The smile vanished from her lips. “Can’t we be friends, Brad?”
I stared at her so long that she became uncomfortable under my gaze. She looked away from me at the floor. “Can’t we, Brad?” she repeated in a small voice.
“Maybe we can,” I said slowly. “When love goes.”
She looked up at me. My heart leapt at the sudden hurt in her eyes. I half reached to brush away the pain, but stilled my hand.
The phone buzzed and I went behind my desk and picked it up. Still watching her, I heard Mickey tell me that Martin was out to lunch. I told her to try again and put down the phone.
“He’s out to lunch,” I explained.
“Oh.” Her voice was expressionless. She looked down at the floor again.
“Elaine,” I said sharply.
“What?” she asked in the same expressionless voice, still looking down.
“But love’s not gone yet, Elaine,” I said and then she looked up at me, I knew she could not hide the truth from me.
The hurt had vanished from her eyes.
Chapter Twenty
WE went to the Colony for lunch. The maître d’ picked us up at the door. “Mr. Rowan,” he murmured, “I have a very choice table for you.”
I looked around. The place was jammed, but this guy was a real smoothie; every table was choice to him. He took us to a table so far away from the front of the restaurant that two more steps and we would have been in Sixtieth Street. I wondered if he had heard the talk about me. I hadn’t done this bad since I first came to the place, a young man on the make trying to impress a prospective client.
I was smiling as I sat down. If I remembered right I never got the account.
“What are you smiling at?” Elaine asked.
I told her and she laughed. “Isn’t that ridiculous?”
I shook my head seriously. “That’s the way people live in this town‚” I said. “The word must be out. Rowan’s broke.”
We were still laughing when a voice came over my shoulder. “Elaine Schuyler!” it exclaimed. “What are you doing in town?”
Resignedly, I got to my feet, a polite smile already on my lips. An attractively youngish, middle-aged woman was smiling at us. I let out a silent damn when I recognized her. I should have known better than to come here. She was the society columnist for one of the wire services. We would be in half the newspapers in the country to-morrow morning. It was too juicy an item to miss. Matt Brady’s niece and his enemy having lunch.
After a few minutes she went away and I looked over at Elaine. “You know what this means?” I asked.
She nodded.
“Your uncle will be angry,” I said.
She smiled slowly. “I don’t give a damn.” Her hand rested on mine lightly across the table top. “I’m with you.”
We went back to the office, and while we waited for my call to Martin to go through, she gave me some background on Matt Brady and the steel business. It was quite a story. Those guys really played rough. They made my crowd look like amateurs. It seemed to me there wasn’t one among them who hadn’t double-crossed the others at least once. Many of them more times than that. It seemed to be their favourite sport.
It was either that or they were so careful about hiding it that they were never caught. No wonder Matt Brady had cautioned me. Willing or not, these boys toed the mark. They took no chances.
My private phone rang and I picked it up. It was Marge. “How’s it going, darling?” she asked.
“Better,” I said, smiling over the phone at Elaine. “Mrs. Schuyler came in this morning. She offered to help and I took her up on it.”
“She’s going to speak to her uncle?” Marge asked.
“No,” I answered. “You know I wouldn’t go for that. But we’re contacting other members of the committee and she will work with me to get the account in spite of Matt Brady.”
“Oh,” she said disappointedly.
“I’d rather have it that way,” I said quickly.
There was a subtle change in her voice. “What about Chris?”
Briefly I told her about what had happened that morning. When I had finished there was a silence on the other end of the wire. “Still there?” I asked anxiously.
Her voice was depressed. “I’m here,” she said.
“You were so quiet,” I said.
“I just don’t know what to say,” she replied. “I never thought Chris would—”
“Forget him,” I said. “It’s just one of those things. He’s no good, that’s all.”
“Brad,” she said hesitantly.
“Yes?”
“Maybe it would be better to take his offer. If you don’t get the account, we’ll have nothing left.”
“Don’t be a fool, Marge,” I said. “If I do take his offer, I’m through anyway. The dough won’t last forever and there isn’t another place I could go afterwards. Nobody wants a quitter.”
“I had another letter from Brad this morning,” she said, changing the subject.
“Good,” I said. “What’d he have to say?”
“He thinks the cold is a little better. He has hopes of getting back to classes next week.”
“Wonderful,” I said. “I told you he’d be all right.”
“I hope so,” she said. “But I don’t know. I’m worried. Nothing seems to be going right.”
“Stop worrying,” I said. “That doesn’t help.”
“I know,” she answered.
“Things’ll get worse before they get better.” I tried joking.
It didn’t take. “That’s what I’m afraid of,” she said seriously.
“Marge!” I said sharply. I was beginning to lose patience. What had got into her anyway? “Cut it out!”
“Are you alone?” she asked, her voice changing slightly.
“No.”
“Mrs. Schuyler with you?”
“Yes,” I answered shortly.
There was a moment’s silence before she spoke. “Don’t forget to tell her how grateful we both are for her help, dear,” she said sarcastically.
The phone went dead in my hand. I looked quickly over at Elaine. She was watching me. I wondered if she could have heard what Marge had said. I played it through.
