by Laurie Paige
Wanting things—this job, this house, this person— only led to grief. She’d learned that long ago. She held herself tightly in check until the longing passed. A lin- gering sadness remained.
Isa smiled and repeated the name of each person she met. Adele was Harrison’s gorgon of a secretary, as he’d called her at the mountain cabin.
The woman didn’t fit Isa’s image of a gorgon at all. She was petite and shapely and maybe thirty years old. Her pleated skirt needed another three inches to reach her knees, her blouse dipped rather low between her breasts and her streaky blond hair had that tousled, just- out-of-bed look that men fell for.
Jealousy was not a pretty emotion, Isa reminded her- self. She smiled and smiled during the introduc- tions.
Someone had brought doughnuts in. The whole group—seventeen people counting her husband, his sec- retary, Ken the financial whiz, James Riley Parker, the third officer, with Harrison and Ken, of the corporation, the three typists who kept track of things for the men and ten others who were managers of production, mar- keting, and various tasks—lingered over coffee and doughnuts in the executive offices.
She and Harrison did, too. Thirty minutes passed in pleasant chitchat and speculative glances.
“Okay,” her husband finally said. “Come on. I’ll get you started, then Ken can take over. He likes to train people to his way of doing things.”
“Because my way is logical,” Ken spoke up. “Har- rison’s isn’t,” he added in a loud aside to Isa.
She laughed and relaxed somewhat.
Inside his office, Harrison closed the door and mo- tioned her to a chair beside his desk. She noticed he’d placed his desk so he could look out the windows.
“You can see our…your house,” she exclaimed in surprise.
“Our house,” he corrected in a voice like chipped stone. “We are married. We do live there togeth- er.”
Before she had time to react, he’d taken his seat. She didn’t know what had made him angry.
“I’ll explain the various departments and the pecking order.” As he talked, he became warmer. It was obvious he liked his employees and was proud of the company. Once he laughed, a happy, carefree sound that en- chanted her.
It would be so easy to think this could last. The sad- ness that gripped her at unexpected moments of late wrapped around her heart. With it came the longing.
She wanted…she couldn’t put a name to it. Some- thing wild and wonderful, something that would last, something, she realized, that Harrison would share with the woman he ultimately fell in love with.
That woman wouldn’t be her.
“I need you to take over some of the marketing ac- counts. The manager retired recently. He worked for my father. The department is about thirty years behind the times. I want you to bring it up-to-date.”
“How up-to-date do you want to get?”
“Twenty-first century.”
“There’re some very good marketing packages on the shelf these days. What kind of computer system do you have?”
He gave her a lopsided grin.
Her mouth dropped open. “None?”
“Well, they do have one in the department. I think you have to crank it to get it started.”
“Do we have a budget for equipment?”
“Yes, thanks to Zeke Merry.”
The name stilled the conversation and brought back memories of the weekend in Tahoe. “I liked him,” she finally said.
“Me, too. He isn’t bad for a partner. So far, he’s letting my team run things.”
“A wise man,” she murmured.
Harrison leaned forward, elbows on the desk, and gazed into her eyes. “Thanks for the vote of confi- dence.”
The intensity flustered her. “You’re quite welcome.” She’d sounded as prim as a spinster. Harrison chuckled.
Isa found she liked making her dynamic husband laugh. When he assigned her to Ken to learn the ropes and told her he’d see her at five, she hurried out of the office.
By the time noon rolled around, Isa was ready to call it a day. Her head was stuffed with terms and conditions and caveats she must watch for in the accounts she would handle.
Over lunch, Ken told her about the oversupply bro- kerage business Harrison had started on his own before he’d had to take over the family enterprises. Ken had worked for him.
“What exactly does an oversupply broker do?” she asked.
“We contract to find a buyer for manufacturing over- runs or cancelled orders. That way, the manufacturer recovers all or part of his costs, the customer gets a good deal and we make a percentage of the proceeds. Everyone is happy.”
