by Geeta Kakade
Matt had admitted once that he had never trusted a woman on an emotional basis. Margaret swallowed. Had the fact she had told Matt she loved him this morning given him the impression that, like the women his father had married, she was impressed by their night on the town? Love could never exist without trust and unless Matt learned to trust he wouldn't be at peace with himself.
Matt dropped Margaret at the hospital on his way to the police station. The nurse on Timmy's floor told her that her brother was fine. Dr. Patterson had examined him and declared there was nothing wrong that a little rest at home wouldn't cure.
"Would you like to sit with your brother while I find out what's happened to the discharge papers? Dr. Patterson was about to sign them when he was called to Emergency. I won't be long."
Margaret found Timmy watching a cartoon on television. She stood in the doorway watching his face, giving thanks that nothing had happened to him. "Hi, sis!"
"Hi, Timmy. How are you feeling this morning?"
"I'm fine. The doctor says I only have to take the painkillers he's prescribed if I have a headache."
"Great."
Margaret slipped into the chair besides Timmy's bed, searching her head for a topic that wouldn't upset her brother.
"Summer's almost over," she said, "I'll be back in Washington in three weeks."
"I'd like to go over part of the comprehension in the SAT manual with you before you return to Washington."
Margaret's startled gaze flew to her brother's. Had she heard right? "Of course."
"I'm sorry if I got you and Aunt Jan all worried yesterday," Timmy continued, "I really didn't mean to. I wasn't trying to take a risk or anything. It all happened so quickly I didn't know what was going on till I was lying flat on my back, looking at the sky."
"I know that."
"When I talked to Aunt Jan on the telephone yesterday, she started crying. It made me feel terrible. I saw your face when you came in and I guessed how worried you were as well. I'm sorry."
He paused, and Margaret said quickly. "It could have happened to anybody."
Timmy looked at her amazed. "You mean that?"
"Of course. Anyone could have come out of that rest area and apprehended the man. It just happened to be you."
"You mean you're not going to tell me this would never have happened if I hadn't gone on that run?"
"No."
Margaret knew she would never quite lose her tendency to worry about Timmy, but the smile on his face confirmed her first attempt at letting go had met with unqualified success.
"Mr. Magnum's downstairs, and I've got your papers," said the nurse, pushing in a wheelchair. "We're going to wheel you downstairs. Regulations."
Timmy opened his mouth to protest and then closed it, winking at Margaret. She smiled back at him, knowing that at long last things were really beginning to mend between her and Timmy.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
"What happened at the police station?" asked Timmy as soon as Matt steered the Lincoln Continental out of the hospital parking lot.
Matt took his time answering and Margaret looked at him in surprise as he adjusted the rear view mirror and cleared his throat.
"I decided not to press charges against Mr. Frinton," he said at last reluctantly.
"Why?" asked Timmy.
"When I talked to him, he told me he's an ex-trucker. Last year after losing his wife and baby in an accident he turned up drunk at his job and was fired. His employers refused to listen to him, or consider taking him back. Stealing was Alec Frinton's way of getting back at the system. It was easy for him to study the habits of the drivers, jimmy the locks, and remove a box here and there."
"Did he say why he picked your trucking company?" asked Margaret.
"No particular reason, except that Brett always stops at that particular rest area, and generally there are very few other people around," said Matt. "Frinton said he took only enough to keep body and soul together...for him that meant being in a perpetual drunken stupor. He said he never meant to harm anybody...he just panicked when he saw you Timmy."
"Why aren't you pressing charges?" Timmy asked.
"Everybody needs a second chance and I decided to give Alec Frinton one. I told him if he checked into an alcoholic rehabilitation center and remained there till he was cured, he could have a job in Bedouin Trucking."
"That was very generous of you," said Margaret, "but will the police agree to let him go?"
