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In the beginning, Tracy had not been impressed with Charles Stanhope III, even though she was aware that he was considered Philadelphia's prize catch. Charles was thirty-five and a rich and successful member of one of the oldest families in Philadelphia. Five feet ten inches, with thinning sandy hair, brown eyes [link widoczny dla zalogowanych], and an earnest, pedantic manner, he was, Tracy thought, one of the boring rich.
As though reading her mind, Charles had leaned across the table and said, "My father is convinced they gave him the wrong baby at the hospital."
"What?"
"I'm a throwback. I don't happen to think money is the end-all and be-all of life. But please don't ever tell my father I said so."
There was such a charming unpretentiousness about him that Tracy found herself warming to him. I wonder what it would be like to be married to someone tike him--- one of the establishment.
It had taken Tracy's father most of his life to build up a business that the Stanhopes would have sneered at as insignificant. The Stanhopes and the Whitneys would never mix, Tracy thought. Oil and water. And the Stanhopes are the oil. And what am I going on about like an idiot? Talk about ego. A man asks me out to dinner and I'm deciding whether I want to marry him. We'll probably never even see each other again.
Charles was saying, "I hope you're free for dinner tomorrow...?" best [link widoczny dla zalogowanych]008
Philadelphia was a dazzling cornucopia of things to see and do. On Saturday nights Tracy and Charles went to the ballet or watched Riccardo Muti conduct the Philadelphia Orchestra. During the week they explored NewMarket and the unique collection of shops in Society Hill. They ate cheese steaks at a sidewalk table at Geno's and dined at the Café Royal, one of the most exclusive restaurants in Philadelphia. They shopped at Head House Square and wandered through the Philadelphia Museum of Art and the Rodin Museum.
Tracy paused in front of the statue of The Thinker. She glanced at Charles and grinned. "It's you!"
Charles was not interested in exercise, but Tracy enjoyed it, so on Sunday mornings she jogged along the West River Drive or on the promenade skirting the Schuylkill River. She joined a Saturday afternoon t'ai chi ch'uan class [link widoczny dla zalogowanych], and after an hour's workout, exhausted but exhilarated [link widoczny dla zalogowanych], she would meet Charles at his apartment. He was a gourmet cook [link widoczny dla zalogowanych], and he liked preparing esoteric dishes such as Moroccan bistilla and guo bu li, the dumplings of northern China, and tahine de poulet au citron for Tracy and himself.
Charles was the most punctilious person Tracy had ever known. She had once been fifteen minutes late for a dinner appointment with him, and his- displeasure had spoiled the evening for her. After that, she had vowed to be on time for him.
Tracy had had little sexual experience, but it seemed to her that Charles made love the same way he lived his life: meticulously and very properly. Once, Tracy had decided to be daring and unconventional in bed, and had so shocked Charles that she began secretly to wonder if she were some kind of sex maniac. best [link widoczny dla zalogowanych]009
The pregnancy had been unexpected, and when it happened, Tracy was filled with uncertainty. Charles had not brought up the subject of marriage, and she did not want him to feel he had to marry her because of the baby. She was not certain whether she could go through with an abortion, but the alternative was an equally painful choice. Could she raise a child without the help of its father, and would it be fair to the baby?
She decided to break the news to Charles after dinner one evening. She had prepared a cassoulet for him in her apartment, and in her nervousness she had burned it. As she set the scorched meat and beans in front of him, she forgot her carefully rehearsed speech and wildly blurted out, "I'm so sorry, Charles. I'm--- pregnant."
There was an unbearably long silence, and as Tracy was about to break it [link widoczny dla zalogowanych], Charles said, "We'll get married, of course."
Tracy was filled with a sense of enormous relief. "I don't want you to think I--- You don't have to marry me, you know."
He raised a hand to stop her. "I want to marry you, Tracy. You'll make a wonderful wife." He added, slowly, "Of course, my mother and father will be a bit surprised." And he smiled and kissed her.
Tracy quietly asked, "Why will they be surprised?"
Charles sighed. "Darling, I'm afraid you don't quite realize what you're letting yourself in for. The Stanhopes always marry--- mind you, I'm using quotation marks--- 'their own kind.' Mainline Philadelphia."
"And they've already selected your wife," Tracy guessed.
Charles took her in his arms. "That doesn't matter a damn. It's whom I've selected that counts. We'll have dinner with Mother and Father next Friday. It's time you met them." best [link widoczny dla zalogowanych]010
At five minutes to 9:00 Tracy became aware of a difference in the noise level in the bank. The employees were beginning to speak a little faster [link widoczny dla zalogowanych], move a little quicker. The bank doors would open in five minutes and everything had to be in readiness. Through the front window [link widoczny dla zalogowanych], Tracy could see customers lined up on the sidewalk outside, waiting in the cold rain.
Tracy watched as the bank guard finished distributing fresh blank deposit and withdrawal slips into the metal trays on the six tables lined up along the center aisle of the bank. Regular customers were issued deposit slips with a personal magnetized code at the bottom so that each time a deposit was made, the computer automatically credited it to the proper account. But often customers came in without their deposit slips and would fill out blank ones.
The guard glanced up at the clock on the wall, and as the hour hand moved to 9:00 [link widoczny dla zalogowanych], he walked over to the door and ceremoniously unlocked it.
The banking day had begun.
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The morning flew by swiftly. Tracy was planning to use her lunchtime to have her hair done and had made an appointment with Larry Stella Botte. He was expensive [link widoczny dla zalogowanych], but it would be worth it, for she wanted Charles's parents to see her at her best. I've got to make them like me. I don't care whom they chose for him, Tracy thought. No one can make Charles as happy as I will.
At 1:00, as Tracy was getting into her raincoat, Clarence Desmond summoned her to his office. Desmond was the image of an important executive. If the bank had used television commercials, he would have been the perfect spokesman. Dressed conservatively, with an air of solid, old-fashioned authority about him, he looked like a person one could trust.
"Sit down, Tracy," he said. He prided himself on knowing every employee's first name. "Nasty outside, isn't it?"
"Yes."
"Ah, well. People still have to do their banking." Desmond had used up his small talk. He leaned across his desk. "I understand that you and Charles Stanhope are engaged to be married."
Tracy was surprised. "We haven't even announced it yet. How---?"
Desmond smiled. "Anything the Stanhopes do is news. I'm very happy for you. I assume you'll be returning here to work with us. After the honeymoon, of course. We wouldn't want to lose you. You're one of our most valuable employees."
"Charles and I talked it over, and we agreed I'd be happier if I worked."
Desmond smiled, satisfied. Stanhope and Sons was one of the most important investment houses in the financial community, and it would be a nice plum if he could get their exclusive account for his branch. He leaned back in his chair. "When you return from your honeymoon, Tracy, there's going to be a nice promotion for you, along with a substantial raise."
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"Oh, thank you! That's wonderful." She knew she had earned it, 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 [link widoczny dla zalogowanych], she thought [link widoczny dla zalogowanych], 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, 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, 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.
He led her through a marble hallway that seemed twice as large as the bank. Tracy thought [link widoczny dla zalogowanych], panicky, Oh, my God. I'm dressed all wrong! ! should have worn the Yves Saint Laurent. As she turned into the library, she felt a run start at the ankle of her pantyhose, and she was face-to-face with Charles's parents.