Francie Comes Home (19 page)

The flash of temper surprised and dismayed Francie. She didn't want him to be angry, and she didn't want to lose his good opinion, either; or to send him back to Jefferson convinced that she was a silly little know-nothing with an outsize conscience. Who was she, after all, to teach Bruce Munson the ins and outs of decorating ethics?

“I'm sorry,” she said. “I won't ask any more questions; I'm sure you know much more than I do about these things. Listen, where do you think
I
was this afternoon? The Institute. I went to see the Thorne Collection; it's the most marvelous thing.”

Bruce hadn't seen it, and Francie plunged happily into a description of the fascinating little rooms, each perfectly furnished in its doll's-house way to represent a period in American decoration. The danger point had passed, and she soon forgot it, except for a fleeting sense of shame for her stupidity and the anxious suspicion that she must be losing her appeal for boy friends. First Glenn and now … but Lucky seemed to be his old good-natured self again, and as attentive as ever.

She was just about to suggest that they go home, as she was intending to make an early start with Mrs. Ryan in the morning, when he said he wanted to dance and that he knew a pretty good place. Francie hesitated.

“Oh, forget it,” said Bruce. “You don't seem to realize that this is an occasion—you and me and the bright lights all together. I feel like celebrating, don't you? It's been a long time since either of us was in the big city.”

Francie laughed and submitted. They got into his car and headed south, enjoying the lovely spectacle of the lights as they approached the Loop from the wide driveway by the lake.

“Move over closer,” said Bruce, patting the seat. “Act more friendly.… There, that's better. Isn't it?”

“In a way, but are you sure you can drive without more room?”

His grip tightened around her shoulders; he didn't bother to answer. They rode on silently for a time.

“Honey, you sure make a difference in that town,” he said at last. “I don't know that I'd have stayed if I hadn't had my eye on you.”

Francie said, “Why Lucky, I thought you loved Jefferson. You always seemed to be enjoying yourself; anyway. Goodness knows you're popular enough.”

“Oh, that!” Bruce shrugged it away, like a man to whom the plaudits of the multitude mean nothing. “People generally treat a fellow well when he's new in town. Sure, Jefferson's okay; I'm not saying anything against it, but I guess I used to be a big-city guy at heart.”

“What changed you, then?”

He squeezed her shoulders again. “You.”

“Oh, nonsense! You never paid me any attention at all to begin with. You walked right past the Birthday Box with your nose in the air.”

“Oh, you were watching that closely, were you?” He sounded pleased. “You were already interested, huh?”

“Of course not, conceited.”

“Well, but look what I've got to be conceited about,” said Lucky. “No sense pretending I don't know.”

She swept on, ignoring the gambit. “Naturally I was interested, but not for the reason you think. I was keeping my eye on Chadbourne's boy friend just to see what sort of taste she had.”

“Chadbourne's boy friend?” he repeated as if surprised.

Francie said, “Well, of course, and it's no use raising your eyebrows like that. Are you pretending you didn't realize that's what half of Jefferson thought you were? More than half.”

Bruce said, “Good Lord. That's one thing that never occurred to me, and I thought I'd heard everything.” He sounded as if he meant it.

“For goodness' sake!” cried Francie. “What on earth
did
you think was being said, then? Everything pointed to it. Everywhere Chadbourne went, you went along with her. Wherever the Fredericks family was, there went Lucky Munson. I don't know what else you could possibly expect. Of course we all realized you had this job with Fredericks & Worpels, but other people work for them and yet don't hang around their house outside of office hours the way you did.”

He looked amusedly at her and she realized she was talking with a good deal of heat, much more than a disinterested observer was supposed to feel. Her tone moderated abruptly.

“I don't know what they might think about it in
your
home town, wherever you come from, but it seems quite natural to me that we thought you were engaged,” she ended.

