The Virtuous Woman (32 page)

Babe rolled her eyes. “You are something, Francis Key. You reject a woman and bruise her feelings until she’s like a piece of raw hamburger, then come by smiling with your cheerful little innocent face. I oughta kick your rear out of here like I did the last time!”

He dropped his head. “Well, I wish you luck,” he said lamely.

She got out of her chair and came quickly around her desk. Francis’s eyes flew open with alarm, and he took a step backward. “Now, wait a minute,” he said nervously. “You don’t have to—”

Francis never finished his sentence, for Babe threw her arms around him and kissed him full on the lips. She held it for a long moment before pulling away, her hands on her hips. “Well, Grace, there’s one kiss you won’t get.”

“I guess not.” She stepped forward and embraced Babe. She whispered, “I’ll be praying that you’ll find just the right man to make you happy.” Stepping back, she smiled and took Francis by the arm in a protective gesture.

“Don’t worry. I’m not gonna hit the little pipsqueak. Just get him outta here, will ya?”

“All right, Babe. I’ll send you an invitation to the wedding,” Grace said and smiled.

“Just take care of the little shrimp. And you”—she fixed her gaze on Francis—”you be good to her.”

“I will. So long for now.” Francis turned and walked out,
allowing Grace to go before him. When they got to the truck, neither of them said anything, but as he started the engine and looked at Grace, he was concerned to see a tear rolling down her cheek. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

“I feel so sorry for her.”

Francis reached over and squeezed the back of her neck. “So do I,” he said softly. Then he gunned the truck, and as they left the airfield, neither of them spoke for a time. After a while he put his arm around her shoulder and pulled her close. “You heard what she said. I’m supposed to be good to you.”

She smiled brilliantly at him. “All right, Francis, you can start right now.”

****

They drove hard all day, and when it started growing dark, they looked for a place to camp. An hour later they were sitting beside a campfire, roasting hot dogs. “You’re still burning yours,” Francis said. “Let me do it for you.”

“I can roast my own!” Grace protested.

“No, I’m the man; you’re the woman. It’s time you started practicing up on your obedience.”

“What are you talking about?” She glared at him.

“That’s what you’ve got to promise when we get married. To love, honor, and obey me.”

“I never did like that part of the wedding ceremony,” she muttered. “But I have to admit, you are a better cook than I am.”

Francis tossed the blackened wiener over his head and lanced another one onto the roasting stick he had cut. He held it carefully over the flame, and when it was done, he smeared mustard on a bun, inserted the wiener, and topped it off with bubbling hot chili he had heated in a can near the blaze. Grace bit into the hot dog and cried out, “Aaahh—that’s hot!”

“Hot dogs are supposed to be hot, silly! You’d complain if I gave you a cold one.”

She made a face at him and bit into her dog. After having their fill, they drank coffee they had brought in a Thermos.

“This is nice,” Grace said. “I hope we’ll always do things like this.”

“It looks like we will whether we want to or not. Can’t afford to go first class.”

Grace noticed that his mood had changed. “What’s the matter, Francis?”

He rearranged the fire with his hot dog stick. “We don’t even have a roof to put over our heads. After we get married, we’ll have to honeymoon in the woods.”

“No we won’t. Your book will be published by then.” She moved closer to him and put her hand on his knee. “Tell me, how do you get paid for writing a book?”

“First you have to get it accepted by a publisher.”

“I mean after that.”

“The theory is that you sign a contract, and they give you what’s called an advance.”

“An advance? What’s that?”

“It’s money paid out against the royalties. For instance, they might give me a check for three hundred dollars. Then after the book has been out a while, they count up all the copies that have sold and see how much money they’ve made.”

“Do you get half of it?”

“Half! No! No writer gets half. Ten percent’s more like it.”

“Ten percent! That’s highway robbery! Those thieves will be keeping ninety percent of your money.”

Francis laughed. “Actually, they don’t even get half of it.” He put his hand over hers and squeezed it. “Half of the price of the book will go to the bookstore.”

“That still leaves fifty percent.”

