“That’s my uncle,” Anita said. “Dad is the brokerage Merriweathers.”
Vince’s father sat down. Heavily. “Five million dollars,” he said softly. “Five million dollars. Vince, my boy, I don’t know how you do it. You know, I had my doubts when you set out to conquer the world. Didn’t want to voice them, but I’ll admit now that I had my doubts. Couldn’t figure out how you’d make a lot of money. Oh, I know you’ve got the brains for it. No question about that. But the way the tax set-up goes these days, I didn’t think you could come out ahead of the game. Hell, a man can’t get rich by earning money these days. But you found the answer, you genius. You did it, you hero. There’s only one way to get money, and that’s to marry it, and that’s just what you did.”
“Not for money,” Vince said.
“For love,” Anita explained.
“We’re in love,” Vince said.
“Deeply in love,” Anita said.
“Forever and ever,” Vince said.
“Amen,” Vince’s father said. “Amen and amen. Well, I guess money’s no problem, after all. How about that?” Vince and Anita smiled.
“Vince,” his father said, “you’re mother doesn’t know yet, does she? I mean, you haven’t told her about the wedding, have you?”
“Not yet. We wanted to tell you first.”
“Good idea. Fine idea. Well, I think you ought to let me break it to her. Sort of let her in on it a little at a time. You know how mothers are. But I’m sure she’ll like Anita. Of course she will. Wonderful girl, Anita.”
Vince and Anita beamed.
“She’ll probably cry,” Vince’s father said thoughtfully.
She did.
But tears have a way of stopping. Vince’s mother, being a woman all the way, was considerably less impressed by five million dollars than was Vince’s father. She thought the money was nice, of course, and of course she wasn’t going to hold it against Anita, but that wasn’t the turning point. Neither, as it happened, was Vince’s father’s firm assurance that they had not lost a son but had gained a daughter. This turned out to be about as reassuring as it was original. The big thing was not what was said but Anita herself.
Vince’s mother talked to Anita, and Vince’s mother looked at Anita, and before long Vince’s mother decided that Anita happened to be just what Vince needed. Since Vince and Anita had already agreed on this point, there was no conflict there. Before long Vince’s mother was writing out little file cards with Vince’s favorite recipes on them, and otherwise preparing Anita for what was obviously the most important role in life, that of Vince’s wife. Anita cared about as much for cooking as she cared for crocheting lace doilies, but she wisely kept quiet. Everybody approved of everybody. The parents thought Anita was a darling girl, and Anita thought the parents were darling parents, and life was suddenly very much worth living.
They stayed in Modnoc for two weeks. They stayed in Vince’s room, and that made Vince understand that they were very definitely married and that it was very definitely right for them to be married. He had slept with many women in his young life, but this was the first time he had ever slept with a woman in his own room in his own house. He thought it would feel wrong, but it didn’t, and when things really got going he barely knew where he was, so everything was all right.
And then, at last, it was time to leave Modnoc. It was time to go back to Boston, to meet Anita’s father, who somehow had been left out of the picture. Vince wasn’t especially looking forward to the meeting. From one standpoint, Mr. Merriweather was the great benefactor, the man with the five million dollars, the great white father who would see to it that Vince never had to work for the rest of his life. That was one way of looking at it, but it was not necessarily the right way.
The other side of the coin had Mr. Merriweather playing the role of indignant papa, prepared to disown his willful daughter and to cast his new son-in-law out into the street, penniless. This was a far less attractive picture. From what Anita had said of her father, old man Merriweather was a twentieth-century improvement on the concept of the self-made man. He hadn’t exactly dragged himself up out of the gutter. But he had taken the three hundred thousand dollars his father had left him and turned it into five million. Which, all things considered, was no mean accomplishment. Even if you’re born with a silver spoon in your mouth, it’s a neat trick turning it into a platinum one.
And what self-made man was going to look with favor upon a penniless son-in-law with the hand out? Not Mr. Merriweather. Not in a million years.
Actually, Vince didn’t find either prospect particularly attractive. He wasn’t too keen on being disinherited, for obvious reasons. But at the same time he wasn’t too hot on the notion of living off Papa for the rest of his life. Somehow that took the kicks out of the game. It was sort of like settling down in Modnoc, except without a job. The same monotony, on a solid gold Cadillac level. The same lack of incentive and stimulation. It would be easier to bear, due to the presence of the most wonderful girl in the world, but he couldn’t help wondering how long it would take for even that to wear thin. If he didn’t work, and if everything got handed to him on a platinum platter, then he and Anita were going to have a rough time of it.
“Don’t you worry about a thing,” Anita would say. “Papa will be perfectly wonderful about the whole thing. There’s an answer, somewhere in the middle, maybe. We’ll find it.”
Vince pretended to be very optimistic about the whole thing, but he remained scared. And the scared feeling did not vanish when he met Mr. Merriweather. It grew.
Mr. Merriweather wasn’t the type of man with whom you felt instantly relaxed. He was the type of man who made you feel as though your tie was crooked. Even if you didn’t happen to be wearing a tie. He was big, and he was white-haired, and he stood at attention even when he was sitting down. He smelled of money and hard work simultaneously and Vince felt intimidated.
“Always figured Anita would do something like this,” he said. “Type of girl she is. High-spirited. Red-blooded. Sets her head and heart on something and doesn’t let go. Can’t fight her, whether I approve or not. Don’t know whether I approve or not. You good for anything, Vince? You got any ambitions? Any ideas? Or are you going to sponge off the old man and wait for him to die?”
Vince was struck dumb. He hoped he didn’t look stupid but was sure that he did. He felt stupid. That much was certain.
“Maybe you don’t want to be a playboy,” Mr. Merriweather said. “Maybe you want me to get you started in my business. Slip you into a junior executive slot at, say, twenty thousand a year. Move you up quickly, make a branch manager out of you or something. Wouldn’t have to do much of anything. Take a vacation whenever you felt like it, put in a couple hours a day at a desk the rest of the time. Give you a good position with enough money and enough respectability. That what you’re angling for?”
“No,” said a voice. Vince looked around. Then he realized that it was his voice.
“No?”
“No,” Vince said, more positively this time. “I don’t want any favors. Whatever I get I’m going to work for. It’s not my fault if your daughter happened to be blessed with a rich father. I didn’t have anything to do with that. Neither did she. Whatever Anita and I have, we’re going to have for ourselves. And we’re going to get it by ourselves. Without any handouts.”
Mr. Merriweather’s eyebrows went up. “You’re a good actor,” he said. “You almost make me believe that you’re sincere.”
“Almost?”
“Almost,” Anita’s father said. “But not entirely. Nobody throws money away. Self-respect is all well and good, but nobody turns down the sort of opportunity I just offered you. I’m afraid I don’t believe you, son.”