Free The Towers of Love by Stephen; Birmingham Page B

‘Why, Austin, how perfectly astonishing!’”
    â€œWell,” he said. “Well, well.”
    â€œYes. Anyway, you’ll meet him to-morrow. He’s the one who’s coming. You’ll probably like him. He’s dull, but nice. You may find him amusing.”
    â€œWhat about Pansy? Where’s she going to be?”
    â€œOh, that’s the other thing. Pansy phoned me to-day from Boston. She’s flying to Colorado Springs to visit Joanne Gibbs again, for a rest. She was just there at Christmas, of course—for a rest. What she needs another rest for, I can’t imagine. My God, she’s been resting ever since she got out of Vassar.”
    He laughed softly.
    â€œShe’ll be gone for two weeks. She and Austin want to be married in June. When else? She sent you her love. She said she was sorry not to be able to see you, but I said you might still be here when she gets back. As far as I was concerned, I told her, I wanted you to stay here for ever and ever.”
    He sipped his champagne and swirled it slowly in his glass.
    â€œDo you think you might still be here—two weeks from now?”
    â€œI don’t know, Sandy. I don’t know.”
    â€œWell, that’s what I told Pansy. I told her your plans were still indefinite. I told her your news, how you’d sold your business for an enormous sum to Joe Wallace. She was so pleased, sent you her love, her congratulations, her good wishes, and all that. I told her I just didn’t know how long you would be staying, that I’d like it to be for ever and ever. Was that the right thing to tell her?”
    â€œYes, that was the right thing.”
    â€œBecause your plans are still indefinite, aren’t they? Oh, I know you must have lots and lots—lots of schemes and ideas. I know that’s something your father will want to find out tomorrow—what they all are. You can tell him, if you’d like, but I don’t even want you to tell me about them, baby, I really don’t, because you know me—I probably wouldn’t understand any of them! I’m such a dumb-bell when it comes to business, but I know you have lots and lots of plans.”
    â€œYes,” he said. “Lots and lots.”
    She looked at him. “Do I detect a note of sarcasm in your voice?” she asked him. “Is this what success has done to you?”
    â€œIt’s not that,” he said. “It’s just that I’m quite capable of making my own plans, Sandy.”
    â€œOf course! Of course you are. I never meant to imply you weren’t. Oh, I’ve upset you somehow. You’re angry with me.”
    â€œYou’re the one who seems upset,” he said. “I can tell. Just leave my future to me, please, Sandy.”
    â€œI’m sorry. It’s just—oh, it’s just so many things on my mind at once. I guess it’s the thought of my little girl going that upsets me. The passage of time. Before I know it, I’ll be a grandmother.”
    â€œIt was bound to happen some time, Sandy,” he said.
    â€œYou don’t think Pansy would dare do that to me, do you? Make me a grandmother? Do you? Pappy!” she cried. “Pappy! More champagne. Why aren’t you pouring champagne?” The little Filipino hurried into the room, took the bottle from the cooler, and quickly refilled Hugh’s empty glass. “Are we ready for the second bottle yet, Pappy? Don’t you dare stop pouring champagne until we tell you to. No one’s nearly soused enough yet. We want to get fried. We want to get absolutely stinko, Pappy.”
    It was a characteristic of hers—a defence, perhaps—that whenever liquor was being served she inevitably urged people to drink more and more. “Quick!” she would cry. “More cocktails! We want to get potted. Nobody’s even tiddly yet and we want to get simply squiffed. What in the world is the matter? Where