City Girl

by Arlene James

  "I might be in need of some tutoring myself," he murmured, and the look in his eyes left no doubt as to his exact meaning.

  An uncomfortable grimace passed quickly over Mr. Groman's naked baby face, and he smiled apologetically at Crystal, whose shoulders his arm still encircled protectively.

  "I think not," countered Crystal sweetly. "You seem to me to be a rather well-educated man, Mr. Brice."

  A tight smile traced itself upon his lips, and he nodded curtly.

  Mr. Groman took the opportunity to steer her away. "I believe you briefly met Mr. Dean yesterday," he said, indicating the long frame still reclining against the back of the divan, one booted foot balanced upon the arm of a nearby chair, brushed-suede Stetson pushed forward over startlingly blue eyes.

  He had not bothered to stand when Crystal first entered the room, and he did not bother to do so now. She glanced quickly in Mr. Groman's direction, then gave a puzzled smile to the tall cowboy in faded jeans and western chambray shirt.

  The snappy western-cut suit was gone. Worn rough-out boots replaced the expensive alligators. The neck of his shirt was open, revealing the deep indentation at the base of his throat and the sun-browned skin stretched tautly across the V where his collarbones joined.

  Crystal's smile faded beneath the steely blue stare, and Garrett Dean said not a word in greeting. Quite a contrast to the fawning elegant lawyer in his expensive business suit!

  Crystal found herself at a woeful disadvantage. The suave lawyer she could handle, but she was reading quiet dislike in the chiseled face of Garrett Dean, and with this she did not know how to contend. In the awkward silence that followed, she decided to ignore it, and pasted on a plastic smile.

  "Nice to see you again, Mr. Dean." She offered the same hand to him that she had offered to Brice, and though he did not reply with a like remark, he shook it.

  "Well, uh, feel free to use my office," Mr. Groman rushed, and Crystal turned a puzzled, pleading face to him. "Mr. Brice and I have a luncheon appointment," he explained apologetically, and Crystal detected some silent, indecipherable message emanating from behind his large spectacles. "We'll just leave the two of you to discuss your business alone," he continued, then smiled reassuringly in Crystal's general direction.

  "Oh, I see," she murmured slowly, and quickly recovered herself enough to thank Mr. Groman as he left the office with his disgruntled colleague.

  So this was her potential employer! Thinking back, she should have known, what with everything Mr. Groman had said the day before. But so many unexpected problems had clouded her mind since then, that the obvious had been hazily obscured.

  Crystal was keenly aware of his eyes watching her, and she was at a complete loss. What did he expect her to do, stand there like a knot on a log until he chose to speak?

  Sudden indignation flared up inside of her. The man was being intentionally rude, and he was not going to intimidate her any further. If he would not take command of the situation, she would. Lifting her chin haughtily, she turned on her heel and walked into Mr. Groman's office.

  She was seated in the familiar burgundy leather chair when he finally graced her with his presence. He leaned leisurely in the doorway and regarded her for a moment before removing his hat and ambling slowly across the room. When he reached the chair that stood opposite her, he paused a moment, then dropped his hat into it with a plop.

  A large brown hand came up and pushed itself through cropped blond hair. He smiled to himself, shook his head lightly, then circled the immense desk and took Mr. Groman's chair behind it, leaning back in it and propping one booted foot against the black marble.

  Such intimacy with things that did not belong to him rankled Crystal. She formed an immediate opinion of the renowned Mr. Dean. He was rough, uncouth, and high-handed. It took much effort to remind herself that this man might be the answer to her problems. Rather, the position he had to offer might be the answer to her problems. She preferred to think along those lines. She was more comfortable leaving Garrett Dean out of it. He was nothing to her, and once this interview was over, she would be delighted to keep it that way.

  "So," he rumbled abruptly, "you think you might be interested in working on my ranch, eh?"

  Crystal jumped a little, unaccustomed to his deep Texas drawl.

  "I might," she conceded as pleasantly as she could, "though I know very, little about, er, the exact type of position you are offering."

