She had seen various Alaskans occasionally as they flew to or through Seattle. Czar had flown in twice, Bridie once. Thor never. She had seen Ross twice when he had managed to wangle the flights. She had Louise Husack and Bridie to lunch. She was delighted to see that the two women got on marvelously together, dissimilar though they were. They discussed Chris, approvingly, in her presence, while they were served rock crab followed by cheese soufflé followed by baked peaches and sour cream, which the two elderly women consumed with protests of enjoyment.

“Do you notice any change in our Christine?” Mrs. Husack’s question was accompanied by a possessive, yet coy, glance.

“She looks a little thinner to me, I guess they do a lot of gym work and swimming and so on at the U. Or maybe she isn’t getting her sleep, studying the way she does. Chris, you getting enough sleep?”

“Loads.”

“Or maybe,” Mrs. Husack simpered, “she’s in love.”

“I am,” Chris said. Bridie jumped noticeably. “I’m in love with Seattle and Alaska and life and the world.” Bridie relaxed.

“I want to invite you to my home, Mrs. Ballantyne,” Louise Husack said, spaciously. “We’ve loved it all these years—anyway, Mr. Husack has, he’s a man loves his home—and I’d like you to see it while I’m still there.”

“Aunt Louise!”

“My goodness, where you going!” Bridie demanded.

“Oh, I don’t mean what you mean. The truth is, I’d like to travel if I can only get Mr. Husack to see it the way I do. I love Seattle, goodness knows I’ve got a million friends here and all, but here I’ve been stuck all my married life, you might say. Mr. Husack just wouldn’t stir. San Francisco Chicago New York Washington D.C., on business, of course, but that isn’t what I want. Mr. Husack says there’s everything a man could want right here in Seattle—water mountains planes fishing hunting and so on. Maybe that is everything a man could want but I want to see Paris and Italy and all those places. Greece, even, and Egypt. We’ve been right on the edge of starting a dozen times, but then something always comes up—business or a war or something. But now I told him, we’re going. Let Bayard and Christine take over the house.”

“Aunt Louise, what in the world are you talking about!”

“You know perfectly well Bay’s crazy about you.”

“He isn’t crazy about anybody.”

“That’s just his way. You don’t know him the way I do. A sweeter more loving child doesn’t live than—–”

“He isn’t a child.”

Bridie had heard enough. “Now just a minute. If you please. Is this some kind of royal marriage or something that’s being fixed up between you Husacks and Czar?”

Chris laughed, but not very mirthfully. “No, Bridie darling. You’re just sick of housekeeping, aren’t you, Aunt Louise?”

“I am. I’m good and sick of whether we should have leg of lamb or chicken or a four-rib roast. I didn’t mind when I was younger. But now I’m older, I’ve been keeping house for almost forty years and I’m good and sick and tired of it, and that’s the truth. I’ll be glad and willing to move out of that big place into one of the new little eight-room apartments. You can’t get decent help any more. Dave says if we move out we’d lose face. Face! My features are all worn out from keeping face. Let Bay do it. The girl that marries Bay won’t need a thing. Not a thing. There’s linen and silver and china and glass enough to set for a hundred. We have set for a hundred, many’s the time. You and Chris come to dinner tomorrow and I’ll show it all to you, it’s a treat to see if I do say so. Any woman would be wild over it.”