City Girl (12 page)

"Well, well!" exclaimed a tall, balding man. "Where have you been keeping this cupcake, Garrett old boy?" He presented a limp, clammy hand for Crystal to shake.

"Down, boy," cracked his wife, a bosomy, freckle-faced brunette wearing a most unbecoming fuchsia gown. "I'm Marion Swain," she introduced herself, elbowing her husband away. "And this is German, my better half. We call him Germ for short."

"Oh, really, Marion, don't you ever get tired of that boring old joke?" he whimpered. "Ignore her, cupcake, I do."

Before further .animosities could be aired, Garrett jumped in with the final introductions. "And this is Winston Murrow," he rushed on diplomatically, indicating a sleek, sophisticated man who seemed far more interested in the contents of his glass than this gathering of people. "And this is Alicia Murrow, his sister." Garrett saved the best, or the worst, for last.

Alicia locked in on Crystal, hazel eyes not quite concealing a savage glint. She gave a curt nod, but said nothing. Instantly Crystal decided that she disliked the woman enough to enjoy playing a convincing part. "Hello, everyone," she managed. "It's so nice to meet some of Garrett's friends."

She glanced at him, and he smiled secretly, approvingly. He left her then and went to the bar, where he poured himself a drink from a pitcher prepared by Lupe.

"I think I can handle this now, Lupe," he said smoothly, and the big Mexican woman excused herself and went inside. He filled a glass for Crystal and carried it to her. Together they crossed to a small divan and seated themselves side by side.

"Tell me, Crystal," Alicia purred, "where are you from?"

"Dallas."

"And are you living there now?" Alicia pressed conversationally, leaning one smooth elbow upon a knee and suspending her drink in the cool night air.

"No." Crystal bit her lip, wondering if an honest answer had been wise. One glance at Garrett, compressing his lips against a wiggly smile, told her that the decision was hers. He would go along with whatever story she chose to tell them. She chose the truth, in its simplest form. "Actually," she began, savoring the words, "I'm staying here for the time being."

The carefully contrived mask on Alicia Murrow's face slipped, revealing defeat and anger, and was quickly restructured.

"Crystal is a teacher," Garrett put in. "I've hired her to tutor some children living on the ranch." He slid a casual arm about her shoulders, giving the impression that the job of tutor was only part of the reason she was presently living under his roof.

"How lovely," Alicia pronounced sourly, and tossed off her drink.

Crystal cut her eyes at Garrett, being careful to keep her back muscles rigid against the pressure of his arm, and caught just the slightest glimpse of a wink.

"Tell me, Alicia," Garrett said, purposefully parroting her, "how did you manage to be with us tonight?"

"I was invited." The biting sarcasm was thick in her voice.

"Oh, yes, indeedy," piped in her brother. "When she found out the Meads were flying down in their private plane, she called up and invited the both of us along." He smiled sweetly at his sister and finished off the liquid in his own glass.

Alicia Murrow sliced her brother a killing look, but apparently he was immune to her malevolent glares. Mrs. Mead squirmed uncomfortably at her husband's elbow, but Crystal noticed that Ernest Mead seemed to find the whole situation rather amusing. She decided that of the lot, she liked him the best by far.

Mercifully Lupe showed up just then to announce that dinner was about to be served, and the group rose to their feet and progressed toward the table, where dinnerware had silently and elegantly appeared in the interim.

Garrett lagged behind, his hand clasped protectively at Crystal's elbow. "This could get nasty," he warned from behind a brilliant smile that made it appear they were having a romantic little conversation.

"I think I'm up to it," she replied firmly.

Blue eyes met green ones and held them in silence for several seconds. The air grew suddenly warm and soothing. She felt light and airy, unaccountably at ease. She supposed it was the drink, but when at last he took his eyes away, the air grew crisp again, and she wondered if she had imagined the whole thing.

Dinner was awkward. Not even Lupe's delectable standing rib roast and perfect baked potatoes, topped with cheese and seasoned butter, could dispel the chill in the air. Crystal could say later with conviction that the only person who seemed to enjoy the meal was Ernest Mead, who ate with gusto and complimented the cook loudly.

She could only pick at her own entree, and the buttered broccoli and fresh baked rolls that accompanied it. She had to refuse the melon balls and sherbets that Lupe served as dessert, not trusting her jittery stomach to take in more food. She sipped sparingly from the glass of wine Garrett had poured for her, wishing the interminable evening would be over and yet strangely enjoying it.

Her enjoyment came from watching Alicia Murrow squirm, or so she told herself. The woman was truly despicable, but Crystal nevertheless felt a little sorry for her. Her beauty was all veneer, and an uncomfortably transparent veneer at that.

Grudgingly Crystal admitted that she could not blame Garrett for wanting to discourage a woman like Alicia, though she steadfastly refused to condone his manipulation of herself as the means or to admit that her enjoyment stemmed primarily from the attention he lavished upon her during the evening.

At last dinner was over, bat to her dismay, Garrett and Ernest Mead jointly announced that they had business to discuss and asked to be excused. Garrett rose from his seat and assisted Crystal from her chair, whispering into her ear as he did so, "I won't be long, I promise."

She shot him a pleading look. She was unprepared to play the part of hostess in his absence. What on earth would she do with these people until he returned?

To her utter amazement, he cupped her chin with one hand and kissed her hard on the mouth. That entire episode in the park flooded over her and everything he had done since that had displeased and offended her receded from memory. For one erratic moment she was deliriously happy.

