ss.iftomorrowcomes-第2部分

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　〃What？〃
　
　〃I'm　a　throwback。　I　don't　happen　to　think　money　is　the　end…all　and　be…all　of　life。　But　please　don't　ever　tell　my　father　I　said　so。〃
　
　There　was　such　a　charming　unpretentiousness　about　him　that　Tracy　found　herself　warming　to　him。　I　wonder　what　it　would　be　like　to　be　married　to　someone　tike　him…　one　of　the　establishment。
　
　It　had　taken　Tracy's　father　most　of　his　life　to　build　up　a　business　that　the　Stanhopes　would　have　sneered　at　as　insignificant。　The　Stanhopes　and　the　Whitneys　would　never　mix；　Tracy　thought。　Oil　and　water。　And　the　Stanhopes　are　the　oil。　And　what　am　I　going　on　about　like　an　idiot？　Talk　about　ego。　A　man　asks　me　out　to　dinner　and　I'm　deciding　whether　I　want　to　marry　him。　We'll　probably　never　even　see　each　other　again。
　
　Charles　was　saying；　〃I　hope　you're　free　for　dinner　tomorrow。。。？〃
　
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　Philadelphia　was　a　dazzling　cornucopia　of　things　to　see　and　do。　On　Saturday　nights　Tracy　and　Charles　went　to　the　ballet　or　watched　Riccardo　Muti　conduct　the　Philadelphia　Orchestra。　During　the　week　they　explored　NewMarket　and　the　unique　collection　of　shops　in　Society　Hill。　They　ate　cheese　steaks　at　a　sidewalk　table　at　Geno's　and　dined　at　the　Café　Royal；　one　of　the　most　exclusive　restaurants　in　Philadelphia。　They　shopped　at　Head　House　Square　and　wandered　through　the　Philadelphia　Museum　of　Art　and　the　Rodin　Museum。
　
　Tracy　paused　in　front　of　the　statue　of　The　Thinker。　She　glanced　at　Charles　and　grinned。　〃It's　you！〃
　
　Charles　was　not　interested　in　exercise；　but　Tracy　enjoyed　it；　so　on　Sunday　mornings　she　jogged　along　the　West　River　Drive　or　on　the　promenade　skirting　the　Schuylkill　River。　She　joined　a　Saturday　afternoon　t'ai　chi　ch'uan　class；　and　after　an　hour's　workout；　exhausted　but　exhilarated；　she　would　meet　Charles　at　his　apartment。　He　was　a　gourmet　cook；　and　he　liked　preparing　esoteric　dishes　such　as　Moroccan　bistilla　and　guo　bu　li；　the　dumplings　of　northern　China；　and　tahine　de　poulet　au　citron　for　Tracy　and　himself。
　
　Charles　was　the　most　punctilious　person　Tracy　had　ever　known。　She　had　once　been　fifteen　minutes　late　for　a　dinner　appointment　with　him；　and　his…　displeasure　had　spoiled　the　evening　for　her。　After　that；　she　had　vowed　to　be　on　time　for　him。
　
　Tracy　had　had　little　sexual　experience；　but　it　seemed　to　her　that　Charles　made　love　the　same　way　he　lived　his　life：　meticulously　and　very　properly。　Once；　Tracy　had　decided　to　be　daring　and　unconventional　in　bed；　and　had　so　shocked　Charles　that　she　began　secretly　to　wonder　if　she　were　some　kind　of　sex　maniac。
　
　The　pregnancy　had　been　unexpected；　and　when　it　happened；　Tracy　was　filled　with　uncertainty。　Charles　had　not　brought　up　the　subject　of　marriage；　and　she　did　not　want　him　to　feel　he　had　to　marry　her　because　of　the　baby。　She　was　not　certain　whether　she　could　go　through　with　an　abortion；　but　the　alternative　was　an　equally　painful　choice。　Could　she　raise　a　child　without　the　help　of　its　father；　and　would　it　be　fair　to　the　baby？
　
　She　decided　to　break　the　news　to　Charles　after　dinner　one　evening。　She　had　prepared　a　cassoulet　for　him　in　her　apartment；　and　in　her　nervousness　she　had　burned　it。　As　she　set　the　scorched　meat　and　beans　in　front　of　him；　she　forgot　her　carefully　rehearsed　speech　and　wildly　blurted　out；　〃I'm　so　sorry；　Charles。　I'm…　pregnant。〃
　
　There　was　an　unbearably　long　silence；　and　as　Tracy　was　about　to　break　it；　Charles　said；　〃We'll　get　married；　of　course。〃
