The phone rang a third time and Eleanor came through the door. “You, Duff.”
Through the window, Charles leered. “Amazing!”
“A gal,” Eleanor went on, her eyes a little curious. “With a voice like a torch song.”
From that, Duff knew who it was before he reached the phone. He wondered how Indigo had learned of his return. Probably she’d run into Scotty Smythe. He also wondered what she wanted — and found out. In fact, after elaborate refusals and protests, he eventually found that he was going to have dinner with her. When he hung up, he saw Eleanor in the doorway; she’d been listening; her expression was indignant, and not even humorously so.
“‘Indigo,’” she mimicked. “She’s notorious!”
Duff was surprised, embarrassed, and slightly annoyed. “Is she? She’s also darn good-looking!” He shrugged. “I can get the kids’ dinner — and then go out—”
“The kids can get their own!” She seemed unduly disturbed. “But, no fooling, she isn’t your type, Duff.”
Her attitude somehow pleased him and yet made him feel obliged to seem resentful.
“Brunette, you mean?”
“She’s actually Russian. Her parents were.”