There is always love (8 page)

"How do we know? Fat chance I've had to go playboy. It takes money and leisure. I had darned little of the first for a while and now that I have more of that I have none of the second. When Father died the summer after I left college I beat it home from abroad to find the business in a mess, that I must cut out all thought of studying law, roll up my sleeves and duff into real estate to save what I could for you and Mother."

"Mother needed your sacrifice for so short a time."

"It wasn't a sacrifice, don't get me wrong. I like business. I have taken evening courses in law, the kind I need in real estate. Now, because you insisted on making over your share of the family property to me when your husband settled a small fortune on you, I'm on Easy Street. As for Bill, I'd stake my life he's on the level with you. Try to sit tight till this crazy brainstorm of his blows over.'*

"I have tried, Greg. I loathe scenes. The first time he was away for days I froze him when he came home. I was frigid as the North Pole. I know better now. I'm still loving him after five years of exposure to his sizable rages and passionate repentances, but we're mentally and emotionally out of tune. I wouldn't divorce him no matter what he did and I don't believe he would cut the boy and me out of his life for the most glamorous woman in the world, but, unless I can feel sure of that until the feeling returns that brought us together, I'm afraid I'll tear our life to shreds."

"Someday a cyclone of emotion will shock him to a realization of what you mean to him; he'll be all yours, after that. Hold on tight, Janey, he's worth it. There's no woman living who can see it through better than you. You'll never be downed. You won't have to depend on youth for attractiveness, either, no one will think of years in connection with you. You have a spirit and zest which are ageless."

"Thank you, Greg." Her eyes spilled tears. Her mouth curved in a tremulous smile. "I feel better. A whole lot better. It's been pretty tough on you, to have me sob out my troubles on your shoulder." 42

•That's what a male shoulder is for, I've been given to understand. To return to Bill. He went to the races, didn't he? He usually puts in several days when he goes, doesn't he? If he were winning he wouldn't leave and if he were losing he'd hang on like grim death hoping to make up the losses. He's traveling round with Keith Sanders and his lads. It's a high-power outfit. I wonder where that guy gets his money? Seems to have it to burn. He's self-made. Real estate hasn't been paying any extra dividends lately. At least not to me and I've been fairly lucky."

"Greg, you're such a comfort." His sister smiled through tears. "And here's another!" she exclaimed as a four-year-old boy in periwinkle-blue linen dashed into the room. His eyes were the color of his suit, his hair curled in gold rings on his beautifully-shaped head. Teeth like little pearls gleamed between his laughing lips. He dashed into the arms his mother held wide.

"If it isn't young Mr. Colton, in person** she exclaimed. On her knees she snuggled her nose into the child's chubby neck till he squirmed with laughter.

"You tickle," he gurgled, "tickle like the debil."

She sat back on her heels and regarded him incredulously. Her brother broke into unregenerate laughter.

"Don't laugh at him, Greg. William Colton, Jr., where did you hear that word?"

"Debil? Don't you like dat word?" His eyes were sapphire stars of surprise. "Dat debil, he's a friend of Yohnny's. Yohnny's always talking to him, even when I can see him. Guess dat debil hides when I come. How's my goldfishes?"

He ran the length of the room. Hands on his knees he stooped to look through the glass side of the large aquarium. His mother's eyes followed him. They came back to her brother as she curled up in her chair.

"Johnny's the new groom. I have warned Bill that the child shouldn't be around the stables so much and he laughs at me, points out the fact that he was brought up with horses, that it never hurt him. He's determined to make a rider of Billy Boy, but the child is so little to begin."

"You think that because you and I weren't brought up with horses, but we began to learn to handle a boat when we were his age. He's only four but he sits his pony like a veteran. Don't worry about that word *debil.' He'll drop it and pick up something worse, probably, if that suggestion helps any. Bill is right about—"

"Do my ears deceive me or are you really pinning a medal on your brother-in-law, Greg?" Bill Colton inquired sarcastically from the threshold.

