make your best way home.’
`You’re not picking us up?’ Priscilla seemed amazed. ‘I thought we were going
shopping?’
‘No, we’ve run out of time. Perhaps we’ll go to the Plaza after dinner; I believe
Sears is open late.’
‘Sears?’
‘Do you Nave something against Sears?’
‘Aunt Marian never shops, at Sears.’
‘That’s interesting. I’ll see you at home. You can walk or take the bus.’
‘Wait a moment! Did you tell the Doctor that I don’t want to be poked?’
‘On the contrary, I told him that if you gave him any lip or showed any lack of
co-operation, I wanted him to tell me.’
Priscilla pouted. ‘I thought that you were going to pick us up and go shopping and
then we were going back to decide which house to rent’
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‘I am about to decide that right now, while you two take your physicals.’
‘You mean we don’t get a vote?’
‘Did you think that we were going to vote on it? All right, we’ll vote by the rules
of the Republic of Gondor. For each dollar each interested party invests in the deal
he or she gets one vote. How many votes do you want to buy?’
‘Huh? Why, I think that’s mean!’
‘Priscilla, it has never been in the Bill of Rights that minor dependants get to
pick the family domicile. And, while I do not know how Aunt Marian ran things, in my
household I make such decisions. I may consult others; I may not. If I do consult
others, I am not bound by their opinions. Understand me?’
Priscilla did not answer. Donald said quietly, ‘Slugger, you’re crowding your luck.’
I rejoined George at his car; he handed me in. `Where now, dear lady?’
‘I would like to look again at the furnished house.’
`Good.’
We rode in silence. George Strong was a comfortable man to be with; he had no small
talk. Presently I said, `Did you bring those two envelopes?’
‘Yes. Do you want them now? If so, I had better park. They are in a concealed zipper
pocket, rather hard to reach.’
No, I was just checking, before we got too far from your office.’
When we reached the house, I went upstairs with George at my heels, and into the
master bedroom. I started undressing; his face lit up.
`Maureen, I had hoped that you had this in mind.’ He sighed happily and started
reaching for fastenings himself. It’s been a long time.’
`Too long. I’ve been overwhelmed with mother problems and with school. But school is
over for me, for a long time at least, and my mother problems I have under control –
I hope – and I’ll have more time, if you want me.’
‘I’ll always want you!’
‘I’ve been thinking about you and your sweet ways all day. But I had to park the
children first. Do you want to undress me? Or shall we both hurry and see how
quickly we can be in bed?’
‘What a choice to have to make!’
George wasn’t the greatest bedroom artist in the world, but in the six years I had
been his now-and-then mistress, he had never left me hanging on the fence. He was an
attentive and considerate lover and he took as his prime purpose being certain that
his partner in bed reached orgasm.
If he was no Adonis, I was no Venus. When I was Priscilla’s age, I looked pretty
good – as tasty as she did, I think. But now (1952) I was seventy and a simulated
forty-seven, and did look past forty despite special effort. An older woman must
work at it, just as George worked at it (and I did appreciate his efforts). She must
keep her breath sweet, her inner muscles in good tone, her voice low and mellow, her
smile ready and her frown never, and her attitude friendly and co-operative. Father
had told me, ‘Widows are far better than brides. They don’t tell, they won’t yell,
they don’t swell, they rarely smell, and they’re grateful as hell.’
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