by Pamela Morsi
He nodded.
"I know you're right. In a way, what I'm feeling is jealousy, I suppose," Calhoun admitted. "Her bridegroom is and has everything I ever worked for in my life. And it was just handed to him. Handed to him as if somehow he deserved it just for being born to the people he was."
"That's sure not fair, King," Queenie said. "But I don't guess you could say that it's the man's fault."
"I know," he agreed with a sigh. "I just feel like if that's the kind of man my Princess really admires and wants for a husband, then maybe she didn't think as well of her daddy as I thought she did."
"King Calhoun!" Queenie exclaimed, shaking her head. "You are far from the finest fellow alive, and I would be the first one to say so. But you've been a good father to that girl and she loves you for it. She always has and she always will."
"I didn't have no idea about how to be a father to her," King said sadly. "I never had one of my own, nor even had much expectation to be one. I thought the mother would raise the child. All I'd have to do is keep a roof over our heads and bread on our table."
"Well, you did that well enough," Queenie told him. "And she grew up to be kind and good and fair-minded. I know where she got those qualities."
"I just love her, Queenie," he said finally. "I want her to be happy and I hope he doesn't make her life a misery."
"I don't think you need to worry about it," Queenie told him. "Princess seems to make her own happiness as she goes along. If she don't like the way things are, she just insists on them being rearranged."
A knock on the door ended their conversation. Queenie walked over and opened a tiny peephole.
"It's Cedarleg," she called back over her shoulder.
King motioned to let him come in.
"Good afternoon, Miss Queenie," the man said as he entered the room. "How you been keeping yourself?"
"Very well, thank you," she answered, then feigned a whisper. "Watch yourself, the big man's in a foul mood."
"I heard that," King complained. "And I most certainly am not. Foul mood's almost all over."
The older man limped over to where King waited. The two shook hands and took seats.
Cedarleg scooted up a second chair and gave a little moan as raised his bad leg to rest upon it.
"Are you having more trouble with that leg?" King asked.
The old man snorted. "It's the rheumatiz, Ma says” he answered. "I think she's right, but I tell her that she ain't never was nor will be no doctor."
King chuckled. "It sounds like me and Queenie aren't the only couple that annoys each other."
Cedarleg smiled. "Oh, Ma and me get into a tiff from time to time. Course it's not like you and Queenie. With us, it's usually Ma's fault. But I'm thinking with you two, the blame would be mostly on your side."
"Try to remember who you work for," Calhoun warned.
Cedarleg only chuckled.
"So what's eating you today," he asked. "Them bankers still givin' ye indigestion?"
"Worse than that," King answered. "I guess you and Ma haven't heard the news yet. Princess has got married."
"Oh, my Lord-a-mercy!" Cedarleg exclaimed. "Ma'll be having a fit when she hears. Did she marry up with that fancy feller?"
King's eyes widened and he sat up straighter. "You've met him? What can you tell me about him, Cedarleg?"
"Ain't met him," the old man admitted. "Just heard what she told Ma about him. He's wonderful, from what Princess says. But he didn't sound like our kind of folks to me."
"See, just like I said," King called out to Queenie, who was attempting to resume her bookkeeping duties.
"Nope, he just don't seem quite right for her," Cedarleg continued. "But I guess if he suits Princess, he ought to suit the rest of us."
"Just like I said," Queenie pointed out with a patronizing grin.
King gave her an impudent look but made no comment.
"Cedarleg, if you could kind of keep your ear to the ground about this fellow," King suggested. "Anything you hear, good or bad, I want to know."
Cedarleg nodded.
"And you and Ma have got to come over and meet him," King continued. "Maybe being the father I'm not quite fair, I want to get an idea of what you think of him."
"We can stop by anytime," he said.
"Why don't we make it a dinner toward the end of the week," he said. "Howard and Mrs. Marin think you're family anyway and I'm sure there won't be any problem for Princess. She'll be eager for you to meet her new husband."