“Harrison started it on his own?”
“Yeah. He’s smart that way. Some of the tricks the manufacturing reps pulled were unbelievable,” he ex- plained. “Such as dumping ten thousand billiard balls on us at one time. The balls were warped and veered off at odd angles when rolled. The buyer refused to take the shipment.”
“What happened?”
“Harrison had the manufacturer coat ‘em with soft rubber to make them safe for kids and sold them to a chain of toy stores as goofballs. They were a sensation one Christmas.”
“Ah, a brilliant idea.”
“Yeah. Harrison has all the luck.”
Ken’s appreciative perusal startled her. She covered her surprise with a quip. “He might not agree.”
“I think he would. His marriage fits right in his usual mode of operation.”
“How’s that?” She smiled blandly, but she loved the chance to learn more about her husband.
“Drop a silver dollar and pick up a gold piece.”
She tried to figure out what that meant.
“He was dating someone,” Ken elaborated, “from among the county’s top families, a divorcee who planned to make him husband number three, I think. He found you instead. Lucky man.”
Isa’s innate honesty wouldn’t let her accept Ken’s view. “He didn’t exactly find me. I came here planning on blackmailing him into marriage by whatever means necessary. You must have realized that up at Tahoe.”
“Yeah. Like I said, Harrison has incredible luck.”
Harrison’s friend thought their marriage was a good thing. She sighed in relief. For some reason, that made her feel not quite so deceitful.
Maybe at the end of the year, Harrison would want her to stay. Maybe he’d beg her to continue the mar- riage, to live with him forever.
Maybe pigs would fly….
“Now I’ll take you to the guy you’ll be working with. James Riley Parker III is the vice president and has been with the company since the mine began com- mercial operations.”
“This Mr. Parker, he knew Harrison’s father?”
“Yeah, they go way back. He’s a grouch, so pay no attention to his sour face.”
Isa clenched her hands as excitement gripped her. Maybe he knew about her father and the silver mine. Maybe she could prove to Harrison she had a right in his life.
Mr. Parker turned out to be a formidable old bear who looked on the world—her included—in disap- proval. He set her to going through contracts and in- voices for the past year. She saw he’d sold a shipment of costume jewelry to a chain of department stores to use as gifts to celebrate the parent company’s one hun- dredth birthday.
“This was brilliant,” she exclaimed to her mentor.
He growled at her. She got back to work.
At five, Harrison rescued her. “How was your first day?” he asked on the ride to the house.
“Tiring. My brain is on overload.”
He laughed.
She snuggled down in the seat, content for the mo- ment.
“Are you going to sleep on me?” he asked. “I got worried the last time you did that.”
“The day we went to the judge’s office and got Rick,” she mused. “I don’t know what came over me. I couldn’t stay awake.”
“Stress will do that.”
She fidgeted with her we
dding band. “You’ve been more than kind to Rick. He’s different lately…since you two worked on the car. I think he needed a male to relate to.”
“Ah, yes, you approve of me as a role model.”
“I do.” She injected as much sincerity as she could into the words. “I appreciate your not letting the situ- ation between us interfere in your dealings with him.”
He lifted her hand and kissed it. “Sometimes the sit- uation between us is pretty damn good.” The sensuous deepening of his voice and the promise in his eyes when he flicked her a glance recalled the passion between them.
She wanted to ask him about the woman he’d dated and how serious it had been and to tell him she was sorry for interfering in his life. However, she didn’t. She couldn’t take back what had happened, but she would uphold her end of the bargain.
Isa set the vase of flowers at the end of the hall table, then flicked a hand over its pristine surface. She moved a crystal bowl of potpourri an inch one way, then back.
The Fourth of July party was about to begin. This time the gala was for Harrison’s friends.
