{"id":964,"date":"2019-03-27T03:24:47","date_gmt":"2019-03-27T03:24:47","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.sportsnewsforyou.com\/?p=964"},"modified":"2019-03-27T03:24:47","modified_gmt":"2019-03-27T03:24:47","slug":"the-undecided-blonde-by-timothy-fuller","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/googmn.com\/?p=964","title":{"rendered":"\u201cThe Undecided Blonde\u201d by Timothy Fuller"},"content":{"rendered":"

Summer is for steamy romance. Our new series of classic fiction from the 1940s and \u201950s features sexy intrigue from the archives for all of your beach reading needs. In \u201cThe Undecided Blonde,\u201d Hannah is surprised when her past lover Hank, a playwright, turns up to reignite their romance. Her new man, Tom, isn\u2019t so keen on the idea. The 1955 short romance by Timothy Fuller features a classic love triangle with Hollywood types in a small town.<\/em><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

The town of Santuxit, Massachusetts, was just as quaint as Purdy expected. There was a tiny park with old white houses crowded up around it and an ancient church at one end. It was snowing, and each vista was like a Christmas card before they went arty.<\/p>\n

Purdy pulled into an early-colonial gas station in the center of town and was surprised that the pumps weren\u2019t finished in knotty pine.<\/p>\n

\u201cSay, Mac,\u201d he asked the attendant, \u201cwhich way to the chowder factory?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYonder,\u201d said the man. \u201cQuarter mile out on the Nubbin Road.\u201d<\/p>\n

So Purdy took the Nubbin Road and, sure enough, there was the factory. It had once been a railroad station, but now there was a sign in antique letters reading: The Chowder Works.<\/p>\n

\u201cCrickey,\u201d said Purdy.<\/p>\n

He\u2019d make this the shortest interview on record just grab the facts and be back in Boston by dinnertime. The place was open, aromatic, neat and, so he thought, empty. It wasn\u2019t until he looked through the grilled window of what had once been the ticket office that he saw the blonde on the cot in there. She was on her back with one arm thrown over her eyes but despite this obstruction the total effect was promising. The chin was good, the lips generous, and what he could see of the nose was upturned. Although Purdy ranked jeans with middy blouses as unimaginative female attire, this pair was well filled and, below, the ankles were nicely fashioned. Also she hadn\u2019t followed the current trend of hacking off her locks with dull shears. Her hair was the color of copy paper left a day in the sun, and it was long, soft and intelligently curled at the end.<\/p>\n

Why rouse her, Purdy asked himself. She would then talk, and no talk from a girl whose career was chowder making in an abandoned coastal-railway station could amount to anything. Purdy knew For months now he\u2019d authored that popular newspaper series entitled Your Enterprising Neighbors and few of the neighbors, once away from their enterprise, had proved swift with their dialogue True the twelve-year-old who manufactured seat covers for English bicycles out of imported tartan and the little old lady who knitted bottle socks in your favorite college colors had been full of worldly wisdom, but from the dreamers in between \u00a0\u2014 the gadget and toy makers, the bird fanciers and animal trainers, the jelly brewers and herb gardeners, the clothing designers and all the strange highway entrepreneurs \u00a0\u2014 frankly nothing of interest or value.<\/p>\n

On the other hand, Purdy reflected, resting his elbows on the ledge outside the ticket window, this doll might not even work here. His information gave the proprietors of the chowder pitch as two ex-New York City typists who had fallen in love with the area while vacationing the previous summer. This girl looked far too young and unjaded to be a party to any such bucolic deal.<\/p>\n

As usual when contemplating a new girl, Purdy allowed his imagination to roam at will. Let\u2019s say it\u2019s low tide, he assumed. The typists are out on the flats in their hip boots, digging tomorrow\u2019s clams, and the blonde here is a niece of one of them. She\u2019s half a year out of Yale Dramatic School and is on for the winter to live frugally and finish writing her play. She\u2019s been up all night with the third act and is worn out and depressed. More than anything else right now she needs advice and encouragement. When she wakes up we\u2019ll seek out some quiet local bar and \u2014<\/p>\n

