“But he had great ambitions,” she said.
“He thinks he has. But from what little you’ve told me about him, he sounds too much like me.”
“Why, Father, you’re positively occult. He was a lot like you. How did you know that?”
“I’d have to tell you a lot more about myself than I’m ready to tell you,” he said. “Suffice it to say, I recognized him. He was me. Not even a first-rate scoundrel.”
“He could still be a first-rate scoundrel. So could you, I guess.”
“No. Your fellow and I will never be first-rate scoundrels. The genuine, first-rate scoundrel doesn’t care what people think. He does, and so do I. We can do wicked things, but we don’t want to be found out. My father was closer to the real thing than I am.”
“Is Bing a scoundrel?”
“Oh, you caught me off my guard,” he said. “I wasn’t ready for that one.”
“Is he?”
“The fact that you’re putting it in the form of a question, instead of stoutly declaring that your brother isn’t a scoundrel—that’s interesting. Are you a little worried about him?”
“His letters are more revealing than he must realize,” she said.
“I write postcards. They come in envelopes, but I do my best to say as little as possible. What worries you about him?”
“I guess it’s the same things you’ve been saying. Expressed differently, of course. But things about ambition. And you, and Uncle Pen. The Lockwood family history.”
“What does he say about himself?”
“Intentionally, or unintentionally?”
“Either. What does he say that has you worried?”
“It isn’t exactly worried, Father,” she said. “There’s nothing to worry about so far. At least I don’t think there is. Oh, what am I talking about? I am worried. He’s gotten tough.”
“Well, that’s understandable. They rather pride themselves on their toughness, oil men. I went to school with a boy whose family made their money in lace. Cheap, machine-made lace. But it was still lace. He was the dirtiest, most vulgar, toughest boy in school. I wonder what happened to him when he went into the family business.”
“You think Bing’s toughness may be due to the kind of work he’s in? I don’t. I don’t think you do, either.”
“No, I guess I don’t,” he said. “The only other explanation is that I made him tough, and of course I don’t like to admit that.”
“I’m glad you did, though. You had something to do with it.”
“Of course I did,” he said. “But if all you’re worried about is his toughness, stop worrying. He’s going to need it. Without it he’d get nowhere, and then you’d really have something to worry about. Your brother isn’t so tough that he could stand failure. In fact, you might as well know this, Tina. Your brother is a weakling.”
“Have you got any particular reason for saying that?” she said. “Or is that just a general observation?”
“Both,” said her father.
“You wouldn’t care to tell me what the particular reason was?”
“No, I would not.”
“Is he crooked?” she said.
“I doubt it. I’m sure he’s not. The kind of men—the kind of big shots he plays poker with—wouldn’t play poker with him if he was crooked. They might do business with him, but they wouldn’t play poker with him. They wouldn’t go to his house, or have him at theirs. No, he’s not crooked.”
“Then I know the other weakness,” she said. “Women.”
“You seem positive of that.”
“I am. I just wondered how you found out. It only started after he got married, and you haven’t seen him since then.”
“How did you become so positive?” he said. “You’ve seen very little of him.”
“Yes, but he talks to me. And writes to me. What happens to men, Father? Rita’s a nice girl, an attractive girl. Actually a superior person to Bing. But almost as soon as they got married he went on the make.”
“I suppose that means what I think it means,” he said.
“It does. He has affairs.”
“Does his wife know about them?”
“I don’t know. I’ve only seen her twice, and she isn’t the kind of girl you get close to right away. She’s very much in love with him, and he could probably fool her for a while. He has so much vitality, always on the go. She could be deceived by that.”
“And doesn’t see what she doesn’t want to see, as is often the case,” he said.
“Yes. But I’m not at all sure that he’d be as tolerant. And Rita is some dish, don’t make any mistake about that.”
“I don’t. I’ve seen pictures of her.”
“Of course I may be all wrong about her, now. It’s nearly two years since I’ve seen her. Her patience may have been exhausted.”
“No, I’m sure it hasn’t been. And another thing I’m sure of, is that your brother is still in love with her.”
“I hope so,” she said. “You’re not telling all you know.”
“No,” he said. “But then I never have. I’m secretive by nature.”
“I’ll say you are,” she said. “You’ve opened up more tonight than ever before in my whole, entire life.”
“Beginning with the skin of my hand. Shall we go back? I think we’ve had enough fresh air.”
“But I’m glad we can talk this way,” she said. “Why can we, when we never have before?”
“I guess we can thank your trackwalker for that,” he said. “And your Uncle Pen. And whatever’s been happening inside me lately.”
They were headed toward the house and the driveway at this point was at its steepest. They consequently walked slowly. “I’m glad I brought an alpenstock,” she said.
“We ought to walk more. We’re losing the use of our legs,” he said.
“We ought to walk more and talk more,” she said.
“I wish you’d stay around a while,” he said. “You don’t have to. The money can be deposited to your account at Morgan, Harjes. A few papers to sign.”
“What money? Oh—Uncle Pen’s,” she said. “I’ll stay on for a while, and when Geraldine and I get on each other’s nerves I can always go to New York.”
She had no car of her own, and he let her use his Packard. She could come and go as she pleased, and George was surprised to see that she invited Geraldine to accompany her on shopping trips to Philadelphia, to the hairdresser in Gibbsville. He attributed this change in their relationship to the major change in Tina herself: his daughter was a woman now, and his wife treated her as one. It was very perceptive of Geraldine—or not perceptive at all but a woman-to-woman instinct. He made no comment and asked no questions, and he could not guess what they talked about; but obviously they enjoyed the improvement in their relationship. Temporarily, Geraldine had a companion for whose companionship she was grateful; and Tina at this stage of her life found at least a limited compatibility with an older woman that no young woman could supply. Tina had jumped into womanhood, as it were, and she was seeing what it was like.
On these terms Tina’s visit was prolonged indefinitely. No understanding was reached as to the permanence of her stay; rather it continued to be regarded as a visit. She declined, for instance, her father’s offer to buy her a car. “If I can’t use yours, I can always drive the Pierce.”
“Pretty heavy for a girl,” said George.
“Oho, you should have seen the Renault we had in France. As big as a Mack truck and looked like one, with that radiator,” she said. “No, thanks, Father. If you bought me a car you might be stuck with it. I might take a sudden notion to leave the day it arrived.”