He crossed the room to his wife and pressed his lips

to the top of her satin-smooth hair. His gray suit looked as if it had just come from the tailor's, his blue shirt and tie were impeccable but his face carried the stigmata of hours of tense excitement. There were deep creases on his high forehead, heavy lines between his nose and the comers of his thin lips, a slight puffiness under his brilliant hazel eyes. He dropped a velvet case into Janet's lap. Was it a conscience-gift? Greg saw her recoil before she smiled and opened it.

*Thanks a million. I adore presents." The contents of the case blazed and sparkled in the firelight.

"What a gorgeous bracelet with that sensational yellow diamond set in the band of white ones! It's perfect."

"Glad you like it. Hope you'll wear it. I bring home jewelry that was designed for a lovely woman and Janet parks it in her jewel case, Greg."

"I do wear it. Bill; only when I have guests who can't afford jewels, I don't like to put mine on parade."

"You're a sweet thing and you may wear diamonds or not as you please." Colton slumped deeper into the chair. "Boy, I'm glad to be home." Apparently there was to be no explanation offered of his absence. Janet was a sport. She had made no query, uttered no reproach.

With a squeal of joy the boy dashed from the other end of the room and flung himself against his father.

"Where you been, Daddy? The cat had some lovely little kittens an' Rossie, the brown setter, an' her five puppies slept on Yohnny's best ridin' coat. He was awful mad. He says he'll put a jinx on her if she does it again. What's a jinx, Daddy?"

"Oh, it's a sort of spell a magician casts on a person he doesn't Uke so that bad luck will follow him." Bill Colton laughed and rumpled the golden curls.

"What's bad luck?"

"It's what I've had for the last two days—dam'—" he caught back the word as his wife drew a sharp breath of protest. "There's something for you in the nursery, Billy Boy. Something red with a steering wheel and—"

"It's a mautomobile! It's a mautomobile!" The child's shout drifted back as he charged the stairs.

"Sorry about that damn, I almost let it out, Janey, but I've had a rotten time."

Gregory Merton tossed his cigarette into the fire.

"I'm off, Janet. Any day you're in town at teatime give me a ring and I'll take you to call on Ruth Brewster et al. So long, Bill."

"What's the rush? I'm not poison, am I, that you leave 44

just as I appear? Stay and cheer me up, I'm low in my mind, so help me."

"Sorry, but I have a date."

"Sore at me, I suppose, because I turned Aunt Jane's business over to Sanders. Didn't know you had a prayer at it, she's been so down on you. He was cleaned out at the races, said he needed more business and would I get him a chance with the old lady. I felt darn sorry for the guy— know what it is to lose, myself—so went after her and sold him to her."

"Who told him that she had decided to sell the estate?"

"How do I know? Such things get on the air, don't they? Perhaps that secretary of his heard it and tipped him off. I hear that even in the short time she's been there she about runs the office. Somebody told me her name is Bourne and that she's too darn beautiful to be so smart."

Janet Colton glanced at her brother.

"That sounds as if you had been right and I wrong, Greg," she adniitted regretfully.

IX

LINDA looked up from the letter she had finished reading. She was in her office; she hadn't dreamed the thing. That was the Empire State Building, looming outside her window, its tip gilded by the morning sun. She felt of the sheet of heavy notepaper with a dashing gold monogram and a faint scent of sandalwood. It was real. She focussed her attention on the Spencerian script, firm as copper-plate engraving, and read again:—

Dear Miss Bourne,

You will doubtless be surprised at the contents of this letter. I am asking you to come and live with me as my secretary. The duties will not be heavy. Attending to my household accounts, correspondence, checking-up on my village philanthropies, accompanying me to the city for business, concerts, theater and social affairs, wherever they may be, and acting as daughter of the house when I entertain. You would have plenty of time to yourself, a car at your disposal.

Don't answer at once. Take a week to think it over. Then come and see me. A personal interview is more satisfactory than correspondence. I am. sure that the matter of salary can be adjusted to your satisfaction.

// you come or write before the week is up I shall not see you or open the letter. 1 want you to take time to consider.

This is a confidential proposition. Please treat it as such.