\u201cHello, Hank,\u201d said the girl, and sat up.<\/p>\n

Only the eyes were familiar. They were green, and he was certain at one time in his past he had looked deeply into them, but no bell sounded.<\/p>\n

\u201cMadam,\u201d he said, bowing, \u201cyou have me at a disadvantage.\u201d<\/p>\n

She advanced, laughing, to the grille. \u201cThis is your life, Henry Purdy,\u201d she said. \u201cIt is June and we are dancing. You are twenty-one and full of great plans for yourself. You will have three hit plays running on Broadway and then you will return to claim me as your bride. I am fourteen and almost believe you. We are in Miles River, Indiana, where you are best man at my brother\u2019s wedding.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHannah Willoughby,\u201d he said, awed. \u201cFor it was she.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThe same.\u201d<\/p>\n

He rattled the grille, but it was immovable. \u201cCome out of there, Hannah Willoughby. I desire to kiss you.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cA splendid idea,\u201d she said, and hurried around through the door.<\/p>\n

But he didn\u2019t kiss her. He shook her hand and patted her shoulder, because she was no longer fourteen and she was Horace Willoughby\u2019s kid sister and Purdy had his code.<\/p>\n

\u201cDon\u2019t tell me you\u2019re mixed up in this clambake, Hannah,\u201d he pleaded. \u201cThe letter I got was signed by a Carlotta something.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cMy former partner. She thought we could use the publicity. But Carlotta went back to New York ten days ago. Claimed she was getting cabin fever. She was sleeping in the baggage room, and it has no window, so \u2014 \u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou live here?\u201d<\/p>\n

With her thumb she indicated the ticket office. \u201cTw o windows. Inside and out.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDoes Horace know? Won\u2019t he send you fare to get back home?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThis is a nice little racket, Hank,\u201d she informed him, bridling. \u201cRight now I \u2018m clearing fifty dollars a week.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cGad,\u201d he said. \u201cAnd Carlotta gave up her share in this? She must be out of her head.\u201d<\/p>\n

Her chin went out, and with it her fine full lower lip. She looked as if she might readily sock him.<\/p>\n

\u201cI jest, Hannah,\u201d he said quickly. \u201c That is Purdy\u2019s way when confronted with imponderables. Believe me, I \u2018m an expert in these undertakings, kid, and yours looks sound enough. Sloth alone can keep you from rolling in riches.\u201d<\/p>\n

She was mollified. She led him happily around the pots and pans, explaining the intricacies of the plant\u2019s operation. It appeared that she and Carlotta had stumbled upon the fact that no real, fully flavored, old-fashioned clam chowder was commercially available. The catch, they\u2019d discovered, lay in the nature of chowder itself. To be right, it had to be fresh. Why not, they\u2019d reasoned, make up a concentrate of the essential ingredients, lacking only scalded milk, and deliver it fresh to institutions like schools, colleges, hospitals, clubs —-<\/p>\n

\u201cTake schools alone, Hank,\u201d she said, with fire now in her wild green eyes. \u201cYou\u2019ve heard of the hot-lunch program? Do you realize that within a radius of forty miles of where we now stand there\u2019s at least a hundred thousand school children who must be fed something at noon five days a week?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI t\u2019s shocking,\u201d he admitted. \u201cDo you feed all of them all by yourself?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOh, I don\u2019t do it alone. Mrs. Pina comes in mornings to help with the potato dicing, and Charley Shaw shucks clams and drives the truck. We haven\u2019t really touched the potential market, Hank. This could be big!\u201d<\/p>\n

He nodded sadly. She was an excellent girl, marred only by the eternal dream of easy wealth. But he had a nice gimmick for his story: Hoosier shows Yankees way to make clam chowder.<\/p>\n

