by Diana Palmer
“I never thought he was mine,” he corrected. “You’ve had half a dozen men since we married...”
“To get the taste of you out of my mouth!” she threw back. “I hated you. I still do!”
“Then why don’t you get out?”
She swayed a little more and began to laugh. “You ruined my life. Why should I do anything to please you? I like the way we live. I like watching you suffer. You’re too damned honorable to leave me. You’d feel guilty if you threw me out. No, you’re stuck, honey. Stuck, stuck, stuck. Like a fly in flypaper.”
She laughed even louder. He pushed past her and went to the guest bedroom where he’d stayed since Scotty’s birth sixteen years before. When he closed the door, she was still laughing.
The next morning at work, Ward managed to maneuver around Amanda long enough to get a word with Dora.
“Can you stay tonight?” he asked her.
She gnawed her lower lip worriedly. “I don’t know. Edgar doesn’t like my staying out past dark. Oh, he doesn’t suspect anything,” she whispered. “But he’s worried that something might happen to me.”
“Something might all right,” he murmured dryly, and reached out to caress her full breast.
“Stop that!” She slapped his hand away playfully. “I’ll stay, but the boys have to be picked up from baseball practice at seven.”
“Okay.”
He slipped back out. Amanda looked worn out, he noticed in passing, and wondered if she was seeing someone. But that was none of his business. As long as she didn’t interfere in the way he ran the paper, or get between him and Dora, he wouldn’t disturb her.
Amanda went back to her desk, glancing disinterestedly at a flushed Dora. She sat down at her desk and began combing through the classifieds for ads to mark and charge out. She had raised the advertising and printing prices without consulting Ward. She’d simply made up new rate cards and had Lisa set them and slide them in. None of the advertisers or old printing clients had complained so far, and Ward hadn’t noticed.
She wondered if he’d noticed anything. He seemed to spend most of his time watching Dora and working late, although Amanda would bet he wasn’t working. His distraction had made lots of minor changes possible. By working behind his back—the only course open to her, although she hated having to do it—she was slowly raising the efficiency of the business. He’d remarked that making up the paper certainly seemed easier. She hadn’t told him about the changes in procedure she’d initiated. She’d only smiled slyly and remarked that she didn’t notice anything different at all. She’d noticed that Lisa quickly left the room, hiding a smile.
Amanda met Brad for coffee later in the day. He’d already been to Las Vegas to make his peace with Donner.
“Well, I’m off the hook,” he said wearily, smiling at her in his old irrepressible way. “Donner agreed to accept thirty-five hundred a month as a ‘friendly gesture to Lawson, Inc.’ Jake, our controller, is arranging it so that the payments are made straight out of my salary.”
“Good for you!” Amanda exclaimed. “I knew you’d find a way.”
“I’m glad you did. I wasn’t sure.” He hesitated. “Amanda, I’ve done a lot of thinking about addiction lately. You were right. I’m not going to solve this problem by denying I have it. I talked to Jake about a clinic. He told me that Josh had already okayed the funds for it, anytime I got my head together and asked. So I asked.”
She knew what courage it must have taken for him to admit he had a problem and get help for it. Her eyes glistened with pride and delight. “I’m so proud of you I could just burst,” she told him.
He flushed, embarrassed. “At least you were in my corner. Josh never was,” he added with bitterness.
“Wasn’t he? All he ever wanted was for you to admit you needed help and get it. By forcing you to stand on your own two feet, he made you strong, don’t you see? You’ll never have to depend on anyone again.” She frowned. “Well, maybe on the power company for electricity,” she amended.
He laughed. It had been a long time since he’d felt like it. “Maybe on them. I’ll have to make my peace with Josh.”
“That wouldn’t hurt.” She’d heard nothing from Josh, and she missed him terribly. “I suppose Josh is all right?” It was the closest she could come to asking outright.
From the tone of her voice it was obvious she wasn’t even trying to get over Josh. Brad knew she couldn’t help how she felt. Yet he also knew she was making herself miserable.
“Of course Josh is all right. He’s self-sufficient to the bitter end,” he replied tersely. “Ted said he’s in Europe at a conference.” He eyed her cagily. If Amanda could get angry at Josh, maybe she’d be able to forget him. “I hear Terri’s getting a divorce,” he lied glibly.
Amanda wanted to die. The knowledge that Josh might even now be with Terri made her sick. Had she gone with him to Europe?
She forced her chin up and even smiled. “Is she? How nice for her. Tell me more about this clinic, Brad.”
He did, hating himself for lying to her, even by default, but he’d begun to believe he was doing her a favor. After he returned from the clinic and Amanda got over Josh, anything could happen. If she wanted control of the damned newspaper, he’d help her get it. All he wanted in the world now was Amanda.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
THE CHAMBER OF COMMERCE held its luncheon on the third Tuesday of the month. Ward Johnson never attended, even though the newspaper was a member, but Amanda went.
She wore a nice pale green silk suit with a matching scarf around her neck, and she looked every inch the professional. She introduced herself to the other members as they arrived, making sure she knew their names and places of business.