　
　Tracy　was　filled　with　a　sense　of　enormous　relief。　〃I　don't　want　you　to　think　I…　You　don't　have　to　marry　me；　you　know。〃
　
　He　raised　a　hand　to　stop　her。　〃I　want　to　marry　you；　Tracy。　You'll　make　a　wonderful　wife。〃　He　added；　slowly；　〃Of　course；　my　mother　and　father　will　be　a　bit　surprised。〃　And　he　smiled　and　kissed　her。
　
　Tracy　quietly　asked；　〃Why　will　they　be　surprised？〃
　
　Charles　sighed。　〃Darling；　I'm　afraid　you　don't　quite　realize　what　you're　letting　yourself　in　for。　The　Stanhopes　always　marry…　mind　you；　I'm　using　quotation　marks…　'their　own　kind。'　Mainline　Philadelphia。〃
　
　〃And　they've　already　selected　your　wife；〃　Tracy　guessed。
　
　Charles　took　her　in　his　arms。　〃That　doesn't　matter　a　damn。　It's　whom　I've　selected　that　counts。　We'll　have　dinner　with　Mother　and　Father　next　Friday。　It's　time　you　met　them。〃
　
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　At　five　minutes　to　9：00　Tracy　became　aware　of　a　difference　in　the　noise　level　in　the　bank。　The　employees　were　beginning　to　speak　a　little　faster；　move　a　little　quicker。　The　bank　doors　would　open　in　five　minutes　and　everything　had　to　be　in　readiness。　Through　the　front　window；　Tracy　could　see　customers　lined　up　on　the　sidewalk　outside；　waiting　in　the　cold　rain。
　
　Tracy　watched　as　the　bank　guard　finished　distributing　fresh　blank　deposit　and　withdrawal　slips　into　the　metal　trays　on　the　six　tables　lined　up　along　the　center　aisle　of　the　bank。　Regular　customers　were　issued　deposit　slips　with　a　personal　magnetized　code　at　the　bottom　so　that　each　time　a　deposit　was　made；　the　puter　automatically　credited　it　to　the　proper　account。　But　often　customers　came　in　without　their　deposit　slips　and　would　fill　out　blank　ones。
　
　The　guard　glanced　up　at　the　clock　on　the　wall；　and　as　the　hour　hand　moved　to　9：00；　he　walked　over　to　the　door　and　ceremoniously　unlocked　it。
　
　The　banking　day　had　begun。
　
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　For　the　next　few　hours　Tracy　was　too　busy　at　the　puter　to　think　about　anything　else。　Every　wire　transfer　had　to　be　double…checked　to　make　sure　it　had　the　correct　code。　When　an　account　was　to　be　debited；　she　entered　the　account　number；　the　amount；　and　the　bank　to　which　the　money　was　to　be　transferred。　Each　bank　had　its　own　code　number；　the　numbers　listed　in　a　confidential　directory　that　contained　the　codes　for　every　major　bank　in　the　world。
　
　The　morning　flew　by　swiftly。　Tracy　was　planning　to　use　her　lunchtime　to　have　her　hair　done　and　had　made　an　appointment　with　Larry　Stella　Botte。　He　was　expensive；　but　it　would　be　worth　it；　for　she　wanted　Charles's　parents　to　see　her　at　her　best。　I've　got　to　make　them　like　me。　I　don't　care　whom　they　chose　for　him；　Tracy　thought。　No　one　can　make　Charles　as　happy　as　I　will。
　
　At　1：00；　as　Tracy　was　getting　into　her　raincoat；　Clarence　Desmond　summoned　her　to　his　office。　Desmond　was　the　image　of　an　important　executive。　If　the　bank　had　used　television　mercials；　he　would　have　been　the　perfect　spokesman。　Dressed　conservatively；　with　an　air　of　solid；　old…fashioned　authority　about　him；　he　looked　like　a　person　one　could　trust。
　
　〃Sit　down；　Tracy；〃　he　said。　He　prided　himself　on　knowing　every　employee's　first　name。　〃Nasty　outside；　isn't　it？〃
　
　〃Yes。〃
　
　〃Ah；　well。　People　still　have　to　do　their　banking。〃　Desmond　had　used　up　his　small　talk。　He　leaned　across　his　desk。　〃I　understand　that　you　and　Charles　Stanhope　are　engaged　to　be　married。〃
