Then the buzzer sounded again and I cursed to myself as I went to the door.
I was beginning to feel like a bloody butler.
I opened the door.
"Hello, Mr. Cord." It was a child's voice.
I looked down in surprise. Jo-Ann was standing next to Monica, clutching the doll I had given her in one hand and her mother's coat in the other.
"McAllister sent me a telegram, on the train," Monica explained. "He said you'd probably be here.
Did you find Amos?"
I stared at her dumbly.
Mac must be losing his marbles.
He must have known there was a three-hour layover in Chicago and that Monica would show up here.
What if I didn't want to see her?
"Did you find Amos?" Monica repeated.
"Yes, I found him."
"Oh, goody," Jo-Ann suddenly exclaimed, spotting the breakfast table. "I'm hungry." She ran past me and climbing up on a chair, picked up a piece of toast.
I stared after her in surprise.
Monica looked up at me apologetically.
"I'm sorry, Jonas," she said. "You know how children are."
"You said we'd have breakfast with Mr. Cord, Mommy."
Monica blushed. "Jo-Ann!"
"It's all right," I said. "Won't you come in?"
She came into the room and I closed the door.
"I’ll order some breakfast for you," I said, going to the telephone.
Monica smiled.
"Just coffee for me," she said, taking off her coat.
"Is the doctor here yet, Jonas?" Monica stared. I stared.
Jennie stood in the open doorway, her long blond hair spilling down over the dark mink coat, which she held wrapped around her like a robe.
Her bare neck and legs made it obvious she wore nothing beneath it.
The smile had gone from Monica's face.
Her eyes were cold as she turned to me.
"I beg your pardon, Jonas," she said stiffly. "I should have known from experience to call before I came up."
She crossed the room and took the child's hand.
"Come on, Jo-Ann."
They were almost to the door before I found my voice.
"Wait a minute, Monica," I said harshly.
Amos' voice cut me off.
"Ah, just in time, child," he said calmly.
"We can leave together."
I turned to look at him.
The sick, dirty old man we had found in the bar last night had disappeared.
It was the Amos of old who stood there, dressed neatly in a gray, pin-striped, double-breasted suit, with a dark chesterfield thrown casually over his arm.
He was every inch the senior executive, the man in charge.
There was a faintly malicious smile on his lips as he crossed the room and turned, his hand on the door.
"My children and I do not wish to impose- " He paused and bowed slightly in the direction of Jennie.
Angrily I started toward the door. I opened it and heard the elevator doors open and close, then there was silence in the hall.
"I’m sorry, Jonas," Jennie said. "I didn't mean to louse things up for you."
I looked at her.
Her eyes were large with sympathy.
"You didn't do anything," I said. "Things were loused up a long time ago."
I went to the bar and poured myself a drink.
All the good feeling had gone.