"I was just going to John's for pizza. They're, like, real generous with their anchovies."
Sutton walked away. "No. You'll have dinner with me."
"The thing is, there's this person. Can they come with us?"
"I want to talk to you in private."
"Anything you can say to me, you can say in front of her. She's, you know, discreet."
Sutton shrugged, took one last look at the desk and didn't seem to like what she saw. "Whatever." Then she scanned Rune's pink T-shirt and miniskirt and fishnet stockings and ankle boots and she said, "You do have a dress, don't you?"
Rune said defensively, "I've got two, as a matter of fact."
She wondered what she was missing when Sutton laughed. The anchorwoman wrote out an address and handed it to Rune. "That's between Madison and Fifth. Be there at six-thirty We'll do the pretheater. Don't want to spend more than we need to, do we?"
"That's okay. My friend likes to eat early."
YOU COULDN'T CALL IT A TIP. IT WAS A BRIBE.
Jacques, the maitre d', took the money Sutton offered him and slipped it into the pocket of his perfectly pressed black tuxedo. However much it was--Rune didn't see-- the cash might have bought them access to the dining room but it did nothing to cheer up the poor, sullen man. He sat them at a table off to the side of the main dining room then surveyed Courtney. He said, "Maybe a phone book."
Rune said, "Yellow and White Pages."
Jacques pursed his unhappy Gallic lips and went off in search of the best child-seating device New York Telephone could offer.
Rune looked around the room. "This is like really, really amazing. I could get into it. Living this way, I mean."
"Uhm."
The theme of L'Escargot seemed to be flowers and-- probably as with the food--excess was in. The center of the room was dominated by a twisty vined centerpiece, sprouting orchids and roses and baby's breath. The walls held huge paintings of flowers. Rune liked them. They were what Monet would have done if he'd used electric-colored Crayolas instead of oil paint. Rune more or less matched the decor. She'd raced home to change into one of the two dresses, a purple-and-white Laura Ashley floral, which was her spring and summer dress. It was several years old but had very little mileage on it.
On the table in front of them was a bird of paradise in a tall glass vase and some kinky-looking green thing like a pinecone, which, if you were to see it in National Geographic, you wouldn't be able to tell whether it was a plant or fish or huge insect. Rune pointed at the bird of paradise. "I love these dudes." She petted it. "I don't think it looks like a bird at all. I think it looks like a dragon."
Courtney said, "I like dragons."
Sutton
stared at them blankly. "Dragons?"
The little girl added, "I'm going to be a knight. But I wouldn't kill any dragons. I'd have them for pets. Rune's going to take me to the zoo and we're going to look at dragons."
Through teeth that never separated more than a quarter inch, Sutton said, "How wonderful."
Jacques returned with two bulky phone directories and set them on the third chair at the table. Courtney smiled as he lifted her up and set her on top.
He turned to Sutton. "This really cannot be, uh, habituel, non?"
"Jacques, have someone bring the little girl some ..." She looked at Rune with a raised eyebrow.
"She loves pizza."
"We are a French restaurant, miss."
"She also likes pickles, clam chowder, smoked oysters, rice, anchovies--"
"Huitres," Jacques said. "They are poached and served with pesto and beurre blanc."
Sutton said, "Fine. Just have somebody cut them up into little pieces. I don't want to watch her mauling food. And have the sommelier bring me a Puligny-Montrachet." She looked at Rune. "Do you drink wine?"