  "I'm not offering anything yet, Miss Gentry." The blue eyes sparkled, cold and frank, in the tanned frame of his rugged face. "I'm not at all certain you could handle the job."

  Crystal's hands knotted into fists in her lap. He obviously was intent upon making this interview as difficult as possible, and she understood perfectly that he was testing her. She did not like it, not one bit, though she admitted grudgingly that he had every right to do so.

  "I will admit that I am inexperienced," she said tightly, "but if you are in the market for a Spanish-speaking teacher, Mr. Dean, I am certainly qualified."

  "I know all about your qualifications, Miss Gentry." The booted foot came down with a bang, and he swung his upper torso forward, balancing the weight of his powerful shoulders on forearms folded across the top of Mr. Groman's desk. "Hal filled me in on all that. I have no quarrel with your qualifications. But…" He let the doubt lie there between them like something cold and distasteful. "You are a city girl, and city girls don't cotton much to ranch life. It's hard, remote, boring. No city lights. No fancy clubs. No minute markets."

  "I see," Crystal snapped smartly. "We city girls are spoiled and soft. Is that it, Mr. Dean?"

  A slow, mocking smile spread across his sensuous mouth. "That's about it, Miss Gentry."

  Anger flashed hot and unmanageable inside Crystal, and before she could stop herself, she was on her feet. "You are not even going to give me a fair hearing, are you?"

  He made no answer, his granite-hard face set implacably.

  Crystal stifled the urge to reach out and slap him. "Who do you think you are?" she demanded. "You come here with money burning a hole in your pocket, stay in all the best hotels, snap your fingers for service, and look down your nose at me! What do you know about making every penny count? About standing in the pouring rain for a bus that's perpetually late and always too crowded when it gets there? If you think my life and my career have been handed to me on a silver platter, you are grossly mistaken. I've worked for everything I've ever had, and I'll go on doing just that. So don't come in here with your scuffed-up boots and seventy-dollar hat and tell me I'm spoiled! I don't have to take that from anyone, especially not some sharp-edged cowboy with an oil well in his hip pocket!"

  She snatched her purse from the seat of her chair and slapped it into the crook of her arm. Head held high, she turned for the door.

  "Sit down, lady."

  Crystal wheeled around, hot, angry tears stinging the backs of her eyes. "Good day, Mr. Dean!"

  "I said, sit down!"

  The sheer force of his words propelled her backward, and she landed with an ungraceful flop in her chair.

  "I expect the people who work for me to do as they're told."

  It was said lightly, drawled out from deep in his chest. Crystal's mouth dropped open. She could not believe it. After that tirade, he was suddenly willing to hire her? Color washed over her, draining away the intense anger and replacing it with surprised embarrassment.

  Careful! a tiny voice in the back of her brain advised, and she saw the wisdom in this. Garrett Dean was a changeable man, not to be taken lightly. Something in his nature bespoke danger to her, and though she was not exactly sure why, she knew that she should be very cautious in her dealings with him.

  "I'm not in your employ yet," she retorted, stiffening her back. "You have not even made me an offer, if you'll recall."

  He leaned back in Mr. Groman's chair, hooded eyes regarding her intently, and laced his big rawboned fingers together. "There are five Mexican children on my place, all
of them school age. They don't speak a word of English." He shrugged. "My foreman went down to Mexico recently to check on a bull I was wanting to buy. Came back with a wife and a ready-made family. I am interested in someone to teach them the language, prepare them for public school in the fall. I'd expect you to stay on at least through the summer. Now, you interested?"

  "So far." Crystal nodded and relaxed a bit. She liked the sound of it, but that little voice of caution still echoed.

  There were many unanswered questions, one of which struck her immediately.

  "Would I be out of line to ask why you feel it necessary to provide tutoring for these children?" she asked abruptly.

  "You would. But since you have, their father and I are good friends, and I feel it necessary to do whatever it takes to keep my employees happy. It ensures a, smoothly run operation, and I like smoothly run operations."

  Crystal nodded curtly, a little embarrassed to have asked such a personal question.

  He tapped the end of one finger impatiently on the marble desktop. "You will live in the big house with me and my housekeeper's family."

