Kimmensen grunted. "She could have found a way to get home in time. I offered to let her take the plane if she wanted to. But, no, she said she'd get a ride over."
The puzzled anger he always felt toward Susanne was making his head wag. She'd annoyed him for years about the plane, ever since she was eighteen. Then, when he offered her its occasional use after she'd reached twenty-five, she had made a point of not taking it. He couldn't make head or tail of the girl. She was quick, intelligent, educated—she was potentially everything he'd tried to teach her to be. But she was willful—stubborn. She refused to listen to his advice. The growing coldness between them left them constantly at swords' points. He wondered sometimes if there hadn't been something hidden in Anna's blood—some faint strain that had come to the surface in Susanne and warped her character.
No matter—she was still his daughter. He'd do his duty toward her.
"This is really very good, Joe," Jem remarked, sipping his drink. "Excellent."
"Thank you," Kimmensen replied absently. He was glaringly conscious of the break in what should have been a smooth evening's social flow. "Please accept my apologies for Susanne's thoughtlessness."
Jem smiled. "There's nothing to apologize for, Joe. When the time comes for her to settle down, she'll do it."
"Tell me, Jem—" Kimmensen started awkwardly. But he had to ask. "Do you like Susanne? I think you do, but tell me anyhow."
Jem nodded quietly. "Very much. She's moody and she's headstrong. But that'll change. When it does, I'll ask her."
Kimmensen nodded to himself. Once again, his judgment of Bendix was confirmed. Most young people were full of action. Everything had to be done now. They hadn't lived long enough to understand how many tomorrows there were in even the shortest life.