Hearing a car engine in the drive, she drew a deep breath and checked her appearance in the mirror over the table. She wore a bright cotton beach dress over her swimsuit. Instead of shoes, she’d stretched a band of silk flowers around her ankle and over her toes.
When no one came to the front door, she peered out to see what was keeping them. The car was empty.
Hearing voices in the back, she realized the guests knew to go directly to the pool. She hurried from the entrance to the back patio.
“Here, take these chips,” Maggie ordered as Isa hur- ried through the kitchen.
She stepped outside carrying a basket lined with a red napkin and filled with blue and yellow corn chips. In her other hand, she held a lazy Susan with bowls of salsa and dips.
“There’s my wife,” Harrison said to the three guests. “Isa, come meet some friends from my youth.”
“Your wild and wicked youth,” the sultry-voiced woman standing close to him teased. She had black hair and dark, flashing eyes, crimson lips and a seductive smile.
Isa felt a stiffening along her spine. She put on her company smile and went to them. Harrison stepped for- ward and threw an arm over her shoulders, tucking her into his side.
“Honey, this is Helen,” he introduced them. “And the Murrays. We grew up in these parts.”
She didn’t catch the couple’s first names or any of the conversation about the weather that followed. Helen, his old friend—the divorcée who’d planned on making him husband number three?—was the most strikingly beautiful woman Isa had ever seen. She could barely refrain from staring.
Helen had a perfect oval face, large soulful eyes, an alabaster complexion with a hint of duskiness to it. Taken separately, each feature was perfect. Together, they formed a portrait of delicate refinement. The skill- ful use of makeup only enhanced the whole.
“Darling, you should have told us of your marriage,” Helen chided Harrison with a pretty pout. “We would have held a reception for you.”
“That’s what I was afraid of.”
Helen patted him on the arm. “He always hated for- mal outings. You’d have thought he was going to a hanging when his parents insisted he come to my birth- day parties,” she explained to Isa with a reproachful glance at Harrison.
Isa wasn’t sure people had hackles, but if they did, hers were raised to their highest point. When Harrison released her to check on the slabs of ribs cooking on the grill, she retreated to the house.
“Was that Helen?” Maggie asked. She leaned over the counter to peer outside, but the potted plants hid the others from view.
“Yes,” Isa said. “Also a couple…the Murrays, I think.”
“Oh, yes, Phil and Flo. Harrison, Phil and Helen were inseparable while they were growing up. Helen is Phil’s cousin. Her parents were killed during a break-in at their house and Phil’s family took her in. She was an heiress as well as having looks, so the boys were always after her.”
“Poor little rich girl,” Isa murmured, and was im- mediately ashamed of the remark.
“Except for Harrison,” Maggie mused, apparently not hearing the muttering from the green-eyed monster Isa felt herself to be. “He never paid much attention to girls before going off to college. I think Helen had an eye for him, but he didn’t see her that way. I guess she was more like a sister.”
“Hah,” Isa mumbled, setting glasses on a tray.
“I’ll have the hot stuff ready in about ten minutes. Did you take the vegetable tray out?”
“Not yet.”
“Take the glasses. I’ll bring the rest. Remind your husband to serve the champagne. He tends to forget.”
Isa marched outside with the glasses and herself in hand. She was not a jealous person, never had been, wasn’t going to be. So that was that.
Her resolution lasted all of ten seconds. That was when she rounded the potted patio tree and saw Helen press herself against Harrison. She kissed his cheek.
When she saw Isa watching them, she called out gaily, “Don’t be jealous. I was congratulating Harrison on his good taste. He said your anniversary is tomorrow. All this time and not a word from him to his oldest friends. I’m hurt.”
The other couple had moved off and were talking to other guests who had arrived, Isa saw. She placed the tray of glasses on the refreshment table set in the shade along one wall.
“Has it been three months?” Harrison asked. “Let’s see, we married in April. May, June, July. Yep, tomor- row is three months of married bliss.”