"Sounds good to me," he said. "Give Ma an excuse to wear her new dress."
"So you bought Ma a new dress, did you?" King said. "Thought that woman wouldn't let you spend money on her."
"I didn't buy it, Tom did," Cedarleg told him.
"Who's Tom?"
"That new tool dresser I hired," he said. "The one that was living with us for a while. He just up and bought her the prettiest piece of dark green brilliantine you ever saw. She sewed it up lickety-split and ain't had no chance to wear it yet."
"Is that the young tool dresser that I met?" Queenie asked him.
"Yes, ma'am," he answered.
"He is a very fine young man, an honorable fellow," Queenie said. "I liked him a lot."
"High praise indeed from a gal who's been watching men behave at their worst for years," King pointed out. "So is he working out pretty well as tool dresser?"
"Well, the truth is, Mr. Calhoun, he was turning out to be a dang fine worker. I was thinking to putting him to drilling within a year at the latest. But he done quit me," Cedarleg said.
"He quit you? Already? There aren't very many who think to quit this close to bringing it in," King said. "Did he head out to another oil field?"
"Nope, he married up some gal in Burford Corners," Cedarleg answered.
"He went ahead and married her," Queenie said, delighted. "I'm really glad for him."
King gave her an exasperated look.
"What does getting married have to do with it? Most fellows husband at night and hold a job during the day."
"And most fellows don't work half hard enough at either," Cedarleg joked. "No, Tom has done moved up in the world. Married a banker's daughter. So he's quit the oil business to become a banker."
"A banker!" King exclaimed. "Sounds like a sheriff taking up train robbery!"
Cedarleg laughed. "I suspect most folks would think it to be more like a vile sinner getting salvation and taking up preaching the word."
King shook his head, appreciating the dark humor. "I guess you're right. But I hate to think of a good oil man wasted in one of those stinking banks."
"Well maybe that's just what the oil business needs," Queenie said.
"Huh?"
"Maybe if you had more bankers that knew the oil business, then you've have more bankers willing to loan money to finance it," she said.
King nodded thoughtfully. "Queenie's got a point," he said.
"It sure makes sense," Cedarleg agreed.
"This Tom, how long did he work out on the rig?"
"Couple of weeks, I guess," Cedarleg answered. "It seemed like more 'cause he was such a quick study."
"And do you think that he knows that there's oil down there?" King asked.
"He knows, all right," Cedarleg said. "And he was as antsy and eager about it as the rest of us."
"So," King said, nodding slowly. "We know a banker that got a little bit of oil in his blood. If I don't get the money for that refinery, we might as well just plug those wells and let the oil lie there another million years."
"That's so."
"What do you think, Cedarleg," he asked. "Will this Tom of yours loan me the money to build a refinery?"
"I couldn't tell you," the old man answered. "I suspect that he'd want to, but he just got married on Sunday. I doubt if he's going to have a whole lot of pull at that bank."
"But if the bank belongs to his father-in-law, maybe he could talk him into it," King said.
"Maybe," Cedarleg agreed. "
Course you can't count on that. You got a new son-in-law yourself, and I doubt very much that you'd let him talk you into anything."
King waved away the comparison. "That's talking apples and oranges," he said.
"Well, it sure wouldn't hurt to try," Cedarleg agreed.
"Not one bit," King said. "I've done asked half the bankers in this part of the country. Now what is this fellow's name again?"
"It's Tom Walker," Cedarleg answered. "He a tall, good looking man, part Indian, raised right around here."
King Calhoun smiled broadly.
"Look at him," Queenie said, shaking her head. "He looks happier than he's been all day."
"I'm going out and find this Tom Walker," he told her. "And I'm going to get him to loan me a refinery."