By the time lunch was served, she was on a first-name basis with two of them and competing openly for their printing business. She went back to the office afterward feeling quite pleased with herself. It might not be a bad idea, she thought, to join some other civic organizations and get to know their members.
She mentioned to Ward, very casually, that a couple of the chamber’s members had asked her about their printing prices. She’d given them a rate card, she added.
He scowled, pausing as he cut up a column of copy to paste it onto the makeup sheet with hot wax. “We don’t have a rate card,” he said.
“Yes, we do. Don’t you remember?” she murmured, hiding her eyes as she lied through her teeth. Again. “I asked you a few weeks ago if I could have Tim print one and you said yes.”
He scowled harder. He didn’t really remember that at all.
“It was about the same time you agreed that we could change our paper supplier and sell off those old flats of paper.”
“I did that?”
“Oh, yes. And you said Lisa could do some soliciting for the print shop when she wasn’t setting type... Don’t you remember the three new customers we got last week for brochures and flyers?”
“I remember the new customers,” he said slowly.
“You were going out to lunch when I talked to you about those things,” she persisted.
Out to lunch. With Dora. He smiled dreamily and glanced across the room to where Dora was running out headlines in the developing tank. “Oh. Sure. I remember.”
Amanda was delighted. She was taking over his operation right under his nose, and he was too smitten with their new employee to even notice.
She went back to her bookkeeping. So far, so good. She was already noticing a difference in revenue, just from the few changes she’d managed to slide by him. Now she wanted to up the quality of their work in the job press, to go into real competition with the other print shops in the metro area of San Antonio. Some of them were cut-rate, some were sloppy. If she could keep their prices competitive and their work above average in quality, they could get even more business.
Tim, when he list
ened to the modifications, whistled softly. “We’re doing good business with the copier, now that you have it working right. But for the kind of printing you’re talking about—four-color jobs—you need a quality typesetter. You can’t afford mistakes on that sort of job. Lisa’s good, but she averages several errors per page. And some of them,” he added, showing her a copy of a recent newsletter they’d printed, “don’t get caught before they’re processed. I’m too busy, and she can’t catch her own typos.”
There were red lines through the errors and a note from the client saying that he expected correction lines he’d marked to be put in before jobs were printed. Amanda had already discussed this with Lisa, and she said so. They needed someone to do nothing but job-work typesetting, while Lisa sold ads. The girl was a whiz; she’d already brought in two new advertising accounts for the paper in addition to the three printing job customers.
“How about Addie Wright?” he asked suddenly. “She works for old man Tellman’s ad agency. She used to set type here about ten years ago. She’s the best. We might coax her into some Saturday work. You know, correcting Lisa’s copy and even setting more.”
“Ward would never go for that.” Amanda sighed. “He’d go through the roof if he even realized what I’ve already done.”
“It’s going to be partially your business one day, isn’t it?” he asked belligerently.
“Yes, it is, when I can sneak control of it under the table,” she replied. She glanced at him. “I could pay Addie out of my own pocket.”
“No need for that. You do the checks, don’t you?” He grinned at her. “Tell Ward we need extra help on Saturdays.”
“I’ve made too many changes already. He’s getting suspicious. He’ll never agree to it.”
“He will if you wait until just before we go home and hang around for a few minutes,” he said, his eyes narrowing.
Amanda glanced up at him. “Playing with fire.”
“So?”
She shrugged. “It’s worth a try, I guess.”
“That’s my boss. You’ve got grit. More than old Johnson ever had.”
“I hope I can keep enough to stay here,” she said.
She stayed late that afternoon, noticing that the longer she hung around, the more impatient Ward got.
When he was to the point of chewing his thumbnail, she told him what she wanted. “Just on Saturdays,” she persisted. “A little extra typesetting will put us over the edge, and there are these two new clients—”
“All right,” he said finally, his eyes on Dora. “All right, go ahead, hire the girl. But only on Saturdays! And I’ll want to see a sample of her work.”
“Yes, sir!” So far, so good. “And Lisa brought us two new ad accounts, did you see? She’s a whiz of a salesperson. She even took college courses in marketing. We could let her spend two or three days a week just canvassing for new customers, for the newspaper and the job press.”
He scowled, trying to balance business with Dora and failing miserably. His body ached. “She has to set up copy for the paper,” he reminded her.
“Our revenues are picking up. That throwaway they’re threatening to start up won’t put us out of business if we can increase our printing business. Having Lisa out there showing samples of our printing even one day a week would be nice,” she relented. “She could sell refrigerators in Antarctica.”
Somewhere in the back of his mind, Ward remembered the threat of the shopper. He hadn’t checked the books lately, but he was aware that business had picked up. “All right,” he said after a minute’s deliberation.
“And we need more toner for the copier. We only have one bottle and it’s going down fast. You wouldn’t let Tim order more than one bottle because it’s expensive, but the quality of copies depends on it.”
He stared at her. “It does?”
“Yes. Didn’t the man who installed it explain it to you?”
“I was out. He explained it to Lisa... Oh, all right, I’ll authorize the purchase. Is that all?” he asked impatiently.
