Between that memorable Tuesday and the following Sunday, the first of March, Vicki flew three more Electra flights between New York and Chicago, with two days off in Chicago between flights. On one rest day her mother took the local train from Fairview up to Chicago, and they spent a happy day together.
On her other rest day, Vicki stayed at her Chicago hotel. Resting, she tried to plan exactly what she was going to tell Lucy’s grandmother when she visited the Bryants’ house on Sunday. What disturbed Vicki was the fact that she had learned some things about Lucy which Mr. Dorn, in San Francisco a month or so earlier, had not learned and possibly could have learned. Allowing that Mr. Dorn had missed meeting Lucy, as she herself had, and allowing that her own visit came a month later, still, either she or Mr. Dorn could be mistaken. And Vicki did not want to give Mrs. Bryant any wrong information, or raise any false hopes.
“I’m going to ask Mrs. Bryant the exact dates when Mr. Dorn was in San Francisco,” Vicki thought. “Because if he was there during the time Lucy became involved with Mrs. Heath, it’s strange he didn’t find out about that. Unless”—an odd idea struck her—“Mrs. Heath dodged Mr. Dorn’s inquiries and managed to keep him from learning of Lucy’s new job? Mrs. Heath avoided meeting the minister, didn’t she? She managed things so that a good friend like Gravy never met her, didn’t she? Hmm.”
Reviewing the few facts she had learned about Lucy’s new job, Vicki had to admit they were sketchy and elusive. It even occurred to her, in a wave of skepticism, that the girl she had seen from the air might not necessarily be Lucy Rowe. A green scarf and light-brown hair were not conclusive proof.
“Oh, it’s likely that girl is Lucy Rowe,” Vicki thought, impatient with herself. “Why don’t I be sensible and see, on Sunday, what Mr. Dorn has learned in the meantime? Maybe what he’s discovered by then and what I’ve discovered will tally, after all.”
She daydreamed about Sunday, and the pleasure she hoped it would give Mrs. Bryant to hear her news of Lucy.
The minute Vicki entered the Bryant house on Sunday afternoon she sensed the excitement there. The whole household had changed its mood: every lamp and chandelier in every room was alight, bouquets of fresh-cut flowers bloomed everywhere, dance music came from a radio. The house seemed young!
Mr. and Mrs. Bryant, when Vicki entered the room with the parakeets, looked as if they had waked up from a long sleep, refreshed and happy. They both were beaming. Mr. Bryant had a flower in his buttonhole, and Mrs. Bryant was as flushed as a girl in her rustling taffeta dress. Vicki had never seen them in such festive spirits. Around the tea service were trays of tiny, fancy sandwiches and cakes, ready for a party. Vicki, trying not to look inquisitive, said good afternoon.
“Vicki, how nice to see you!” Mrs. Bryant took her hand and drew her into the room. “You’re right on time. Our other guests are coming at five, but I especially wanted you here early. You’ll see why.”