by Unknown
She had dated a number of men through the years, but she had never behaved so wantonly. After a good-night kiss, she would send them on their way, and anyone who tried to cajole her into further intimacies or argue with her old-fashioned standards would be told off without a twinge of regret. But with Drew she was no longer in control, and it frightened her. He was an experienced man who did not fall into one of her neat little categories, and she felt as though she had gotten in way beyond her depth. All she could hope for was an early conclusion of their engagement so she could end this torment.
Around and around in her mind it went; until now, in the peace of the church, she had found an inner strength to temporarily still her mental conflict.
After the minister gave the benediction, Stacy smiled up at her father and he took her arm as they made their way out to the narthex. There they visited with several friends, Stacy secure in her father's loving care.
Through the crowd she suddenly spied Katie and her mother, Muriel Goodwin, and with a whispered explanation to Bob they headed in their direction, pausing only briefly to greet more people.
The older woman had dressed in a powder blue suit which flattered her attractively styled greying brown hair. Her features were a matured version of her daughter's, who wore a navy dress with scarlet piping around the collar, cuffs, and waistline.
"Bob and Stacy, how nice to see you." Mrs. Goodwin graciously offered her hand to Bob Davidson and he clasped it warmly, enfolding it in both of his.
"Muriel, we haven't seen you in ages. How are you?" His words were simple enough but his message carried a deeper meaning since they had met only rarely since her husband's funeral the year before.
"I'm doing just fine. My daughter here persuaded me to come to the early service. I usually wait until the later one; it's not so crowded."
"I, for one, am glad you did." There was a sparkle in his eye.
"Thank you." She sounded inordinately pleased.
While they were speaking, the two girls had been conversing between themselves, but their attention was brought back to their parents as Muriel said, "Why don't you and Stacy join us for dinner?"
"Oh, we couldn't impose on you like that," Bob protested halfheartedly.
"It's no imposition at all," Katie spoke up enthusiastically. "Mom insisted on making a roast today, and there is more than enough for all of us."
"It sounds like a good idea, Dad," Stacy said, adding her vote to the proposal.
Bob spoke. "Well, how can I resist three delightful ladies?"
The rest of the conversation focused on arrangements for driving their separate cars and meeting at the Goodwins' home, which was located a couple of miles from the church.
Not too many minutes later they had all regathered in the Goodwins' living room. It was a large room but decorated with warm, colorful fabrics, giving it a homey atmosphere. The succulent aromas drifting in from the kitchen offered enticing testimony to Muriel's earlier preparations. For a while they all joined in on a lively discussion of current events. Then Muriel broke in to excuse herself.
Before she could rise to her feet, she was forestalled by her daughter's thoughtful command. "Mom, you sit and enjoy our guests. I think I can manage things in the kitchen."
"Why, thank you, dear." Her eyes crinkled as she smiled fondly at her only daughter.
"I'll help her," Stacy offered, jumping to her feet and refusing to be swayed by Katie's protests. "Two can work much faster than one," she pointed out logically.
While she washed her hands at the kitchen sink, Katie spied Stacy's engagement ring. "My gosh, Stacy, what a beautiful ring!" exclaimed her excited friend, grasping her left hand. "When did you get it?"
"Friday night," was all she gave by way of an answer, wary of the thoughtful reflection in Katie's eyes.
"Oh… so Drew Pitman's the lucky man," she guessed shrewdly. "Why did you keep it a secret?" A troubled frown creased her forehead.
Stacy had deliberately kept her left hand out of sight earlier, fearing her friend's curiosity and unrealistically hoping that she would not have to make any explanations. "He surprised me," she said, trying to stick as close to the truth as possible. "Believe me, I had no idea." Fortunately, Katie did not recognize the note of sarcasm.
"Boy, what a surprise!" She considered her friend suspiciously. "You don't sound too pleased."
Stacy managed a light chuckle and smiled brightly, but it didn't quite reach her brown eyes, as she responded, "Of course I am. Drew's a wonderful man."
She must have sounded convincing, for, after a brief hesitation, the other girl said, "Aren't you lucky! Am I going to have a chance to meet him?"
"Probably," Stacy hedged, thinking wildly of the bottomless pit of lies she was falling into.
"When?" Katie persisted.
"I can't say definitely; Drew has such an erratic schedule." Katie's expression drooped and Stacy added, "But I'll try to make it as soon as possible."
"Just so it's before the wedding," Katie warned teasingly.
"Of course." Stacy suppressed a sign of relief as Katie was distracted by the hissing of a pot boiling over on the stove. After the burner's knob was turned down, she asked, "What can I do to help?"
Katie put down the fork she was using to test the vegetables and nodded in the direction of the dining room. "Why don't you sent the table? Do you know where everything is?"
"Yes, unless your mother has moved things around."
"Not a chance." She sounded amused. "Nothing in this house has been moved in years except for cleaning."
"This is kind of like old times. Remember when we used to visit each other practically every day?" she said, thinking fondly of those carefree days.
Katie added sentimentally, her eyes lit with a distant gleam, "Yes, those were good times." Her words reminded Stacy that during the intervening years since high school they had both suffered the loss of one parent.
