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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 [link widoczny dla zalogowanych], 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 [link widoczny dla zalogowanych], 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 commercials, he would have been the perfect spokesman. Dressed conservatively [link widoczny dla zalogowanych], with an air of solid, old-fashioned authority about him [link widoczny dla zalogowanych], he looked like a person one could trust.
"Sit down [link widoczny dla zalogowanych], 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 [link widoczny dla zalogowanych], satisfied. Stanhope and Sons was one of the most important investment houses in the financial community, 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 [link widoczny dla zalogowanych], there's going to be a nice promotion for you, along with a substantial raise."
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"Oh, thank you! That's wonderful." She knew she had earned it [link widoczny dla zalogowanych], 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.
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 [link widoczny dla zalogowanych], they'll think I'm extravagant. On the other hand [link widoczny dla zalogowanych], if l dress in one of my sale things from Post Horn, they'll think their son is marrying beneath him. Oh, hell [link widoczny dla zalogowanych], they're going to think that anyway [link widoczny dla zalogowanych], 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.
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! [link widoczny dla zalogowanych]! should have worn the Yves Saint Laurent. As she turned into the library [link widoczny dla zalogowanych], she felt a run start at the ankle of her pantyhose [link widoczny dla zalogowanych], and she was face-to-face with Charles's parents.

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