Matt nodded. "I convinced them Frinton has a better chance in the world as a recovered alcoholic than as someone with a criminal record. He's agreed to do community service as the law demands proper restitution, but as only my company was involved in the thefts and I refused to press charges they decided to let him go."
There was a small silence and then Matt asked, "Are you both upset that I didn't press charges?"
"No," said Margaret. "I think you did the right thing."
I'm not mad," added Timmy. "Alec Frinton looked old and very scared. Besides he got a bad rap from his trucking company didn't he?"
"He did, Tim."
Matt turned and looked at Margaret and she said, "Do you think Frinton will really check into a center?"
"Brett just dropped him off at one before I came to the hospital," said Matt. "The rest is up to him."
Matt was really good at getting other people to see things clearly and work out solutions for them, Margaret thought. Surely there had to be a way he could find a way through his own problems.
She couldn't tell him she was not like the other women he had known. For things to work between them he would have to arrive at that conclusion himself.
A little later Margaret glanced at Timmy, fast asleep in the back seat. The nurse on duty had warned her he might still be under the effect of the sedative he'd had last night.
"I've told Timmy to take the rest of the week off from work."
"Thanks Matt." It would be easier coming from Matt than from her or Aunt Jan.
Margaret swallowed. Talking, Margaret felt, wiped out the awkwardness of silence between them. "Vegas will be something to tell my friends at the Edward Institute about."
"Are you looking forward to going back, Margaret?"
Margaret wasn't eager to leave Inchwater. Because of Matt. But Margaret had learned her lesson. Pride refused to let her say anything except a simple, "Yes."
He didn't say anything more, and after a while, lulled by the purring of the car and the soft music coming over the radio, Margaret fell asleep.
Visiting Gina the next afternoon Margaret discovered things weren't getting any better for Jack and Gina, they were getting worse. Communication seemed to have broken down completely between them. Realizing nothing she said would help, Margaret listened quietly to Gina's tale of woe.
Thinking of the first day she had met Jack at Garrison Community Hospital, his obvious love for Gina, Margaret wondered why everything had changed so drastically. As she walked back to the restaurant Margaret tried to figure out what had gone wrong.
Was the stress of his job beginning to get to him? Margaret didn't blame trucking for Jack and Gina's problems, as she would have at one time. Every job had problems attached to it. It was a person's reactions to those problems that created personal stress.
In her room, Margaret looked at the pieces of the pattern she had cut out wishing life came with patterns that could be followed to ensure perfect results.
The telephone rang a little later as she sewed the skirt of the dress, and Margaret picked up the extension in her bedroom.
"Margaret," said Aunt Jan. "Matt is on the other line for you."
Margaret's heart set up a wild drum beat. She hadn't really expected to hear from him so soon. Pushing a button, she said, "Hi, Matt!"
"Hello Margaret!" His voice was like a warm embrace. Margaret felt the color rise in her face. The twenty four hours since their return from Vegas had seemed empty without Matt.
"Trish called me a while back. She is having a Mid
summer Night's Ball as a fund raiser for a hospital in Los Angeles. I was wondering if you would like to come down with me. It would give you an idea of how she works and you could tell Dr. Edwards about it." Matt's tone was friendly, nothing more, nothing less.
Margaret swallowed. Was this his way of letting her know that as far as he was concerned, nothing had changed between them?
"Margaret?" prompted Matt.
"I'll have to think about it," Margaret said quickly.
It would take up time to think up a water tight excuse. She had never done anything like this before, had nothing to wear for such an occasion. What kind of conversation did one have with people who paid five-thousand-dollars-a-plate for dinner? Besides, where would she stay in Los Angeles? What would she wear?
"When I mentioned bringing a guest, Trish said you were welcome to stay with her," Matt continued. "She has plenty of room and it won't be a problem."
"I'll think about it and call you back," said Margaret.
Later she wondered if Matt's invitation was some kind of a test. Did he want to see how she measured up in the society he had grown up in?
