“Of course, on a human level, it’s more than understandable that Bennis Hannaford would want to put her sister’s life above any abstract principles. But the exercise, in someone who has made a reputation on being the moral watchdog of her generation …”
“It is ironic that the case where Bennis Hannaford should so desperately seek an exception should be the one case where no exception should be given …”
“It is incumbent on the rest of us to judge by the facts, and not by the emotions. It will be hard to do, because Bennis Hannaford is a consummate manipulator of emotions …”
“God, but she’s such a chunky writer,” Bennis said, out loud.
Then she realized that she was staring at the answering machine, where the red lights were steady and unblinking. Gregor was gone. He had been gone all afternoon, and he had phoned an hour ago to tell her he wouldn’t be back for dinner.
Bennis got up, folded all six pages of the fax into quarters, and stuffed the wad into a pocket of her jeans. She slipped on her clogs and went out of the bedroom and down the hall into the living room. Her apartment and Gregor’s were exactly the same. The only apartment in this building that wasn’t the same was old George Tekemanian’s, on the first floor, which had been extensively remodeled by his nephew Martin and his wife. She went through the living room to the foyer and out the front door. She ran down the stairs so quickly, she almost fell twice. She didn’t stop in at old George’s apartment, even though she usually did. She went right on outside, into the cold.
She was wearing a white cotton turtleneck under a flannel shirt—not exactly perfect for February weather—but she was also running, and she didn’t really realize how cold it was until she was standing on the step in front of Donna Moradanyan’s town-house door, ringing the bell. If Lida Arkmanian had seen her, she would have had a fit. Lida was always convinced that Bennis was trying to kill herself by exposure to the elements. Bennis tried to remember what day of the week it was, and found she couldn’t. She tried to remember what Donna did at this time of the afternoon, and couldn’t remember that either. She had no idea what she would do if Donna was not home. Then Donna opened the door, and Bennis breathed a sigh of relief.
“Oh, thank God,” she said. “Gregor is off somewhere. If you’d been gone too, I think I would have exploded.”
“What’s the matter?”
Bennis pushed past Donna into the town house’s recently renovated foyer. The space was full of decorations for Valentine’s Day, ready and waiting to be put up on the street. Bennis took the fax papers out of her pocket and handed them over.
“Dick Coggins from the Inquirer sent those to me. They came in today. To him, I mean. They came in to me about five minutes ago.”
Donna frowned. “Edith Lawton. Isn’t she the one who went on the Net and said that you were phobic about oral sex?”
“That’s the one.”
Donna flipped through the fax pages and winced. “Oh, for Pete’s sake. This is awful. Are they going to publish this?”
“No.”
“Oh, thank God.” Donna looked around guiltily. “I can’t say ‘thank God’ around Tommy anymore. He tells me not to take the Lord’s name in vain. It’s very disconcerting having a genius for a son. Do you want some coffee?”
“I want a tranquilizer, but coffee will do. Unless you’re going out. I’m sorry to just burst in on you. I hate to say I haven’t the faintest idea what your schedule is these days. And I’m not thinking straight about much of anything.”
“It’s okay. I don’t have a schedule today. Russ is picking Tommy up after school and taking him to hockey practice, and then after that they just pick up McDonald’s. Only don’t tell Linda Melajian about that. She’ll think they hate the Ararat and they’re abandoning her. I really can’t believe Lawton wrote this. How could she have written this?”
“Once she figures out they’ve turned it down, she’ll submit it someplace else. The Star. Someplace. Or she’ll use it on her website or for that column she writes for that freethought newspaper.”
“Freethought? Oh,” Donna said. “Now I remember. She’s the one who makes some kind of career out of atheism. Why do you suppose she does that? I mean, what’s the point?”
“Tibor makes a career out of religion,” Bennis pointed out.
“That’s not the same thing. Do you think she’s trying to start some kind of organization, like that woman, what’s her name—”