Chapter 6
By Thursday evening, Derrick and Minnette were a giddy mixture of adventure and mild apprehension.
As their curiosity about the letter grew, their concern about the possibility of foul play all but vanished.
Derrick’s one lingering concern, negligible at best, was about how they might be perceived in the eyes of their peers if they foolishly walked into a scam of some kind.
They discussed, one last time, the option of going directly to the restaurant and skipping the fountain rendezvous altogether.
But the intrigue had them in its grasp and they agreed to carry on.
“This might just be something we tell our children about someday.”
At half an hour before the appointed time, they parked a couple of blocks from the fountain and then walked, holding hands, to their meeting with Theo.
The sidewalk tables at the pubs and restaurants along Broadway were all occupied, and foot traffic was robust, made up predominantly of college students and other adherents to the idea that weekends begin on Thursday.
The hour was a pleasant combination of cool air and sunbathed pavement.
The shadows of early evening were feather soft, and joie de vivre prevailed up and down the Promenade.
Minnette and Derrick’s eyes were laser focused on the fountain from the moment it came into view, but passing cars, pedestrians, and the need to watch where they were going made it difficult to see who, if anyone, was sitting there.
Four benches were placed symmetrically around the fountain.
The two that were most clearly visible were occupied by hatless sitters.
The other two were difficult to see. But finally, at fifty yards or so, a heather-green flat cap shone like a beacon.
Their stomachs jumped.
“Derrick, there he is,” Minnette whispered. She giggled in nervous disbelief. Her grip tightened around Derrick’s hand, and her body leaned into his. The old man was really there.
And then a voice. A loud, unignorable voice.
“Well, Derrick, it’s about time. Are you ready to buy a book? Please buy a book.”
The voice belonged to Tony the bookseller. His shop, the Verbivore, was on the west side of Broadway, a stone’s throw from the fountain.
He rose from a wicker chair and snuffed out a cigarette underfoot.
He hugged the couple, whom he knew well, and kissed Minnette on the cheek for good measure.
Usual greetings were exchanged while Derrick and Minnette looked repeatedly toward the median.
They both hoped Tony might sense their preoccupation, but it was not to be.
True to form whenever he wanted someone’s full attention, the bookseller kept a hand on Derrick’s shoulder.
“Derrick, no kiddin’, really, I have the book I was telling you about the other day, the one by Edward Albee.
If you don’t buy it, I’ll give it to you and then file for bankruptcy.
Read it and then let’s discuss it. You can’t say no.
Come on, you can’t be in that big of a hurry.
It’ll only take a minute. I put it on the stack in my office. ”
Derrick’s protest fell on deaf ears. As Tony ushered him to the entrance of the bookshop, he looked dejectedly over his shoulder at Minnette and mouthed, “I’ll be right back. Sorry.”
Minnette looked toward the fountain.
She immediately resumed walking.
The old man was sitting with the portrait across his lap, hands on his knees, watching passersby.
He appeared at ease and seemed happily entertained by the people around him.
He said something to a little girl who was standing beside the fountain with her parents.
Minnette could not hear the words but could tell they were friendly.
If she could have read Theo’s thoughts at that moment, she would have discerned an ambivalence that was not obvious in his demeanor.
Earlier, as the old man had walked to the fountain, he had fidgeted nervously, checking his appearance repeatedly in the reflection of storefront windows, adjusting his hat, rehearsing possible first lines, and imagining how he might handle anger or apprehension if his well-intended mission did not go as planned.
He almost hoped Mrs. Prentiss might not show up, and he could put this whole silly idea to rest.
But show up she did.
When he first saw her — easily recognizable after spending so much time with the portrait — Theo’s polite, deeply instilled inclination was to stand and step toward her.
Instead, he remained seated until she was only a few steps away.
He had been saving the bench for their visit and did not wish to run the risk of losing it by leaving it unoccupied.
The fountain was a popular place at that hour of the day.
He rose, removed his hat as a gesture of respect, and stepped toward Minnette.
He was dressed fashionably: a handsome cashmere blazer, olive-green trousers, and cream-colored linen shirt.
Minnette had half-expected to meet a frail, bent, cane-bearing old man, a pale, sleepy-eyed relic.
Instead, she was met by a spry, bright-eyed soul of medium height and portly build who stood solidly on his own two feet.
He had a faint stoop to his shoulders but otherwise no pronounced signs of age.
Gray-white hair, receding but full, was combed back but not fussed over, giving him an aura worthy of the description “distinguished.” He was clean-shaven.
His skin, tan and healthy, hinted that he might be a man who had spent considerable time outdoors.
Full eyebrows, nicely trimmed, tapered into smile lines that were etched into the corners of his eyes.
He wore a subtle cologne, something only a woman would notice, and presented himself, in general, as a man well-cared-for but not obsessed with his appearance.
He was obviously old but a “young old,” in a way that would almost make a younger soul look forward to seniority.
As Minnette held out her hand to shake his, the thing that struck her most was the warmth of the old man’s face: the gentle, immediate, half-timid smile, and the piercing soft blue eyes that looked intently, even adoringly, into her face.
And a sense — something she could feel even if she couldn’t explain or define it — that he had anticipated and now took delight at being in her presence.
Yes, I believe you are the one, Theo thought.
He removed his cap at her approach and bowed slightly as he took her hand. She had offered her right hand in the authoritative manner of a business meeting — more habit than intent — but he took it in his left hand, in a way that hinted at some long-ago order of doing things.
Minnette was not offended. His smile, the barely upturned corners of his mouth, stayed fixed. As did his eyes, on hers.
Those eyes glistened with evening light, and his face bore a radiance of sincere gladness. It took Minnette by surprise. Very pleasant surprise.
“So, you’re Mr. Theo?” Minnette spoke hesitantly as she said it. And, as if some law of mutuality had become operative at the moment, she mirrored his smile.
“And you are Minnette. Thank you for coming. I was not at all certain you would be here. But I’m very grateful.
” He chuckled. “Please forgive me if I am a bit nervous. I’ve been afraid that at seven o’clock a policeman would arrive and put me in handcuffs and send me far away.
Instead, I have the pleasure of meeting an angel. I am very happy to see you.”
So “old school,” Minnette thought. And so wonderful.
She detected his accent.
“And it’s very nice to meet you, Mr. Theo.
” Any apprehension Minnette might have had about the meeting was already dispelled, and she felt badly that Theo had himself been frightened about the prospect of an unpleasant outcome.
“But Mr. Theo, please tell me, why are you doing this? I don’t mean to be rude, but I don’t understand why we’re here. ”
Minnette had not intended to be so abrupt, but it was the question that had vexed her since she’d received the old man’s letter.
He inhaled deeply and nodded. “Yes, I suppose it must seem a bit strange. If you have a moment or two, maybe I can explain. I don’t mean to take your time if you’re in a hurry. Here is the portrait.”
He gestured toward the wrapped picture.
“Yes, please tell me. I’m not in a hurry.”
They stepped toward the bench. He waited for her to sit first, and then they sat, angled slightly toward each other. The fountain exhaled a silver mist, like fairy dust, as the first bestowal began.
The first of many.