Roger Grayson: A Neighborhood Party

"Oh dear," she muttered in sudden apology, "Bob's due home in ten minutes and I haven't even started lunch yet! You'll just have to excuse me, Jean, I don't know where the time has gone."

"You're lucky to have someone who cares enough to come home for lunch. I hope it lasts many more happy years," she suddenly reverted back to the sadness that had occurred earlier. "I'll drink up and be on my way."

"Oh Jean," Carol smiled at her warmly, "I'm just so sorry. I was enjoying our conversation so much I just lost complete track of the morning. We'll have to do this again soon."

"Yes, dear, we will." Jean smiled in understanding as she rose to leave. The alcohol was having an appreciable effect on her walking and Carol found herself reaching out automatically to steady her as she held the door for her to pass. She wanted to offer to walk her home but knew that Jean would take offense.

"Thank you so much for coming over," she said instead. "I'm glad we've had the chance to get to know each other."

"I am too, Carol," Jean said turning slowly back toward her. "And remember what I told you earlier about that bastard next door. I still mean it."

Carol didn't reply and watched a shadowed wrinkle cross over Jean's brow as though she were almost going to cry. Then, turning slowly back toward the steps, she made her way dejectedly to the street. Carol closed the door softly behind her, a sudden sense of strange foreboding crossing over her mind. What on earth had that man next door done to her to make her so bitter and angry with the world? Well, she shrugged her shoulders quizzically, whatever it was there was nothing she could do about it and the last thing in the world she wanted to become involved in right off the bat was a neighborhood feud. That was the surest way she could think of to make one's self unwelcome fast and it certainly wouldn't ingratiate her with her husband. He needed all the social help he could get with his new job and she intended to do all in her power to see that he got it.

Bob finished tying his tie and poured himself another martini from the pitcher he had prepared earlier. He had measured it out carefully to make certain that there were only two, remembering faithfully old Jordan's words about two being the absolute limit for a banker before dinner.

"Dims the mind, son," he had warned, "and a banker needs his brain working all the time. Never know when a deal is going to come up at one of these parties and you've got to be prepared to assess it on a moment's notice. At least the basics of it. Clients don't keep their faith in bankers that can't give 'em a snap judgment on something they should know about. Remember that, Bob, and you'll be taking over for me one of these days."

He knew he would have to have a couple more with the Burns before they started eating but tonight was kind of a special occasion and it might calm his nerves a bit. It wasn't every day that an important man like Burns walked into the President's office and told him outright that he had been impressed with his new neighbor and wanted to shift all of his investment account to their bank to be handled personally by him. He had left a message with Mr. Jordan that he and his wife were invited to dinner tonight to have a preliminary discussion about the mechanics of the change and also to get to know the man who would be handling all his money a little better. It was going to be an important night for his future and Bob knew it. He also had to make up for that abrupt meeting with Burns yesterday. He had no idea that he had that much money and could be so important in the community. He seemed to be a crude loudmouth type that Bob could not stand.

Well, he had put up with all types and kept them happy for the last five years with the bank so this one should be no problem. He hadn't really given him a chance yesterday anyway so he might not be too bad. At any rate, he thought dryly, he had no choice. He would just have to put up with whatever came his way. That was part of being a success in business and he couldn't afford not to succeed now. Particularly with the debts they had run up in buying this place. He would be in hock to his own bank for the rest of his life. They had sounded as though they were giving it to them when Jordan had first spoken about it but he should have known that banks never give anything away.

He was sorry that Carol had made plans earlier to go to her mother's for several days. She would have been quite an asset in dealing with both of them. Now he would have to carry the conversation with two of them which put him at a definite disadvantage. He had tried to talk her out of going but she gave him one excuse or another each time he brought the subject up. This was not like her and she had even seemed upset when he had come home with the good news about the new account. In fact, he couldn't remember seeing her this concerned about anything in a long time. True, they had both agreed they wouldn't get involved with any of their neighbors socially until they had a chance to make a judgment on whether or not they would like them for long-term friends but this was different. He had tried to explain that it was just part of his job and that once the account was in his hands they wouldn't be obligated to the Burns but she had sensed that wasn't true. Burns could still change his account back to his old bank anytime he wanted to and if he did that old man Jordan might lose the faith he had built up in his young protйgй. He knew only too well that with this loss of faith would go all the things he had built up up during the last five years. He had explained it to her thoroughly on the way to the airport just a short while ago.

In fact, they had had quite an argument. He had said a few things that he was sorry about now such as his comment on her shorts again and about how she didn't seem at all interested in helping him succeed. First, wearing those things around the yard would make the neighbors think she was a low-class slut of some kind and now she wouldn't even delay her trip for one day so that he could impress the Burns. She bad for some unknown reason burst into tears when he had chastised her so much and he had been forced to change his tone a bit to soothe her before they reached the terminal building. She left a bit happier after he had done this but it still didn't justify anything in his own mind. She was letting him down and that was that. She may have had many reasons such as the strain of moving or whatever, but still, he was going through the same thing and he was willing to push himself beyond the way he felt.

Why wouldn't she? He just didn't understand. Well, when she got back they could talk about it and patch things up.

Bob took the last gulp from his almost empty martini glass and headed for the Burns'. In spite of his little spat with Carol this afternoon he still felt on top of the world. He was going to get that account and prove himself to Jordan if it was the last thing he did. That should show Carol he could do it even without her help. Damn women, anyway!

Carol laid her head back against the seat and listened to the swift rush of air outside against the smooth metallic skin of the jet that was sweeping her home toward Chicago. It had been almost two hours since they had left the airport in Los Angeles and she was just beginning to recover her composure from the fight she had had with Bob. She just hadn't believed it when he had come home shortly after Jean had left and told her with all his boyish enthusiasm about the visit Mr. Jordan had received from Harry Burns that morning.

God, the nerve of that man!

She had found herself almost blurting out, without thinking, all the things that her early morning visitor had told her about Burns but Bob had kept cutting her off with his speculations on what this would do for his career with the bank and how impressed his boss had been with the sudden results he was getting in his new position.