"Listen." She held the radio to his ear. He listened briefly, then turned the radio off and put it on the table.
Later, when he got up for a cigarette, he saw it in the light of the match. "How did you know that was him? You weren't even born then."
But she was asleep.
Harry Freed locked up on the dot of nine. He left a night light over the rear counter, connected the alarm, and walked wearily to the car.
The traffic was lighter tonight. Thank God. He was exhausted. Waiting for the light at Seventh Avenue, he leaned his head back against the seat and closed his eyes. It would be nice if Edith had a cup of hot cocoa ready for him. But tonight was Perry Como. She'd be glued to the set.
A horn honked behind him. He started, jerked forward and stalled the car. The light changed back to red before he could get it started again. People at the crosswalk stared at him. He felt himself blushing. Edith was right. They should have bought her brother's car last spring and got rid of this one.
The pavements were still wet, repeating the lights of Times Square in blurred patches of color. The rain had killed the day's receipts. He dreaded telling Edith. They said tomorrow would be better. He switched on the radio to get the news and weather.
The traffic moved slower now. He looked nervously at his watch. Even with Perry Como, she didn't like it when he was late.
Why hadn't Saul made both deliveries today? Why only one? Reminder: see Hodges at the bank tomorrow. And write Ruth; ask about his nephew's broken arm.