There is always love (12 page)

"My eye, what diamonds!" he exclaimed. "How do you dare wear that gorgeous bracelet in this crowd?"

Alix Crane shrugged disdain.

"Why not? The stones aren't real. It's a piece of costume jewelry I—^I bought off a friend who was tired of it."

XIII

STANDING at her office window Linda watched flags waving from the tops of buildings, looked down upon networks of wires stretched above the canyons which were streets. The sounds of the city rose from below. A backfire like a shattering explosion, bang and clash, the harsh grind of brakes, the banshee whine of a fire siren, the musical fanfare of a motor horn, the toot of a distant tugboat, the hiss and drill of rivets merged into a muted roar.

Her thoughts switched back to the subject which had occupied them almost to the exclusion of ever3^hing else for the past week. It was just a week ago this day that Keith Sanders had "reluctantly" admitted to Greg Merton that "Miss Bourne" had tipped him off about the sale of the Steele estate. She had taken dictation from him every day since, had interviewed clients, had visited property which had been put in his hands for sale, had even dined with him at the World of Tomorrow the very night after. She realized that since then she had been disagreeable in the office, had moved in a frozen aura of resentment while all the time round and round in her mind had gone the question:

"What shall I do? I don't trust him. I like him in a way, 66

my heart jumps up and takes a bow when he smiles at me and I love my job. Skid was right; it may be months before I get another."

With Skid's name flashed the scene at the night club. What a situation! Her cheeks burned from the mere memory of it. Had it been necessary for him to make such a spectacle of himself and her? Had he really seen his mother's bracelet on Alix Crane's arm? How could it have come into her possession? Had he followed up the clue? He hadn't even phoned her since that night. What had Greg Merton thought of her curt dismissal? She hadn't seen him either. This was the week end she had been invited to spend with Mrs. Colton. At first she had thought she wouldn't go, then had asked herself, "Why should Greg Merton's unjust suspicion of me cut me out of a delightful visit? It shouldn't and it won't! I'm going. Will he be there?"

"I'm in luck to find you alone, my dear."

Linda wheeled from the window. Her mother was closing the office door. What did she want? What was behind this visit?

"Well, see who's here! Mrs. Bourne, as I'm alive!" She pushed forward a chair. "How in the world did you find your way down into what Liberty Hull calls a dive of iniquity? She's called it that since she took a flyer in worthless stocks. Anything I can do for you or did you come to see where your business daughter labors?"

She realized that she was chattering but she was giving her mother time to formulate her errand. Of course she hadn't come to make a social call, she told herself with one half of her mind, while with the other she was admiring her visitor's youthful figure, her chic black costume, the sheen of her hair which was almost as tawny as her daughters'. Her mother seemed to have moved so far off she never felt near her, never felt as if she belonged to her any more.

"Linda. I've come to appeal to you for Hester's sake."

"Does Hester know you're here? Did she send you?"

"No. No. You—^you can see that Gregory Merton is much, very much, attracted to your sister, can't you? It is easy to understand why a typical New Yorker like him would be fascinated by her simple charm."

That simple-charm stuff's a joke. Hester does nothing that hasn't been figured out like a move in chess, she knows all the answers, Linda thought bitterly. She couldn't remember that Greg had given any indication of high blood pressure when he had seen her sister but she acquiesced with a nod.

"Hester is terribly in love with him," Mrs. Bourne went on, "and I am sure that if he had a chance to see what a charm-mg girl she is he would adore her."

"Chance! He hasn't a chance not to see. She's being forcibly-fed to him. I'm sorry I snapped, Mother," she apologized. "Just why are you telling me this true-story romance? Do you think that I'm interfering with his chance to see her? Wrong number. I haven't laid eyes on him since that afternoon at Ruth's and then I didn't say three words to hun."

Too late she remembered the meeting in front of the night club. Why go into that now?

"But you will see him this week end at his sister's." Mrs. Bourne sat forward in her chair. "I—I'm asking you to give up the visit, Linda."

"Give up the week end! Not go! But I admire Mrs. Col ton. I accepted the invitation because I like her. She's sending the car for us this afternoon. How can I get out of it at this late date?"

"You can have a sick headache."