\u201cDo you know quahogs?\u201d she asked, holding out a large brown mollusk for his inspection. \u201c They\u2019re the big brother of littleneck and cherry-stone clams. They live to be thirty years old. The Latin name is Venus mercenaria.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cA very pretty name,\u201d he said. \u201cA pretty name for you perhaps. Do you ever get out of here? Do you ever have fun?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cFun,\u201d she said, and sighed. \u201cThat\u2019s you, isn\u2019t it? The fun-loving Purdy. Hankus comicus. Yes, I have fun, Hank. For one thing, I \u2018m getting married next month.\u201d<\/p>\n

He felt a short, inexplicable spasm in the pit of his stomach, but at once it was gone. All pretty girls grew up and got married. It was in the nature of things. In time, no doubt, he\u2019d get married himself.<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, that\u2019s fine, Hannah. Congratulations. Is it anyone we know?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHis name is Tom Burnett. He\u2019s a veterinarian here. You could meet him, but he\u2019s gone to a meeting in Worcester to read a paper tonight on wood ticks. They get on dogs, you know, and Tom is working on a permanent repellent.\u201d<\/p>\n

Purdy couldn\u2019t help himself. \u201cMy,\u201d he said, shaking his head. \u201cAnd there I was thinking you might not be having fun!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cVery amusing,\u201d she said, and smiled. \u201c I was about to ask you to stay and eat some lobster with me because there\u2019s something I want to talk to you seriously about, but if ——-\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHannah,\u201d he said, \u201c if there\u2019s something you want to be serious about, I promise to stay and eat your lobster. Is there anything we might need to go with it? Beer, wine, whisky, brandy?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t drink,\u201d she said, but he shot her a stricken look and she giggled in spite of herself. \u201cOrdinarily, that is. Oh, Hank, it is good to see you again, and it\u2019s a long cold winter. I\u2019ll write you a list.\u201d<\/p>\n

He took her list and found a remarkable store that carried newspapers, drugs, hardware, groceries and a splendid selection of grain and malt beverages. It was run by a laconic character actor in a hard straw hat who thawed a bit under Purdy\u2019s final extravagant purchase of a pint of cognac.<\/p>\n

\u201cTell me,\u201d Purdy asked casually, as he counted his meager change, \u201cwho\u2019s the best veterinarian here in town?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDoc Burnett.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cGood, steady man, is he?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNone steadier. Tom\u2019s been at it now for more\u2019n thirty years.\u201d<\/p>\n

Purdy reeled. Thirty years! Why, the man must be nearing sixty, and Hannah, Horace Willoughby\u2019s sister, planned to marry this ancient!<\/p>\n

It was all too clear how the match had transpired. Hannah, lonely, far from home, fatigued by her effort to maintain her precarious enterprise, had been carried away by the promise of security and an easy, well-ordered existence with the stolid doctor. It happened every day. Venus mercenaria, indeed.<\/p>\n

Driving slowly back through the snow to the factory, Purdy probed deeply into his conscience. Am I, he demanded, old Horace\u2019s little sister\u2019s keeper? What right might I have, if such were possible, to throw a wrench into this mishmash? Do I have a duty here? Or should I keep silent, eat my fill of lobster and slink guiltily away?<\/p>\n

He arrived back at the station in a state of flux. In his absence, Hannah had changed her clothes. She had selected a pink blouse, a flaring black satin skirt and golden ballet slippers. She had also combed out her long yellow hair, brightened her mouth and anointed herself liberally with an exotic perfume. The total effect, when she pirouetted for his inspection, was sufficiently charged to cause Purdy to avert his eyes. Clinking with his supplies, he crossed to the counter.<\/p>\n

\u201cHannah, child,\u201d he said, \u201cthis serious talk you proposed. Let\u2019s get on with it.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cO.K . But promise me one thing. Hank. Don\u2019t get sore.\u201d<\/p>\n

