(1982) The Almighty Read Online Free PDF Page B

Evanston, Illinois.
    ‘Mother?’ she said. ‘She’s a meat-packer’s widow, but he keeps better hours than you ever did. He comes home long before dawn. Mother is Mother, which is why I moved to Chicago and got my own apartment as soon as I could. We still talk. I see her maybe once every two weeks. Sa-ay, what about you, Dad? How’s the new job holding up?’
    A year ago Hugh Weston had been appointed press secretary for President of the United States Thomas Callaway. He had given up his job as managing editor of the Chicago Journal and moved to the White House and this Georgetown house.
    ‘It is not exactly The Front Page, Hugh Weston said ruefully, ‘but I like being on television and meeting rich socialites. Now I’ve got to leave you for an hour.’
    Victoria pointed at him. ‘I’ve just figured it out. Those are tennis shorts you’re wearing. You mean you find time to play tennis? I know you did when I was a kid, but -‘
    Hugh Weston held up a hand to stop her. ‘Victoria, this President likes to play tennis on Sundays. And he likes to play me because he can beat me.’ He went to the french windows, where a tennis racket was propped up against the wall. T have a confession to make. I liked it so much, I joined two neighbors in the block in buying a court. I own a third of it and use it when I can. I don’t have to be back at the White
    House until three, so I’m using it now. Want to watch me?’
    ‘Thanks, Dad. I think I’ll shower and freshen up. Then I’ll make us lunch. What do you want?’
    ‘The special Victoria Cheese Omelet. Maybe a small salad first.’
    ‘You’ve got it.’
    He started to leave, then turned around. ‘Hey, what are you doing here on a weekday? I thought you were a working girl?’
    ‘I was. I quit the paper last Friday, Dad. I came here because I want to talk to you about it.’
    He nodded. ‘Okay. Make me that omelet and we’ll talk. See you in an hour.’
    After her father had left, Victoria Weston went upstairs to the spare bedroom where her overnighter and garment bag were waiting and unpacked. After that she undressed, took a quick shower, and put on a red-and-white-checked blouse and faded jeans. She went downstairs to the kitchen, told Selma to go back to her favorite soap opera, and started to make lunch.
    An hour and a half later Victoria and Hugh Weston were enjoying their lunch in the sun-filled dinette. During the salad he had discussed his tennis game, and his partners. Now, pushing the salad plate aside, waiting as his daughter served him a generous portion of the cheese omelet, he said, ‘Okay, Vicky, you quit the Citizen. You came here to talk. Tell me what you want to talk about. I’m listening.’
    ‘My future,’ said Victoria, taking her seat across from her father. She sampled the eggs, approved, and looked up. ‘I want to talk about my future, my immediate future, like tomorrow.’
    ‘Go ahead.’
    ‘Dad, I was on that Chicago weekly for a full year, after getting out of Northwestern. Then I put in two years at that suburban daily, but I wasn’t going anywhere. I was the best feature writer on the paper. In fact, too good for it. There was a monotony, a sameness to the kind of stories that could be dredged up. I needed more. I needed a challenge. So I quit. That way I knew I had to find something better.’ She paused for her father to say something, and when he remained silent she said, ‘Well, maybe there’s more to it than that.’ ‘Want to tell me?’
    ‘One part’s professional, the other personal. The professional part first. There I was on the women’s page; I wanted out of that rut. I always wanted to be on the news side. You know that. I thought all my extra work on that expose would do it. Especially after I won the award. But no, my managing editor wouldn’t promote me. He was probably raised on Godey’s Lady’s Book. Woman’s place? In the recipe and lovelorn section. I was really furious.’
    ‘I see. What about the