Matt, Margaret acknowledged, wasn't the kind of man to plan something like that. Even if nothing came of the way they felt about each other, Margaret had something to show Matt.
Pride insisted she had nothing to prove to him. Love said she did.
Aunt Jan had told her Matt had mentioned once that the minute women had discovered how rich his father was, and seen the mansion in Malibu; they had stopped at nothing to gain Maxmillan Magnum's attention. It was clear Matt thought all that mattered to women were a man's money and assets. To prove he was wrong, Margaret would have to accept the invitation and hope once she got to Malibu, she would find a way to prove to Matt all women were not the same.
Calling him at the truck stop before she could change her mind, Margaret told Matt she would be happy to attend the ball with him.
"I was wondering if you'd mind if we went down Thursday evening," Matt said. "That way I can attend a business meeting Friday and we'll return Sunday morning."
"I don't want to impose on your sister," Margaret protested. "Maybe I could check into a nearby motel."
"It won't be an imposition," said Matt. "Trish's house is enormous, and there's an army of servants to go with it."
Margaret wondered if Matt was talking of the home he had grown up in. Wouldn't it hold painful memories for him to go back?
As if picking up her question telepathically, Matt said, "Trish and Susan wanted to keep the old house when my father died. The lower floor has been converted into administrative offices for PHP, People Helping People, and the non-profit organization they jointly run. The upper floor houses a cafeteria, two employee lounges, and a conference room. Both my sisters have extensively remodeled former staff cottages on the grounds. They insisted on my having the former guest house, so, you see, we really have plenty of space."
Running out of reasons not to stay with his sister Margaret kept quiet.
"So it's settled?" asked Matt.
"Yes," said Margaret a quiver of excitement running through her at the thought of the weekend ahead.
Margaret went downstairs to tell Aunt Jan about Matt's invitation.
Aunt Jan looked surprised, then pleased. "It will be a nice change for you, Margaret, and from what Matt has told me about them, his sisters sound really nice."
"What will I wear to the ball?" Margaret worried aloud. "I don't have time between now and Thursday to make something."
"You can go shopping once you get there."
Margaret's budget wouldn't really stretch to expensive. She tried to tell herself it didn't matter.
Oh yeah? Well, you may not admit it, but you want to hold your own in the midst of all the shimmer and glitter.
It was true. Margaret admitted she didn't want Matt to feel ashamed of her.
The mansion in Malibu was even more formidable than Margaret had imagined. The extensive lawns that surrounded the main house were punctuated by shrubs and plants that looked as if they bloomed to order.
"I'll just check if Trish is here," Matt said, pulling up in front of the main house and going inside. He had become increasingly silent for the last half hour. The silence was so unlike him that Margaret wondered what memories had returned to haunt him.
"She's at a meeting," said Matt sliding behind the wheel of the car again. "We'll go to her place, and she'll join us shortly."
He followed the wide drive lined with enormous California oaks and stopped in front of a house with a red roof and bougainvillea climbing up the sides. Margaret stared at it, enchanted with its picture book prettiness.
A man opened the front door as they got out of the car. His face lit up at the sight of Matt. Matt shook the man's hand and put a hand on his shoulder. "How are you, Hook?"
Turning to Margaret, he said simply, "This is Hook, a friend of ours. Hook, meet Margaret Browning."
"Come in, please!" said Hook, throwing the door wide open. "I'll get your luggage later. I used to be Mr. Magnum's butler. Now, I take care of PHP offices. Matt has told me what good care your aunt takes of him in Inchwater. It's an honor to meet you."
She was ushered into a living room with a twenty five foot cathedral ceiling. Margaret looked around her silently. What was it Gina had said once? Looking at him, no one would guess how important Matt was. Gina had been right. Margaret, for one, had never realized, until today, the wide chasm separating her world and Matt's. All he had told her; the magazine articles she had read; nothing had prepared her for this aura of elegance and wealth that was an essential part of him.
