Free Too Much Too Soon by Jacqueline Briskin Page A

going around the table to inquire of each of them which slice they preferred. Creamed potatoes, pearl onions, fresh peas glazed with butter, golden hot yeast biscuits completed the main course. At the Open Houses Juan never offered the girls sherry. Tonight he tilted the wine basket for Crystal and would have filled Honora’s goblet, too, but the vinous odors of burgundy brought a sour taste to her mouth, and she said hastily, “None for me, thank you.”
    Curt raised an amused eyebrow.
    Limp with desire, she forced herself not to look at him except when he spoke. Fortunately he and Gideon talked a lot, discussing a cost projection for a refinery project in Oxnard thatthey were bidding on. (The strong lines of affection between the two showed during this debate.) She found it near impossible to reconcile this forceful Curt and the man who had last night held her with shaking arms and covered her face with small, nibbling kisses.
    Gideon was saying, “Sylvander, you know about the refinery. You’re writing up the proposal.”
    “I suppose I am.” Langley’s words slurred together.
    Honora emerged from her bemusement to turn to her father, who sat next to her. His nose was red at its narrow tip, the blue eyes bloodshot. He had been at the Crowned Head for two hours, and at Gideon’s table he had emptied glass after glass of the burgundy, then the dessert Château d’Yquem that came with the peach pie; she didn’t need her newfound knowledge of alcohol to know he was well in his cups.
    Gideon noticed, too. “Mrs. Wartobe, we’re ready for the coffee,” he said.
    After coffee was poured, the two servants retired with trayloads of dishes through the green baize door.
    Gideon sat straighter in his chair, a portentous expression on his heavy features. He cleared his throat. “I wanted you girls here because what I have to say concerns the three of you as well as your father.” His gaze lingered on Crystal. “I’ve grown quite fond of you, and I hope the feeling is mutual.”
    The three sisters replied quite honestly thatit was.
    “This house is very large, seven family bedrooms upstairs. What I have in mind is for you Sylvanders to move in with me.”
    The ensuing silence was punctuated by Curt’s cracking of a walnut. Honora, in her confusion, looked directly at him. He evinced no surprise.
    “You mean
live
here?” Crystal asked. During her months in San Francisco her voice had undergone a metamorphosis to the looser American dipthongs, but now she spoke with her precise English intonation.
    “More than that. This would be your home, but also I’d take care of your clothes, bills, tuitions, allowances, items like that.”
    Langley had lurched to his feet, a vein beating at his temple. “We might be associated in business, Talbott,” he cried, “but I’ll thank you to remember that my daughters are my concern!”
    Gideon glared up at his tall, swaying brother-in-law. Gratitude for his generosities might embarrass him, still, he wasn’t accustomed to having his good deeds flung back at him. “What’s gotten into you?”
    Langley’s clenched fist slammed on the table. The small silver baskets of the epergne bobbled and an almond fell. ‘’Having been married to poor Matilda gives you no entrée to my family concerns!”
    “You should lay off the bottle, Sylvander,” Gideon said sternly. “You’ve had far too much.”
    “What else could I do? You Americans!”
    “Daddy,” Honora murmured. “Please?”
    Langley ignored her. “Money, money, money, that’s all you talk about, even at the dinner table.”
    Gideon’s shoulders hunched like a bull’s. The light from the enormous chandelier picked out the sweat beading on his forehead. “I have no intention of letting Crystal follow her sister’s footsteps.
She
will not be a waitress.”
    Honora wished that the inlaid parquet would part beneath her straight-backed Gothic chair to hurtle her into the basement. She shot a look of anguished reproach