  Crystal frowned at that. She had no desire to be kept in close quarters with this man.

  "Unless you'd prefer to bunk in with my hands," he drawled lazily, and noted her startled expression with a smug little smile. "I thought not."

  "Go on."

  She tightened her face into a rigid mask. He would not get another reaction like that from her if she could help it.

  "That's about it. Your free time will be your own, and you are likely to have plenty of it. If you're not good at entertaining yourself, I'd advise you stay where you are."

  "Understood. Now the salary."

  He named a figure that boggled her, and she quickly shut her gaping mouth, irritated with herself for allowing him to elicit another unseemly reaction from her.

  "I take it that sum meets your requirements?"

  "Yes."

  "Fine. Then do you want the job or not?"

  Crystal had to bite her tongue to keep from accepting his offer outright. By the time school started in the fall, she could save a considerable sum of money, enough to get her started elsewhere. And maybe, in the meantime, she could line up a permanent position. A few well-written letters along with a copy of her resume might turn up something. It was certainly worth a try. There would be time to decide exactly where she wanted to be.

  "It sounds very promising, Mr. Dean. I'll think about it and let you know," she stalled politely.

  The blond head went back in deep, booming laughter. "Well, you'd better think quick, girl, because I haven't got time for palavering."

  Crystal turned a dismayed frown on him. Surely he did not expect an on-the-spot decision. Yet the sternly amused look on his face said that he expected just that.

  "There are certain arrangements to be made, Mr. Dean, things to consider. I'll have to arrange transportation and dispose of certain business problems here."

  He raised an impatient hand to silence her.

  "Transportation is arranged, Miss Gentry, leaving tomorrow morning. And your business is in competent hands already. Groman will see to whatever needs to be seen to. So if you want the job, say so, and say so now."

  Such impertinence! She had half a mind to turn him down just on principle. Then what would you do? asked that strange little voice in the back of her brain. Crystal's mouth set in a grim line while she swallowed her pride.

  "All right. You've hired yourself a teacher," she stated unequivocally, and immediately wondered if she had made a mistake.

  He nodded briefly and stood up. Without so much as a cordial good-bye, he headed straight for the door, hat in hand.

  "I'll pick you up at your house in the morning. I already know the address. Six o'clock. Be ready." And suddenly she was alone in Mr. Groman's opulent office, her eyes still glued to the door, her mouth hanging open.

  "Oh, by the way…" The door swung open again, and he poked his head through. "You can shuck those high heels and skinny skirts. Wear a pair of pants." And with that he was gone.

  It did not dawn on Crystal until she saw the rented cap and gown hanging in her closet that she would have to forgo the graduation ceremonies. The knowledge made her both angry and regretful, but she supposed there was nothing to be done about it. She tried to tell herself that the ceremony was a mere formality and that it would not really mean anything anyway since Aunt Judith would not be there with her. But she could not help hating Garrett Dean a little for making her miss it.

  If there was one bit of common decency in the man, he would have consulted her before making travel arrangements. But then, it was partly her own fault. She had let the man steamroll her. She should have stood up for herself, insisted that her departure be delayed for a couple of days. She could leave as easily on Saturday as on Thursday, or so she supposed. She did not even really know where she was going or how she was going to get there.

  Another thought occurred to her then, and she decided to leave well enough alone. Jerry would be there, accompanied by his blushing new bride, no doubt. That was one meeting she could do without; so it was probably just as well. But she did not intend for one minute to let the matter go unmentioned. She would make Mr. Garrett Dean painfully aware of what he had cost her.

  The afternoon went by in a flurry of activity. She was on the phone twice with Mr. Groman, arranging the settlement of her aunt's affairs and the dispersal of everything but her personal belongings.

  The cap and gown went back into the box and were returned to the rental company via paid messenger, an expense she could hardly afford. She called the utility companies and arranged to have everything turned off the next day, giving them Mr. Groman's name in case they needed to get in touch with her. Then she went across the street and said good-bye to old Mrs. Hadley. She was the only resident of the neighborhood whom Crystal still knew. The others came and went with alarming frequency, since most of the houses on this street had been bought up by rental agencies.

