Free Fortune's Hand by Belva Plain

car at the familiar yellow wooden house with the sign beside the door: DRESSMAKING AND ALTERATIONS .
    He prayed that Mrs. Webster might not be home. But of course she would be. Very likely she would have a hearty lunch prepared for him. The front room would be festive, with the Christmas tree already up and decorated.
    Lily opened the door. She put her arms around him and kissed him, after which Mrs. Webster offered him her cheek. He was sure that his face must be wine red.
    â€œWell, this is a surprise, or almost a surprise,” Lily said.
    The remark was brightly spoken, yet he saw a faint anxiety in her expression. Eddy had been correct; she was partially prepared for something worrisome, but trying not to show it. Possibly she was expecting him to say he was not feeling well, or was not yet settled in a job, although that, given his record, would be unlikely.
    Ineptly, he replied that he had borrowed a car, and it was certainly a pleasure compared with the bus. Following this statement, he made a few remarks about last month’s election and the unseasonable weather. At that point, Mrs. Webster tactfully withdrew, taking her sewing into her bedroom so that the lovers might rush to embrace without an audience.
    Before Robb’s eyes was the little dining ell, where the table was already set with a white lace-edged cloth and a pot of poinsettias in the center. There was nothing in the sight to suggest any words with which to start the conversation.
    â€œYou’re feeling better than you did the last time, I hope,” Lily said. “I was worried about you.”
    â€œWell, yes and no. I’ve been having some problems getting placed. It’s not as easy to find the right job as I thought it would be.”
    â€œWith a record like yours? I’m surprised.”
    â€œI’ve had some nice offers, but they’ve all been corporation law, not what I’ve wanted to do with my life. Well, you’ve heard me often enough on that subject. The Chicago firm that looked so good has some drawbacks too complicated to describe, and New York is awfully competitive and expensive to live in, so I’ve been looking around, making inquiries, asking advice—”
    He stopped because she was staring at him, and the intensity of the stare almost threw him off the track of his thoughts. But he continued.
    â€œPuts the schedule, the plans, all out of whack. It’s very upsetting.”
    Ease into it, he was thinking. Don’t throw the truth into her face. Aim for delay and then, gradually, of course the truth must come out. That’s why you’re here. Only, not all at once.
    His face burned so and his heart raced so that he was beginning to feel overcome. A crazy impulse took hold:
Say you’re sick, rush out of here, say you’ll come back later—
    â€œThe wedding plans, do you mean?” she asked.
    Between her parted lips her even teeth were neat and small like all her bones, like her. He realized that he was seeing her as a stranger might see her: a young woman, almost childishly young, and touching in her naivete.
    The air was heavy with the sickening heat and the scent of the fir tree. Its glitter made him dizzy. His rapid heartbeat throbbed in his ears. If only she would take her eyes away from his face! And he had to turn away from them, to lean down and tighten his shoelace before he was able to murmur a response.
    â€œWhy yes, that’s why I’ve come. It seemed … that there were things we ought to talk about.”
    â€œThings? I don’t understand. What are they?”
    â€œWell, not being too hasty with things—”
    â€œHasty? What on earth are you talking about?”
    â€œYou see, I don’t think either of us ever had enough experience, ever really has known any other people, so that I thought, now that we’re older—” Oh Lord, how I’m stumbling! “We can examine things frankly