Chapter Eleven Mr. and Mrs. Silverman
“I’ve been under enemy fire.”
“Mmhm.” Susie nods complacently.
“Attacked by supernatural beings. Multiple times.”
“I was there for two of them.” She finishes filing her nails and checks her hat in the hand mirror she pulls from her bag.
“And stood before a panel of inquiry in Washington two days ago.” I’m getting frustrated. Just a little.
“Thank you for the new shoes you picked up while you were there.” She stretches out her legs and shows off the navy heels that have little bows on the toes. “So stylish. Mother will never approve.”
She’s torturing me now. “Lionel said your shoes, the window, the typewriter, and coffee pot can be claimed as expenses related to fighting enemy agents under provisions of my contract.”
“Wonderful. So why are you crabby?” My darling bride-to-be asks, staring at my grandmother’s ring as it sits on her hand.
“Because I’ve been through all of that—and I think this is worse.”
The car rattles into the small neighborhood in Yonkers that consists of a feed store, gas station, church, and nice little homes. There’s one farmhouse at the end of the lane—and that’s the Spade house.
I swallow.
My future in-laws. “Is your father going to think we... Well... You know, that we have to get married? Because that’s not the case!
Doesn’t he realize that? We’ve barely been together the past two weeks.
” And that’s another reason he might tell me to take a hike.
Sure, mister, you’ve been with my daughter for a month, been separated a big chunk of it, letters and wires not included, exposed her to spies, danger, and madmen, and now you want to marry her?
“Sam. You realize it doesn’t matter what they say, right? I’m going to marry you.” Susie tosses her hair and sits primly beside me—even though her hand is intimately close, on my knee.
“I want your parents’ blessing.”
“They’ll give it, believe me. Stop being nervous. Coming home with a husband is the only goal my parents ever set for me. And you, Captain-Private-Investigator-Washington-Connected-Future-Banker Silverman, are a nice, big juicy one.” Susie kisses me on the cheek, and then waves wildly at the house.
The welcoming committee has arrived on the front porch.
Three brothers in shined shoes and good suits.
A father who looks like he’s been boiled, not washed, with brick-red skin, and a pretty woman who looks like a curly-haired Kewpie doll grown up and put into lilac lace.
Toss in a few graying heads, a handful of chickens, and three hounds, and it’s clear that this could turn into an angry mob situation.
I always thought it would be the wolf that was met with pitchforks and crowds, not me in my new suit, clean pocket square, and finest silk tie.
Susie springs out of the car before I can open her door. Damn it. Now they’re going to think I have no manners.
“Mother, Dad, boys, everyone—this is Sam Silverman. Captain Sam Silverman, if you want to be fancy,” she giggles, taking my arm.
Mr. Spade sticks out his hand like he’s been rehearsing this moment for days.
Out of sheer nerves, I take it, pump it, and practically unhinge his arm.
The florid-faced farmer beams. “Oh! Got a good, firm grip for a city boy!”
“He’s not a boy, he’s old like you. He has face lines,” the littlest one pipes. That’d be the notorious Eddie.
“Edward, stop it, or I’ll let the rooster have you,” Susie sings out her threat with angel sweetness.
“You’re gonna marry Susie?” Eddie demands.
“Yes, if your parents say it’s all right,” I nod gravely.
“Good! You can have her!” Eddie hugs Susie hard around the waist and races into the house, all the hounds at his heels, barking and yipping.
“Oh, dear. What you must think,” Mrs. Spade half-whimpers, shaking my hand gingerly, one eye on her fleeing offspring.
“I’ve met your daughter, and there’s no better endorsement for your family than Susan,” I say firmly, daring to put my arm around her shoulders and pull her to my side.
“She would have made one heck of a soldier or a spy. She’s not only the most beautiful girl in the world, I think she’s the smartest. All those books.
There’s no better weapon or tool than a well-exercised mind. ” I risk kissing her temple.
“Won’t you come in, son?” The man that I believe is Grandpa Spade asks warmly.
“Thank you very much. I’d love to.”
“Why, I just love him, Susie. What a find, dear!” Mother is helping me pack. A gleam in her eye as she pulls clothes from the closet tells me that she’s mentally reconfiguring the space as her sewing room—now that she’s confident I won’t be needing it.
Sam charmed them. He charmed me, all over again, straight off my feet and into a swoon.
“Mother... We want to get married soon. Three weeks. Not because we have to,” I preempt her strangled gasp of a question, “but because Sam has a chance to go in as a junior investor in the Pine Ridge Savings and Loan. The banking inspectors will be coming out to meet him. Even with his connections in Washington, Sam thinks it would look better if we were married.”
