“Kerrie! What’s up?”
“Darn it,” said Kerrie. “Where are those new nighties?”
“In the bottom drawer. What are you packing for? Where are you going?”
“Away,” said Kerrie, as if it were unimportant. She did not look at Vi. “This is a heck of a trousseau I’m getting together.”
“Trousseau? Kerrie, are you gaga?”
“I’m going to marry Ellery Queen.” From an irresistible compulsion Kerrie said it lightly.
She heard Vi’s gasp and the creak of the box-spring as her friend sank onto the bed.
“Marry? Him?”
“What’s the matter with him?” laughed Kerrie. “He’s the most fascinating thing in pants I’ve ever met, and I’ve decided to grab him before he changes his mind.”
Vi did not laugh, however. “But, Kerrie— When?”
“Now. Tonight.” Despite her best effort, a note of defiance crept into Kerrie’s voice.
There was the most peculiar expression on Vi’s face. But then she jumped up and hugged Kerrie. “All the luck, hon. You’ve got more guts than I’d have.”
Kerrie clung. “Oh, Vi, I know what this means to you. Back to the old grind—”
“Easy come, easy go,” said Vi gaily. “Don’t fret yourself about me. It’s twelve o’clock, and the coach turns into a pumpkin, and the glad rags become just rags... Well, I had a few weeks in a fairy tale, anyway.” She pressed Kerrie to her bosom convulsively. “Kerrie, you’re sure?”
“What do you mean?” But Kerrie knew exactly what Vi meant. And because she herself had had similar suspicions, she felt herself go hard inside and slipped from Vi’s embrace to resume her packing.
“And how about Sister Rat?” asked Vi dryly, after a long time.
“Who? Oh! I don’t know. What’s more, I don’t care.”
Vi looked at Kerrie; then she laughed. “So little Kerrie’s been snagged by the tough lad who looks like Robert Taylor... Quite a triumph. Epic, they’d call it in the movies. Giving up the old boodle for lo-o-ove. He must feel pretty snazzy, that man!”
“Vi. That’s hateful,” said Kerrie in a low voice.
Vi sat down on the bed again. “I’m sorry, Kerrie; I guess the shock... Tell me just how it happened. It’s really too thrilling for words.”
Kerrie looked her friend straight in the eye. Vi looked away. “Not so long ago, Vi, you were begging me to give all this up, to run away. And now, when I’ve decided to take your advice, you don’t seem... well, pleased. Why?”
“I’m not pleased? But, Kerrie dear, aren’t you a little mixed up? You’re the one who has to be pleased, not I. Are you?”
“Very much!” Kerrie tossed her head.
“Then that’s all that matters,” laughed Vi. “Now are you going to stop being silly and tell me everything?”
Yes, Vi was acting peculiarly. Of course, it was natural for her to be — surprised... yes, and disappointed, too, over the prospect of Kerrie’s marriage. It meant Vi’s brief day of bliss was over and that she would have to go back to the old, mean, scraping life. And then for some time Kerrie had had the queerest feeling that Vi had come to distrust him. Oh, Vi liked him, all right; Kerrie was woman enough to be sure of that fundamental fact... And, too, Kerrie’s marriage meant the separation of the two friends. That much could be remedied!
“Of course, you’ll take pot luck with us,” said Kerrie quickly. “I couldn’t think... We won’t have much, because Ellery’s not well off, and it will probably mean a small apartment in the city. But we’ll manage beautifully, Vi—”
“Thanks, Kerrie,” said Vi. “But I’ve been a millstone round your neck long enough.”
Kerrie dropped an armful of stockings and ran to the bed. “Vi! You’re crying!”
“I’m doing no such thing,” said Vi, springing up. “I’m going right back to Hollywood, where men are rats and all the rats are casting directors, and with the publicity I’ve had through this little racket of ours I’ll get steady work — maybe. Well, I will!”
“Oh, Vi!” And it was Kerrie’s turn to sniffle.
“Stop it,” said Vi. She picked Kerrie up and deposited her on the bed. “Now you lie there while I finish packing for you. I’ll see you through the execution, anyway, and then—”
They finished packing together, in silence.
Pink and blue — that was how Kerrie had always visualized her wedding. She would wear a pale pink satin gown with a short train and a swathing veil of pink tulle. The gown would be princess-lined, with leg-o’-mutton sleeves and a high neckline edged with a narrow pleated ruffle, and the gown would button down the back — one long row of twinkly little buttons from her neck to her waist. Pink satin slippers, long pale pink kid gloves, a wedding bouquet of pink camellias and baby’s-breath...
There she would stand, a creation in pink among bridesmaids in baby blue, who would be wearing doll hats and little muffs made out of fresh flowers. Of course Vi, as maid-of-honor, would be in powder blue...
That’s the way it had always been, a vision of the future. But what was the actuality? Kerrie had hurriedly put on a simple two-piece tailored dress of navy-blue net, with a touch of white at the throat, and a navy-blue hat, white gloves, and navy patent leather shoes and bag. It was all right, but... And Vi. Vi had climbed into a white tailored sharkskin suit over a pink sweater.
And even aside from the clothes — just the three of them. That masterful individual who either scowled or grinned had insisted upon secrecy.
“When the papers get hold of this,” he had said, “you’ll be hounded to death. It’s a big story.”
“But, darling,” Kerrie wailed, “something — anything — a few friends. A woman only gets married once! I mean—”
“So you see what you’re getting,” said Vi. “A woman only gets married once! Didn’t you ever hear of Reno?”
“Lay off my wife,” said Beau. “Heiress Gives Up Fortune for Love! They’ll play it up bigger than the bundling party at Munich. If you want to enjoy your honeymoon, funny-face, you’ve-got to outsmart the press.”
“But how, darling?”
“Leave it to your uncle Dudley.” And he had telephoned a Justice of the Peace he said he knew in Connecticut, upon whose discretion he could rely, and had sworn Margo and De Carlos and the servants to a twenty-four hour conspiracy of silence, and had refused to tell even Kerrie where he was going to take her on their honeymoon.
And Margo — Margo was something of a surprise.
“You mean you’re actually giving up Uncle’s money?” she asked when she heard the news.
“Yes.”
“But why?”
“We happen to be in love,” said Kerrie shortly.
“Oh, I see.” And Margo smiled slightly at the stiff face of the groom-to-be. “Well, I hope you’ll be very happy.”
“Thank you.”
It was baffling. Margo acted almost relieved. Of course, as soon as Kerrie married, Margo’s weekly income would be doubled. But Kerrie had been positive Margo was in love with “Ellery” — as much in love as a woman of that sort could be. Wasn’t there a conflict? Or had Kerrie been altogether mistaken about Margo — in everything?
“You’re being married immediately?” murmured Margo.
“We’re leaving in ten minutes,” said Beau abruptly. “We’ll be married before the night’s over.”
“How romantic!” said Margo; and then she said politely: “Is there anything I can do, Kerrie?”