He brought a long-necked bottle of German wine over from the cooler in the back seat and was working the corkscrew when she opened the door and got in beside him.
“Rhine wine,” she observed. She uncovered two earthenware bowls in a wicker basket. “Vichyssoise. Watercress and cucumber sandwiches. Walter, why haven’t you ever been snapped up by somebody?”
“I’ve been too fast on my feet,” he replied, drawing the cork. “How do you know some charmer didn’t turn me down once and I’ve never been able to forget her?”
“I’d accept that,” Candida said, laughing. “Is it true?”
“I forget.”
He was busy for a moment arranging napkins and silverware. He took the chilled glasses out of the cooler and poured the wine. They touched glasses.
Langhorne said seriously, “To your success, if that’s truly what you want.”
“It’s what I want. But why so ceremonious? You sound as though the next thing you say will be goodbye.”
He nodded. “It’s our last meeting. In the present series. I’ll call you in six months’ time and see what you think about starting over on a different basis.”
“Then you’ve decided not to go with United States Chemical?”
“Almost.”
She disposed of the matter with a little movement of her lips. “That’s out of the way.”
“Candida, one more moment on business. We’ve always been able to understand each other, I think, without elaborate explanations. I don’t want to change the rules, but I do want to say this. I’m not one of the most loyal employees E. J. Despard ever had, and if you find yourself in any difficulty and there’s anything I can do to help, will you let me know?”