He saw his wife slip into her gracious-hostess mode, her smile lovely, her every thought hidden. Only he knew how radiant her smile could be in unguarded mo- ments. Only he knew how she responded to every caress of his with one of her own. He liked being the one person there who knew her so thoroughly.
Slowly but surely, he was peeling back the layers and discovering the real person. He stifled his impatience. At the end of their year, he’d know her completely. A dangerous recklessness swept over him. He’d know her. Or else.
“I’ll serve the drinks,” he told Isa, moving away from Helen. She reminded him of a strangler fig, wrap- ping herself around a man until he was in danger of being smothered.
At least he didn’t have that problem with his wife. In fact, he sometimes wished she would cling a bit. Hmm, maybe he could make her jealous…. No, that would be a cheap shot.
“Would you ask Rick to come take care of the ribs for a few minutes? He said he’d help with the cooking.”
Isa blinked in surprise. Rick, cooking? She went to his bedroom. He was reading and tapping his foot to the’ music audible to him through the earphones he wore.
He and Harrison had grown increasingly close during the past month. They’d gone fishing one weekend, camping out in the mountains and hiking through the woods. Man stuff, Harrison had told her with a superior air.
“Yeah,” Rick had echoed, a big happy grin on his face.
She was glad they were getting along. She wrinkled her nose. She was also a little jealous of their friendship. Her own relationship with her husband was hard to de- fine.
“Harrison says he needs help with the ribs,” she told her brother when he removed the earpieces.
“Be right with you.” He jumped up, turned off the music and headed down the hall with her.
Isa thought he’d grown taller. He looked healthy and fit since he’d started working in shipping and receiving at the import warehouse after school let out for the sum- mer. He stood straighter. His step was confident, his stride assured. Like Harrison’s.
Her baby brother was opening up, too. One day she’d come home at noon to find Maggie and Rick dancing in the kitchen. She’d been stunned by his happy laugh- ter as Maggie showed him an intricate step.
If only it could last.
Nine more months. Time enough for a child. A pain- ful constriction knotted her throat. Harrison hadn’t me
n- tioned having a baby again. She thought of it some- times. She’d loved rocking and singing to her brother when he was a baby.
When they reached the patio, Harrison beckoned Rick to the barbecue pit and told him what to do. Rick took over. Harrison removed champagne from a cooler filled with ice, beer and cola. She noticed that Helen stayed by his side.
After a couple of minutes, Isa began to fume. Not only was the other woman sticking to Harrison like fly- paper, but she was acting as his hostess by welcoming the guests, pointing out the refreshment table and hold- ing the glasses while Harrison poured.
Maggie came to the door and motioned for Isa to help her. When she went inside, Maggie had the hot snacks ready.
“Here, serve these before they get cold. These are Ken’s favorites,” she added before Isa could respond. She thrust the platter into Isa’s hands, turned her around with hands on her shoulders and muttered close to her ear, “Go get ‘em, girl. Don’t let that witch take your place.” She gave her a push.
Isa marched to the patio and joined her husband, his old friend and the financial whiz.
“Ken, hello,” she said, injecting honeyed warmth into her voice. “Maggie said these were your favorite snacks, so I’m giving you first go at them.”
“Ah, that Maggie, a girl after my own heart…right after you.” He winked, then selected a chimichanga from the tray.
“Do you want champagne or beer? The beer is in the cooler,” Isa advised before Helen could butt in.
“Maggie’s spiced tea is the drink of choice for us nerds. I’ll take some of that.”
“It’s in the pitcher on the end of the table. Ice cubes in the bucket behind it. Help yourself.”
Isa turned to Harrison. “Who’s next?”
“James Riley. I haven’t greeted him yet.”
She saw the old curmudgeon talking to the couple who’d arrived with Helen. Mr. Parker had let her handle her first sale last week. He’d told her the range of prices she could work with, then had hovered over her during the entire transaction while she and the buyer for the other company haggled.