The Groaning Board

lot of fluids.”
    While Bill walked him to the door,
Wetzon closed her eyes again. She was helpless, so weak she couldn’t lift her
head.
    “Well,” Bill said, “you’re starting
to get some color—”
    “I didn’t know you wanted me to stay
that much.” When he looked puzzled, she added, “Bad joke. I’ve been poisoned.”
    A shadow crossed his face. “You think
I poisoned you?”
    She hesitated, studying him. “No. It
had to be the rice pudding. It was all I ate. I didn’t have enough of it to
kill me, just enough to make me really sick.”
    “What rice pudding?”
    “Someone... God, it was Laura Lee...
gave me a cup of rice pudding last night, said you’d ordered it for me.”
    “I didn’t.”
    “Laura Lee forgot the spoon, so I
dipped my finger in and tasted it. Bill, did you tell anyone I love rice
pudding?”
    “I don’t remember. Maybe. Hem...” He
sat down on the bed facing her.
    “I'm so thirsty.” She reached a shaky
hand for the mug of tea.
    “Here, wait. I’ll do it.” He held it
for her. “Just sip.“
    “What time is it?”
    “Seven-thirty.”
    “I’ve got to get dressed....”
    “Steve said you’re to take it easy
for a few days. That means you stay here where I can keep an eye on you.”
    “But the office-—”
    “We’ll get Xenia on the phone. She’ll
cover for you.”
    Sure, Wetzon thought. And make me pay
for a lifetime. “Bill, really, I’ve got to go in. Benny Flaxman—he’s a broker. He’s
come all the way from Oregon and is spending the day at Rivington Ellis and I’m
meeting him for a drink afterward.”
    “Oh no you’re not. Why can’t Xenia handle it?” He held the mug for her again and waited till she swallowed.
    “You don’t know Smith. She hates
brokers, thinks they’re pond scum.” The thought of Smith sitting down to a
drink with Benny Flaxman was so funny, a weak laugh came. She clutched her
ribs. “God, I’m sore.”
    “Small wonder. You heaved your guts
out all night.“
    “And you held my head and cleaned me
up.” She touched his face. “And braided my hair.”
    He caught her hand, kissed her fingers.
    “Okay,” she said, surrendering. Lying
back, she closed her eyes. She was wasted. “I’m buying us time. I couldn’t
leave now even if I wanted to.”
    For a good part of the morning she
drifted in and out of sleep, waking once when Bill told her he was taking Izz
and going over to his office to pick up some work. She had a long drink of
water and slept again. Waking at last, she thought: Benny Flaxman. She had to
call Smith. It was after eleven.
    She reached for the phone, dragged it
to the bed, almost knocking over the pitcher of water and the glass.
    “Babycakes! How are you feeling now?”
Smith demanded after Wetzon had listened to Max read off her messages. Only
Silvestri needed answering.
    “Hollowed out. Benny Flaxman—”
    “Already done, sweetie. Bill called me-—he’s
such a dear. He told me you wanted to come in because of someone named Benny.
Well I’m meeting him for a drink this afternoon.”
    “Where’s he staying? I’ll be better
later. I’ll take him for the drink.”
    “The Michelangelo. You might be
better, but Bill told me the doctor said you’re to take it easy for a few days.
That means I’m in charge, sugar, and I will suffer through a drink with one of
your sleazebags.”
    “Where will you take him?”
    “The Four Seasons, where else? I also
talked to Gerry Brooker at Rivington Ellis. They’re pulling out all the stops
for our Benny, and if all goes well, they’re prepared to up the deal.”
    “You done good, partner.” Wetzon felt
a twinge of disappointment. Sometimes she wanted to be irreplaceable, and it
was a shock to find life went on without her. “How is everything in the
office?”
    “Oh, Max and I are working like an
efficient machine, aren’t we, Max, sweetie? Don’t you worry about a thing. I’ll
call you and fill you in on everything.”
    “Thanks.”
    “By the way, did you know that Bob
Walters is now manager at Rosenkind Luwisher’s international office?”
    “No. How nice for him. He called and
told us?”
    “It was in the Wall Street Letter.“
    Wetzon sighed. “I deserved a
thank-you for that.”
    “I hope you’re not saying what I
think you’re saying.”
    “I felt sorry for him, Smith. They
were going to let him hang and the job was right there in his own firm.”
    “I don’t know what I’m going to do
with you. Okay, forget it, this