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”
She
was
pulling
up
her
pantyhose
as
she
talked
,
tugging
fiercely
to
get
them
over
her
broad
hips
.
They
were
probably
fucking
—
Mrs
.
Wheatley
and
Manuel
Córdoba
y
Serano
.
Beth
did
not
let
herself
visualize
it
.
Mrs
.
Wheatley
had
come
back
to
the
hotel
at
about
three
that
morning
,
and
at
two
-
thirty
the
night
before
.
Beth
,
pretending
to
be
asleep
,
had
smelled
the
ripe
mix
of
perfume
and
gin
while
Mrs
.
Wheatley
fumbled
around
the
room
,
undressing
and
sighing
.
“
I
thought
at
first
it
was
the
altitude
,
”
Mrs
.
Wheatley
said
.
“
Seven
thousand
three
hundred
and
fifty
feet
.
”
Sitting
down
at
the
little
brass
vanity
bench
,
she
leaned
forward
on
one
elbow
and
began
rouging
her
cheeks
.
“
It
makes
a
person
positively
giddy
.
But
I
think
now
it
’
s
the
culture
.
”
She
stopped
and
turned
to
Beth
.
“
There
is
no
hint
of
a
Protestant
ethic
in
Mexico
.
They
are
all
Latin
Catholics
,
and
they
all
live
in
the
here
and
now
.
”
Mrs
.
Wheatley
had
been
reading
Alan
Watts
.
“
I
think
I
’
ll
have
just
one
margarita
before
I
go
out
.
Would
you
call
for
one
,
honey
?
”
Back
in
Lexington
,
Mrs
.
Wheatley
’
s
voice
would
sometimes
have
a
distance
to
it
,
as
though
she
were
speaking
from
some
lonely
reach
of
an
interior
childhood
.
Here
in
Mexico
City
the
voice
was
distant
but
the
tone
was
theatrically
gay
,
as
though
Alma
Wheatley
were
savoring
an
incommunicable
private
mirth
.
It
made
Beth
uneasy
.
For
a
moment
she
wanted
to
say
something
about
the
expensiveness
of
room
service
,
even
measured
in
pesos
,
but
she
didn
’
t
.
She
picked
up
the
phone
and
dialed
six
.
The
man
answered
in
English
.
She
told
him
to
send
a
margarita
and
a
large
Coke
to
713
.
“
You
could
come
to
the
Folklórico
,
”
Mrs
.
Wheatley
said
,
“
I
understand
the
costumes
alone
are
worth
the
price
of
admission
.
”
“
The
tournament
starts
tomorrow
.
I
need
to
work
on
endgames
.
”
Mrs
.
Wheatley
was
sitting
on
the
edge
of
the
bed
,
admiring
her
feet
.
“
Beth
,
honey
,
”
she
said
dreamily
,
“
perhaps
you
need
to
work
on
yourself
.
Chess
certainly
isn
’
t
all
there
is
.
”
“
It
’
s
what
I
know
.
”
Mrs
.
Wheatley
gave
a
long
sigh
.
“
My
experience
has
taught
me
that
what
you
know
isn
’
t
always
important
.
”
“
What
is
important
?
”