“But the publisher has to spend a lot of money to pay their editors, hire an artist to design a fancy cover, print it, and distribute it, so depending on how many copies it sells, they might not make any money from it. They’re taking a chance with every book, especially if the author is not well
known. The big writers, Hemingway and Faulkner, probably get fifteen or maybe even twenty percent. But I’d be thankful for ten.”

“Let’s see. If a book costs a dollar, you’d get ten cents. Is that right?”

“Just about.”

“Then all you’ll have to do is sell ... umm ... ten million books and you’ll be a millionaire.”

He laughed. “You know how many books sell ten million copies?”

“No. How many?”

“Not many!”

Grace was happy because she had taken his mind off of his fears.
I can’t let him worry about things like this,
she thought.

“I know what you’re doing,” he said. “You’re trying to take my mind off my problem. Don’t worry about me. It does me good to be miserable once in a while.”

She grabbed a handful of his hair, jerked his head over, and kissed him firmly on the lips. “You don’t have to worry. I’m a rich heiress, anyway. Remember, I’m a Winslow.”

“We can’t live off your folks!”

“I know it, Francis. I was just teasing. But I can go to work.”

“I know,” he said, deviltry sparkling in his eyes. “We can do an act.”

“An act? What kind of an act?”

“We can do the Ring of Death. We’ll get another cycle, and you and I can go around to carnivals.”

She lunged at him and knocked him backward off the log he was sitting on. He hit the ground with a grunt, and she threw herself onto his chest, pinning him down. “Don’t you even mention that awful thing! The Ring of Death indeed!”

With her weight pressing against him, Francis reached up and put his arms around her. “Let’s just stay out here. I’ve had more fun tonight than I’ve had in the last six months.”

She kissed him soundly and then stood up. “Remember, we have to behave ourselves on this trip. We’re not married yet.”

He got to his feet and dusted himself off. “That’s a tall order, Grace. Maybe we should have gone to a motel and gotten separate rooms.”

“I doubt that would have helped,” Grace said with a laugh. “No, I think we’ll just have to sit up all night and keep the fire going.”

“And what else?” he asked.

“You can tell me about the next book you’re going to write.”

“I’m not even sure what it’ll be yet.”

“Then you can tell me some more about how to be a lady.”

They did sit up that night until the wee hours of the morning. They leaned against the log and held hands, and from time to time he put his arm around her. Grace felt safe and secure, knowing that Francis wanted to keep their relationship honorable before God as much as she did.

Finally Francis said, “I’m getting awfully sleepy. If I’m gonna drive tomorrow, I need some rest. Guess we’d better bed down.”

“All right. Which side of the fire do you want?”

“Either one. I’ll try to wake up once or twice and keep the fire going.”

They each laid a blanket out on either side of the fire, and then she turned to him almost shyly. “Good night, Francis. I love you.”

“Good night, sweetheart. I love you too.” He put his arms around her, and for a moment she was afraid he would not hold up his end of the bargain. She did not want him to change from what he was. He gave her a soft, quick kiss. “I’ll see you in the morning,” he said gruffly.

“Good night, Francis.”

****

The sun was high in the sky when Francis pulled the truck up in front of the Winslow home. “Here we are,” he said.
“There come your folks. They must have been sitting there waiting for us.”

Grace almost fell out of the truck in her eagerness. Her mother swept her into an embrace and held her tightly, and her dad then took his turn. Phil shook hands with Francis and asked, “Did you have a good trip?”

“Very good.”

“I’ll help you carry the suitcases in.”

Before they got to the door, Paige came out of the house and went straight to Grace. “I’m so glad to see you, Grace.”

Grace hesitated for just a moment, then stepped forward and embraced Paige. Francis felt a glow of satisfaction.
Well, she never did that before. I think everything’s going to be all right.

“It’s good to be back, Paige,” Grace said shyly.

“In front of Mom and Dad, I want to tell you how sorry I am that I treated you so abominably,” Paige said.

“If we start apologizing, I’ll have the most to do,” Grace said quickly.

“Let’s start all over again, all right?” Paige said. “Come inside and tell me everything you’ve been doing.”

