Child Wife

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It was his flavor of insolence, of an amused and total inspection of her, that made Grace feel uneasy. He was big and fair, with the squared jaw and beginning softness of the ex-athlete. His grin, she decided, was meant to be charming, but there was a blank glassiness about his eyes that made it quite horrid. They were on the restaurant terrace overlooking the public beach, aswarm with Sunday families.

Frank Haas said, “You guess what Norton Pomeroy would marry as a second wife, and you come up with the traditional picture, the ball of fluff with the dumb blue eyes. You are obvious class, Mrs. Pomeroy.”

She reached and picked her purse up, pushed her chair back. “I guess this was a mistake,” she said. “On the phone you made it sound mysterious and important. Good day, Mr. Haas.”

When she was halfway up he put his hand on her shoulder and forced her back down again, firmly. “I’ve worked for the great man five years, Grace. It’s time we met. He’s out of town till Wednesday. Let’s talk about where you’ll be when the roof falls in.”

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