Cessy discovered that she rather liked married life. She had made such a strong independent life for herself, she worried that perhaps she would bridle under the demands of a husband. And the idea that one must, of necessity, consider the schedule and inclination of another person in deciding everything, from when to go to the market to what to buy there, was a little unsettling. But the first days of her marriage were such total bliss that Cessy could not imagine that it could ever be anything but wonderful.
Gerald was attentive and sweet. And he was most always right there beside her. He did not again leave the house early or without telling her where he was to go. In fact he rarely left the house at all, telling her that he preferred her company to that of anyone else in town.
They worked together in the garden. Gerald appeared to have a real aptitude for growing things and Cessy gratefully let him carry forward with it. He even teased her that he was going to grow the wildflower garden that he had threatened.
They spent long hours in the quiet of the sun parlor together. Gerald was not, it seemed, much of a lover of books. But he enjoyed hearing Cessy read aloud. And amazingly, he had apparently missed many of the classics during his education.
They played lawn tennis. Cessy had never much enjoyed games that required great athletic prowess, being a bit clumsy on the best of occasions. But Gerald was an enthusiastic player and experienced from his days at Yale. He generously sent the volleys deliberately in her direction. Her favorite aspect, however, was when it was necessary to wrap his arms around her in the interest of improving her backhand.
But what they mostly did in those first few days of wedded bliss was to talk together, laugh together, and make love.
It was, Cessy thought to herself, perfect. Or rather, it was nearly so. They had not as yet heard from the Cranes of Bedlington, New Jersey. Cessy looked for a telegram constantly and became very concerned that it never arrived.
"They are aghast that you have married me," she told him finally. They were sitting in the quiet coolness of the porch at evening. Gerald had removed his coat and had wrapped his arm around her shoulder.
"Don't be foolish," he said. "They probably didn't get my wire."
She had not considered that at all. "Do you think that maybe they didn't get it?"
"Cessy, it happens all the time," he said.
"But everyone says that Western Union is so reliable," she told him. In her whole life she had never heard anyone complain that telegrams were not being delivered.
Gerald shook his head. "If you only knew how many important messages were lost, you'd not be surprised at this one being mislaid at all," he said.
Cessy nodded hopefully. Thinking the wire mislaid was better than thinking that his family was furious. But they still had to be notified, and as far as she was concerned, the sooner the better.
"Well, if it's mislaid, then don't you think you should send another one?"
"Ah ... ah, absolutely," he replied. "I'll do it the next time I am in town."
"Perhaps we should make a special trip," Cessy suggested. "I can go with you."
"Oh, no, it's far too much trouble," he said. "I . . . I was going to go out and . . . and consult with my banker this afternoon anyway. I'll send the wire on my way."
Cessy nodded, mollified. Still she couldn't quite understand Gerald's cavalier attitude about it. Perhaps he had simply gotten accustomed to living his life as he saw fit without the advice and interference of relatives. But a man only married once. It was an occasion of consequence and his family must be duly informed.
Cessy fully expected a certain degree of disapproval from the Cranes. Even her own father had been less than pleased that they had eloped. Once they were notified and were able to voice their disfavor, then the acceptance could begin.
Cessy was determined to win them over. She had learned over the last few days that family meant so much to Gerald. He spoke of it all the time. He wanted a house full of children and all the noise and hectic activity that went with it.
Strangely, however, he was not interested in the children at Reverend McAfee's school.
"I think the boys would really be thrilled to get to know you," she told him. "You could tell them about all the places you've been and the things that you've seen. Most of them have never been farther than Burford Corners. And I don't know a boy who ever lived that wouldn't be enthralled to hear about your adventures with Teddy Roosevelt and the Rough Riders."
Gerald shook his head. "No, Cessy, I don't really want to get too involved in your charity work. It's yours, something you can rightfully claim as your own, and I think it best if a husband keep his distance."
His logic seemed flawed, but Cessy didn't press him. When she was at Miss Thorogate's school, she'd seen plenty of uninterested young misses forced to perform charitable service that rather went against their nature. It was clear to Cessy that the recipients of such grudging largess were no more happy about it than the givers.