He laughed easily. \u201cYou\u2019ll find I compare favorably in composure with jolly old Saint Nick.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cVery well, then. Hank, you\u2019re twenty-seven years old; right?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cRight.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019re bright, witty and talented.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAll three. Also generous, kind \u201c<\/p>\n

\u201cHank, how many plays have you written?\u201d<\/p>\n

He was in the act of removing a bottle by its neck from a paper bag, and now saw his knuckles gleam white. With masterly control, he lowered the bottle gently to the counter and released it.<\/p>\n

\u201cTo give you a rough total, dear,\u201d he said, \u201cnone.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou were always going to, weren\u2019t you?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cA childish whim,\u201d he said easily. \u201cA passing adolescent fancy.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHank,\u201d she said relentlessly, \u201cyou\u2019re a liar.\u201d<\/p>\n

He was, he felt, equal to the challenge. \u201c I trust you\u2019re aware, Miss Willoughby, that lobsters are readily procurable all along this coast. Even now some local Boniface is awaiting my custom. I don\u2019t have to take this obloquy from you, a mere chit of a chowder maker.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOh, Hank!\u201d she said and clapped her hands. \u201cDon\u2019t you see? You even talk like a play! You can do it, Hank! All you need is free time, a quiet place to work with no distractions, and a steady income coming in each week! That\u2019s all!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAren\u2019t you forgetting paper and pencils?\u201d he asked, and laughed hollowly. \u201cThose I might be able to supply.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou don\u2019t understand,\u201d she said. \u201cHank, I want you to have this!\u201d<\/p>\n

He frowned. Her hands were at her sides and he was at a loss as to precisely what she was offering him. \u201cThis?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes. The chowder works.\u201d Her right hand now waved vaguely at the pots and pans. \u201cCharley and Mrs. Pina could do most of the work, and all you\u2019d have to do is supervise it. Even if you didn\u2019t want to expand, you\u2019d have enough coming in every week and \u2014 \u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHannah,\u201d he said carefully, \u201c I am deeply moved.\u201d<\/p>\n

A work stool was handy and he drew it up.<\/p>\n

She swallowed and her eyes went misty, turning them a shade toward blue. \u201cWell, you were Hod\u2019s roommate in college, and you were nice to me at the wedding, and I want to see you get ahead.\u201d<\/p>\n

As ye sow, Purdy thought, so shall ye reap. But he didn\u2019t say it. In the first place, this was no time for another joke, and in the second, he had no great trust in his voice. That this wonderful girl should be pledged to a doddering quack \u2014<\/p>\n

\u201cAnyway,\u201d she said, \u201cTom doesn\u2019t want me to work after we\u2019re married, so you\u2019d better have it.\u201d<\/p>\n

Tom, Purdy thought suddenly, won\u2019t be in a position to make such highhanded decisions much longer. Old Tom doesn\u2019t know it, but he\u2019s about through.<\/p>\n

It would take time, of course, and plenty of skill. He could hardly hope to lay more than a groundwork this first evening. Tonight would be devoted to brief exploratory maneuvers. After all, he knew next to nothing about this girl, and success would require a complete dossier of her innermost self. Obviously, loyalty meant much to her, hence she\u2019d not lightly abandon this rustic V.M.D.<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, partner,\u201d he said, getting up from the stool, \u201clet\u2019s at least have a drink while we talk it over.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI feel like one,\u201d she said eagerly. \u201cHank, this is swell!\u201d<\/p>\n

He smiled. Drink, carefully apportioned, could be a handy tool.<\/p>\n

\u201cBourbon?\u201d he inquired casually. On the rocks?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhatever you say.\u201d<\/p>\n

