Mardi had faith. It didn’t come back, it stuck. A couple of months after sending it off, I had a letter from the publishers in New York I had mailed it to, saying that they liked it and would I come on over and meet them.
I didn’t expect to hear so soon, and we were right in the middle of painting the outside of the house. Mardi insisted on my going, and she stayed behind to finish the work. I knew she’d be all right on her own. We’d been clear of the trial and things had settled down. Spencer and his gang had all caught pretty stiff raps, and although, at the time, Mardi was pretty het up, she’d forgotten about the business by now.
So I took the train west and left her. The publishers were mighty nice to me, offered me a very fair advance, and a contract for two more books. I wasn’t going to waste time hanging around New York. Once I got their contract signed, I grabbed a taxi and made for Central Station. I found I’d got a couple of hours before I could make connections to Santa Monica, so I turned into the refreshment bar for a drink, before deciding where lid go to pass the time. Standing at the bar was Colonel Kennedy.
He said, “Well, this is a surprise.”
I took his hand. “You’re right,” I said. “Colonel, this is a fine time to meet you. I’ve got a lot to thank you for.”
We ordered more drinks and made ourselves comfortable. “What have you been doing all this time?” he asked, once we were settled.
“I’m living at Santa Monica now with my wife,” I said. “You know, I’ve never thanked you enough for letting me have your lodge for a honeymoon.”
He grinned. “That’s all right, Nick,” he said. “I’m glad I had it to lend you. Why live so far away? I guess I’d like to meet that wife of yours.”
- “Well, what are you doing? Why not come on over for a week or so? We’d be glad to have you with us.”
He shook his head regretfully. “I can’t, I’m afraid. I’ve got commitments right now.”