No easy way out (8 page)

"I don't." Virginia reappeared, her pot holdered hands bearing
two obvious TV dinners. "I let those scientists, chemists, and
nutritionists in the frozen-food industry be creative for me." She
placed an aluminum-foil-covered tray on each flowered place
mat.

"What about the antipasto?" Diane looked inquiringly at the
individual wooden salad bowls filled with colorful vegetables
glistening with oil, vinegar, and herb dressing.

"The Italian deli on the corner," she returned matter-of-factly,
shaking her hands free from the oven mitts. Virginia reached for
the bottle of rose and intently studied the label with the
vengeance of a connoisseur. "Napa Valley. A week ago Thursday.
Perfect!" She twisted off the cap and poured.

Laughter erupted from both women, filling the room with joyous
camaraderie. Stubbing out her cigarette, Diane grinned up at
Virginia. "I don't know why I expected anything different. As I
recall, you got suspended from home ec for setting fires in the
ovens."

"That was the only thing I never did deliberately." Virginia's
mouth twisted into a rueful smile. "I really missed not having a
mother to teach me to cook and sew. I hoped home ec would do the
job, but somehow I don't think it would have helped. I easily
accomplish the most difficult scientific problems, but cooking,
baking, and general housekeeping elude me." Her blue eyes rolled
toward the ceiling. "Thank heaven for housekeepers, laundry
services, and processed foods. For me the best cookbook is the
yellow pages, and the handiest kitchen appliance is the
telephone."

The laughter faded from Diane's face. She picked up the crystal
wineglass and stared somberly into the shimmering pink liquid. "It
must have been rough on you. When you have parents and a family you
tend to take them for granted. Sometimes you even think you'd be
better off without all their nagging and interference. But when you
don't have them..." Her voice trailed off.

"When you don't have them, you learn to compensate," Virginia
finished in an even tone. "It does color your attitude on life.
Little stains that are embedded forever. It changes the way you
think, the way you feel, the way you relate."

She cleared her throat and pushed the memories from her mind. "I
made a promise to myself that we were not going to be serious
tonight." Virginia smiled at her friend. "You want me to be lively
and bright and witty, so you are the one I'm going to practice
on."

Diane lifted her glass in silent approval. She studied
Virginia's appearance with critical delight. Long brown hair had
been pulled into an off-center topknot anchored by two cloisonne
chopsticks; her face was still flushed from the heat of the oven,
and the mannish work clothes had been discarded, replaced by a navy
silk kabuki robe etched with a screen of cherry blossoms.

"You look very"-Diane had been about to say "Gingerish" but
thought better of it-"exotic."

Tucking her hands inside the wide kimono sleeves, Virginia gave
an oriental-inspired bow. "I think I told you that I spent last
year working with a toy company, but I failed to mention it was in
Japan." She settled in the opposite chair.

"I fell in love with Tokyo. The people are courteous,
respectful, and full of tradition. The laboratory was housed in a
graceful temple surrounded by breathtaking gardens. There was a lot
of work to be done, but somehow the tranquil "environment lessened
the stress."

"My big travel adventure has been from Boise to here." Diane
grinned as she tore open the aluminum covering on her dinner. "One
of these days I'll travel to some faraway land, take a cruise,
maybe hike across Europe . . . one of these days."

She grimaced at the food on the metal plate. "The least you
could have done was learned to cook Japanese," she mumbled and
reached for more wine.

"Give it a chance," Virginia coaxed, cutting into the steaming
buttered flounder with paprika and stuffed with crabmeat. "You only
get dessert if you clean your plate. And I've defrosted everybody's
favorite, Sara Lee cheesecake."

"The one with strawberries?" At her affirmative nod Diane
emitted a low groan. "That's bribery! Do you know I once ate one
still frozen?" She took a deep breath, then proceeded to attack her
dinner. Her eyebrows arched in pleasant surprise. The entree proved
almost gourmet; the peas and tiny pearl onions were tender yet
crisp; even the whipped potatoes were not as gluey as she
expected.

Dinner and dessert were garnished with heavy doses of laughter
and girlish giggles, travel stories and love tales retold, details
embellished courtesy of the rapidly emptying bottle of rose.

