Volbrecht’s proposal or lose your allowance.”
Betty sat in stunned silence for what seemed an eternity, butcould have only been half a minute. “I cannot believe this,” she finally breathed out.
“And I have no doubt you cannot live without my monthly gift to you, Elizabeth.”
Her mother leaned forward. “I believe those were real pearls you gave to Adela. Really , Betty.”
Betty waved away the shifting of subjects. “Mother. Father . . .” She chuckled at the nonsense in the conversation. “George and I are friends, yes.” Her thoughts landed on the trump card. “But George has been dating Evelyn for nearly a month now. You know that.” She threw her hands up. “I would never come between two young lovers.”
“Nonsense,” Harrison said. “That boy is only seeing the girl to make you stand up and take notice. Anyone with half a brain could see that.”
Betty placed the red linen napkin accented with tiny holly leaves on the table next to her dessert dish. “Well, fortunately, Father, I have a whole brain. And all my faculties. I’m well aware that George thinks he can sway me with this . . . whatever . . . he has going with Evelyn. But the truth is, I have spoken with him about it and I think—I know —he may have the spark of feelings for her.”
Her father brought his fist down on the table, clattering the dishes. “You will do whatever you need to do to reinstate your relationship with George Volbrecht or, at the very least, someone of his caliber, or you’ll not see another penny from me. It’s time you stopped this working nonsense, moved back to Highland Park, and made a respectable woman out of yourself.”
Betty stood, her legs feeling more like gelatin than muscle. “Someone of his caliber?” She looked at her mother, hoping for evidence of shock. Instead, Chloe’s face held the same resolve asher husband’s. “What about love? Mother, you have told me more than a dozen times how much you loved Father. Almost as soon as you met him.”
Chloe blushed as she smiled. “With all my heart,” she said, looking down the length of the table.
“And did his caliber have anything to do with that emotion?”
Her brow cocked. “Absolutely it did. And your father felt the same.”
“Cut from the same cloth,” her father countered. “Which is why we’ve had such a successful marriage.”
“And we want the same for you,” her mother finished. “Wouldn’t any parent?”
“George is perfect for you. He loves you , Betty. Not this little girl he is carrying over to his parents’ home today.”
“A lamb to the slaughter,” Chloe whispered, sending Betty back to her seat.
She grasped her napkin, squeezing it for strength, and swallowed. Her eyes rested on the crumbs left behind from her serving of Adela’s pie.
Adela. Now she understood the look the woman had given her. Adela knew. Had probably overheard her parents plotting out the path of the bombshell they would drop after dessert had been eaten.
“If George,” Betty began slowly, “is the type of man who would lead a lamb to its death, then why in the name of all that is good and decent would you want me to marry him?” She stood again, raising her chin before she could do the same with her eyes. When she did, they went first to her father, then to her mother. “Thank you for the gifts.” She made a show of studying her watch. “I must be going.”
As she stepped away from the table—and it seemed lately that she always left this way—her mother grabbed her hand. “Just thinkabout it, darling. Think about the life George could give you. The love. The adoration. Our little allowance is nothing compared to what he could lavish on you.”
Betty closed her eyes. “Or someone of his caliber?”
“Exactly,” Chloe exclaimed, as if Betty now understood.
“Thank you, Mother,” Betty said, then slipped out of the room.
Evelyn copied every move George’s sister made at the expansive table that sat
Betty sat in stunned silence for what seemed an eternity, butcould have only been half a minute. “I cannot believe this,” she finally breathed out.
“And I have no doubt you cannot live without my monthly gift to you, Elizabeth.”
Her mother leaned forward. “I believe those were real pearls you gave to Adela. Really , Betty.”
Betty waved away the shifting of subjects. “Mother. Father . . .” She chuckled at the nonsense in the conversation. “George and I are friends, yes.” Her thoughts landed on the trump card. “But George has been dating Evelyn for nearly a month now. You know that.” She threw her hands up. “I would never come between two young lovers.”
“Nonsense,” Harrison said. “That boy is only seeing the girl to make you stand up and take notice. Anyone with half a brain could see that.”
Betty placed the red linen napkin accented with tiny holly leaves on the table next to her dessert dish. “Well, fortunately, Father, I have a whole brain. And all my faculties. I’m well aware that George thinks he can sway me with this . . . whatever . . . he has going with Evelyn. But the truth is, I have spoken with him about it and I think—I know —he may have the spark of feelings for her.”
Her father brought his fist down on the table, clattering the dishes. “You will do whatever you need to do to reinstate your relationship with George Volbrecht or, at the very least, someone of his caliber, or you’ll not see another penny from me. It’s time you stopped this working nonsense, moved back to Highland Park, and made a respectable woman out of yourself.”
Betty stood, her legs feeling more like gelatin than muscle. “Someone of his caliber?” She looked at her mother, hoping for evidence of shock. Instead, Chloe’s face held the same resolve asher husband’s. “What about love? Mother, you have told me more than a dozen times how much you loved Father. Almost as soon as you met him.”
Chloe blushed as she smiled. “With all my heart,” she said, looking down the length of the table.
“And did his caliber have anything to do with that emotion?”
Her brow cocked. “Absolutely it did. And your father felt the same.”
“Cut from the same cloth,” her father countered. “Which is why we’ve had such a successful marriage.”
“And we want the same for you,” her mother finished. “Wouldn’t any parent?”
“George is perfect for you. He loves you , Betty. Not this little girl he is carrying over to his parents’ home today.”
“A lamb to the slaughter,” Chloe whispered, sending Betty back to her seat.
She grasped her napkin, squeezing it for strength, and swallowed. Her eyes rested on the crumbs left behind from her serving of Adela’s pie.
Adela. Now she understood the look the woman had given her. Adela knew. Had probably overheard her parents plotting out the path of the bombshell they would drop after dessert had been eaten.
“If George,” Betty began slowly, “is the type of man who would lead a lamb to its death, then why in the name of all that is good and decent would you want me to marry him?” She stood again, raising her chin before she could do the same with her eyes. When she did, they went first to her father, then to her mother. “Thank you for the gifts.” She made a show of studying her watch. “I must be going.”
As she stepped away from the table—and it seemed lately that she always left this way—her mother grabbed her hand. “Just thinkabout it, darling. Think about the life George could give you. The love. The adoration. Our little allowance is nothing compared to what he could lavish on you.”
Betty closed her eyes. “Or someone of his caliber?”
“Exactly,” Chloe exclaimed, as if Betty now understood.
“Thank you, Mother,” Betty said, then slipped out of the room.
Evelyn copied every move George’s sister made at the expansive table that sat
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