“I reserve comment until I get this bus off my hands,” said Lucky after a short pause. “Nobody ought to talk, driving through Chicago.” He used both hands on the wheel now, and they were silent until the car was parked and they were settled at a table in the night club. Francie couldn't help but be uneasy. That boy was too smart by a long way, and she didn't relish the feeling that he knew exactly what was going on in her mind, even better than she did herself. Yet it was impossible not to like him, he was so good-looking and gay; it was impossible not to feel even more than liking. He was certainly attractive. She caught a glimpse of herself in one of the wall mirrors and was annoyed to see that she looked sullen, like a pouting, jealous child; hastily she readjusted her expression. Now Glenn would never have affected her like this. Oh, bother Glenn. He had no right to keep cropping up like that.

“So you thought I was engaged to Chadbourne,” said Lucky, going straight back to the subject.

“Yes, I did,” said Francie shortly.

Bruce said, “I guess I'm embarrassed. It was dumb of me not to think of the general impression, but I had other troubles on my mind, and a guy doesn't realize how much people talk in a place like that.”

“Well, there's no
law
against going around with a girl,” said Francie.

“No, but I'm sorry if I've caused any trouble for Chadbourne by being thoughtless.”

“Oh, I don't think you did.” Francie was eager to be generous now. “Anyway, she certainly never complained, and of course she's got a lot of friends around all the time; she has her own life …
I'm
telling
you
about Chadbourne!”

“She's a good kid,” said Bruce carelessly. He really did seem embarrassed; he fiddled with the tableware and didn't look at Francie. Then finally he did. He looked right into her eyes. His were hazel-green, with thick black lashes, and his gaze was full of significance. “Angel Face, can you be discreet? Can you keep a secret if I tell you something?” he asked.

Francie assured him that she could.

“I'm sure you can,” said Lucky. “But even so I don't know … I don't know how to begin. It sounds awful for a man to talk like this. Caddish.”

“Well, I don't know,” she said tentatively. It was quite true of course—she didn't know; but she wanted to encourage him, she was dying of curiosity. She had a hunch, anyway; he was probably going to admit shyly that Chadbourne was chasing him and that he didn't know what to do about it. As he remained silent, she put out feelers.

“If the rumor had been right, people would have thought that you were only being reasonable,” she said. “I mean, it's sort of convenient, isn't it, and in the tradition, marrying your boss's daughter. I should think Chadbourne might have got that idea about it herself.”

He shook his head. “Not Chadbourne,” he said.

“You sure?”

“Not Chadbourne,” he repeated firmly. “She has too much sense.”

This stung Francie, who said she'd never noticed that Chadbourne had all that much sense. “If you ask me, she's not really a practical type,” she said.

“Well then, you're wrong. She's a lot more practical than you seem to think. For a kid with her training she's got a lot of common sense, and she can see how things are a good deal better than—than some other people, evidently,” said Lucky.

“Meaning me, I suppose?” Francie picked her handbag off the table. “It's late. I ought to be getting back,” she said, and Bruce suddenly reached over and took her hand in a strong, warm grip.

“Don't go. Don't be mad at me,” he said. “Let's talk for a while. I do need your advice, and—oh hell, I might as well tell you, but it does sound funny. Listen, Angel, it's not Chadbourne at all. She doesn't know anything about it It's just that Lottie—Mrs. Fredericks, that is—hopes that I'll get interested in her daughter. Kind of imported me—for Chadbourne.” Francie stared at him. He smiled ruefully and hurried on, “Yes, I told you it sounded funny, and how do you suppose I sound to myself, talking this way? Like a heel, that's what.… Listen. I'll tell you just how it all happened. I was working in a pretty big place near Boston at this same kind of business—decorating, the better kind of furniture and so on—and Lottie Fredericks came in to buy a gate-legged table. That was, let's see, oh, about three years ago. We got to talking the way you do over a high-powered purchase like that one. It was part of my job to take really good customers out now and then, and I took her out. And then she had me up to the house, where I met this skinny little kid, Chadbourne, and I began to get the pitch. In a lot of subtle ways she made the picture pretty dear—Chadbourne sooner or later would need a husband, and Lottie doesn't think Chad has much appeal, and Fredericks & Worpels needs a man in the business.” He tried a devilish look. “And I'm good at this thing, you know.”

