| OCR Text |
Show ho us/ 431 "Hello, dear." His eyes were vague, other-worldly, threatening io return to the page. My heart sped up and I blurted, "Daddy, look at my ring! 'm engaged!" And immediately nipped my tongue for its fatuousness. He smiled benignly and nodded. He did not take my dangling land or examine the diamond for size and authenticity. He only razed for brief seconds barbed with wisdom. "I'm not surprised," he said, and his eyes returned to the book. I felt s i l l y : let-down, stood-up, put-off. His response was entirely too neutral, unbecomingly blase'. Here I was, engaged to be married to a man my father scarcely knew, and the patriarch sat reading, remote as a schoolmaster, behaving as though the solution to a l l problems =- including mine -- would be found among the leaves of that book. I thought that he should be holding a shotgun, pointing i t at Brian or his mother. For a moment, I wished that I were younger, requring his permission. A clear and final response, no matter what, would be more comforting than t h i s caffilEEf££ lack of i n t e r e s t. Perhaps -"JIHIIHIIHIIIM 1 "L approach * I reasoned. My father nad always feared that my brothers hifrtrh---'- too money-oriented, and I had shown him my diamond instead of my husband. Perhaps he believed that I, too, worshipped Mammon. And yet, he had come to respect wealth. My mother had told me of his relationship to a wealthy financier. "It i s n ' t like your father at a l l , " she had said, choosing her words carefully. "The way he kow-tows to that old goat." |