"Well, enough chitchat. This isn't getting dinner on the table." Stacy forced out a light laugh which broke the gloomy spell.
Katie's face relaxed. "So… get movin'!"
Stacy went through the swing door to the dining room. In the large, cherry china cabinet she found place mats, silver, china, and glasses. She quickly set out four plates around the oval table.
From across the hallway she could hear the voluble voices of the remaining occupants of the living room. Smiling smugly to herself, she filled the glasses from a pitcher of ice water, pleased with the success of her little maneuvers. Her father's work consumed most of his days, and she knew he needed more time off, spent with friends with whom he had common interests. As far as she was concerned, Muriel Goodwin fit the bill perfectly, and from the sound of their voices they had discovered the same thing.
Katie stuck her head through the door. "Stacy, would you go tell our parents it's time to eat?"
"Okay." She nodded in the direction of the living room and queried amusedly, "They seem to be having a good time. Are you sure we should break it up?"
"Yes, if we don't want to eat a dried-out roast," Katie returned wryly.
"I'm on my way." She pivoted on her heel and walked to the living room, pausing just inside the doorway. Her father, now without his suit coat, was sitting at one end of the sofa, his arm stretched across the back, while he used the other to emphasize a point to, Muriel, who was listening attentively from the other corner of the sofa.
Only by clearing her throat discreetly did Stacy gain their attention. "Dinner is ready."
"Oh, my. I didn't realize how long we had been talking," Muriel offered, her eyes wide with surprise. "You should have called me."
"No need for that; Katie had everything well under control," Stacy told her soothingly. "Besides, I'm sure Dad was glad you stayed to entertain him." She twinkled over at her father.
"That's right," he agreed, then stood up. With a gallant gesture, he offered his arm to Muriel, and when they reached the table, he courteously seated her.
"It
looks like you girls thought of everything," Muriel said as she surveyed the steaming serving dishes piled high with mashed potatoes and broccoli, the mesh basket of rolls, and the gravy boat.
"All but the roast," Katie announced, carrying in said item. She said to Bob, "Would you do the honors?"
"My pleasure." Katie set the platter in front of Bob, who rubbed his hands together. "Perfect." He picked up the carving knife and fork and set to work. After carefully slicing several thin pieces, he said at random, "Glad I haven't lost the knack."
Stacy could not speak, overcome by memories of other Sunday dinners when her mother was still with them. Light chatter covered her silence until she recalled herself to the present as the dishes were passed around the table.
The rest of the dinner conversation revolved around a variety of topics until dessert, when Bob declared with a wistful note, "This has been nice." The others looked at him as he continued: "Stacy knows what I mean." He patted her hand which was resting next to his on the table. "Living in an apartment is convenient, but when we sold the house after Ellen died we lost that homey stability."
As she gave his hand a squeeze and smiled reassuringly, Stacy discovered she was on the verge of tears.
Muriel spoke up. "I've often wondered whether I should consider selling this place." She cast her eyes around the room. "But I've never quite been able to do it."
"Then don't," Bob told her firmly. "You're happy here—unless, of course, it's financially impossible." Their long-established friendship made his words inoffensive.
"No… no. I was very lucky. Our savings have been invested wisely."
"That's good." His voice sounded relieved. "Your situation is completely different from ours. With both of us working and traveling, we decided it would be best to live in a much smaller place." He paused to gaze fondly at his daughter. "Now that Stacy's on the brink of marriage, I'm glad I won't be rattling around in some big, old house."
When Muriel expressed no surprise at his comment, Stacy assumed that it had been discussed earlier, and Muriel's next remark confirmed it.
"I've been meaning to offer you my best wishes, Stacy."
"Thank you," Stacy murmured, her guilt tightening her throat.
"I've heard of Drew Pitman, but I've never met him personally."
"Haven't we all," Katie added teasingly, a little imp of mischief sparkling in her eyes. "I've made Stacy promise that I'll have a chance to meet him before the wedding. Who knows, maybe he'll fall for my fatal charm."
"Too late for that, 'dearest friend,'" Stacy quipped back.
"Ah, well, better luck next time." The light banter continued off and on for the rest of the afternoon. By the time they were preparing to leave, Stacy was worn out with her efforts to sustain the illusion of a happily engaged woman.
At last they were being shown to the door, thanking their friends for such a pleasant afternoon.
"We've enjoyed it thoroughly," Muriel was quick to respond as she held out her hand to Bob. He grasped it firmly, holding it just a shade longer than necessary.
"Thanks again… bye… for now." His voice was low.
"Bye, Bob… and you take care of your dad, Stacy," she charged the young woman and chuckled as the man groaned.
"I'm not completely helpless."
"Of course you're not," she told him, but at the same time she gave his daughter a knowing wink. Stacy grinned conspiratorially.
The following morning, bright and early, Stacy dressed in a moss-green skirt and matching jacket which flattered the copper highlights in her hair, now twisted into a bun, and set off proudly with her father for work. He wore a dark business suit for the office, unlike the work clothes he used out at the sites.
