"I got a letter last week."
"What did he say?"
"Well, according to the letter, the war is a kind of football game. We lost the first scrimmage, but now they've sent the first team in, and we're gaining ground."
He nodded. "That's Larry."
"But that's not the war," Catherine said quietly. "It's not a football game, Bill. Millions of people are going to be killed before this is over."
"If you're in it, Catherine," he said gently, "I imagine it's easier to think of it as a football game."
Catherine had decided that she wanted to go to work. The Army had created a branch for women called the WACs, and Catherine had thought of joining but had felt she might be more useful doing something more than driving cars and answering telephones. Although from what she had heard, the WACs were pretty colorful. There was so much pregnancy among them that there was a rumor that when volunteers went in for their physical examination, the doctors pressed their stomachs with a tiny rubber stamp. The girls tried to read the words but were unable to do so. Finally one of them hit upon the idea of getting a magnifying glass. The words read: "When you can read this with the naked eye, report to me."
Now as she sat lunching with Bill Fraser, she said, "I want to work. I want to do something to help."
He studied her a moment, then nodded. "I may know just the thing for you, Catherine. The Government's trying to sell War Bonds. I think you could help coordinate it."
Two weeks later Catherine went to work organizing the sale of War Bonds by celebrities. It had sounded ridiculously easy in concept, but the execution of it was something else again. She found the stars to be like children, eager and excited about helping the war effort, but difficult to pin down about specific dates. Their schedules had to be constantly juggled. Often it was not their fault, because pictures were delayed or schedules ran over. Catherine found herself commuting from Washington to Hollywood and New York. She got us
ed to leaving on an hour's notice, packing enough clothes to last the length of each trip. She met dozens of celebrities.
"Did you really meet Cary Grant?" her secretary asked her when she returned from a trip to Hollywood.
"We had lunch together."
"Is he as charming as they say?"
"If he could package it," Catherine declared, "he'd be the richest man in the world."
It happened so gradually that Catherine was almost unaware of it. It had been six months earlier, when Bill Fraser told her about a problem that Wallace Turner was having with one of the advertising accounts that Catherine used to handle. Catherine had laid out a new campaign using a humorous approach, and the client had been very pleased. A few weeks later Bill had asked Catherine to help on another account, and before she realized it she was spending more than half her time with the advertising agency. She was in charge of half a dozen accounts, all of them doing well. Fraser had given her a large salary and a percentage. At noon on the day before Christmas Fraser came into her office. The rest of the staff had gone home, and Catherine was finishing up some last minute work.
"Having fun?" he asked.
"It's a living," she smiled and added warmly, "and a generous one. Thanks, Bill."
"Don't thank me. You've earned every penny of it--and then some. It's the 'then some' I want to talk to you about. I'm offering you a partnership."
She looked at him in surprise. "A partnership?"
"Half the new accounts we got in the last six months are because of you." He sat there looking at her thoughtfully, saying nothing more. And she understood how much it meant to him.
"You have a partner," she said.
His face lit up. "I can't tell you how pleased I am." Awkwardly, he held out his hand. She shook her head, walked past his outstretched arm, hugged him and gave him a kiss on the cheek.
"Now that we're partners," she teased, "I can kiss you." She felt him suddenly hold her tighter.
"Cathy," he said, "I..."
Catherine put her finger to his lips. "Don't say anything, Bill. Let's leave it the way it is."
"You know I'm in love with you."
"And I love you," she said warmly. Semantics, she thought. The difference between "I love you" and "I'm in love with you" was a bridgeless chasm.
Fraser smiled. "I won't bother you, I promise. I respect the way you feel about Larry."
"Thank you, Bill." She hesitated. "I don't know whether this helps any, but if there ever were anyone else, it would be you."