybe the young man hasn’t had his coffee yet. Or maybe, since he can’t seem to remember our name, he has alittletroublewithcertainmentalprocesses,andwe need to be patient and help him. Or — rolling around on the ground with our attractive young friend here — that might be distracting.”
“Well, I suppose — ”
Mrs. Kazinski interrupted her husband. “Mary’s right,youknow,”shetoldVan.“Thinkoftheexample you could present to your fellow tycoons. And our Mary is just the person to tell your story. You won’t find a finer writer anywhere.”
“You should listen to my Inge. She knows about these things.”
“At the very least, you should let Mary get up so you can talk about it vertically,” Mrs. Kazinski said.
“No,” Van said. “I mean, oh. I mean, yes.”
Mrs. Kazinski clapped her hands. “I knew you’d come around.”
Van groaned. He looked dazed but determined. “I refuse to talk about anything other than us getting back on our feet.” He looked back down at Mary. “Here’s what we do. I roll away from you, fast. You pull yourself together. Your coat, I mean, what there is of it. I haul you to your feet and stand between you and the street, in case any stray bits of that — black filmy stuff — ”
He stopped. “Where did you get that outfit? No, never mind. Don’t answer that.”
