Henny was holding her bracelet in her hand, looking at it wryly. "Norm," she said.
"Yes?"
"Did Iris pick out this bracelet?" She smiled a little at his astonished look, and went on, "I've often wondered. It isn't your style, you know, kid. It's a thing a woman would pick out. Come on. Was it Iris?"
He stared at her and didn't answer. They were standing close to each other, and Henny was looking up at him, straight into his eyes.
"It doesn't matter," she said. "Not any more. It never really did. I love it. But was it Iris? Iris picked it out, didn't she, Norman?"
"Yes, she did," Norman said, "and she knocked Hassim's price down to half. So that's a historic bracelet. Iris and Hassim. A perfect memento of Kinja."
"You liked Iris, didn't you?"
"Yes, Henny. I liked Iris."
"A lot?"
"A lot."
The rest of the information, all there was to know, passed between them in the looks of their eyes, unspoken.
Henny tightened her lips in anger, and her eyes became misty. "Well, you know something? This time I was fooled. Completely fooled. And now she's dead."
He said with difficulty, "I love you, Henny."
"Yes, sure, you miserable bastard. Let go of me! We have to pack."
They sat on the bed all littered with clothing. He kissed her, and buried his head on her bosom; she caressed his gray thick hair. "Poor Norm." She felt his tears on the skin of her throat, and she hugged him close. "Hey! Don't do that, sweetheart. I'm sorry about this. Honest, I am. I'm even sorry for Iris." Tears were starting from her eyes, but she spoke lightly, almost gaily. "You made the place into one hell of a good hotel, Norman. You really did that, you know, honey. And nothing's lost, nothing. Isn't it good that we didn't give up the apartment, baby, after all? We can just go home."
The End
