Roger Grayson: A Neighborhood Party

Bob had taken good care of arranging the transfer to the new house though. Mr. Jordan had absolutely insisted that they move to a more fashionable neighborhood as Bob would have important clients to entertain at home. She still remembered the excitement she had felt when Mr. Jordan had said at the dinner table, "Bob, my boy, you realize with this new position you're going to have to start living in the manner commensurate with the position of a banking executive."

Bob had answered something about his salary still not being enough to live on an even par with the wealthy customers whose accounts he would be handling and Mr. Jordan had assured him, "Don't you worry about that, my boy. The bank has decided to take care of a down payment for you and give you a housing and entertainment allowance that'll take care of that little problem."

Carol hadn't been able to believe it when Bob had proudly brought her to the new house the first time about a week ago. The bank had handled the transfer of title and even the furnishing. She had been just a little disappointed in the furnishing of it at first, but rationalized that they could do what they liked later on when they really got on their feet. If Bob's present success continued that wouldn't be too long. Anyway, they had done a more than acceptable job through a decorating firm that handled all their new buildings and she couldn't really complain except for the fact that she had no say in it. This, she realized, was just vanity on her part and not really important. She could do without it for awhile.

She was suddenly jerked from her reverie by the ringing of the doorbell. My God, she thought to herself as she tightened her robe around the softness of her body, that's the most awful rasping sound I've ever heard. That's one thing I'll have to change right away.

She walked down the long hallway from the bedroom and opened the front door. A smallish attractive woman she had never seen before was standing on the front steps.

"Hello there, I'm your new neighbor, Jean Talbot, from across the street and just wanted to drop by and welcome you to the neighborhood."

"Oh, how nice," Carol said, smiling sweetly in surprise. "Won't you come in and have some coffee?"

"Oh my dear, I don't want to disturb you, it looks as though you're just, getting dressed. I can come back later when you've finished."

"No, don't be silly. Do come in."

She blushed slightly when she looked down at her robe and realized that the woman must think she was certainly an irresponsible housewife still lounging around without her clothes on at ten o'clock in the morning. "Please come in and have some coffee with me. I've just finished cleaning the house," she added in self-justification, "and can slip something on real quick."

"Well, just for a little while then," the woman replied. "I don't want to upset your schedule. I know you must be pretty busy with all the problems of moving in and all."

"Oh, it's not too bad," Carol said, ushering her into the low modern living room. "My husband took care of most of the problems before we even changed houses. Please sit down and let me get the coffee. It'll just take a minute. It's all ready."

She went to the kitchen and hurriedly got out their new serving set from the cabinet, preparing a tray with two cups from the new Rosenthal china that the bank had been so kind as to include in furnishing the house. It seemed they had forgotten nothing and Carol felt almost as though she were taking over someone else's house complete. She thought for a moment of running into the bedroom and changing now but decided she had better get some coffee to her guest first. She was certain they were more conscious of their social etiquette here than they were in the lower middle-class neighborhood they had just moved from. She hoped she could cope with the sudden change and had to admit to herself that she was more worried about it than she would allow herself to believe.

"Here we are, Jean," she smiled graciously as she entered the living room and placed the tray on the table. "Would it be terribly impolite of me to excuse myself and get into my shorts quickly? I hate to play hostess with just a house-coat on."

"Oh, not at all. I can take care of myself. Besides, I'm enjoying this beautiful living room of yours. I must say, you've decorated it in the best of taste."

"Why thank you," Carol said, pinking slightly at the compliment. She didn't dare admit she had had it done for her. It would be just too degrading. A woman was supposed to take care of that part of a marriage and to admit to another woman that she hadn't was just unthinkable. "I'll be right back. There's everything here, cream, sugar, and the coffee."

She hurried to her bedroom and quickly changed into the work clothes she had worn yesterday when she and Bob had started on the yard work. She knew the shorts were just a bit too tight and reached too far up her thighs but they were her old favorites and this was one concession she refused to make to the change in neighborhoods, they were just too comfortable and too much of a habit to give up. Bob had even tried yesterday to make her throw them away when she had brought them out to wear but she had absolutely refused.

"You take me and you take these with me, Bob Benson," she had scolded and he had begrudgingly backed down. Sometimes lately, she had begun to think that perhaps he was too much of a prude. Good Lord, with the new enlightenment society was going through today they had much more to titillate their thoughts than her little pet pair of sorts. She knew he wound never understand this but somehow it had become a matter of principle with her-some kind of vague retention of her individuality that had crept through and refused to be destroyed along with the other girlish parts of herself that she knew she must sacrifice with this move into the upper classes. Well, she vowed, she would never give these up. She gave one quick swipe to her hair with the brush and headed back for the living room.

"There, I told you, just took a second."

"Well, yes, I can see why," her guest answered with a good-natured twinkle in her eye. "I didn't mean anything derogatory by that, Carol, I assure you. But you must admit the outfit is a bit skimpy."

"Yes," she smiled back after a moment when she realized Jean was kidding, "But I like them and they're the most comfortable thing I own."

"Well just don't let the lecher next door see you in them. He'll he over before you can count to three."

"Y-you mean, Mr. Burns?" Carol raised her eyes in innocent surprise as she poured herself some coffee.

"Yes, I do dear. He's better known as "Stud Burns" by the housewives in this neighborhood." She said with a slight trace of contempt in her voice.

"Why you must be joking, Jean!" Carol laughed. "He's old enough to be my father."

"He might be old enough to be your father, my dear," Jean smiled knowingly, "but I wouldn't even trust him with his own daughter."

"I've never heard anything like it. I've only seen him once out the window since we've been here and he looks absolutely repulsive."

"Oh, that he is," her guest admitted. "But he certainly gives it that old college try."

"D-Does he ever succeed?" Carol asked, a tone of amusement in her voice..

"I think probably more often than not. You'll see him sneaking around the neighborhood just after lunch and disappearing into one house or another before you've spent too many weeks here. You can always tell whether he succeeds by how long he stays."

"It seems you've made a habit of plotting out his little affairs," Carol said, a slight note of coolness in her voice. She didn't want to get involved with gossip on the block and thought the best thing she could do would be to cut off this conversation now before it got around to all the personalities of the neighborhood.