“Well... But your dress! The church! The cake and reception—”
“You know most people in our circle don’t go for anything too flashy.
A nice simple wedding will do. I want to get married, Mama,” I slip into using a name I haven’t called her in the last ten years, ever since our heads seemed to slide into the “permanently butted” position.
“The Emergency Banking Act is so strict. A bachelor private detective sounds so much more risky than ‘decorated captain with a nice little bride at home’, don’t you think? ”
“Are you sure he’s not pushing this just so you can help him into the business?” Mother asks, eyes suspicious.
“Yes. For one thing, Sam still intends to keep working as a private investigator, gradually taking on more and more responsibilities as the current bank owner gets closer to retirement. Someday, it’ll be Silverman First Fiduciary, with a specialization in business loans and mortgages.
We’re going to help Pine Ridge become the safest, sweetest little town for anyone you ever did see,” I say with conviction borne of new knowledge.
Since my eyes have been “shocked open,” I’ve noticed a few things—like the ghostly figures in the windows of the White Pines Estate and the library, the fact that the man who owns the bicycle and automotive repair shop looks like something out of Frankenstein by Mary Shelley.
The fact that some of the Dullahan family—the boys, anyway—have pumpkin-like heads.
No. Actually orange and carved like Halloween decorations.
But they’re all good. Good, kind people, who are on the lookout for anything evil—and welcoming to anyone good. Like Sam and me. “I’d elope tomorrow if it wouldn’t upset you so much,” I murmur.
“Well... Well, I’m sure Sam’s family and friends would like to come.
And you know, the minister’s wife owes me a favor after I gave her my angel food cake recipe, not to mention I slip her a dozen eggs every week without telling your father.
Do you think next Saturday is soon enough?
” she asks, a smile on her face, and tears in her eyes.
“Oh, Mama! Really? You would?”
“If your father says it’s okay.”
“Oh.” I bite my lip. Dad seems to like Sam just fine, but he’s awfully stubborn. Mother blames him for my temperament on the regular.
“He’ll say yes, dear. Wives have ways of persuading husbands, which you’ll soon learn.”
I blanch and brace for my mother to tell me something truly horrific about marital relations. She leans in and whispers, “I’ll have to bake him a lemon meringue pie tomorrow, but he’ll say yes. Now, what does Sam like to eat? You’ll have to learn to make it for him, you know.”
Pussy. I almost say it out loud and instead am overcome by a fit of the giggles.
“What? What is his favorite dish? Is it pickled eggs or something that smells up the house?” Mother asks sympathetically.
“I think he’d like me to learn how to make a pie, Mama. He gets a slice whenever we go to lunch.”
“What kind of pie?”
“I don’t think he’s picky. As long as I love him, that’s enough.”
Mother rolls her eyes heavenward. “Ah, young romance. Keep thinking that, dear. I’ll send you home with some recipes, never you fear.”
Every groom is nervous on his wedding day. That’s what they say. Or impatient for his wedding night. Maybe nervous about both.
I’ve barely seen Susie this week, and now, I’m standing in her little church in Yonkers, with my side of the aisle looking like an armed forces recruitment poster, everyone in their dress browns, drabs, and blues, and Susie’s side of the aisle looking like a bunch of scrubbed Protestants posing for a photo at the church potluck.
In short, we look normal for a few hours. Sweet, blushing young bride in white lace, a long train, a long veil, and bunches of roses and baby’s breath. Me with my brass polished and my hair brushed until it shines...
I think you’d have to look close to see the twinkle in our eyes, the secrets we’re sharing.
“Do you, Captain Samuel Levi Silverman, take this woman, Susan Ann Marie Spade, to be your lawfully wedded wife? To love her, cherish her, and keep her, as long as thou both shalt live?
The minister, a nice little parson, I’m sure, is awed by all the military might on one side of his congregation, and is saying everything as though he’s auditioning for a vacant seat at Canterbury.
“I do.”
“And you, Susan Ann Marie Spade, do you take this man, Captain Samuel Levi Silverman, to be your lawfully wedded husband? To love him, honor him, and obey him, as long as thou both shalt live?”
“I sure do.”
“The rings, please.”
I know there have been some other parts, and I know I parroted them out like a good little soldier, but it’s all I can do to hold in a howl when Susie slips a ring on my finger, and I put on one hers.
Married. Mated. Marked. There will be other ways I get to mark her tonight, and I’m suddenly so desperate to kiss her and hold her that I can barely breathe.