"Do you want any coffee?" Virginia asked, her forehead puckering
at the difficulty she had in forming those few words.

Diane shook her head. "I don't want to sober the glow." She
smiled and reached for a cigarette. "You really are quite the
conversationalist. Your trips are fascinating, and so is your
work."

"Thank you." Virginia felt a rush of heat surging to her face,
and she wriggled uncomfortably on the chair cushion. "I haven't
talked so much in ages," she confessed, then whispered: "I think
it's the wine."

"I think you're just relaxed and confident about your subject,"
Diane told her with inebriated wisdom.

Elbows on the table, her flushed cheeks balanced on the palms of
her hands, Virginia looked inquiringly. "Do you really think I'm
interesting? I'm usually content to sit and listen unless someone
asks specifics." All the s's got tangled in her teeth, her
thickened tongue clearing them away.

"You are very interesting; you are very knowledgeable; and you
are very attractive." Diane waved her hands to emphasize each
point, then began slapping out the burning ashes that scattered
across the antique pink tabletop. "What do you think I've been
trying to tell you!" Her voice became shrill but not from
anger.

"It would be wonderful if Alex Braddock thought so," Virginia
mumbled on a wistful note, her full mouth pouting childishly. "I'd
give anything if he would-" The ringing telephone startled her; her
face slipped from the hands that cradled it. With slow, fumbling
movements Virginia leaned her chair backward toward the serving
counter and scooped up the receiver. "Dr. Farrell." The words were
delivered in rote.

"Good evening, Doctor. This is Alex Braddock."

She didn't need to hear the confirmation of his name. The deep
baritone that rolled through the line like smooth, aged bourbon
caressed her ear and evoked instant visualization.

Virginia made a grab for the table edge to keep herself and the
chair from crashing to the carpet. "H-e-1-l-o, A-l-e-x." Each
letter stuttered to life. She took a deep breath, made a valiant
effort to remain calm, and hoped the fog that shrouded her brain
would lift faster than the smog that covered L.A.

Diane was by her side in an instant. Now there were two ears,
two alcohol-dulled brains, and two pounding hearts waiting in
anticipatory panic.

"I missed seeing you this afternoon," his charming voice
soothed. "I just wanted to let you know the lab is no longer a
cluttered mess, and Glendale sent a robot for you to work on."

Virginia began to breathe at her normal rate. "That was very
thoughtful of you." Diane rolled her eyes, then pantomimed wildly
for her to be less formal. "I don't usually leave so early," she
continued, feeling more relaxed, a definite lilt in her voice, "but
I had a few outside errands to run." She leaned back in the chair,
gaining more confidence every minute; Diane patted her hand
encouragingly.

"I'm just so very glad that we got the Halloween mix-up
straightened out today," came his casual remark. "I do hope you
won't hold it against me."

"Of course not," Virginia gave a carefree laugh. "I am looking
forward to working with you and learning more about lasers and
solar energy. I think we will make an exciting team." She looked at
Diane, who nodded vigorously.

"I'm sure we will, Doctor...." Alex paused, then cleared his
throat. "I'd like to speak with Ginger for a moment, if I
might."

"G ... G... Ginger?" The Sara Lee began to burn its way back up
her digestive tract. Virginia closed her eyes; beads of
perspiration glistened on her forehead.

"Yes," he persisted. "You did say she was staying with you."

Virginia looked at Diane, mouthed "did we," and received a
confused shrug in response. Diane quickly grabbed a pencil from the
counter and a white paper napkin.

Squinting at the scribbled, practically illegible words,
Virginia read aloud, "Ginger flew to Tokyo on a modeling assignment
and will be back early Friday." Horrified, she pointed to the word
Friday.

"Tokyo!" Alex echoed in surprise.

"Well," she tried vainly to keep things light, but her words
sounded brittle, "my sister is a great one for fluttering from one
place to another for her job." Virginia swallowed the uncomfortable
lump of lies wedged in her throat. "Ginger will be sorry she missed
you."

"She won't have a thing to be sorry about," Alex returned in a
brusque, autocratic tone. "Tell Ginger that I will pick her up at
eight on Friday, and I won't take
any
excuse-short of a
plane crash. See you tomorrow, Doctor."

