Ben English
10 to resemble a fish.
Oblivious to her scrutiny, the old man placed the suitcase on
his lap, opened it a crack, and withdrew a steaming china cup. “Would you care for some hot chocolate, my dear? No? Well, pardon me, but it is, after all, high tea.” She watched with growing disbelief as he pulled a spoon from an inner pocket of his suit and stirred the drink a few times. “My-my-my. Terrible rain, what?” He stopped stirring and leaned the spoon against the outer rim of the cup. As he brought the cup to his lips, the spoon swung around and hit a flank of his great nose.
Calmly he set the cup down and moved the spoon back to its
original position, then attempted to drink. As the cup tilted, the spoon hit him again. The sheer delicacy of his manner was ludicrous. Again he attempted to drink, and with the same result. He set the cup down and glared at the offending spoon.
Mercedes let a giggle escape her, and the old man’s frown
turned instantly to a smile. Mercedes knew the battle was lost. Her laughter joined his wheezing chuckle in the cabin.
Presently he handed her a frog-embroidered handkerchief, and
as she dabbed her eyes, he spoke. “Sorry about that, my dear, but you looked a bit sad, and I simply can’t bear the thought of a young person depressed. Please allow me to introduce myself.” He bowed slightly from his chair. “Gil Deguiser, professional salesman.” It sounded like ‘Geel.’ Probably French.
He sat and Mercedes handed him his handkerchief, shaking
his hand. “Mercedes Adams, professional photographer.” Her smile remained. “What do you sell?”
Deguiser’s dark eyes twinkled as he sat back. “Look in your
briefcase, my dear.” He sipped the hot chocolate delicately. “And don’t