“I didn’t hear ‘sin’ mentioned.”
“Don’t you know? Barbara. . . Dad is a notorious sex criminal.”
“Is this true, Mr. Farnham?”
“Well. . .”
“That’s why I studied law, Barbara. It was breaking us to bring Jerry Giesler all the way from Los Angeles every time Dad got into a jam.”
“Those were the good old days!” Duke’s father agreed. “But, Barbara, that was years ago. Contract is my weakness now.”
“In that case I would expect a higher salary-”
“Hush, children!” Karen said forcefully. She turned up the sound:
“-agreed in principal to three out of four of the President’s major points and has agreed to meet again to discuss the fourth point, the presence of their nuclear submarines in our coastal waters. It may now be safely stated that the crisis, the most acute in post-World-War-Two years, does seem to be tapering oft to a mutual accommodation that both countries can live with. We pause to bring you exciting news from General Motors followed by an analysis in depth-”
Karen turned it down. Duke said, “Just as I said, Dad. You can take that cork out of your ear.”
“Later. I’m busy with crêpes Suzettes. Barbara, I’ll expect these for breakfast every morning.”
“Dad, quit trying to seduce her and cut the cards. I want to win back what I’ve lost.”
“That’ll be a long night.” Mr. Farnham~ finished eating, stood up to put his plate aside; the doorbell rang. “I’ll answer it.”
He went to the door, returned shortly. Karen said, “Who was it, Daddy? I cut for you. You and I are partners. Look pleased.”
“I’m delighted. But remember that a count of eleven is not an opening bid. Somebody lost, I guess. Possibly a nut.”
“My date. You scared him off.”
“Possibly. A bald-headed old coot, very weather-beaten and ragged.”
“My date,” Karen confirmed. “President of the Dekes. Go get him, Daddy.”
“Too late. He took one look at me and fled. Whose bid is it?”
Barbara continued to try to play like a machine. But it seemed to her that Duke was overbidding; she found herself thereby bidding timidly and had to force herself to overcome it. They went set several times in a long, dreary rubber which they “won” but lost on points.
It was a pleasure to lose the next rubber with Karen as her partner. They shifted and again she was Mr. Farnham’s partner. He smiled at her. “This time we clobber them!”
“I’ll try.”
“Just play as you did. By the book. Duke will supply the mistakes.”
“Put your money where your mouth is, Dad. Want a side bet of a hundred dollars on this rubber?”
“A hundred it is.”
Barbara thought about seventeen lonely dollars in her purse and got nervous. She was still more nervous when the first hand ended at five clubs, bid and made-by Duke-and realized that he had overbid and would have been down one had she covered his finesse.
Duke said, “Care to double that bet, Governor?”
“Okay. Deal.”
Her morale was bolstered by the second hand: her contract at four spades and made possible by voids; she was able to ruff before cleaning out trumps. Her partner’s smile was reward enough. But it left her shaky.
Duke said, “Both teams vulnerable, no part score. How’s your blood pressure, Daddy-o? Double again?”
“Planning on firing your secretary?”
“Speak up, or accept a white feather.”
“Four hundred. You can sell your car.”
Mr. Farnham dealt. Barbara picked up her hand and frowned. The count was not bad-two queens, a couple of jacks, an ace, a king-but no biddable suit and the king was unguarded. It was a strength and distribution which she had long tagged as “just good enough to go set on.” She hoped that it would be one of those sigh-of-relief hands in which everyone passes.
Her partner picked up his hand and glanced at it. “Three no trump.”
Barbara repressed a gasp, Karen did gasp. “Daddy, are you feverish?”
“Bid.”
“Pass!”
Barbara said to herself, “’God oh god, what I do now?” Her partner’s bid promised twenty-five points-and invited slam. She held thirteen points. Thirty-eight points in the two hands-grand slam.
That’s what the book said! Barbara girl, “three no trump” is twenty-five, twenty-six, or twenty-seven points-add thirteen and it reads “Grand Slam.”
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