Up to and including the lobster, it went very well. Rarely, Purdy had to admit, had he been in better form. He amused her with anecdotes from his college days with Hod, touched modestly on his experiences in Korea, and shocked her mildly with some aspects of his present Bohemian existence on Beacon Hill. In general, the format was meant to instill confidence in himself as a fundamentally sound human being, while doubts grew as to the scope, color and excitement that would be hers, wed to the aged vet.<\/p>\n

But while he was preparing two generous cafe diables, Hannah flung an arm about his neck and kissed his cheek.<\/p>\n

\u201cCareful, doll,\u201d he said, sensing no danger. \u201cThis coffee is hot and the brandy dear.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOh, the heck with that,\u201d she said, and kissed him again, nearer the mouth.<\/p>\n

He abandoned his drink making, disengaged her arm and looked clinically into her eyes. Both of them appeared to focus normally.<\/p>\n

\u201cVenus, baby,\u201d he asked with some concern, \u201chow do you feel? You\u2019re not getting crocked on me?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHankus pankus,\u201d she said happily, \u201c I \u2018ve only had two little drinks, and that was before supper. I just feel good, is all. Maybe I have a wee touch of cabin fever. What do you think?\u201d<\/p>\n

This possibility had not occurred to him. It-might well be the answer, and if so, it required delicate handling. He wanted her to have no remorse following this night\u2019s session. It would be well for him to remember that this presently gay girl was also capable of conducting a going chowder concern, and for her to suspect, in the morning, that he\u2019d taken any advantage would be ruinous.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou know something?\u201d she asked, and crinkled her nose at him. \u201cYou broke a promise to me. When you first got here you said if I came out of the ticket office you\u2019d kiss me.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cTrue,\u201d he admitted. This much, properly executed, could do no harm. He extended his arms. \u201cAdvance, Hannah Willoughby.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cCatch me,\u201d she proposed, and went up on her toes.<\/p>\n

Very well, he thought, this lighthearted mood is excellent.<\/p>\n

She led him a merry chase, indeed. Here a frying pan clattered to the floor, there a pile of cartons toppled. At last, panting, he cornered her by the baggage-room door. She struggled briefly; then went limp and tipped up her chin.<\/p>\n

He achieved, Purdy felt, just the right balance between comedy and lust. It was a token, really. No remorse could properly ensue.<\/p>\n

\u201cOld Hankus,\u201d she said and her eyes were fading once again into blue. \u201cYou\u2019re not so comicus, after all.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHoney,\u201d he said nervously, \u201cI think it\u2019s time you told me a bit more about your Doctor Burnett.\u201d<\/p>\n

He retired to his stool, but she followed and sat on his lap.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019d like him,\u201d she said, and touched his right cheek. \u201cYou\u2019ve got lipstick all over.\u201d<\/p>\n

He ignored this diversion. \u201cBut what\u2019s he like?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOh, he\u2019s New England, I guess.\u201d She put her head on his shoulder, and the perfume of her hair was strong upon him. \u201cSteady, straightforward. He was a nine-letter man at Cornell.\u201d<\/p>\n

That would account for his vigor, Purdy mused. Still in those days the competition was less.<\/p>\n

\u201cDid you win your letter in college, Hankus?\u201d she asked, and nuzzled his neck.<\/p>\n

It was then that a great white light flashed on in Purdy\u2019s mind. She had no intention at all of marrying this Burnett. The vet was a decoy, a ruse, to arouse his jealousy. From the moment he stepped into this chowder mill she\u2019d been playing him for all she was worth. What a rube he\u2019d been to fall for it.<\/p>\n

But why? What could she want from him? Marriage, of course. They all wanted that. Oh, there might have been a lingering romantic notion left over from Horace\u2019s wedding day, but he was here on trial. She was looking him over. Why, she had actually sent for him. Carlotta might have written that letter to the paper, but you could bet it was little old scheming Hannah, who put her up to it.<\/p>\n

Well, Purdy, what now? A moment ago \u2018 you were prepared to marry her, weren\u2019t you ? Desired to, didn\u2019t you?<\/p>\n

