‘Dear lady, I’m just back in town. I have good news.’ He smiled shyly. ‘Delos agrees
that you must be on the board. We can’t put it to the stockholders until the annual
meeting but an interim appointment can be made by the director if a vacancy occurs
between stockholders’ meetings. It so happens that one of my assistants is about to
resign. As a director, not as my assistant. Could you attend a directors’ meeting in
Denver on Monday the sixth of October?’
‘Yes, indeed. I am enormously pleased, George.’
‘May I pick you up at ten? A company rocketplane will take us to Denver, arriving
there at ten, mountain time. The directors’ meeting is at ten thirty in the Harriman
Building, followed by luncheon at the top of the same building – a private
dining-room with a spectacular view.’
‘Delightful! George, are we returning later that day?’
‘We can if you wish, Maureen. But there are some beautiful drives around that area,
and I have a car and a driver available. Does that appeal to you?’
‘It does indeed! George, be sure to fetch envelope number three.’
‘I will be sure to do so. Until Monday, then, dear lady.’
I moved around in a happy fog, wishing that I could tell my father about it – how
little Maureen Johnson of Muddy Roads, Mizzourah, was about to be named a director
of the Harriman empire, through an unlikely concatenation: first, an adulterous love
affair with a stranger from the stars; second, because her husband left her for
another woman; and third, an autumn affair between an immoral grass widow and a
lonely bachelor.
If Brian had kept me, I could never have become a director in my own person. While
Brian had not begrudged me any luxury once we were prosperous, aside from my
household budget I had actually controlled only ‘egg money’ – even that numbered
Zurich bank account had only been nominally mine. Brian was a kind and generous
husband . . . but he was not even remotely a proponent of equal rights for women.
Which was one reason I refused George Strong’s repeated proposals of marriage.
Although George was twenty years younger than I (a fact I never let him suspect),
his values were rooted in the nineteenth century. As his mistress I could be his
equal; were I to marry him, I would at once became his subordinate – a pampered
subordinate, most likely… but subordinate.
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Besides, it would be a dirty trick to play on a confirmed old bachelor. His
proposals of marriages were gallant compliments, not serious offers of civil
contract.
Besides, I had become a confirmed old bachelor myself – even though I found myself
unexpectedly rearing one more child and a problem child at that.
My problem child – What to do about Priscilla while I was in Colorado overnight? Or
possibly over two nights – if George suggested staying another day, at Estes Park,
or Cripple Creek, would I say no?
Were I living alone with only Princess Polly to worry about, I could stuff her into
a kennel and ignore her protests. Would that I could do so with a strapping big girl
who outweighed me!… but who lacked sense enough to boil water.
What to do? What to do?
‘Priscilla, I am going to be away from home overnight, possibly two nights. What
would you prefer to do while I am gone?’
She looked blank. ‘Why are you going away?’
‘Let’s stick to the point. There are several possibilities. You can stay overnight
or over two nights with a chum from school, if you like. Or you could stay with Aunt
Velma -‘
‘She’s not my aunt!’
‘True and you need not call her that. It is simply customary among Howards to use
such terms among ourselves to remind us of our common membership in the Howard
families. Suit yourself. Now please let’s get back to the main question: what do you
prefer to do while I’m away?’
`Why do I have to do anything? I can stay right here. I know you think I can’t