“Yes, it is.” She grinned at him. “Thanks! Good night!”
Tim was a genius! she thought. In seconds she was out the door, noticing that Ward locked it behind her with undue haste. She should have been ashamed, even allowing that situation to develop. It was worse to take advantage of it, despite the fact that the business wasn’t going to survive without some intervention.
She thought about that as she started toward her small compact car. She should do something about Ward and Dora. But what? She had no proof that anything was going on. Just suspicions.
She had to wait until there was concrete evidence, and then she might have to approach Josh for help. Meanwhile she hoped Dora’s husband was thicker than he looked, and that Ward’s wife didn’t care that he was never home. Those two were heading for tragedy. She could feel it.
As she got into her car, she noticed an old, loud-motored car pull up at the curb. A young man climbed out of it and walked toward the door of the office. Almost as an afterthought, he moved toward the window and stood there for a minute.
Amanda jumped out of her car and all but ran toward him. “We’ve just closed!” she said, loudly enough for Ward to hear her. “Can I help you?”
The young man paused and glowered at her. His eyes were very bright. “Who are you?”
“I’m Amanda Todd,” she said. “Who are you?”
“Scotty Johnson,” he mumbled, avoiding her eyes.
“Oh, you’re Mr. Johnson’s son!” she exclaimed with just the right mix of curiosity and pleasure. “He’s finishing up some bills in the office. If you need to see him...”
The front office door opened and Ward came out. “Hello, son,” he said pleasantly. “Nice of you to drop by and see the old man. Come on in!”
“No,” Scotty said quickly. “No, I, uh, just thought I’d say hello. I’m on my way to a party. Got twenty I can borrow? There’s a girl...”
“Sure.” Ward peeled off a twenty and handed it to the boy.
“Thanks, Dad. Nice to meet you, Miss Todd,” he added to Amanda. He went back to his car and got in. His tires screeched as he tore away.
Ward glanced at Amanda with eyes she couldn’t quite read.
She stared at him until he flushed and went back inside. He didn’t dare say anything to her, even admit that his son had a reason to suspect anything was going on. He had the upper hand right now, but it was going to be touch and go to keep it. Amanda was like Josh Lawson in her old-fashioned attitudes. She had a weapon to use against him now, and he knew it. He had to keep his head.
Amanda went back to her car, feeling as if she’d finally gained a little ground. Ward Johnson knew that she had a pretty good idea what was going on with him and Dora. He’d be careful about pushing her too far, for fear that she’d go to Joshua. He couldn’t intimidate her anymore, and she could make sure that he didn’t put the Gazette in the red.
* * *
WARD WENT SLOWLY back into his office. Amanda had saved him, for reasons he couldn’t quite grasp. Scotty suspected that something was going on. Maybe his mother had sent him to spy on his father. He was in danger of having this sordid little affair blow up in his face, and if it did, his job was the last thing he might have to worry about. Josh Lawson might have women, but he had conservative views concerning adultery.
“What was that about?” Dora asked worriedly, wringing her hands. “Who was it?”
“My son,” he said. He caught her hand in his and held it. “Don’t worry, he’s gone now.”
“I heard Amanda.”
“It’s all right. She doesn’t suspect anything.”
Tears stung her eyes. “I’m scared.”
“So am I,” he muttered. He pulled her into his arms and held her tight. “Dora, you’re all I’ve got now.”
She put her arms around him and
clung. But inside she was already regretting her indiscretion. Things were getting out of hand. If his son was suspicious, his wife had to be. If Mrs. Johnson started making wild, drunken accusations, people might listen. This was a small community, even though it was a suburb of sprawling San Antonio. Edgar would be devastated if there was any scandal, and so would her children.
She could never do that to Edgar, to her children. She’d missed her chance at happiness by marrying out of desperation, but now her actions would affect other people. Edgar had never hurt anyone. He shouldn’t have to suffer because he couldn’t satisfy her. And God knew her children had done nothing to deserve that kind of contempt.
“We’ve been living in a dream world, Ward,” Dora said sadly. “We’re going to have to stop seeing each other.”
“No, we aren’t,” he said. He bent and kissed her. She struggled at first, but she gave in, as she always did, after a few seconds. “You want me and I want you,” he whispered. “God knows we’re entitled to a little happiness in this lousy world!”
Perhaps they were, but at what cost? she asked herself. Then his hands slid under her neat blouse and she stopped asking questions.
* * *
EDGAR WAS SITTING on his easy chair when Dora got home later that night. He glowered at her as she put down her purse.
“I don’t like cold suppers,” he told her. “And having to put the kids to bed myself.”
“I’m sorry, dear, but we’re getting a lot of new business at the office, and I have to help out.”
He put down his newspaper and stared at her. Dora felt dirty under the level look and had to work hard at not letting her shame become visible.
“Well, try to get home on time, can’t you?” he muttered after a minute, and went back to the paper. “I couldn’t find a clean shirt, either. And will you please make some effort to let me know when you won’t be in time to pick the boys up from ball practice? They had to call me from the field. Everyone else had gone home. They were out there by themselves.”