The office building was only two short blocks away, and they preferred to walk and thus have some time together before they were caught up in the hectic pace of their working roles.
The brisk morning air was invigorating, The sun, still low in the eastern sky, held the promise of yet another glorious day. The trees with their new mantle of green and the dew sparkling off the grass buoyed Stacy's flagging spirits and added a bounce to her steps. She had not heard from Drew since Saturday night, and she was exasperated with herself for minding so much. Every time their phone rang her pulse had automatically accelerated and she had reached for it eagerly, only to be disappointed time and again.
Her youthful spirit could not stay low for long, though, with this burgeoning display of nature all around. Words alone could not express her feelings, but she knew instinctively that her father felt the same way, for she had trouble keeping up with his long strides, and the tight lines on his face had eased a fraction.
Once in the office, Stacy filled the automatic coffee maker set in one corner of her office. Then she went to her desk to sort through the mail. The furnishings were geared for efficiency, but the brown laminated file drawers, linen drapes, tweed carpet, and upholstered chairs softened the functional atmosphere.
Armed with mugs of steaming coffee and her steno pad tucked under one arm, Stacy walked into the opulent inner office. She placed one cup within her father's reach before seating herself in a chair opposite him. With only an occasional hasty sip of her own coffee, she efficiently took the dictation for several letters and then awaited further instructions.
"I'll have my report ready to type once those letters are done."
She leafed through the pages of shorthand. "These should take about an hour."
"Perfect. All that work of mine over the weekend paid off," he admitted with a wry twist to his lips.
"Well, then, you can slow down a little today… hmm?"
He regarded the assorted papers on his desk. "Not today. Now that the report's done, I have another project to work on."
His daughter gave a disgruntled sigh.
"You can be replaced," he said with mock reproof.
"Yes, sir." Stacy sketched him a salute and danced out of the office, gently closing the door behind her.
After typing several pages, the sound of an opening door caused her to pause with her fingers on the keys as Paul Elmwood entered the office.
"Morning, Stacy. Can the boss see me?"
"Hi, Paul. I'll check." She lifted the receiver and dialed the inter-office number. After speaking briefly, she told Paul that he could go right in.
"Thanks. Will you be here later?"
She spread her hands in a comprehensive gesture over the loaded desk and said with a twinkle, "That's highly probable."
"Good. I want to talk to you."
She pointed out, "You're keeping him waiting."
With a quick tap on the door, he entered the district superintendent's office.
Stacy kept up her swift attack on the typewriter keys until Paul came back and stood beside her desk. Politely she gave him her attention. She saw him study her left hand, an odd expression flitting across his face, before he asked, "Stacy, can I take you to lunch?"
The phone rang and, murmuring a brief apology, she answered it. Instantly, her complete concentration was riveted to the instrument as she recognized the caller's voice. "Drew!" she exclaimed softly, her heart missing a beat.
"Right on the first try," he teased.
"How are you?" she asked in a cooler voice.
"Just fine. I called to let you know I'd be out of town for several days."
"Thanks for calling." Her tone had become stiff as she tried to control an overwhelming surge of melancholy.
His voice continued mockingly: "I didn't want you thinking I was neglecting you." He paused and then said in such a way that she almost could believe he meant it sincerely, "Think about me while I'm away… Bye."
"Good-bye, Drew… take care." The last words were said an instant before the line went dead. Slowly she replaced the receiver, a mental image of Drew's rugged features clouding her vision.
Paul's disgruntled voice dispelled her abstraction. "So that was the absent fiancé?"
"Yes," was her terse reply. She
kept her eyes shadowed with her long, thick lashes.
"Does that mean you're tied up for lunch?"
"No. On the contrary, he called to say he was going out of town."
"Good." There was a self-satisfied note to his voice. "Then you can have lunch with me?" he pressured.
"I don't know," she hedged. "A friend of mine is going to be here this morning to apply for a job. She may be expecting me to have lunch with her."
"Can't you put her off?" he asked petulantly.
"What's the big deal?" Instantly, she was ashamed at the harsh tone of her voice. She saw that he seemed ill at ease, his right hand fiddling with the knot of his tie.
He looked pointedly at her left hand and then up to her sable-brown eyes. "I'd like to talk with you privately."
Drew's earlier assessment of Paul's affection flashed through her mind and she intuitively guessed that he wanted to discuss her engagement. In a last-ditch effort to avoid a drawn-out interrogation, she asked, "Can't you talk to me now?" With a slight wave of her hand, she indicated the empty office.
"No… we could be interrupted. It would be better over lunch."
Reluctantly, she decided that it would be more expedient for the office routine if they got this "private" chat over with today. She took a deep breath.
"I haven't made any definite plans with Katie, so I guess I can go."
He seemed relieved. "One o'clock?"
"Okay."
"See you later."
She muttered under her breath, but he did not notice her less-than-enthusiastic response since he was already out the door. She resumed typing, refusing to speculate on his motive until her suspicions were definitely confirmed. She comforted herself with the idea that just possibly he wanted to talk about his work, or something to do with business.