Which is to say that they had their honeymoon before the wedding.
“It’s not really that bad,” Vince explained. “After all, we don’t really know each other. This way we have a chance to know each other. By the time the two days are up, we will be prepared for marriage. It’s a lucky break, this waiting period.”
“Sure,” Anita said. “Except I’m in a rush to be married. I hate this waiting.”
“You hate this?”
“Not that.”
“And this?”
“Well, not that.”
“How about... this?”
“Vince—”
“Well, do you?”
“Vince,” she whispered throatily. “Vince, you shouldn’t do that. It gets me all excited. It gets me so excited I can’t stand it. It makes me want you to make love to me.”
“Good,” Vince said. “I was beginning to think along those lines myself.”
They were married, finally, after two heavenly but interminable days had come and gone. They were married in a minister’s study, with Vince wearing a once-pressed suit and with Anita wearing a black dress. It was, all things considered, a somewhat bizarre ceremony. Vince was shaking throughout it, wondering what, in addition to Anita, he was getting into. But it went more or less according to plan, and then they were married, and away they went, back to the hotel and to bed.
And to bed. And to bed. And to bed. And to bed.
The night lasted a long time. So, for that matter, did the morning. Then, suddenly, it was noon, and time to leave the hotel, and face the world. They showered, dressed, packed, and left.
“We have to see my parents,” Vince said, remembering that he had some and that they had something of a right to know of his new station in life. “They live in Modnoc. I think I told you about them.”
“You did.”
“We have to see them,” Vince repeated. “Tell them we’re married. Get their blessing. That sort of thing.”
“They won’t like me,” Anita said.
“Of course they will. They’ll love you. You’re young and sweet and beautiful.”
“I’m older than you.”
“So what?”
“They’ll think I’m an old lady corrupting an innocent youth. Actually, of course, it’s the other way around. You corrupted me. Nobody on earth could corrupt you. You’re as corrupt as can be.”
“And,” Vince reminded her, “you like it that way.”
“Love it,” said Anita. “But your parents will hate me.”
They didn’t. Vince cleverly managed to see his father first. He and Anita walked into the office while his father was working. And his father was his usual self.
“Vince,” he said. “Vince. My boy. You’re back already. Good to see you, Vince. Did you take the world by storm? Carve your name on the face of the nation? Eh, boy? What stories of success have you brought back to your old Dad?”
“Dad,” Vince said, “this is Anita.”
Eyes glanced briefly at Anita, took her in. Teeth flashed briefly in a smile. Then the eyes flashed back to Vince. “That’s nice,” he said. “Nice girl. Always glad to meet one of your girlfriends, Vince. But let’s get back to you. How have you been doing, my boy? Making your way in the world? Getting ahead by bounds and leaps? Setting the world on fire?”
“Well,” said Vince.
“If it’s money,” Vince’s father said, “I understand. I’ll be glad to help out. World’s a tough place. How much do you need?”
“Dad,” Vince said, “Anita isn’t a girlfriend.”
Vince’s father looked a little stunned. He had more or less forgotten Anita, and now the conversation was back to her for some incomprehensible reason, and his son was telling him that she wasn’t a girlfriend. “Then what is she?”
“My wife,” Vince said.
“Your what?”
“My wife,” Vince said firmly.
“Your WHAT?”
Anita put a small tentative hand on the shaking shoulder of Vince’s father. “Steady,” she said. “You mustn’t let yourself get upset. Bad for the heart.”
Vince’s father relaxed. Somewhat.
“Vince and I were married,” Anita was saying now. “Two days ago in Baltimore. We fell in love and decided to get married. Now we are man and wife. For better or for worse. That sort of thing.”
“For worse,” Vince’s father said. “Obviously, for worse. Vince is only seventeen. You can’t get married at seventeen. It doesn’t make any sense.”
“We’re in love,” Vince said.
“Then sleep together,” his father suggested, taking a totally opposite stand from that of Anita’s mother. “Sleep together. On the front lawn, if you want. But don’t get married. For God’s sake, don’t get married.”
“We already did,” Anita said.
“In Baltimore,” Vince added.
“WHY?”
“Because we’re in love,” Anita said.
“Deeply in love,” Vince added.
“Oh,” said Vince’s father. Then: “But how in the name of heaven do you expect to keep body and soul together? You don’t know what it costs to support a wife, Vince. Takes a lot of money. And you were going to be a success, remember? Horatio Alger? That sort of thing? There’s an old saying, my boy. He who takes on wife and children gives hostages to fame and fortune.”
“Children?” Anita said. “Not for a while, I hope.”
“You never know,” Vince’s father said darkly. “They have a way of coming up when you least expect them.” And he looked at Vince with a reminiscent gleam in his eye.
“But,” he said suddenly, “let’s get back to money. Maybe it’ll work if you’re planning on having Anita get a job. Maybe the two of you can get to work together. Can you type, Anita? Take shorthand? Keep books?”
“I can’t do anything,” Anita said.
“Oh,” Vince’s father said. “Well, where there’s a will, there’s a way. Old saying. You can learn. You’re young. You—”
Vince felt called upon to explain. His father didn’t understand the basic nature of the situation. He had to fill his old man in. He meant well, his father did, but he was missing a few salient points.
“Dad,” he said slowly, “money is no problem.”
“Ah,” his father said, “it never is when you’re seventeen. But it becomes more of a problem as you grow older. You probably think you can live on love. All the old myths. Two can live as cheaply as one. Not true, young lovers. Two can live as cheaply as one if only one eats. Otherwise it doesn’t work out that way. Has a way of surprising you. Oh, I know I sound like a materialistic old fool. But money matters, Vince. Money makes a big difference. Why, I remember when your mother and I got married. Didn’t have a pot to cook in, as the old expression goes. We thought it would be easy. But—”
“Dad,” Vince broke in desperately, “Anita’s father has better than five million dollars.”
For perhaps the first time in his life, Vince’s father was at a loss for words. He stood there with his mouth hanging open. He looked as though someone had hit him over the head with a bankbook.
“Five million dollars,” Vince repeated reverently. “So money is no problem. Not for us. I mean—”
“Excuse me,” Vince’s father said, recovering slightly. He looked at Anita. “What did you say your name was?”
“It was Anita Merriweather. Now it’s—”
“I know what it is now,” Vince’s father said. “Merriweather. Not the iron-and-steel Merriweathers?”