No wonder he hadn't made any commitment. She fit in here as much as a dandelion would in those carefully manicured lawns outside. How could she have ever entertained the thought that they could be happy together?
Beside her Matt said, "Margaret, would you mind if I left you for a few minutes?"
Squelching the impulse to place a stranglehold around his neck and insist he take her with him, Margaret tried to smile instead, "Of course not."
"Hook will take good care of you."
Margaret stared blankly at the glass of lemonade Hook handed her, wishing she had insisted on staying at a motel.
"Did you have a good trip down from Inchwater, Miss?"
"Yes, thank you."
Where had she read that an experienced butler could size up the exact worth of a person and their clothing the minute he set eyes on them? Her Princess look wouldn't help now.
"Won't you sit down?"
"I'd rather stand, thank you." She didn't want to crush the perfect cushions on the couch.
"Hello there!"
Margaret turned as two women entered the living room.
"I'm Patricia," said the tall, slim one who looked as if she were taking a break from modeling for Vogue, "and this is Susan."
"Sorry we weren't here to welcome you. The meeting went on longer than expected." Dressed in California casuals and designer jewelry, Susan looked like a petite Venus. In her sun dress and light jacket, Margaret felt like apple pie next to Cordon Bleu pastry.
Patricia smiled warmly. "Lunch will be ready soon. Let me show you to your room. I'm so glad you could come for the Ball."
Margaret shook hands with both women, but, aside from a stilted `How do you do', she could think of nothing to say except, "You have a beautiful home."
"Thank you," Patricia said. "It's too big for one person, but I love the space."
"You are having dinner with me tonight," said Susan. "I have to warn you my house looks like it's on an earthquake fault, thanks to my three year old daughter. Pete and I are convinced we should have named her Calamity Jane instead of Melissa Ann."
Beneath their polished, immaculately turned out exteriors, both sisters were warm and friendly. Just like Matt. Somehow it didn't do much to ease Margaret's tension. All around her were signs of wealth and breeding that went back several generations and separated her from them like a deep ch
asm.
Shown to an enormous bedroom, Margaret stared at her reflection in the mirror, and then leaned closer. Her hair seemed more lank today and five freckles seemed to have made their appearance since this morning. Margaret sighed. The three nights she was to spend here seemed to stretch ahead of her endlessly. No matter what she did, she would never fit in, let alone prove anything to Matt.
Margaret lifted her chin. Two parts nervousness, one part pride fueled her. She was going to get through this visit as best she could. In Inchwater, she would have plenty of time to grieve over her lost dreams of a future with Matt.
When Margaret rejoined Matt's sisters in the living room, Hook entered to announce lunch would be served in a few minutes.
"Where is Matt?" asked Susan.
"His car's not out front," said Patricia. "He must have some business to take care of."
"It's always business with him. I hope we're going to see a bit more of him than we usually do," grumbled Susan.
The sound of the doorbell made her face brighten, and she turned toward the door as Matt walked in, holding a smiling little girl by the hand.
This had to be Melissa Ann, Margaret thought, as Susan hurled herself into her brother's arms for a hug and a kiss, to be followed by Patricia. There was no doubting the affection the trio shared. An arm around each of them, Matt smiled at his sisters and Margaret swallowed the lump in her throat.
"Mommy, I'm here too," said Melissa Ann.
"So I see," said Susan, picking her daughter up and giving her a kiss. "Who invited you?"
"Uncle Matt told Mrs. Dolby I could come to lunch," Melissa Ann announced importantly. "He said it would be more fun with me here."
As their gazes met, Margaret wondered if Matt had guessed her earlier tension. It was easier with Melissa Ann around. The child was an ice-breaker and kept the conversation rolling with her questions.
"I'm caught up with arrangements for the gala for the rest of the day," said Patricia over lunch. "But please make yourself at home and ask Hook for anything you need. He will take you wherever you want to go. He knows the best places for sightseeing, shopping, and eating."