But the situation is quite different, he argued. Before, we were more or less faced with a crisis here. Now cooler heads can prevail. Are you really ready for marriage? For all its problems and responsibilities? You\u2019re young, boy. Twenty-seven is nothing.<\/p>\n

Well, we\u2019ll cross that little bridge when we come to it, he decided sagely. Meanwhile<\/p>\n

\u201cWhy, yes,\u201d he said, moving her head into a kissable position. \u201cI won my letter in this.\u201d<\/p>\n

He kissed her truly and well.<\/p>\n

\u201cNow, Hank!\u201d she gasped, twisting away. \u201cLet\u2019s keep this comicus, shall we? Remember, I —-\u201d<\/p>\n

This time, as a variation, he kissed her well and truly. She socked him. It was a glancing blow, but it brought water to his eyes.<\/p>\n

\u201cI \u2018m sorry, Hank. I guess it\u2019s my fault, but I didn\u2019t think you\u2019d do anything \u00a0\u2014 like that. We were having fun and—-\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOh, come now, Miss Willoughby.\u201d He grinned at her, holding both her hands.<\/p>\n

\u201cNo, really, Hank. Let me go. I \u00a0\u2014 oh, golly Moses!\u201d<\/p>\n

He followed her eyes to the door and saw it open to admit a small cloud of snow and one large young man in a hunting cap and red-checked woolen jacket.<\/p>\n

\u201cTom,\u201d Hannah whispered. \u201cWhy aren\u2019t you in Worcester?\u201d<\/p>\n

Purdy froze, but apparently. the man\u2019s eyes were still dazzled by the light.<\/p>\n

\u201cThey have fourteen inches of snow already west of Boston,\u201d he said. \u201cThey canceled the meeting.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat about your office hours?\u201d she asked desperately.<\/p>\n

\u201cDad\u2019s taking over tonight. I thought I\u2019d just drop by.\u201d Dad, Purdy thought, old Dad Burnett, the best veterinarian in town. By now, the eyes of the young, the real, Doc Burnett had grown accustomed to the light. Slowly, painstakingly, he detailed the mass of damaging evidence. The bottles, the toppled cartons, Hannah\u2019s tousled hair, Hannah\u2019s lipstick on Purdy\u2019s face.<\/p>\n

In a way, Purdy had to hand it to him. They didn\u2019t come any straighter than young Tom Burnett.<\/p>\n

\u201cBeat it,\u201d the doctor said.<\/p>\n

Purdy couldn\u2019t recall ever having encountered a more massive vet. Clearly, two courses lay open to him: he could go quietly in one piece, or violently in several. He stood up, still undecided.<\/p>\n

\u201cThis is Hank Purdy, Tom,\u201d Hannah said wildly. \u201cHe was my brother Horace\u2019s roommate in college. He \u00a0\u2014 he\u2019s lots of fun!\u201d<\/p>\n

It was this line of defense that decided Purdy. For far too long now he\u2019d been lots of fun.<\/p>\n

\u201cI believe I\u2019ll stay,\u201d he said, meeting Burnett\u2019s steely eye. \u201cShall we settle it in here or do you want to step outside, doctor?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOutside,\u201d said Tom, obviously a man well accustomed to lightning decisions of this nature.<\/p>\n

\u201cRight,\u201d said Purdy. \u201cTake off your mackinaw.\u201d<\/p>\n

There was something almost tragic in the manner in which Burnett divested himself of his outer garment. How slowly each arm came out of the coat, how careful the folding, how deadly the light dropping of the cap. He\u2019ll clobber me, Purdy thought. But he stepped outside.<\/p>\n

The snow fell, the light was poor and the footing insecure. Let it be swiftly done, Purdy prayed; let one blow decide it.<\/p>\n

It did. Burnett closed in, arms cocked, and Purdy shot out his right fist. He felt a stabbing pain along his arm, and saw the hulking form collapse at his feet. Burnett lay as though dead.<\/p>\n

