The Ypsilanti Daily Press

WHERE CONTENTMENT LIES

By Susan Sheridan

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

KAY COULD hardly believe that she had heard a strange female making a date with Jake over the telephone. And yet she knew it shouldn't have been a shock. Since Jake wasn't working, he obviously was diverting himself some way. The fact that it hadn't occurred to her that his diversions were female showed how blind she had been.

In a way it didn't worry her much. Not that the idea appealed to her, far from it. But she did feel fairly certain that anything he did was still purely something to fill in time, to shorten the days, to make him less conscious of his empty hours and her busy ones. But it was obviously essential to take direct action quickly, so that his days would be as busy as hers.

The events of the last few weeks fitted together like a jigsaw puzzle. The parts had been confusing. The completed picture was simple. Now that her mind was made up she felt relieved. She wondered why she had found the solving of this puzzle so difficult, why she had hesitated.

The first step in her campaign was a trip to the doctor. "Best thing in the world for you," he said. "Just what you need. Fresh air. exercise, physical exertion. I'd like to see you gain a few pounds first. Rest up a bit. But, otherwise, I'm for it."

The next person she talked to was Het. They lunched together, and over coffee and cigarettes Kay launched her idea.

"I've a plan in mind," she said, "and it will either be the maddest thing I've ever done or the wisest. Before you hear it, make me one promise." Kay was in dead earnest.

"Of course." Het was beginning to look worried.

"I want you to promise to tell me honestly what you think about the whole thing."

"I'm always honest, or at least I try hard to be."

"Yes, I know you are. It's just that this is so important. And your reaction means more to me than anyone else." She thoughtfully put out a cigarette she had only just lighted.

"I'm going to leave McClure's."

"Just like that?"

"Just like that."

"And then?"

"Then Jake and I are going to move to the country, buy a small house, live on his income, and he is going to work."

"Do you know what Jake's income is?"

"About $2,500 a year."

"By work, I presume you mean the piano."

"Naturally. I haven't lost my senses enough to think that Jake might do anything else," Kay said with a quick smile. "I have no delusions about Jake's raising chickens or running a hardware store."

."Do you know what it costs to get him ready for concerts? He'll have to take lessons, be groomed. Until he's established it would probably cost him money to give concerts."

Het's forehead was wrinkled with doubt.

"Yes. I know. But I've figured it all out. I still have the money in the bank that was left from father's estate. I've never had to touch it. It's all I have. I'm extravagant, always have spent my salary. When the salary went up, the expenses did too. But that money of father's has been waiting for just such a time as this. It will buy the house, Jake's money will run it, my jewelry will take care of the lessons. And when the time comes for major expenses like hiring concert halls, we should be fixed for that." And then she told Het about Mr. Everitt's proposition.

The waiter began fussing around, asked them if they'd like some hot coffee. Kay looked at her watch. It was nearly 3 o'clock. The restaurant was empty.

"Come on, let's get out of here," she said.

Kay paid the check, doubled the tip to pacify the famished waiter. He thanked her half a dozen times, bowed and ushered them out ceremoniously.

"The power of money." Het remarked with a tolerant smile.

"It has its uses," Kay said. "I know everyone is going to say 'Poor Jake,' and consider me a tyrant. Actually, getting along without money is going to be hard for me, too. Being served superior food, with perfect service—over-tipping—is just one of the many things that is extravagant, really useless and futile, yet part of life as I'm used to living it."

"I know. And you've always loved McClure's. I haven't figured out why you're giving it all up."

They were walking slowly up Madison avenue. The streets were jammed. The brisk spring breeze ruffled the women's curls, blew off an occasional man's hat, cleared the city of dust and grime and made it seem new and shiny and tingling.

"It's the only way to save Jake. I've developed an unsuspected passion for crusading. So few people have anything worth making sacrifices for. Jake shouldn't throw away what he has."

"Lots of us feel that way. But what about the well-known Kerr zest for fun and life?"

"He'll get his zest satisfied in other ways," Kay said.

"You're sure of that?"

"No. I'm not sure." For the first time Kay's convictions showed signs of wavering. "I'm not sure how it's going to work out at all. It will be a gamble for both of us. With terrific stakes. But if I lose nobody can say I didn't go down fighting."

"Has Jake heard the news?"

"No." Kay admitted. "That's a job that lies ahead of me." She watched an airplane buzz its way over the skyscraper tops. "I wish we could do that with our lives," she thought, "see them all neatly laid out within the space of a few seconds, the beginning and the end."

The light turned red. They stood waiting to cross the street. "Tell me," Kay said, "you told me a while ago that you always tried to be honest. Do you think a lie is ever justifiable?"

"Goodness, what a question of ethics for me to have to answer on such a lovely spring afternoon. I really don't know. Possibly. The ends justify the means and so on. But let's skip morality and settle for an ice cream soda."

That evening Jake and Kay had their weekly night out together. Kay got in from work just before Jake did. She had a shower and lay down on her bed in a negligee. She fell into a light doze, and Jake's "Good evening, Anna." woke her up. He always greeted Anna as though she were the one person in the world whom he particularly wanted to see. She grumbled at him occasionally, but she adored him.

"Mrs. Kerr in yet?" he asked.

"Yes, she was early tonight. I think she's resting."

"How do you think she seems now. She swears she's fine, but she looks so tired and thin." He sounded worried.

"I don't think she's ever been really strong since that sickness of hers. She never lets on. But I can tell."

Kay got up, went into the living room. Anna, launched on the subject of Kay's health, could be pretty dull.

"Hello, darling," she greeted Jake.

"Hello yourself." He walked over and kissed her, "He's the one who looks thin and tired." she thought.

He lit them both cigarettes, sat down in an armchair and pulled her down on his lap. They smoked quietly for a minute or two. Then he said,

"Where shall we go tonight? All the regular places seem too stuffy for a night like this."

Kay sat upright. "Take me out in Jenny. I've never seen that celebrated member of the family."

"You in that old bus! That would be a sight." He was amused. "Especially if you wear one of those crazy hats and your new furs. I'd probably be arrested for kidnapping."

"Don't be silly. I won't wear town clothes. And we'll go out to the country. We could go see the Blakes. They're out in Greenwich now, aren't they? They usually go about the first of May."

Kay was curious to see what Jake's reaction would be to that suggestion. She didn't know how much he was seeing of that crowd, and there was some question in her mind that Sylvia Blake might have been the female on the telephone.

(To Be Continued)