　
　Tracy　was　surprised。　〃We　haven't　even　announced　it　yet。　How…？〃
　
　Desmond　smiled。　〃Anything　the　Stanhopes　do　is　news。　I'm　very　happy　for　you。　I　assume　you'll　be　returning　here　to　work　with　us。　After　the　honeymoon；　of　course。　We　wouldn't　want　to　lose　you。　You're　one　of　our　most　valuable　employees。〃
　
　〃Charles　and　I　talked　it　over；　and　we　agreed　I'd　be　happier　if　I　worked。〃
　
　Desmond　smiled；　satisfied。　Stanhope　and　Sons　was　one　of　the　most　important　investment　houses　in　the　financial　munity；　and　it　would　be　a　nice　plum　if　he　could　get　their　exclusive　account　for　his　branch。　He　leaned　back　in　his　chair。　〃When　you　return　from　your　honeymoon；　Tracy；　there's　going　to　be　a　nice　promotion　for　you；　along　with　a　substantial　raise。〃
　
　〃Oh；　thank　you！　That's　wonderful。〃　She　knew　she　had　earned　it；　and　she　felt　a　thrill　of　pride。　She　could　hardly　wait　to　tell　Charles。　It　seemed　to　Tracy　that　the　gods　were　conspiring　to　do　everything　they　could　to　overwhelm　her　with　happiness。
　
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　The　Charles　Stanhope　Seniors　lived　in　an　impressive　old　mansion　in　Rittenhouse　Square。　It　was　a　city　landmark　that　Tracy　had　passed　often。　And　now；　she　thought；　it's　going　to　be　a　part　of　my　life。
　
　She　was　nervous。　Her　beautiful　hairdo　had　succumbed　to　the　dampness　in　the　air。　She　had　changed　dresses　four　times。　Should　she　dress　simply？　Formally？　She　had　one　Yves　Saint　Laurent　she　had　scrimped　to　buy　at　Wanamaker's。　If　I　wear　it；　they'll　think　I'm　extravagant。　On　the　other　hand；　if　l　dress　in　one　of　my　sale　things　from　Post　Horn；　they'll　think　their　son　is　marrying　beneath　him。　Oh；　hell；　they're　going　to　think　that　anyway；　Tracy　decided。　She　finally　settled　on　a　simple　gray　wool　skirt　and　a　white　silk　blouse　and　fastened　around　her　neck　the　slender　gold　chain　her　mother　had　sent　her　for　Christmas。
　
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　The　door　to　the　mansion　was　opened　by　a　liveried　butler。　〃Good　evening；　Miss　Whitney。〃　The　butler　knows　my　name。　Is　that　a　good　sign？　A　bad　sign？　〃May　I　take　your　coat？〃　She　was　dripping　on　their　expensive　Persian　rug。
　
　He　led　her　through　a　marble　hallway　that　seemed　twice　as　large　as　the　bank。　Tracy　thought；　panicky；　Oh；　my　God。　I'm　dressed　all　wrong！　！　should　have　worn　the　Yves　Saint　Laurent。　As　she　turned　into　the　library；　she　felt　a　run　start　at　the　ankle　of　her　pantyhose；　and　she　was　face…to…face　with　Charles's　parents。
　
　Charles　Stanhope；　Sr。；　was　a　stern…looking　man　in　his　middle　sixties。　He　looked　like　a　successful　man；　he　was　the　projection　of　what　his　son　would　be　like　in　thirty　years。　He　had　brown　eyes；　like　Charles's；　a　firm　chin；　a　fringe　of　white　hair；　and　Tracy　loved　him　instantly。　He　was　the　perfect　grandfather　for　their　child。
　
　Charles's　mother　was　impressive　looking。　She　was　rather　short　and　heavy…set；　but　despite　that；　there　was　a　regal　air　about　her。　She　looks　solid　and　dependable；　Tracy　thought。　She'll　make　a　wonderful　grandmother。
　
　Mrs。　Stanhope　held　out　her　hand。　〃My　dear；　so　good　of　you　to　join　us。　We've　asked　Charles　to　give　us　a　few　minutes　alone　with　you。　You　don't　mind？〃
　
　〃Of　course　she　doesn't　mind；〃　Charles's　father　declared。　〃Sit　down。。。　Tracy；　isn't　it？〃
　
　〃Yes；　sir。〃
　
　The　two　of　them　seated　themselves　on　a　couch　facing　her。　Why　do　I　feel　as　though　I'm　about　to　undergo　an　inquisition？　Tracy　could　hear　her　mother's　voice：　Baby；　God　will　never　throw　anything　at　you　that　you　can't　handle。　Just　tak