Chapter 13
Benjy broke the spell. "I wish you'd look. Old Hard Sell himself, with Martha on his arm. Girl, you've put it over." And having whispered, was gone.
"And I said-" continued the fishing craft man, but Judy didn't hear him.
She'd put the deal over? William John and Martha? But she'd hardly seen Martha since she'd bought the orchard. And how often had she seen William John?
They weren't making progress. Judy heard shouts of "Bill, Bill Jones-why, you old-" and "Come on, I want you to meet Bill."
Martha disappeared from view, being shorter than most, but William John's head was still visible. They'd never reach her at this rate, and she was stranded. She couldn't walk off from this account with a blithe wave of the hand.
"Any questions?" asked the account.
Judy dredged up one that had been bothering her. "Why craft instead of boat?"
"My dear child, consider the word 'boat.' Instantly the mind sees something broad in the beam, wide in the middle, wallowing on a wave. Ah, but craft-"
The "new girl" wandered past, looking lost. Judy reached for her. "Do meet our newest member and tell her how you out-lined your astonishing sales promotion-"
Whew. Had she remained another moment she'd have brought disgrace on Stayton.
There, Martha had ducked under someone's arm and, with William John securely stowed in her wake, greeted Judy.
"Wasn't he a doll?" she asked. "My wagon broke down."
Judy winced at the thought of a garage bill which could ground Martha either in town or at the orchard. Quickly William John brought forth a pacifier.
"Just the gas gauge," he said.
Credit's run out, groaned Judy inwardly.
"Oh, Benjy, Benjy Carr, I swear you look sixteen," cried Martha.
"As I'm two years older than you," Benjy tossed back, "you're too young for a cocktail party."
Stayton strode up. "Bill, I'm glad I persuaded you, I-"
But Martha whisked Judy away to be presented to women she'd been meeting regularly for years.
Over heads Stayton watched, and heard.
"You dear child," said Mrs. Sealy, "I recognized you by that dress." And Stayton writhed. Then his ears pricked and his morale rose. "Such a relief to find there are young professionals who don't feel they have to spend their all on the latest nightmare."
And she said. "Oh, this? I just let the seams out each year."
So Judy knew. That settled it. Marriage was a must. Meanwhile he'd sound "Bill" out on these fruit orchards the Hubbards had purchased.
Judy thought the evening would never end. Benjy appeared to escort her into the private dining room, but Stayton materialized at her elbow and walked her away. That was unfortunate. With William John, she was being seated at the speaker's table, but unless she leaned into soup, salad or entree, or tipped her chair back in unison with his, she couldn't see him.
She could see the baffled Benjy. What a precious lad. Lad? He was two years older than Martha.
"But," she reasoned, smiling with opaque eyes at some supposed witticism of the old bore on her right, "Benjy will be a lad when he's seventy." She wasn't cheered by the thought.
She wasn't cheered about anything. These events were something she endured. She was not cast to be the wife of a man like Benjy.
Then she looked at the wives of the executives as well as those of advertising men and conceded she was no different from the other women present. Each looked as though she'd rather be home, feet on an ottoman, snack tray at elbow, nibbling her way through a good television program.
William John was at her elbow the moment the last applause died. "We're driving up tonight. If you'd like to go along I could bring you back."
For a moment she was tempted, then saw herself sitting in the back seat listening to Martha and shook her head. "Such a short visit would be like offering a split cracker to a starving man. I'd rather wait for a full-course meal."
Benjy and Stayton started toward her, but Stayton was detained. "My car's ready," Benjy announced, said the proper things to William John and whisked Judy away.
"I am not asking," Benjy remarked, "but I can't help wondering what you and Bill have in common that calls for such serious conversation."
"Spray," murmured Judy dreamily. "My two acres. He has a copter coming in to spray his trees and wanted to know if he should send it over my little place."
"Hm. What did you say?"
"How much."
"How much spray?"
"No, how much would it cost. And then," she relaxed, "I wouldn't have to pay until the crop was in and paid for. Imagine, fruit isn't paid for as its delivered to canneries and warehouses. It comes in one lump sum. Oh, dear-" she broke off.
Martha with one lump sum in her hand would be formidable. She was capable of uprooting producing trees to sink a plush swimming pool.