Very truly yours,

Jane Steele

Linda slipped the letter into its envelope and dropped it into the drawer of the desk in which she kept her own papers. She didn't need a week in which to consider that proposition. She didn't need an hour. She visualized Madam Steele's stem face with its bitter mouth, its eagle eyes, heard again her acrid voice. The position was not for her no matter how beautiful the house and grounds or how glittering the salary. Besides, what would Greg Merton and his sister think if she were to accept it? That she had moved in to influence Madam Steele in Keith Sanders' favor, of course. That settled that

To her annoyance the colorful vision of the imperious woman in the lovely garden kept flashing and fading in her mind like an on-and-off electric sign during a hectically busy day. Why should it? Hadn't she decided once and for aU that she wouldn't accept the position? Thank goodness Skid was taking her to a new Club tonight; that ought to erase "Aunt Jane" and her furiously angry nephew from her memoty. In the smarting awareness of Greg Merton's distrust of her. Skid's sturdy honesty was a comfort. She swept up a pile of letters and entered Keith Sanders' office.

"If you'll look these over and sign, I'll post them on my way out. That cleans my desk. If you don't mind I would like to go home now."

"I do mind but as you've stayed here till seven the last two nights I'm afraid I can't do much about it. Whither away so early?"

"Is four-thirty so terribly early? Tm dining and dancing tonight and I would like a little time before I go. Ladies must beautify."

He laughed, pushed the letters aside and rose.

"These can wait until morning. My car is outside. I'll drive you home."

"Please don't trouble. It won't take me any time to get there in a bus."

"None of that nonsense about going in a bus. I said I would drive you home," he insisted, in his most dictatorial manner. "I want to hear how the Steele-estate purchase is coming on and you can tell me on the way."

She was thankful for the traffic jam as the car crawled 46

and stopped, crawled and stopped. He was too engrossed with driving to have time or thought for conversation. She must tell him that she would not handle The Castle deal and dreaded it. If she could get home before he mentioned it she would be in luck. What would he say if he knew of that "strictly confidential" proposition from Madam Steele?

Ahead blazed the star on the flagpole, the "Eternal Light" which burned day and night in honor of those who had given their lives to make the world safe for democracy. Would there be occasion for another sometime soon? She hoped not, prayed not. High up a moving sign flashed the latest news. It brought a rush of tears to her eyes. In sharp contrast were shopwindows already lighted to display sumptuous furs, glittering evening frocks in all the colors of the rainbow, bronzes, paintings, jewels and silver.

Her hopes were dashed. He had not forgotten. When they reached a less crowded part of the Avenue Sanders asked:

"What's doing in the Steele proposition? Have you been to The Castle again?"

Linda swallowed hard.

"No."

"What d'you mean by 'No'?"

"That I haven't been there."

"Why not? Someone may cut in ahead of us. Merton for instance. The owner is his aunt." He shut his lips hard as if regretting too late the admission.

"I know she is. He was in the garden when I went to look over the house. He made it unmistakably plain that he felt we were encroaching on his territory. I told you when I came back that I didn't want to handle the buying of that estate and I meant it. I haven't the sales technique."

Sanders' whistle was long and low.

"I begin to understand. Been seeing much of Merton lately?"

"I'll have to consult my line-a-day book before I answer."

"Meaning that it's none of my business. Here we are." He manipulated the roadster between two parked cars. "You wouldn't be hospitable and invite your boss in for tea would you? I'm dying of thirst," he added in a hollow whisper.

"Perhaps there isn't any."

"Didn't I have tea at your house last summer and didn't you say that it was as much a family custom as breakfast?"

"I did. But this isn't home."

"But there will be tea?"

"You win. Come in."

As she opened the door of the apartment she heard the tinkle of spoons on china, a low laugh, the murmur of voices. Was Ruth entertaining?

She stopped on the threshold of the living room uncomfortably aware of Keith Sanders' lingering to lay down his hat in the entresol. Mrs. Colton sat in a low chair near the fire; Skid Grant, perched on the arm of the divan, was talking to her. Ruth at the tea table was handing Greg Merton a cup. They all looked up as she entered.

"As I'm alive, here's Lindy!" Ruth exclaimed "Has your slave-driver boss absconded or have you lost your job, that you've come from the mart of trade at a civilized hour? OhI —" she exclaimed as Keith Sanders loomed behind Linda.