“Good-bye, dear,” I said into the dead phone and put it down. I turned to Elaine. “Marge asked me to thank you for your help.”
“Your wife doesn’t like me?”
“How can that be?” I smiled awkwardly. “She doesn’t even know you.”
Elaine looked down at her fingers. “I don’t blame her,” she said. “I’d feel the same way if I were in her place.”
Martin’s call came through then, for which I was properly grateful.’ His voice was cool. He remembered me perfectly. No, he wasn’t interested in pursuing the public relations plan any further. Of course he was only speaking for himself, not for the other members of the committee, but he doubted their interest also in view of what had happened.
“What happened?” I asked.
His voice was flat and threw cold water on all my hopes. “Consolidated Steel withdrew from the institute to-day to pursue their own plan.”
I put down the phone and looked at Elaine. I tried to smile. “Your uncle is thorough. He pulled Con Steel out of the institute, knowing they wouldn’t have enough money to do the job without him.”
She was silent for a moment. “Brad, you must let me speak to him. He’ll listen to me.”
I shook my head wearily. “Uh-uh. There has to be another way.”
Her voice was depressed. “What way?”
I leaned back in my chair. “I don’t know,” I said. “But somewhere there must be an out.” I looked over at her. “You were telling me about the steel business and your uncle. Keep talking. Maybe there’s something there.”
The day went on while I listened. It was a few minutes after six o’clock when suddenly something she said hit me. I had been sitting with my back to her, looking out at the darkening sky. I spun my
chair around.
She had mentioned that her husband had learned something about the way Con Steel had settled its anti-trust case with the Government that he had wanted to discuss with Brady.
“What was it?” I asked.
“I never really knew,” she said. “David only mentioned it once. He seemed pretty angry about it.”
“Did he speak to your uncle about it?” I asked.
A shadow came into her eyes. “I don’t think so,” she said. “It was only a few weeks before he got sick.”
I had a hunch. I didn’t know what I’d find, but I had to follow this through. I got Paul just before he left his desk in Washington.
I wasted no time on the usual greeting. “How did Con Steel settle its anti-trust case?”
“By consent decree,” he answered. “Why?”
“Anything irregular about it?” I asked.
“No,” he answered. “Usual thing. Con Steel agreed not to interfere with the operations of their competitors.”
“I see,” I answered. “Who handled the case for the department?”
“I don’t know,” he answered. “But I could find out. Is it important?”
“I got a feeling it is,” I said. “I hope I’m right. If I’m wrong, I’m dead.”
“I’ll call you back in the morning,” he said and hung up.
Elaine was watching me, a look of interest on her face. “Think you’ve got something?”
I shook my head. “I’m only stabbing,” I said. “But I can’t afford to miss a trick. Now tell me everything you can remember about it. Everything your husband may have mentioned.
The shadow came back into her eyes but she began the whole story over again while I listened carefully.
It was dark when we stepped out on Madison Avenue. I looked at my watch. Eight-thirty. I took her arm. “Walk a little?”
She nodded. We had gone almost a block before she spoke. “What are you thinking, Brad?”
I smiled at her. “I got a feeling things’ll work out,” I lied.
Her hand squeezed my arm. “Really, Brad? I’m so glad!”
I stopped and looked at her. It was worth the lie to see her eyes glowing. “I said you were lucky for me, baby.”
The glow went out of her eyes. “I wasn’t the last time, Brad.”
“Last time doesn’t count,” I said quickly. “That had nothing to do with you. This is the one that counts. This one you made possible. Without you, I should have no chance at all.”
She didn’t answer and we walked silently for a few blocks. The cold night air gave me an appetite. I stopped. “What about dinner?” I asked. “I’m starving.”
She looked up at me, her face very still. “I think we’d better not, Brad.”
I grinned at her. “What’s the matter? Afraid of me? I won’t eat you.”
She shook her head. “It’s not that, Brad,” she said earnestly. “I just think it would be better for both of us, that’s all.”
The ache inside me that had vanished all the day she had been with me came back. “What harm can it do?” I asked angrily. “You were with me all day and nothing happened.”
Her eyes met mine. Those crazy shadows were dancing deep inside them. “That’s different, Brad. It was business. We have no excuse now.”
“Since when do we need excuses?” I demanded.
She evaded the question. “Please, Brad,” she said in a low voice. “Let’s not quarrel. Besides, I’m very tired.”
I didn’t say another word. I flagged down a cab, dropped her off at her hotel, went on to my garage and then drove home.…
I walked into the house near ten. Marge was reading a paper. I knew she was angry from the way she looked up at me. I bent over the chair to kiss her cheek but she turned her face away.
“Hey!” I protested, a forced levity in my voice. “Is this the way to greet a weary soldier home from the wars?”
“Wars!” she asked coldly. I didn’t like the play she made on the word. It sounded too much like whores. I decided to let it pass.
I mixed myself a little Scotch and water. “I was working. I think we got an outside chance.”
“We?” she asked sarcastically. “Who do you mean? Mrs. Schuyler and yourself?”
“Wait a minute, Marge,” I said, staring down at her. “What’s eating you anyway?”