"Why don't you show the others around the house, darling?" he suggested smoothly.
Darling
?

She nodded dumbly and swallowed a thick lump in her throat as he strode toward the shadowed archway, Mr. Mead following at his heels.

"I'd love to see the house!" gushed Marion Swain.

For a few seconds Crystal could only blink at her. Then, recovering herself, she smiled and turned to take in the remaining members of the group. While Winston Murrow looked slightly amused, his sister looked like a bomb about ready to detonate. Crystal raised her head proudly. "This way, please." Obediently they followed her lead.

After taking them on precisely the same tour to which Lupe had treated her earlier in the day, Crystal led her charges back to the courtyard and suggested that they might like to see the pool. She was suddenly too exhausted to accompany them and found herself a seat among the scattered wrought-iron divans. To her chagrin, Alicia Murrow also lingered behind.

Crystal carefully avoided her gaze until, inevitably, Alicia forced the issue. "How long have you known Garrett?" she demanded, stopping in mid-stride to aim a malevolent glare at Crystal.

"Not long." Crystal sighed, fixing a cool stare upon her antagonist.

"I thought not!" Alicia crowed triumphantly, tossing her platinum head. "And has he ever talked to you about his late wife?"

"No." Truth clothed in pretense. Why should he? She was only an employee, but Alicia had no way of knowing that, and Crystal did not intend to enlighten her.

"Then you don't know why he's taken with you, do you?"

Crystal was quite certain she did not want to hear this, but saw no way to avoid it. "Does it matter, Alicia?" she countered.

"Oh, yes, it matters!" the other woman shot back, her hazel eyes taking on a feline quality as she narrowed them at Crystal. "Because this relationship can only harm Garrett."

Crystal rose steadily to her feet, the image of composure and tolerance.

"I think you are being just a bit melodramatic," she said lightly.

"Oh, am I? Don't you know that you are helping him to perpetuate the myth, that as long as you are around, he will never forget her and go on with his life?"

Crystal's brows wrinkled in agitation. Inwardly she was beginning to freeze. Outwardly she managed to maintain the image. "What on earth are you talking about?" she laughed.

"I'm talking about the fact that you look almost exactly like the late Mrs. Dean." As Alicia's ugly words hit home, she smiled viciously. "It's positively uncanny," she said, surveying Crystal coldly. "I wonder if even he realizes how very much you are like her."

Crystal stood very still, except for the uncontrollable shaking of her hands. It was as if the blood had congealed in her veins, quite suddenly and without the slightest warning. Her brain commanded that she smile, that she keep up the pretense, but her face remained impassively frozen.

"Th-that's silly," she managed, her voice cracking.

"Ask anyone who knew her." Alicia sneered. "Petite, doll-like, long dark hair, big innocent eyes." She laughed pitiably, triumphantly, while Crystal stood frozen to the ground, numb, shaken.

Only moments later, when the rest of the little group returned from their sightseeing to request more drinks, did she realize that the other woman was sneering at her, enjoying the shock etched upon her face. Immediately Crystal came to herself. She blinked, smiled wanly, and pressed a still-trembling hand to her forehead. "By all means," she heard herself saying. "Mr. Murrow, would you tend bar for us, please?"

It was much later that night, after Crystal was once again allowed the sanctity of her room, that she could even think about what Alicia Murrow had told her. The remainder of the evening had passed in a blur, though she supposed that she must have pulled off Garrett's little charade to his satisfaction. She vaguely remembered him thanking her, and Lupe's satisfied crowing, but she could not have recalled her reply, if indeed she made any, to save her life.

She did not purposely set out to consider what Alicia Murrow had revealed. It merely stole into her brain and stayed there until she dealt with it. Once she had had time to think about it, it seemed perfectly logical.

It seemed most probable to her that Garrett was unaware of his motives for hiring her. It had probably been a subconscious thing, a nagging impulse that he could not deny or define. Otherwise, why had he suddenly changed his mind and offered her the position? Originally he had not thought she could handle the job, and there was no satisfactory explanation for why he had changed his mind.

Then there was Lupe. Crystal felt certain that Lupe had seen the resemblance at once. It made sense. It had probably given her the idea to put Crystal in this very room. Probably, she thought that it would make Garrett happy, once he realized that Crystal was so like his late wife. And Petie. Why had he immediately assumed that Garrett had married her? Did he take one look and automatically assume that Garrett had found a replacement for the wife he had lost? And Gloria—was she also aware of the uncanny resemblance? Did she disapprove? Was that why she had seemed so hostile?

Her thoughts went full circle, right back to Garrett himself. Why had he suddenly decided to make her his date for the evening? He had kissed her, not once, but twice, and called her darling, even though he actually seemed to dislike her at least part of the time. Was it only because he wanted to discourage Alicia Murrow? Or was it because he could not keep from equating her with his dead wife?

The whole thing was entirely too preposterous to think about, but think about it she did. And the longer she dwelt upon it, the more plausible it seemed to her, until finally she had no logical perspective upon the matter at all.

By morning she had all but totally convinced herself that she was the spitting image of the late Mrs. Dean. She even believed that he probably hired her on the basis of that resemblance alone. And though she told herself that it did not make one bit of difference as far as she was concerned, her heart was heavy when she left her room at the appointed hour for her meeting with Garrett.