Benjy admitted being a "bit tired," so he wouldn't stop for a chat. He wanted to catch flood tide next morning. He was taking out some squeamish old duffers. He was hoping for a smooth sea.
"Have to get that house paid for," he explained as he was leaving.
Judy spent a quiet Sunday, and then a quiet week. All of the copy she was asked to write met with her approval.
Stayton, looking in, found Judy bracing her forehead, elbow on her desk, just staring at something.
He checked his assignment sheet, noted she was working on Winter Clearance, Dubois Furniture, and decided it must be a headache. Judy wouldn't be in the market for furniture.
But Judy was, and Stanley Stayton would have been set back a bit had he seen the glossy that held her enthralled. It was a bed, just a single bed, yet with enough width to allow one to flip over without landing on the floor, as one did from a "defect" couch.
Dubois sold out that number, despite the fact Judy had sternly crossed out a ribald: "If you flip when you flop, buy a bedward anchor; buy a Dubois."
She waited now for the weekend, for the drop of the labor flag that would send her tearing north, Friday at five or one o'clock.
Judy refused to accompany Benjy aboard the Gulliver-even though he told her there would be a good crowd and a wonderful dinner.
Instead, at five o'clock, she set out for the shack. When she arrived she saw that the cupboard had been moved, and she was happy with that.
She spent the weekend, content with herself. Luckily, Martha was out somewhere having fun. Judy didn't even think about the agency or Benjy or anything else until it was time to return.
But her car broke down ten miles from home. She had "to wait for the tow truck, and then she was informed that the part would have to be shipped from the East Coast.
She managed to hide the fact that she was without a car until the day it rained. Stayton saw her running for a bus and made the proper inquiries. When she told him what had happened he nodded. They were sitting in his office. "Then as soon as we marry I'll get you a new car."
Judy looked at him in shock. "No," she said.
"No?" Stayton smiled. If she wanted to play hard to get, that was fine with him.
And Judy realized she was in a fix. To deny him was to lose her job. She quickly added, "I don't know you socially. I think we should know each other a bit better-don't you?"
Stayton agreed heartily. "Your sister-in-law has been kind enough to invite me to her home," he said. "We can begin to get better acquainted socially this weekend."
Benjy, who had been in the hospital with a flare-up after the dinner trip on the Gulliver, chose that time to make his reappearance. When he saw Judy sitting at her desk he asked her what was wrong. When she told him, he wanted to punch Stayton out. "But he hasn't done anything." Judy said.
Benjy cooled himself off. He knew very well that his contract with the agency would be worthless if he flew off the handle.
Later the mechanic called to say that the repairs were complete. He would be driving the car in later that day.
But before Judy could pick up the car, she received another phone call. This time she was informed that she could pick up her new car whenever she wanted to. "What?" she asked.
The salesman at the Porsche dealership told her that following Mr. Stayton's instructions, they had prepared a new car for her.
She told them to unprepare it and wrote a note to Stayton: it told him that she couldn't accept such a gift, no matter how graciously given.
He told Judy that he would drive it up for her and leave it with Martha.
That weekend, she hid out until Jones finally came to check on her.
She told him all that had happened. "Well," he said. "They've all gone off for something or other. I guess they were annoyed that you didn't scamper over there."
It turned out that Benjy had made the trip as well. Judy accompanied Jones on a business trip of his, with other growers in the area. After the meeting, the growers and their wives went to an Italian restaurant for dinner. Judy had a wonderful time.
Stayton had left in a huff. He had also left a note with Martha telling Judy that he would send her two weeks' termination pay.
Benjy had told Stayton off and had lost his job in the bargain. But the day hadn't been a total loss: Benjy and Martha had decided to elope, on the spur of the moment. They planned to sell the Cody place and buy a motel in Oregon.
That was when Jones showed Judy the ring he'd brought for her. "I've had it for a while," he said. "But I wanted to wait until the dust settled before I asked you to marry me. I guess now's as good a time as any." It was perfect.
They could raise enough money to buy the Cody place themselves, and Judy was willing to make a marriage gift to Martha of the money that Martha owed her.
"But that motel they're going to buy-it's on a back road that's only used in summertime," William John said.
"Let's just wish them well," Judy said.