Free Too Much Too Soon by Jacqueline Briskin Page B

at Curt. He, a study in ironic control, gazed back. So this was his method of playing Sir Galahad! Honora twined her napkin in her lap, her hands shaking.
Oh God
, she thought.
How I’ve let poor Daddy down.
    “A waitress?” Joscelyn, beyond Langley, twisted in her chair to get a better view of her idolized sister. “Gideon you have it all wrong.”
    “Absolutely most ridiculous lie I ever heard.” Langley turned to Honora, his full mouth oddly petulant. “Honora, kindly tell this man that you work at a highly respected brokerage house.”
    “I . . . Daddy, I, well, I was ashamed, so I, well . . . I invented the receptionist job.”
    “A Sylvander a waitress?” His mouth opened as if he had been shot in the chest by his tender favorite.
    Honora looked down at her cup, afraidyesterday’s devastating tears would return.
    “Honora works at Stroud’s,” Curt put in smoothly. “As I told Mr. Talbott, the place is no dive. The flower of the financial district eat at Stroud’s. Working there’s hardly a reason to put on sackcloth and ashes. Honora told me you need the money. But you yourself agree she’s college material. She ought to be at Berkeley—”
    “She will be,” Langley broke in.
    “When?” Curt asked.
    “This autumn.”
    “I’ll be American and bring up the subject of money again,” Curt said. “Have you enough put away?”
    “You know which side your bread is buttered on, don’t you, Ivory?”
    “No need to see insult where there is none,” Gideon said. “Curt is only trying to point out that she won’t be working and she will have minor tuition fees and other expenses.”
    “Hahh!”
    “I want what’s best for the girls. Here in San Francisco there’s a woman, Mrs. Ekberg, she handled Imogene Burdetts’ coming out party. She’s promised to move in.”
    “I’ll never live in this damn house!”
    Crystal’s eyes had gleamed at the mention of Mrs. Ekberg, facilitator of debuts. “Daddy,” she said sweetly, “Gideon’s offer is something the family should discuss privately.”

9
    Curt volunteered to drive them home.
    Langley slumped in the back seat, not speaking. The convertible was a two door and when they reached Lombard Street, he hauled himself out with difficulty, ignoring Curt’s outstretched hand, staggering from the running board.
    Crystal and Joscelyn had scurried through the entry tunnel, but Honora waited on the sidewalk for her father.
    “You,” he snarled at her. “A Sylvander selling yourself for a few filthy pennies.”
    “Daddy, please . . . .”
    “How could you?” His ranting voice was almost unrecognizable.
    “Daddy, the work isn’t really so awful . . . it was the only job I could get . . .”
    “You’re common!” He repeated it like the foulest curse, a few flecks of saliva flying.
“Common!”
    “I never meant to hurt you.”
    Muttering, “Common . . . common . . . liar,” he lurched toward the entry.
    She started to follow, but Curt took her arm. “Honora, hold on a minute. We have to talk.”
    “What about?” she asked leadenly.
    “It’s freezing,” he said. “Come on back in the car.”
    She sat with her arm pressed against thedoor.
    “Okay,” Curt said, lighting a cigarette. “You’re ready to throw me off the Golden Gate Bridge.”
    “You promised to keep Stroud’s between us.”
    “Look, I knew Mr. Talbott wanted to make life easier for you girls and couldn’t figure out how to do it.”
    “So he insulted Daddy.”
    “He’s trying to help,” Curt said, adding in a low voice, “Take it from one who knows, my boss is a very generous guy.”
    “All right,” she said dully.
    “He’s told me quite a few times that having a family brings light into the old house—and he does get in fine fettle when the Sylvander sisters arrive.”
    Honora rested the back of her head against the comfortless glass.
    “He didn’t know exactly how rough things’ve been since you came over, but he’s discussed ways to