Diane replaced the receiver. "Plane crash"-her lips twisted-"how
gory!" She dropped into a chair and lit her last cigarette.

"How could you?" Virginia breathed angrily at her. "Friday! Now
what are we going to do?"

"Relax," she countered evenly. "We've got four days to think of
something-unless you decide to go out with him." Diane flashed her
a hopeful glance.

"I was thinking more in terms of hara-kiri," Virginia muttered
and rested her chin on the table. "A few minutes ago I was praying
the man would call."

"He did."

"But it wasn't me he asked for."

"You could go after him. You could fight for him," Diane pointed
out. "Try turning on the charm during the day and maybe the next
time he'll ask for Virginia."

Two blue eyes stared at her for a long uncomfortable moment
before they disappeared behind weary lids.

CHAPTER FIVE

With her lips stained fuchsia from consuming half a bottle of
Pepto-Bismol, her blue eyes dulled from lack of sleep, and her
nerves splintered by anxiety, Virginia gamely subjected herself to
the exorcising rituals inside the air lock.

Last night Diane's final parting pearl of wisdom had been "Every
woman should have a secret-it gives her an air of mystery." Well,
Virginia grimaced, she had one hell of a secret, and all it had
given her was a nervous stomach and insomnia!

She had spent the entire night twittering about the apartment
like a tremulous caged parakeet, carrying on one-sided gibberish
conversations with herself and drinking countless cups of warm
milk.

She had tried lying in bed, listening to soothing music and
hoping it would transport her into the arms of Morpheus. But the
drifting, darting shadows that played along the ceiling seemed
choreographed to the haunting strains of trumpet and saxophone.
They proved to be a mental stimulant, provoking memories of dancing
on the balcony in Alex's arms.

With little effort the swirling, orchestrated shadows
became three-dimensional man-and-woman images. Virginia became the
voyeur, watching Alex and her other self recreate the romance of
Halloween night.

Sights, sounds, and her heightened senses made the memories more
vivid, more real. Her ears vibrated against the languid deep-voiced
echo that was Alex's. Her nose dismissed the scent of freshly
washed linen, replacing it with a crisp, assertive male cologne.
Her lips clung to an imaginary masculine mouth while her body
tingled against the remembered muscular strength of him. She had
wanted to capture time in a bottle and, ironically, it seemed she
had. An erotic souvenir, devil-bent on haunting her.

Angry, Virginia had dragged herself free from this carnal
bondage and had taken refuge in the stark, fluorescent-lit kitchen.
There she spent the remaining lonely hours cleaning the inside of a
nearly empty refrigerator and neatening drawers of untouched
cooking utensils.

But that inner devil successfully tempted those diligent hands
to become idle while it provoked her mind to become reactive. If
she wanted to again capture the magic and passion of being with
Alex, she had only to become Ginger on Friday night. Would it be so
wrong? Who would get hurt?

Not Alex-he would reap the rewards. Not Ginger-she would be free
to seduce and partake. But what about Virginia? Her sensible, lucid
self would be caged and banished for the night, consumed by a
sensual flirting soul that had escaped from an intellectual
prison.

While Virginia had never believed much in astrology, she knew
her birthdate placed her in the third house of the zodiac-Gemini.
It was symbolized by twin constellations and two-sided
personalities-talk about typecasting!

But was it really possible for one body to house two such
opposite entities and not be committed to an asylum? Virginia
wondered if other women suffered from this curse. She had few women
friends. None, save Diane, that she had ever confided in, and she
was just now realizing how much she missed that type of
relationship.

She had worked hard in her chosen field to overcome a variety of
discriminatory barriers. While never in doubt about her
professional abilities, Virginia often wondered about her abilities
as a woman. Her personal relationships, granted there had been few,
had soured rapidly. Working so many years in cryogenics and
robotics had turned her into a frozen automaton, devoid of
feelings.

Was that really necessary anymore? She was well respected in her
profession. Maybe Diane was right. Now was the time to loosen up
and enjoy life. Integrate Ginger's joie de vivre into Virginia's
sobriety. It was the toughest problem she'd ever faced.