“You were too busy, I suppose, making plans with Mrs. Schuyler, to call and let me know you weren’t coming home for dinner?”
I clapped a hand to my head. “My God! I forgot.” I smiled down at her. “Baby, I’m sorry. It’s just that I had so many things on my mind——”
“You weren’t too busy for her. You didn’t have too many things on your——”
“Lay off, Marge,” I said angrily. “Yesterday you were willing for me to ask her help. To-day, when she offers it, you’re angry. Make up your mind what you want.”
“I don’t want anything!” she flared, “I just don’t like the way you’re acting.”
“I spread my hands helplessly. “How do you want me to act?” I asked. “I’m getting my head kicked in and you’re hollering about a phone call!”
She got out of the chair. “If it’s that important to you, then I’m wasting my time,” she said coldly.
This time the fuse really blew. “What the hell am I” I yelled. “A child, that I have to report to you every ten minutes? Leave me alone! I got enough troubles!”
She stood there a moment, the colour draining from her face. Then she turned and went up the stairs to our room without a word.
I puttered around in the living room a while, had me another drink, then followed her up the stairs. I put my hand on the door to our room and pushed. It didn’t move. I turned the knob. It was locked.
I knocked at the door. “Hey!” I said.
She didn’t answer.
I knocked again. Still no sound came from inside the room. I stared at the door helplessly, not knowing what to do. It was the first time she had ever locked the door on me.
After a few minutes, during which I began to feel like a fool, I stamped angrily down the hall to the guest room. I spent the night sleeping uncomfortably in my underwear.
Chapter Twenty-One
THE razor in the guest room was dull; the water pressure in the shower was uneven and I couldn’t get the hot and cold mixed right. I had to dry myself with a small guest towel.
I sucked in my belly and tying the little towel around my waist the best I could, I stalked barefooted through the hall to our bedroom. The room was empty and my clothes weren’t laid out on the bed as usual.
I searched through the drawers and closets until I found a combination of clothing I thought would go well. I dressed quickly and headed down the stairs.
I came into the breakfast nook. My orange juice wasn’t on the table and my paper was lying all messed up in front of Marge’s chair. I picked up the paper and sat down. I was about to turn to the financial page when my eye caught an item in the society column.
Mrs. Hortense (Elaine) Schuyler, niece of Matthew Brady, steel magnate, and prominent in Washington society, has finally crept from her shell after the terrible tragedy of last year. You may remember the tragic loss of her husband and twin children to polio, all within a few weeks. We caught a glimpse of her lunching at The Colony with an attractively rugged man. We checked, and his name is Brad Rowan, prominent public relations counsellor, who is rumoured to be helping her with her Infantile drive. If the life and smile on Elaine’s face means anything, we can be sure that work is not the only interest they have in common.…
The paper had been folded right along that column so I could be sure not to miss it. Annoyed, I turned to the financial page. I could just as well have thrown the paper into the trash, it had no good for me that day. There was a small headline:
CHRISTOPHER PROCTOR APPOINTED SPECIAL ADVISOR ON PUBLIC RELATIONS TO MATTHEW BRADY AT CONSOLIDATED STEEL CORP.
I tossed the paper on the floor. Where was my oran
ge juice? “Marge!” I called.
The kitchen door opened. Sally’s dark face peered through it. “I didn’t hear you come down, Mr. Rowan.”
“Where’s Mrs. Rowan?” I asked.
“She went out,” Sally answered. “I’ll get your juice.” She disappeared into the kitchen.
While I was waiting for the juice, Jeanie came in. There was a mischievous smile on her face. “If you hurry, Dad,” she said, “I’ll let you drop me off at school.”
I had no patience left. “Why can’t you ride the bus like other kids?” I snapped. “You too good for them?”
The smile fled from her face. She stared at me for a moment, a hurt expression creeping into her face. There was something there that reminded me of when she was a baby. Without a word, she spun on her heel and left the room.
A second later, I was on my feet and after her. I heard the front door slam. I went to it and opened it. She was hurrying own the driveway.
“Jeanie!” I called after her.
She didn’t look back, but hurried out of the driveway and was hidden by the big privet hedges around the lawn.
I closed the door and walked slowly back to the breakfast nook. My orange juice was on the table. Absently, I picked it up and sipped it. It didn’t taste so good this morning. Nothing was any good this morning.
Sally came in, the eggs steaming golden-yellow, the butter melting on the toast, the bacon crisp and brown. She placed it in front of me and poured some coffee into my cup.
I stared down at it. I remember what I used to say—eggs for breakfast made every day like Sunday. What had gone wrong with me, anyway? I pushed my chair back from the table and got up.
Sally was looking at me, a puzzled expression on her face.
“Don’t you feel well, Mr. Rowan?” Her voice was concerned.
I looked at her for a moment before I answered. The house seemed curiously cold and empty. As if all love had gone from it. “I’m not hungry,” I said, walking out of the room.
The morning dragged by. The office was quiet; I didn’t have more than four telephone calls all morning. It was almost time for lunch when Elaine called.
Never Leave Me (1953) Page 11