Fraser was a thoughtful and understanding companion, and it was as though they had been together always. Catherine could predict his reactions to almost any situation and knew his every mood. Contrary to what Fraser had said, sex with him did not become more exciting, but Catherine told herself that sex was only a small part of a relationship. She was not a schoolgirl who needed constant titillation, she was a mature woman. Give or take a little, she thought, wryly.
Fraser's advertising agency was being run in his absence by Wallace Turner, a senior account executive. William Fraser tried to have as little to do with the business as possible, so he could devote himself to his job in Washington, but whenever a major problem arose at the agency and they needed his advice, Fraser got in the habit of discussing it with Catherine, using her as a sounding board. He found that she had a natural flair for the business. Catherine often came up with ideas for campaigns that proved very effective.
"If I weren't so selfish, Catherine," Fraser said one night at dinner, "I'd put you in the agency and turn you loose on some of our accounts." He covered her hand with his. "I'd miss you too much," he added. "I want you here with me."
"I want to be here, Bill. I'm very happy with things the way they are." And it was true. She had thought that if she were ever in a situation like this, she would want desperately to get married, but somehow there seemed no urgency about it. In every important way they were already married.
One afternoon as Catherine was finishing some work, Fraser walked into her office.
"How would you like to take a drive out to the country tonight?" he asked.
"Love it. Where are we going?"
"To Virginia. We're having dinner with my parents."
Catherine looked up at him in surprise. "Do they know about us?" she asked.
"Not everything," he grinned. "Just that I have a fantastic young assistant and I'm bringing her to dinner."
If she felt a pang of disappointment, she did not let it show on her face. "Fine," she said. "I'll stop by the apartment and change."
"I'll pick you up at seven o'clock."
"Date."
The Frasers' house, set in the beautiful rolling hills of Virginia, was a large Col
onial farmhouse with sixty acres of vivid green grass and farmland surrounding it. The house dated back to seventeen hundred.
"I've never seen anything like it," Catherine marveled.
"It's one of the best breeding farms in America," Fraser informed her.
The car drove past a corral filled with beautiful horses, past the neatly kept paddocks and the caretaker's cottage.
"It's like another world," Catherine exclaimed. "I envy your growing up here."
"Do you think you'd like living on a farm?"
"This isn't exactly a farm," she said dryly. "It's more like owning your own country."
They had arrived in front of the house.
Fraser turned to her. "My mother and father are a little formal," he warned, "but there's nothing for you to worry about. Just be yourself. Nervous?"
"No," Catherine said. "Panicky." And as she said it, she realized with a sense of astonishment that she was lying. In the classic tradition of all girls about to meet the parents of the man they loved, she should have been petrified. But she felt nothing except curiosity. There was no time to wonder about that now. They were getting out of the car and a butler in full livery was opening the door, greeting them with a welcoming smile.
Colonel Fraser and his lady could have been living out of the pages of an ante-bellum story book. The first thing that struck Catherine was how old and fragilelooking they were. Colonel Fraser was a pale carbon of what had once been a handsome, vital man. He reminded Catherine very strongly of someone, and with a shock, she realized who it was: an old, worn-out version of his son. The colonel had sparse white hair and walked with a painful stoop. His eyes were pale blue and his once-powerful hands were gnarled with arthritis. His wife had the look of an aristocrat and still retained traces of a girlish beauty. She was gracious and warm to Catherine.
In spite of what Fraser had told her, Catherine had the feeling that she was there for their inspection. The colonel and his wife spent the evening questioning her. They were very discreet but thorough. Catherine told them about her parents and her childhood, and when she talked about moving from school to school, she made it sound like adventurous fun, rather than the agony it had been. As she talked she could see Bill Fraser proudly beaming at her. Dinner was superb. They dined by candlelight in a large, old-fashioned dining room with a real marble fireplace and liveried servants. Old silver, old money and old wine. She looked at Bill Fraser and a wave of warm gratitude went through her. She had the feeling that this kind of life could be hers if she wanted it. She knew that Fraser loved her, and she loved him. And yet there was something missing: a sense of excitement. Possibly, she thought, I'm expecting too much. I've probably been warped by Gary Cooper, Humphrey Bogart and Spencer Tracy! Love isn't a knight in shining armor. It's a gentleman farmer in a gray tweed suit. Damn all those movies and books! As she looked at the colonel, she could see Fraser twenty years hence, looking exactly the same as his father. She was very quiet during the rest of the evening.
On the way home Fraser asked, "Did you enjoy the evening?"
"Very much. I liked your parents."
"They liked you, too."
"I'm glad." And she was. Except for the vaguely disquieting thought in the back of her mind that somehow she should have been more nervous about meeting them.