Free April North by Lawrence Block Page A

Craig.
    God, maybe he’d offer him a job in the drugstore. That would be just the place for Craig Jeffers. She could see him now, filling prescriptions carefully and methodically. Well, she thought, there was something else he had filled, and he had done a magnificent job of it.
    “Did he buy you dinner, April?”
    “Yes, Mom.”
    “Where?”
    “The Coachman,” she said, naming a popular middle-class restaurant in Xenia. If she told her mother about Kardaman’s, Mom would never believe her.
    “That’s a fine place, April. Did you enjoy your dinner?”
    “Yes, Mom. It was nice.”
    “Well, it’s a nice place. I hope it didn’t cost him too much money?”
    “Not too much.” She smiled inwardly. Craig had placed two twenties and a ten on the table to cover the bill plus the tip. But there was no point in telling her mother about that.
    “Although he seems to have quite a bit of money. That car he drives must have cost a pretty penny.”
    “Well, his parents left him some money.”
    “Of course,” Mrs. North said. “Well, money never hurt a good man. Your father used to say that it was as easy to fall in love with a rich girl as a poor one. Of course, he married a poor one in the end. But just the same—”
    “Yes, Mom.”
    It was getting good, she thought. Now the old lady was hearing wedding bells in the distance. She could hardly wait to tell Craig.
    “April? You didn’t kiss him goodnight, did you?”
    “Why? Did you watch, Mom?”
    The woman blushed. “Of course not,” she said crisply. “I wouldn’t spy on you, April.”
    “I didn’t mean—”
    “I just noticed that your lipstick wasn’t smeared. My, you used to come home from dates with other boys with your lipstick smeared all over your face.”
    “Oh, I see.”
    “But you didn’t kiss Craig?”
    “No, Mom.”
    “Did he try to kiss you?”
    It was very hard to keep from laughing. The whole idea of a long discussion about a goodnight kiss with a man who had just taken her to bed for several hours was ridiculous in the extreme. But she managed to keep a straight face.
    “Not on the first date,” she said.
    “My,” her mother said. “Your Craig really is a gentleman, isn’t he?”
    “Yes, Mom. He is. I’m pretty tired, Mom.”
    “Well, you just run along to bed, April.”
    She started for the stairs. She was tired—that was true enough. And she did want to get to bed. But more than anything else she wanted to end what was becoming the conversation of a lifetime with her mother. If this bit went on much longer she was simply going to crack up laughing and that was all there was to it.
    “April—”
    She sighed. “Yes, Mom?”
    “I was concerned about your going out with an older man, you know.”
    “I thought so, Mom.”
    “I’m not concerned now. Older men are more settled, April. They don’t feel compelled to prove themselves. I think you’re probably—well, safer with an older man, April.”
    This time, as she ran headlong up the stairs, she laughed hysterically. It was just too much, just too funny.

6
    APRIL focused her eyes upon the small leather-bound hymnal and sang the words to the song in a small clear voice. She did not really have to study the words, since the congregation sang God Bless America each Sunday in an effort to prove that a theory holding Protestant churches to be a hotbed of communism was markedly untrue as far as Antrim, Ohio, was concerned. Still, by looking at the hymnal she could avoid looking elsewhere. Elsewhere took in a lot of ground. Elsewhere included the minister, and April North was young enough to have trouble looking steadily and soberly upon the steady and sober countenance of a minister of God just a few hours after a night of scintillating sin. That the minister would have approved of April’s conduct was highly doubtful. And, although she hardly suspected that he could guess her conduct from the expression on her face, she preferred not to look at him.
    Elsewhere also