They went inside, and Cara and Phil were very glad to see that Paige was bending over backward to be pleasant. Cara had talked with her earlier and knew there had been a change of heart in her daughter, and now she whispered to Phil, “It’s going to be all right, dear. They’re going to be good friends.”

They sat down to a quick lunch and had no more gotten started when Brian pulled up with his whole family. Grace immediately went to Brian and smiled at him. “Brian, I was awful the last time I was here, but I promise you I won’t take any of your children’s money from the inheritance.”

Brian flushed and was so startled he could hardly talk. Then he laughed aloud and said, “Well, it’s all in the family. It’s good to see you, Grace. You look wonderful.”

The day went very pleasantly, and late that afternoon
Francis managed to find Phil alone in his den. “Come on in, Francis. Have a seat.”

Francis sat down, and his face had a determined expression. “I don’t know if this will come as a huge shock to you or not, Mr. Winslow, but I have to tell you that I’m in love with your daughter and have asked her to marry me.”

Phil got up at once and put his hand out. “No, it doesn’t come as a surprise, but it comes as very good news.” Francis stood up and took Phil’s hand. “It looks like we’re going to lose a daughter almost as soon as we found her, but I can’t think of any other man I’d rather have for a son-in-law.”

Francis shook his head. “It’s kind of tough on me. I finished the novel I was working on, but it hasn’t been accepted yet.”

“It will be, I’m sure.”

“I’m going back to work for the detective agency.”

“Are you sure you want to do that?”

“I don’t mind it. It’s interesting work. I can write at night. Grace and I have talked it over. I don’t want to marry until I’m able to take care of her.”

“I can understand that. Well, sit down and tell me about the book. I don’t know anything about the publishing business.”

As Francis told about the characters in his book, Phil Winslow reflected on the day he had first met the younger man. He had liked Francis from the start, for he saw in him a depth and a steadiness that he admired, and now he was pleased to have him as a son-in-law. As the conversation turned to wedding plans, he said, “Why don’t you stay here instead of finding a place of your own?”

“Oh, I couldn’t do that!”

“Of course you could. This is a big house. It’d be good to have you.”

“That’s very kind of you, sir.”

“Why don’t you just call me Phil? I’d feel more comfortable. Come on up to the studio. I want to show you some new things I’m working on.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

A New Grace

“I’m going to throw a party.”

Cara looked up, shock in her eyes. “You? A party? You hate parties.”

Phil was in bed watching Cara brush her hair. She turned to stare at him, and he laughed at her expression. “You must think I’m an awful person,” he said. “I don’t see why you’re so surprised. I’m very good at parties.”

Cara sniffed. “You’re terrible at parties! I’m always afraid to drag you to them. I know you’re going to look bored.”

“I won’t look bored at this one.” Phil turned onto his side and propped his head up on his elbow. “You know, you’re just as beautiful now as you were on our wedding night.”

Cara, after all her years with Phil, could still blush. She dropped her eyes for a moment, then laughed. “I was the world’s greenest bride. I’d been cooped up in a sick room for years.”

“You were the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.”

“I didn’t know the first thing about ... about being with a man.”

“But you had a good teacher,” he said impishly.

“Oh, you, I’ll throw this hairbrush at you! What kind of a party?”

“An engagement party for Kevin and Lucy.”

“Oh, darling, that’s a wonderful idea!” Cara put the brush down, then came over to the bed and turned out the light.
She got in bed beside him. “How long have you been thinking about this?”

“Ever since they decided to get married.”

Cara put her arms around him and kissed him. “You are getting to be a sly thing. But it’s a great idea. Say, why don’t we have a party for both of the couples?”

“No, I think we need to wait and have another party for Francis and Grace later. Francis doesn’t want to announce their engagement publicly until he feels that he can support Grace financially.”

“Oh, of course you’re right. When do you want to have this party for Kevin?” she asked.

“How about tomorrow night?”

“Tomorrow night! Why, that’s impossible! You can’t—” She laughed and poked him in the chest. “You’re teasing me. When will it really be?”

“I’ll let you decide when it should be, but I want it to be fancy. Invite all the big shots we know. I’m so proud of Kevin I could simply bust. He’s going to do great things, Cara. You wait and see.”