  Mrs. Hadley was sorry to see Crystal go, but not surprised. It was only to be expected.

  "Found yourself a nice new apartment, have you?" she asked chattily.

  "No, nothing like that," Crystal informed. "I'm leaving town, Mrs. Hadley. Going to tutor some Mexican children on a ranch in central Texas." She did not bother to say that she was not even sure where in central Texas that ranch was located.

  "Oh." Mrs. Hadley's monosyllabic reply indicated that she had read between the lines. She seemed to perfectly understand that Crystal had broken off her engagement. Thoughtful as always, she made no mention of that fact. Nor did she ask any prying questions, and Crystal was so grateful that she gave the old lady a warm parting hug, just as she used to do as a small child.

  Again that wave of nostalgia swept over her. Times long past when she used to come here and gobble Mrs. Hadley's raisin cookies sprang to mind. They were great chums in those days, having their gay little tea parties on Mrs. Hadley's front porch. Crystal realized with a pang how much she would miss the old dear.

  As if aware of the feelings Crystal was experiencing at the moment, Mrs. Hadley put on a perky smile. "Now, you be sure and keep in touch, young lady," she admonished sweetly, and Crystal promised that she would.

  Thankfully, time was short, and Crystal was far too busy to dwell upon what she was leaving behind. She packed furiously for hours, trying to consolidate her personal belongings into as tight a bundle as possible. She had no idea how much room would be provided for her things. She did not even know what sort of transportation Dean had arranged, and anger fired up inside of her again.

  The man was impossible. That much was obvious. And she had not been terribly responsible about any of this. She should have insisted that he stay behind today and discuss the details with her. Instead, she had let him walk out after issuing his little six-o'clock-a.m. edict. Six o'clock! How would she ever be ready by then?

  Once again she got busy separating, folding, packing. Beca
use she did not know how many suitcases she would be allowed, she had to be prepared to leave some things behind. That called for careful planning, but finally she was finished.

  Exhausted, she padded to the kitchen and prepared herself a hodgepodge dinner designed to use up what foodstuffs were left. Everything else she threw away. There was not enough of anything to bother giving away.

  Before retiring to her bedroom for the last time, she sat down at the writing desk and penned a few short notes to her closest friends, mostly college chums. The sealed envelopes she stamped, addressed, and pinned to the mailbox with a clothespin.

  Only the most essential items remained unpacked, all things she would need to get dressed in the morning. Remembering Dean's instructions to wear slacks, she laid out a navy-blue polyester pantsuit and a white blouse with a lace-edged round collar. Since most of her shoes had high heels, she chose a pair of white platforms with ankle straps. Her hair she would wear in a knot at the back of her neck.

  For the last time she performed her bedtime ritual in the single bathroom of the house, cleared out the medicine cabinet, and turned out the light. The house was dark, but her feet knew its hallways and rooms well. She traveled unimpeded to the bedroom where she had spent so many nights and flicked on the small lamp beside her bed.

  It cast its golden hue over the mint-green walls and the white bedspread. With a heavy heart Crystal turned back the bedclothes and sat down on the bed, pulling her feet up and folding them Indian fashion. A small round hatbox sat in the middle of the bed, and Crystal reached for it.

  Here were all of the things of the past she had left to her now. A few select, carefully chosen items that had belonged to Aunt Judith and her parents were all she permitted herself: a very old tortoiseshell comb inlaid with pearls from Aunt Judith's girlhood, a few snapshots of the two of them together at various stages of their lives, a bundle of birthday and Christmas cards which they had exchanged, a string of cultured pearls given to Judith by her mother and now passed to Crystal.

  To these things Crystal added keepsakes left her by her mother and father: her dad's high-school class ring, a picture of her mother as a dark-haired beauty in a prom dress, a copy of their marriage license, her own birth certificate, a ribbon-tied bundle of love letters they had exchanged when her father was away in the army. Her past—all tied up in ribbons and stored away in an old hatbox. She wanted to cry. Instead she wound the alarm clock beside her bed and set it for five a.m., slid between the covers, and turned out the light.