I\u2019ve killed him, Purdy thought. The fellow\u2019s foot must have slipped and he fell into my fist, but it\u2019ll be manslaughter at least.<\/p>\n

He dropped to his knees and rubbed snow feverishly on the face of the inert body. Miraculously the eyelids flickered.<\/p>\n

\u201cNice punch,\u201d said young Tom Burnett. He worked his chin with his hand. \u201cFractured again. Never should fight. They warned me. You win, Purdy.\u201d<\/p>\n

Suddenly, for Purdy, this chance victory was soured by remorse.<\/p>\n

\u201cDoc,\u201d Purdy said, \u201cyou misread the picture in there. Hannah\u2019s true blue. I played on her loneliness, plied her with liquor——\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat\u2019s done is done,\u201d said Burnett. \u201cSuch things can\u2019t be mended.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cGive me a moment to say good-by to her,\u201d Purdy pleaded. \u201c I \u2018ll make things right for both of you.\u201d<\/p>\n

He stood up and hurried back to the door. It opened for him and he narrowly missed falling flat on the floor.<\/p>\n

\u201cOh, Hank,\u201d Hannah said. \u201cHe hurt you.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHe may have broken my hand,\u201d Purdy admitted, regaining his balance. \u201cHannah, listen to me. You\u2019ve got a great guy out there. Go to him now. He needs your sympathy.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBut, Hank \u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI \u2018m going to run along now, baby. We had our laughs, and the lobster was fine. Give my best to Hod when you write.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBut, Hank \u2014 \u201d<\/p>\n

He brought his undamaged hand to his lips and blew her a kiss. \u201cSo long, Venus. You\u2019re the best.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThe play, Hank. Won\u2019t you \u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

He smiled wryly and reached out and rumpled her hair. \u201c I\u2019ll write that play, kid. I\u2019ll send you tickets for the opening night.\u201d<\/p>\n

He lounged for a moment against the door. He felt great. He felt like Gary Cooper in the last scene of a socially significant Western drama. He only wished he had a cigarette drooping from his lip.<\/p>\n

She socked him again. This time it was harder, and it staggered him.<\/p>\n

\u201cOh, what a faker you are!\u201d she railed. \u201cSix years ago you said the same thing \u2014 and what happened? Nothing! Go on! Get out of here! Beat it!\u201d She was weeping.<\/p>\n

He put his arms around her. He kissed her forehead, her nose and both damp eyes. It was all very curious. He saw that Burnett had silently entered, retrieved his cap and coat and as silently departed.<\/p>\n

\u201cOh, Hank, darling,\u201d she sobbed, \u201cI didn\u2019t really mean that! I don\u2019t care if you ever write a play or not! I don\u2019t! I guess I don\u2019t know what I do want!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI know,\u201d he said, feeling wise beyond his years. \u201c It\u2019s sometimes hard to tell.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cTom is so nice,\u201d she sniffed, \u201cbut honestly he\u2019s not much fun. Not like you. Promise me you\u2019ll always go on having fun.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI can manage that,\u201d he told her. \u201cWith you I\u2019m a cinch.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThen you\u2019ll stay and take over the chowder business?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m taking everything over. The works.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOh, Hankus,\u201d she sighed. \u201cThat\u2019s lovely.\u201d<\/p>\n

It truly was.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Summer is for steamy romance. Our new series of classic fiction from the 1940s and \u201950s features sexy intrigue from the archives for all of your beach reading needs. In \u201cThe Undecided Blonde,\u201d Hannah is surprised when her past lover Hank, a playwright, turns up to reignite their romance. Her new man, Tom, isn\u2019t so…<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[3],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-964","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-news"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/googmn.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/964","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/googmn.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/googmn.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/googmn.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/googmn.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=964"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/googmn.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/964\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/googmn.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=964"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/googmn.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=964"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/googmn.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=964"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}