Many people believed that poverty was as repulsive to fine society as sin and that orphans were somehow to blame for their own condition. Talking with Gerald, it did not appear that he was one of that number, but he certainly had an aversion to the Methodist Indian Home.
He had a similar aversion to the oil business. The Topknot was coming closer and closer to fruition and the excitement was building, but Gerald didn't want to hear a word, or make a comment, about it. Even when her father talked over dinner, it was almost as if Gerald tried deliberately not to listen.
He was also not very keen on meeting Cessy's friends.
"Remember the couple who are like second parents to me?" she asked.
Gerald's reply was vague.
"Well, Daddy talked to Cedarleg," she told him. "And he and Ma would like to come to dinner and meet you. The end of the week seems perfectly timed to me. Which would be best for you, Friday or Saturday?"
He seemed startled by the question. The gentle movement of the swing had stopped abruptly as he put his foot down. Clearly he was struggling for an answer.
"Neither," he answered finally.
"Neither?"
"I . . . we have other plans, I believe," he said.
"Other plans? I don't know of any other plans," Cessy said.
"Well, I . . . well, if we don't have some we should definitely make some. Saturday night we should go out together, don't you think? We should make it a tradition in our marriage to go out together for some entertainment on Saturdays."
"Out?" Cessy looked at him, puzzled. "Where? This is Burford Corners, not Kansas City. Except for the occasional traveling circus or medicine show, there is no entertainment."
"I ... ah ... I saw a bill that indicated a lecture at the Chautauqua House this Saturday," he said. "We could attend that."
Cessy's brow furrowed. "You want to hear Maizie Prinzwhite speak on Demon Rum the Destroyer of Families? I had no idea that you held temperance views."
Gerald flushed slightly. "Well, actually I don't but . . . it's a lecture, Cessy, a person should always be willing to listen and learn."
"All right, then," she agreed. "Then we'll invite Cedarleg and Ma for Friday."
"No!"
"Friday is not convenient either?"
"No, no, I don't believe that Friday will do at all," he said. "I . . . ah . . . just as I think that Saturdays should be an evening of outside entertainment, I think Fridays should be kept specifically for the two of us at home. It will be a night for our family. You and me and our children when we have them. We will spend time together. Do you play five hundred? Or perhaps seven-up?"
"Well, certainly, but . . ."
"And maybe we can ... we can sing," he suggested. "That beautiful piano in the music room should not be allowed to go to waste."
"I told you that I don't sing very well," she said.
"Then it's perfect that it will be just us only, every Friday." He punctuated his statement with a gentle kiss that was more winning than his words.
Cessy acquiesced, wondering in silence if this was to be typical of their married life. Certain activities for certain days of the week. It was a very efficient way to live, she supposed. But it did feel a bit wanting in spontaneity.
"I'm sure your friends will understand that we are just wed and getting used to our time together," he said. "We can surely have them over at some later date."
"Well, yes, I suppose so," Cessy admitted. "But I really want you to meet them, Gerald."
"And I will, I will, sweet Cessy," he assured her. "Just not this week."
"All right then, I'll put them off if that's what you want," she said.
"Thank you," he said with a depth of sincerity that felt to Cessy somehow inordinate. She glanced up to question him, but he quickly changed the subject.
"Then let's not talk about it anymore," Gerald said. "Let's talk about what I really want to talk about."
He was lightly tickling her throat and grinning at her in a manner that was hard to resist.
"And what is that?" she asked him.
"Our wedding trip," he said. "I'm ready to leave tomorrow, if you are."
"Leave tomorrow!" Cessy nearly fell out of the swing. "Oh, you are joking aren't you," she said.
"Yes, I suppose that I am," he said with a sigh. "But I do wish that we could get away for a while. That we could spend some time getting to know each other without anyone else around."
