A Wife of Noble Character Read Free Page A

roommate, like everyone else in the world who wasn’t a millionaire, but he checked his tone. “Live with a friend. I lived in a dorm this size with another guy for two years, and it wasn’t as bad as it sounds. Assuming the person is sane, you get used to each other’s rhythms and manage to avoid each other, or you become better friends.”
    â€œI lived in my sorority house with a bunch of girls,” Vivienne said. “After college I lived with Karlie and Waverly, but then Karlie got married, and Waverly met Clay. I couldn’t afford the apartment on my own.”
    â€œThere’s your answer,” he said. “Get married.”
    â€œI have a job,” she said. “I don’t sit around all day getting massages.”
    â€œI didn’t say you did.” Although that wouldn’t have surprised him.
    â€œI work at Cotton and Lace,” she said. “Cotton for resort and lace for dresses. We do a lot of bridesmaid’s gowns and fittings for events.”
    â€œThe other day I read that this idea that marriage is about soul mates is a modern convention,” Preston said. “Historically, it was a practical agreement. The woman committed to the man sexually, and in exchange he provided resources. It wasn’t until women had more freedom in deciding who they wanted to marry that it became about romance, generally speaking. But today”—he paused to sip, wondering if the tangent was inappropriate—“women have the same expectation of resources, but they also want love. It seems that without the resources, even with love, what’s the incentive for women to marry?”
    â€œLove is the incentive to marry,” Vivienne said, as if to say, What else would it be?
    Preston conceded. “But without resources?”
    â€œI’m not sure I’d fall in love with a man who didn’t have a good job,” she said, leaning forward to rub the arch of her left foot. He would have rubbed it for her had she asked. “I want to have a family.”
    He wanted to ask her to define “good job,” wanted to pry about numbers. What was the minimum annual income she’d accept? Had it occurred to her that she could be the provider? Why did she want a guy with money if her family was already wealthy? His mind sprung a fount of curiosity for this woman, arm’s length away yet beyond him. Maybe that was why he needled her. If he could reach her, he wouldn’t have to needle her. The sun shone through the skylight, warming his back, its outlying beams grazing Vivienne’s girlishly bony ankles. She sat in his brown corduroy chair as if she’d always been there.
    â€œBut is it only about love, then?” he said. “Is it honest to say it’s not about resources?”
    â€œWhat are you trying to get me to say?” Vivienne said. “Whenever I see you, you try to get me to say things.”
    â€œI’m not trying to get you to say anything.” Was he, though? “I just think for women, marriage is also practical.”
    â€œIt is for men too,” she said. “I know women think about money, but few only think about money.” She paused. “Are your parents still together?”
    â€œRetired together in Austin. Yours?” The moment he asked, he remembered that her parents had died, recalled the hush surrounding this fact in high school. “Sorry if that was insensitive. I forgot—”
    She waved him off. “I couldn’t move into a place like this and go on with my life if I was single,” she said. “If I did, there’d be repercussions. That’s the only way I can explain it.” She looked everywhere but at him. When she furrowed her brow, it made her round chin jut out a bit. Her lips pinched up, and he saw a flash of her in middle age. She was more attractive, a woman.
    She picked up her gigantic purse and dropped it on the floor, took the quilt from