“That’s not the point. I—”
“That is the point, Jake. Nothing has been neglected through my being away. You won’t marry me, so I am not answerable to you when I come and go. Though as a courtesy I did leave a note with Cunningham telling you where I had gone. Did you receive it?
“Yes, but—”
“Then you knew 1 was safe—and in emergency could have sent me a message. Or joined me; you would have been welcome. You know Joe would have made you welcome—and Gigi is friendly as a puppy.”
“‘Gigi’?”
“You know her. You’ve met her, I mean. Mrs. Joe Branca.”
“What?”
“Why the Surprise, Jake? People do remarry—especially if an earlier marriage was happy. Joe’s was, and now he has, and I’m happy for him—and certain that Eunice is happy for him, too.” (Sure I am, Boss. But let’s not be too ‘noble.’ Being ‘noble’ is a male prerogative. So they think.)
“I can’t believe it.”
“What’s odd about a widower remarrying?”
“I can’t imagine anyone who had been married to Eunice ever marrying some other woman.” (My fan! Twin, we’re going to be especially nice to Jake tonight.) (If he doesn’t start being nice to me, he’s going to sleep alone tonight! But 1 shan’t. I wonder if Anton and Fred have left the house?)
(Calm down, Boss. And get Jake calmed down.) (Not yet, I won’t! He’s wrong and I’m right.) (Twin honey, how long is it going to take you to learn that being ‘right’ has nothing to do with getting along with a man? Men aren’t logical, their minds don’t work that way. But it’s ‘the only game in town,’ so when a man is wrong and you are right, it’s time to apologize. Tell him you’re sorry—and mean it. Om Mani Padme Hum.)
(Om Mani Padme Hum—sometimes I find being a woman just too frimping difficult. If it weren’t so darned much fun. Okay, sweetheart, watch me take him.) “Jake dearest, I’m sorry it upsets you that Joe has remarried—but why not wait before deciding that he has made a mistake? Joe needs a wife—even if she’s not Eunice. And I’m terribly sorry that I worried you by not being here when you got home…and sorry on my own account; I expected to welcome you—with open arms and a happy smile. But I didn’t expect you to be away less than a week and I had an impression that you expected it to take longer—possibly much longer.”
“Well, yes, I did think I might have to sit it out quite a while. But I got in to see the Chief Justice the second day and he assured me that he would put it at the top of the calendar . . . and that he had seen—unofficially—an advance transcript of the record. And that was that.”
“Hm! Campaign contributions are sometimes worthwhile.”
“Joan Eunice, don’t ever talk that way. Especially in reference to the Chief Justice of the United States. Yes, this is your house. Nevertheless it might be bugged.”
“I’m sorry, Jake. It was a thoughtless remark. My appreciation really goes where it belongs. To you.”
“To Mac more than to me, my dear; that boy has been on the ball. How he got an advance copy to, uh, the right man so quickly is something I don’t want to inquire into.”
“I appreciate Mac’s efforts, I appreciate Alec’s efforts—but mostly I appreciate my darling, always dependable, utterly wonderful Jake.” (Is that too thick, Eunice?) (Boss, I keep telling you: it’s impossible for a woman to lay it on too thick with a man. If you tell a man he’s eight feet tall and say it often enough, with your eyes wide and a throb in your voice, he’ll start stooping to go through seven-foot doors.)
Jake looked pleased, so Joan went on: “I suppose it will all be settled soon, then?”
“Little one, don’t you ever listen to the news?”
“Not if I can avoid it.”
“Well, you should. It is over. You’ve won, finally and completely.”
“Really? I never doubted that we would win, Jake, the wonderful way you’ve handled everything. My surprise is solely that it has happened so fast. Yes, I suppose I should follow the news. But I haven’t been able to, these last few days. Had this difficult job to do—Joe, I mean—and while you were away seemed the best time. . . so I gritted my teeth and tackled it.”