Leigh Greenwood - Family Merger

“I’ve come up against too many tough women across the board table to think that,” Ron said. “You’re clearly not interested in a career unless you consider taking care of other people’s children a career.”

“I think of it as a vocation.”

“I think of it as an avocation, something so important you’ll continue to be involved in it but not your main goal in life.”

That’s something else all men seemed to have in common, a certainty they knew what a woman was thinking. She didn’t know which male gene made them feel infallible, but she hoped medical science would soon find a way to eradicate it. It was time men realized they were no more talented or gifted than women, only bigger and often stronger. And the need for bigger and stronger had vanished centuries ago.

“What is my main goal?” She was curious to know what he thought.

“I don’t know. That’s why I asked you. Do you have anything against marriage, or do you just dislike men in general?”

He was clever enough to know he’d taken a wrong step. “I have nothing against marriage or men. I probably would have been married ten years ago if I’d found the right man.”

“Then you should be going out every night, leaving those girls to Ruby. She looks more than capable of handling any trouble.”

“Ruby is absolutely wonderful, but she likes to go to bed early.”

“Then hire one of your experts.”

“I do. I not only date, but I enjoy all the ordinary social activities normal for someone my age.”

“Like what? You avoid your family.”

“Not all the time.”

“And you stopped running and playing tennis because you couldn’t afford to take the time away from the girls. You stopped going to the opera or the symphony because the men you dated didn’t know enough to be able to discuss what they’d heard, and you don’t like professional football, basketball, soccer or hockey because they’re loud and too violent. I won’t even ask about stock car racing. I can’t see you with that crowd.”

“You make me sound like an unbearable snob.”

“No, you make yourself look like a woman who’s cut herself off from the rest of the world. You’re young, beautiful, wealthy, intelligent, good company and you have a sense of humor when you let yourself relax. You’ve got more going for you than ninety-nine out of a hundred women, so why aren’t you out there having the time of your life?”

“You’ve known me for less than two days. What do you think gives you the right to ask such a question?”

“Nothing gives me the right unless it’s that I’m interested in you. I even like you. I sure as hell know you’re sexy. I’m surprised you don’t have to station Ruby at the door to drive off dates so overcome by your body they forget themselves on the front porch.”

She had dated a lot of men, but never one who could segue so smoothly from fine arts to flattery to sexual attraction.

“I’ve never been attacked on the front porch or anywhere else.”

“What kind of men do you go out with? They can’t have an ounce of red blood in their bodies. Or do you give them an injection that renders them harmless for the next four hours.”

She smiled. “No. I interview them first. That’s why I don’t end up with the wrong kind of man.”

He looked at her as if she were crazy. “You interview them?”

“Yes.”

“And they submit to this?”

She began to feel uncomfortable. Some of the men had reacted very unpleasantly. They had been even more rude about her choice of questions, but she refused to give an inch. She wasn’t going to end up like her mother. “Not all of them, but enough.”

“Holy hell! I can hardly wait to know what you ask them.”

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