"I never had one in my life. Next, you'll be asking me to faint. A faint gave the last irresistible touch of lure to the heroine of the novels you read as a girl, I presume. I shan't have a headache and I shan't faint. So what?"

Mrs. Bourne rose. Her still-lovely brown eyes filled with tears. Tears had always been the final touch to bring her husband to terms, Linda remembered.

"Very well, daughter." Her voice and pose were the personification of injured dignity. "I thought you would be glad to help your sister to happiness. But—"

"What's the matter with Hester's helping herself? How's she going to hold a man after she gets him? Will she engage you to 'shoo' every other girl out of the way? I'm sorry," she apologized again, as color tinted her mother's face. "You win. I'll phone Mrs. Colton that I'm detained in the city on business—not that Greg Merton would pay me any attention if I were there, I'm poison at the box office to him, but anything to make your mind easy."

"Thank you, my dear. Perhaps when you have a daughter you may understand a mother's anxiety for her child's happiness."

"I'm your daughter. I've never known you to lie awake over my future." There was a hint of unsteadiness m the reminder.

Mrs. Bourne drew her sable stole about her shoulders. An expression that was not all pain, not all shame, but the two blended, clouded her eyes.

"From the time you were a small child you were a law unto yourself, backed up by your father. You didn't need me then, you don't need me now—as Hester does."

"Don't I? I'd Uke to put my head in your lap this minute 68

and cry out my perplexities, have you tell me what I should do about keeping this job," Linda thought.

"Lucky I don't, isn't it?" she said. "Lucky you haven't the destinies of two daughters to settle. Cheer up, as soon as you've gone I'll phone my regrets to Mrs. Colton." She opened the door for her mother.

"You've made me very happy, Linda.'*

"I'm glad someone is pleased. Perhaps it will make you happier to know that I couldn't love Gregory Merton if he were the only man in the world. Good-by."

"Mrs. Bourne! What luck to have a glimpse of you before you got away," exclaimed a smooth voice in the outer office.

Keith Sanders speaking. Linda shrugged as she closed the door. Had he heard her few valedictory remarks about not being m love with Gregory Merton? Suppose he had? Every word of it was true, wasn't it? If she did love him would she step aside for Hester? She would not. She'd put up a fight to the finish for the man she loved.

Elbow on the desk, chin propped in her hand she relived the last few minutes. Her mother had said that her younger daughter had been a law unto herself backed up by her father. Was it possible that she had been jealous of her husband's affection for and pride in his "Lindy"? It would explain many unpleasant situations in the past. Love certainly did queer things to its victims.

Love for her elder daughter was making a mother unfair to her younger. She had extracted a promise that the visit to the Coltons would be given up. So that washed up that situation.

What would she do with the one she was in? Work for a man whom she liked but didn't trust? Suppose his sense of honor didn't come up to what she thought it should? Skid was right. It would be difficult to find a business conducted on purely altruistic lines. She meant to be ju5t.

Even in this short time she felt that she had outgrown the harshness of her youthful judgments. One couldn't live in a mighty, tumultuous city like this and retain a small-town viewpoint, but heaven help her to keep her belief in the virtues which her father had considered the unshakable foimdation for a life: decency, integrity, reliability and a deep spiritual faith.

"Yes, Mr. Sanders?" she answered a buzz on the interoffice phone.

"What have you done about the Steele estate? Have you seen the old lady again?"

"No."

"I told you to push the matter ahead, didn't I?"

He was in one of his nasty little tempers. She had a right

to a temper too. Her mother's call had left her primed for a nice, snappy fight.

"You did and I told you that I did not care to handle the matter."

"Because you think you're treading on Greg Merton's toes, I presume. Now get this and no nonsense about it. Take the convertible, see Madam Steele this afternoon and ask for her lowest price for the Castle estate. Don't come back without it. Understand?"

"I understand.'*

"I don't like your voice and I don't like the chip you've had on your shoulder this last week, Miss Bourne. Do what I say or you're through here one week from today. Is that plain?"

"Very plain, Mr. Sanders."

"Come in here before you go."

She heard him snap off the connection. That settled the question as to whether she would keep on here. She wouldn't. Neither would she go to The Castle to query Madam Steele.

