know. It’s written all over him.”
Margie’s eyes fell. “I don’t want that kind of involvement. I’m afraid.”
“So is he,” she replied, and smiled at Margie’s incredulous expression. “It’s true. Della soured him. He’s made sure that his women friends are very sophisticated and freedom loving—and that their idea of commitment is a hotel room rented for one night,” she added wickedly.
“Which is about all he wants with me,” Margie said quietly.
“Are you very sure of that?” Victorine asked. “You might be surprised, my dear. Now hurry and dress. And don’t forget—shocking apparel!”
But as it was, Margie was out of shocking clothes, having left all her daring gowns back in Georgia. Instead, she followed her mood and chose a gauzy Victorian-style dress with a high collar and a lacy insert above the ruffled bodice, and a flaring skirt boasting a ruffle around the bottom. With it, she put on lace-up high heels that flattered her small feet. She piled her dark hair into a high coiffure and used the lightest touch of makeup. The rest was sheer elegance, an illusion of old-fashioned delicacy that suited her slender figure and matched her reserved mood.
She went downstairs alone, meeting Victorine and Jan at the bottom of the stairs.
“This is shocking?” the older woman asked, shifting to emphasize her deeply plunging, plum velvet gown as she glared at Margie’s outfit.
“It shows my ankles,” Margie explained, nodding toward them. “At the turn of the century, that was quite shocking.”
Victorine laughed delightedly. “So it was.”
Margie studied Jan, delightful in the silky pale yellow gown that clung to the soft lines of her figure.
“You look like a tea rose,” she told her younger sister.
“Doesn’t she, though?” Victorine agreed, surveying her. “Superb taste in clothes, my dear. It will matter, one of these days.”
Jan colored prettily and smiled. “I didn’t want to embarrass Andy by coming down in something flamboyant.”
“What’s this?” Andy asked, moving toward them in his elegant evening clothes. “Embarrass me? Like fun.”
Jan laughed delightedly, running to him. “Do I look all right?” she asked, wanting his approval.
“Good enough to eat,” he murmured, bending to brush a kiss across her forehead.
“Could you save that for the bedroom?” Cannon growled, joining them, his eyes intimidating as they met his brother’s. “I can’t walk through the house without finding you two in a clinch somewhere.”
“Don’t look, if it bothers you, brother dear,” Andy said with a sudden, uncharacteristic show of spirit. Then he smiled coolly. “And for your information, Jan and I aren’t sharing a bedroom. There’ll be plenty of time for that—after we marry.”
“Without my approval?” Cannon asked insolently.
Andy straightened, drawing Jan closer. “If we have to, yes. Take a look, Cal. I’m all grown up now. I’m not the high school kid who used to worship at the altar of your machismo. And whether you believe it or not, I’m quite capable of supporting Jan and myself.”
“Working at what, exactly?” Cannon asked.
Andy shifted. “At the mill, of course.”
“Think again,” Cannon replied, his eyes glittering with triumph. “If you marry without my consent, you’ll start from scratch and without a penny.”
“Cannon…!” Victorine began.
“The trust is set up so that I have full control over your purse strings until you attain the ripe old age of thirty,” Cannon added, ramming a hand in his pocket to draw out his cigarette case. “And there’s no question about my authority to hire and fire as I please. So don’t throw your weight around with me, boy. It will get you exactly nowhere.”
“If you’ll excuse us,” Andy said quietly to Victorine and Margie, “I think we’ll spend the evening in town.”
Jan looked close to tears, and Margie’s heart went out to her. Damn Cannon! As she was thinking it,
Margie’s eyes fell. “I don’t want that kind of involvement. I’m afraid.”
“So is he,” she replied, and smiled at Margie’s incredulous expression. “It’s true. Della soured him. He’s made sure that his women friends are very sophisticated and freedom loving—and that their idea of commitment is a hotel room rented for one night,” she added wickedly.
“Which is about all he wants with me,” Margie said quietly.
“Are you very sure of that?” Victorine asked. “You might be surprised, my dear. Now hurry and dress. And don’t forget—shocking apparel!”
But as it was, Margie was out of shocking clothes, having left all her daring gowns back in Georgia. Instead, she followed her mood and chose a gauzy Victorian-style dress with a high collar and a lacy insert above the ruffled bodice, and a flaring skirt boasting a ruffle around the bottom. With it, she put on lace-up high heels that flattered her small feet. She piled her dark hair into a high coiffure and used the lightest touch of makeup. The rest was sheer elegance, an illusion of old-fashioned delicacy that suited her slender figure and matched her reserved mood.
She went downstairs alone, meeting Victorine and Jan at the bottom of the stairs.
“This is shocking?” the older woman asked, shifting to emphasize her deeply plunging, plum velvet gown as she glared at Margie’s outfit.
“It shows my ankles,” Margie explained, nodding toward them. “At the turn of the century, that was quite shocking.”
Victorine laughed delightedly. “So it was.”
Margie studied Jan, delightful in the silky pale yellow gown that clung to the soft lines of her figure.
“You look like a tea rose,” she told her younger sister.
“Doesn’t she, though?” Victorine agreed, surveying her. “Superb taste in clothes, my dear. It will matter, one of these days.”
Jan colored prettily and smiled. “I didn’t want to embarrass Andy by coming down in something flamboyant.”
“What’s this?” Andy asked, moving toward them in his elegant evening clothes. “Embarrass me? Like fun.”
Jan laughed delightedly, running to him. “Do I look all right?” she asked, wanting his approval.
“Good enough to eat,” he murmured, bending to brush a kiss across her forehead.
“Could you save that for the bedroom?” Cannon growled, joining them, his eyes intimidating as they met his brother’s. “I can’t walk through the house without finding you two in a clinch somewhere.”
“Don’t look, if it bothers you, brother dear,” Andy said with a sudden, uncharacteristic show of spirit. Then he smiled coolly. “And for your information, Jan and I aren’t sharing a bedroom. There’ll be plenty of time for that—after we marry.”
“Without my approval?” Cannon asked insolently.
Andy straightened, drawing Jan closer. “If we have to, yes. Take a look, Cal. I’m all grown up now. I’m not the high school kid who used to worship at the altar of your machismo. And whether you believe it or not, I’m quite capable of supporting Jan and myself.”
“Working at what, exactly?” Cannon asked.
Andy shifted. “At the mill, of course.”
“Think again,” Cannon replied, his eyes glittering with triumph. “If you marry without my consent, you’ll start from scratch and without a penny.”
“Cannon…!” Victorine began.
“The trust is set up so that I have full control over your purse strings until you attain the ripe old age of thirty,” Cannon added, ramming a hand in his pocket to draw out his cigarette case. “And there’s no question about my authority to hire and fire as I please. So don’t throw your weight around with me, boy. It will get you exactly nowhere.”
“If you’ll excuse us,” Andy said quietly to Victorine and Margie, “I think we’ll spend the evening in town.”
Jan looked close to tears, and Margie’s heart went out to her. Damn Cannon! As she was thinking it,
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