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"Oh, thank you! That's wonderful." She knew she had earned it,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], and she felt a thrill of pride. She could hardly wait to tell Charles. It seemed to Tracy that the gods were conspiring to do everything they could to overwhelm her with happiness.
The Charles Stanhope Seniors lived in an impressive old mansion in Rittenhouse Square. It was a city landmark that Tracy had passed often. And now, she thought, it's going to be a part of my life.
She was nervous. Her beautiful hairdo had succumbed to the dampness in the air. She had changed dresses four times. Should she dress simply? Formally? She had one Yves Saint Laurent she had scrimped to buy at Wanamaker's. If I wear it, they'll think I'm extravagant. On the other hand, if l dress in one of my sale things from Post Horn,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], they'll think their son is marrying beneath him. Oh, hell,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], they're going to think that anyway,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], Tracy decided. She finally settled on a simple gray wool skirt and a white silk blouse and fastened around her neck the slender gold chain her mother had sent her for Christmas.
The door to the mansion was opened by a liveried butler. "Good evening,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], Miss Whitney." The butler knows my name. Is that a good sign? A bad sign? "May I take your coat?" She was dripping on their expensive Persian rug.
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