They were in for a big disappointment. Peggy was dull and graceless, she had no personality, and she dressed badly. Dowdy was the word that came to people’s minds.
Woody’s friends were baffled. “What on earth does he see in her? He could have married anyone.”
One of the first invitations was from Mimi Carson. She had been devastated by the news of Woody’s marriage, but she was too proud to reveal it.
When her closest friend had tried to console her by saying, “Forget it, Mimi! You’ll get over him,” Mimi had replied, “I’ll live with it, but I’ll never get over him.”
Woody tried hard to make a success of the marriage. He knew he had made a mistake, and he did not want to punish Peggy for it. He tried desperately to be a good husband. The problem was that Peggy had nothing in common with him or with any of his friends.
The only person Peggy seemed comfortable with was her brother, and she and Hoop spoke on the telephone every day.
“I miss him,” Peggy complained to Woody.
“Would you like to have him come down and stay with us for a few days?”
“He can’t.” And she looked at her husband and said spitefully, “He’s got a job.”
At parties, Woody attempted to bring Peggy into the conversations, but it was quickly apparent that she had nothing to contribute. She sat in corners, tongue-tied, nervously licking her lips, obviously uncomfortable.
Woody’s friends were aware that even though he was staying at the Stanford villa, he was estranged from his father and that he was living off the small annuity that his mother had left him. His passion was polo and he rode the ponies owned by friends. In the world of polo, players are ranked by goals, with ten goals being the best. Woody was nine goals, and he had ridden with Mariano Aguerre from Buenos Aires, Wicky el Effendi from Texas, Andres Diniz from Brazil, and dozens of other top goals. There were only about twelve ten-goal players in the world, and Woody’s driving ambition was to join the group.
“You know why, don’t you?” one of his friends remarked. “His father was ten goals.”
Because Mimi Carson knew that Woody could not afford to buy his own polo ponies, she purchased a string for him to ride. When friends asked why, she said, “I want to make him happy in any way I can.”
When newcomers asked what Woody did for a living, people just shrugged. In reality, he was living a secondhand life, making money playing skins at golf, betting on polo matches, borrowing other people’s polo ponies and racing yachts, and on occasion, other people’s wives.
The marriage with Peggy was deteriorating rapidly, but Woody refused to admit it.
“Peggy,” he would say, “when we go to parties, please try to join in the conversation.”
“Why should I? Your friends all think they’re too good for me.”
“Well, they’re not,” Woody assured her.
Once a week, the Hobe Sound Literary Circle met at the country club for a discussion of the latest books, followed by a luncheon.
On this particular day, as the ladies were dining, the steward approached Mrs. Pelletier. “Mrs. Woodrow Stanford is outside. She would like to join you.”
A hush fell over the table.
“Show her in,” Mrs. Pelletier said.
A moment later, Peggy walked into the dining room. She had washed her hair and pressed her best dress. She stood there, nervously looking at the group.
Mrs. Pelletier gave her a nod, then said pleasantly, “Mrs. Stanford.”
Peggy smiled eagerly, “Yes, ma’am.”
“We won’t need you. We already have a waitress.” And Mrs. Pelletier turned back to her lunch.
When Woody heard the story, he was furious. “How dare she do that to you!” He took her in his arms. “Next time, ask me before you do a thing like that, Peggy. You have to be invited to that luncheon.”
“I didn’t know,” she said sullenly.
“It’s all right. Tonight we’re having dinner at the Blakes’, and I want—”
“I won’t go!”
“But we’ve accepted their invitation.”
“You go.”
“I don’t want to go without…”
“I’m not going.”