He was silent a while. “It's a good business, you know, and will get even better. And Chad would never be able to run it all by herself when it's all hers.”

“But that's awful, Bruce,” said Francie, scandalized. “That's like
buying
a husband—” Bruce started to speak and she rushed on. “And you have so much opportunity anywhere, you're so young.”

“I may look it, Baby,” said Bruce, “but I'm no chicken, you know.… Oh, all right, all right, the whole thing may be a little offbeat. Okay. I thought so myself, but business is business, and when she came up with a good offer of a job here in Jefferson … maybe you'll think I was wrong to accept it considering everything, but—” He broke off abruptly, and appealed to her with a confiding air that was very flattering. “Do
you
think I should have turned it down?” he demanded.

“Well-ll, I don't know. It's hard to say,” said Francie breathlessly. “How did she put it? Was it an ‘either-or' proposition? Do you mean to say she actually
asked
you to marry her daughter?” She giggled in a shocked way. “I don't see how she had the nerve to do it.”

“No, no, she's never put it into words,” said Lucky. “She's waiting for me to say something to Chad right now, I think. That's the situation.”

“But in that case, how can you be sure?”

Bruce only gave her a pitying look.

“I don't care what you say,” said Francie after thinking for a moment. “It's not right, a woman so cold-blooded about her own daughter. I never heard of such a thing in my life.” Bruce's face implied that this might be true, but it was a situation all too familiar to
him
. “No, really, Bruce, it's just too crazy … and where does Chadbourne come in on all this?”

“All what?” asked Bruce. “You talk as if it amounted to something. It doesn't. Mrs. Fredericks hopes it will happen, that's all. She hasn't mentioned our getting married, and you can bet your life I'm not going to mention it. There you are. When she gets tired of waiting around, she'll probably throw me out on my ear; that is, she will unless I play my cards right.”

“But where
does
Chadbourne come in?” persisted Francie, not paying much attention to his last sentence.

“Why … just as you'd imagine. I'm there in the house a lot of the time, and so I take her around. I give her lifts; she gives me lifts. I'm part of the household furniture.”

“Oh, go on, I don't believe that. You mean she doesn't know about her mother's plan for the two of you?”

“Oh, well … yes, I guess she does,” said Bruce with an air of frankness, “but naturally we don't discuss it.”

“Poor Chad, with a mother like that,” said Francie.

“She's not as bad as all that.” Bruce gave her a sidewise glance. “You see, these rich women—I've seen a lot of them, being in the kind of business I am. They get a feeling of power. Take Lottie, she's as kind-hearted as they come, but what with having all that money and no husband to keep her in line, she's got to make her own plans and feel that she's accomplishing something. Some women, luckily for people like me, take it out in collecting things—jewels, or furniture, or houses, or racehorses, or whatever. Some go to the south of France. Some keep dogs. Lottie seems to have made up her mind to buy a suitable son-in-law and business partner rolled into one—namely me.”

“And what about
you?”
There was an apprehensive edge to Francie's voice now. “Have you made up your mind that she is going to get what she wants?”

Bruce said nothing, but marked the tablecloth in careful squares with the tine of a fork.

“Have you?” she insisted.

“No. I mean, yes, of course I've made up my mind. I can't do it,” said Bruce. “As I told you before, I haven't any intention of doing it, not unless I change my mind about a lot of things. You see, Francie, being married under those circumstances doesn't really get you anywhere.” He settled himself comfortably in order to expatiate. “The fact is, I'm ambitious. I don't want just to live soft, the way I would as Lottie's indebted son-in-law, fetching and carrying for the business and giving advice when I'm asked as to where to put a table or chair. I've seen plenty of fellows in similar positions. It's not for me.”

“I see,” said Francie rather blankly. It wasn't what she had expected to hear. She had hoped he would sound nobler than that and not quite so chilly.