Madam Steele! Memory clicked. She pulled open her private drawer in the desk and found the letter. Read it eagerly.

"Don't answer at once," she had written. *Take a week to think it over, then if possible come and see me. A personal interview is more satisfactory than correspondence."

Linda frowned unseeingly at the spot where the mooring of the Empire State Building tower stabbed the clear blue of the sky. Was this an answer to her problem? Keith Sanders had told her to go to The Castle this afternoon, which order seemed a chance, if not divinely designed, at least to have been offered by Lady Luck. Was this opportunity calling? She would go and find out.

She crushed on her green turban, slipped a beaver jacket over her green-velveteen dress. Keith Sanders had told her to come to his office before she left. Had she better tell him of her decision? It was the honorable thing to do. Why not get it over?

As she opened the door, he was at his private phone. She knew by his voice that he was fiercely angry.

"Get it or lay off! Understand? Or I'll—" He looked up and saw Linda—"put someone else on the job." He clapped his hand over the mouthpiece. "Don't you see I'm busy, Miss Bourne?"

"Sorry." She closed the door. She couldn't tell him she was leaving if she wanted to. To which salesman was he handing his walking papers if he didn't "Get it"? Had he discovered that a rival firm was barging in on one of his deals? It would do him good to have a dose of his own medicine. Why was she spending a moment thinking of 70

Keith Sanders' real-estate business? She had vitally important problems of her own to consider.

In the outer office she stopped to speak to Miss Dowse.

"If I'm not here at four please phone Miss Brewster at our apartment that I won't be back in time to go with her for the week end. I've been trying to reach Mrs. Colton but the line has been busy. Ask Ruth to make my apologies to our hostess, to say that I will write. That's all."

Opportunity calling I Opportunity calling Linda Boumel The words skipped on and on in her mind like a blown-off hat being scurried along by a gay young breeze as she walked rapidly to the garage.

XIV

"MISS BOURNE," announced Buff, the butler, at the door of the spacious book-lined library at The Castle.

The room was softly lighted. Dancing flames threw grotesque shapes on walls and hangings, blurred the comers into undefined shadows. A great Satsuma bowl of small yellow chrysanthemums was reflected in the polish of the grand piano.

As Linda approached the woman in the carved-backed chair near the fire, Cash and Carry, the Great Danes, rose, like the gentlemen they were, and regarded her tolerantly.

"So you've come," Madam Steele said and waited. The comers of her lips had the ironic twist Linda remembered; her black-satin dress, with fine white frills at neck and wrists, shimmered in the firelight. The jewels on her patrician hands shot out millions of iridescent sparks.

"Yes. It is just a week since I received your letter. You wrote me neither to write nor come to see you before."

"Sit down. Help yourself to tea. I remember you like it After that we will talk."

Autocrat, Linda thought, as she tilted the massive Georgian silver water kettle to dilute the brew, which looked strong enough to curl her eye lashes up tight. So is Keith Sanders, she reminded herself, and lifted the cover from crisp cinnamon toast. Madam Steele tapped the newspaper she had been reading.

"What quality is it in some persons which keeps them hanging on in a desperate situation until they somehow, in some miraculous way, get out of it?" she demanded, "What is that something which won't let them give up, that nine times out of ten pulls them through? Here's the report

of a man in the last ship disaster, who, though seriously wounded, clung to a spar for eight hours."

"And was rescued? That's a story to remember when in a jam, isn't it? In a desperate situation one is sure to lose by giving up, one can lose nothing by hanging on and may have the hundredth of a chance to win out," Linda observed thoughtfully.

"I believe I'm hungry," she admitted. "I had so much to think of I've just remembered I forgot to eat luncheon. May I feed them?" She nodded toward Cash and Carry who sat on their haunches watching each mouthful she took with wistful eyes and slightly dripping jaws.

"Yes. One piece for each. You like dogs?"

"I adore them. Can't pass one on the street without having to strangle an irresistible urge to drop on my knees and hug the dear, which, if you believe me, is more than I can say of most humans I pass." Either the tea or her decision to leave Keith Sanders' office was sending her spirit to a new high.