Dean paid the check and took her arm to escort her through a side door, but she wanted to speak to the Parkers. They stopped at their table and when Sam got to his feet he almost knocked over his chair. He shook hands with Dean and gave Truly a silly, lopsided grin.
He put an arm about Truly’s shoulders and hugged her. “Now, here’s a real gal. A man always knows where he stands with a gal like Truly.” He laughed and snorted, “Right out in the cold.”
Jan got up too and shoved Sam away to hug Truly and kiss her cheek. “Don’t pay any attention to him, darling. He must have started drinking before breakfast.”
Sam said, “Always gotta have a little nip to get out of bed. Beds are such goddamn cold places.”
Jan took Truly aside and the two talked in undertones for a minute. Dean caught a few words about some shopping excursion in San Francisco the following week. He and Sam talked over the day’s market until the two women rejoined them.
Sam gave his wife a cold smile and told Truly, “She’s been down to Las Vegas for a couple of days. Just loves the place, she says.”
Truly asked her, “How did you do down there?”
Sam snorted. “Confidentially, Truly, she lost her ass.”
Jan looked deeply into his eyes and said, “You’re so right, dear. It wasn’t money.”
Truly looked uneasily at Dean. He took her arm and led her quickly away. “Never stand around trying to think of how to get away,” he said. “Just leave, that’s all. They’ll be really battling in another minute.”
“I’m afraid so.”
They went out to the Mercedes and Dean stood aside as Truly opened the car door by lifting it up. Dean could not see the advantage of that particular kind of door, but it looked sporty. She reached out and gave him her hand as soon as she had the powerful engine started.
“It was so nice,” she said. “Thank you.”
“A pleasure. I’m glad you got stood up.”
“Are you, really?”
“Sure.” Then he asked, without thinking, “How about dinner some evening?” But before she could reply he shook his head. “Forget it. That’s for the birds.”
“Why?”
“We’re not the same breed. We got along all right today, but that wouldn’t last. Not for an evening.”
“I don’t know.”
“Believe me, it’s no good. Anyway, I wouldn’t let myself in for it.”
“Afraid of something?”
“Yeah. I don’t like people looking down their noses at me.”
“Do I do that?”
“Since we met.”
“Sorry. I’ll promise to do better in the future. I wasn’t aware of it.”
“That’s what I mean. You do it natural. If I had to put up with it for a whole evening, I might turn you over my knee and blister your bottom.”
“Then,” she smiled, “it would be best to forget the dinner. I never get that hungry, really. Good-by.”
“Be seeing you.”
He stepped back as she closed the door and put the car in gear to pull away. She turned to look back at him once, an interested glance. Dean wondered if that was the expression she reserved for wrestlers, and had no idea how close he was to the truth.
Chapter Seven
DEAN SAW RUTH for a short while late Saturday afternoon. She was still in bed, moaning over her cuts and bruises. However, there was a pitcher of cold Martinis at the side of the bed and she had lost her hangover and her anger toward Dean.
She demanded that Dean stay and keep her company, arguing that he was completely responsible for her condition, but he knew that she would be drunk soon and he was bored. He went to his home and wandered around in a lost mood. Saturday nights were always spent somewhere with Ruth. Having her confined to bed created a vacuum in his routine. He thought of calling Jan (Sam was usually away somewhere on week ends), then decided against it. She and Sam had probably had a beef the day before and she would insist on telling him all about it. Dean was in no mood to listen.
Ordinarily, he would have been happy enough to spend an evening at home. He had a lot of thinking to do about Steve and Hal and Metzner and Freeman, and a spare evening could be useful. But he was restless. He had to go out, even alone. He told Teddy to skip dinner and took off in his car. But the moment he turned out of the driveway he had no idea where to go. Well, at least there would be a crowd at the Lodge. He turned downhill and managed to find a parking space near the Lodge shops.
The cocktail room was crowded and all the tables were taken, so Dean stood at the bar and ordered a drink. He looked around the room at the smartly dressed people, some of the men in dinner jackets and the women in evening clothes, and he was still not quite used to feeling that he belonged. He had to look down at his own well-tailored flannel suit to reassure himself. He saw Freeman and his wife at a small table in a corner, Freeman in a tuxedo and Susan wearing a low-cut evening gown. Freeman looked all right and was apparently tapering off on his binge. Dean did not feel like talking business, so he turned his back.
When he heard the small orchestra start up in the dining room he realized he was hungry and walked in to get a table. There was a big turnout for the Saturday-night dinner dancing, however, and no tables were available. He started to turn away and bumped into Freeman and Susan. When they learned he could not get a table they insisted that he join them. They had a reservation. The table was in the middle of the room with a good view of the dance floor. It was still early, but a few couples were dancing between courses.
Dean ordered a magnum of champagne and listened to Freeman explaining something about his discussion with Steve, but his attention was focused on Susan. She was wearing an evening dress of black lace and marquisette with the skirt pleated at the hips, buoyed by a taffeta slip and falling away to the ankles. The top was cut extremely low and the transparent black lace did nothing to hide the upper slopes of her breasts. He noticed that men at other tables were also glancing slyly at her and that some of the women wore baffled frowns, as if they were wondering how she got away with it. Susan seemed oblivious of the stir she was creating. She proceeded to order a full dinner with a double-thick Porterhouse steak.
Freeman was not unaware of the attention his wife was getting. A caustic smile tugged at the corners of his lips.
Halfway through their meal, Susan frowned suddenly and exclaimed, “Well, I’ll be damned! At least, I didn’t think she’d go out dancing.”
Dean glanced toward the dance floor. “Who?” he asked.
“Truly Moore, of course. Isn’t she supposed to spend a little time in mourning? After all — dancing in public, and the old boy is hardly cold in the ground.”
Dean again looked at the dancers, and at last saw Truly. She was wearing an off-white lace evening gown and was dancing with a dark young man who was a stranger to Dean. Her partner was talking to her as they danced, but Truly did not seem to be listening. Her features were without expression and her glance was wandering about, as if seeking better company. She saw Dean and her eyes brightened, but her partner swung her away as she started to smile.
Freeman was watching her, too, and shrugged as he turned back to his meal. “She’s not the conventional type. She does as she pleases at all times.”
Susan glared at him and said stubbornly, “You don’t see Steve and Betty in here.”
“That’s different. Steve is a very conventional young man. Besides, he was very fond of his father.”
“And Truly wasn’t?”
“That’s right. Tom wanted a family of six or seven boys. He got one boy and one girl. Furthermore, something happened when Truly was born that prevented Mrs. Moore from having any more children. So the old boy resented Truly. He never got over it.”
She said, “Oh,” and shoved a thick piece of dripping steak into her mouth.
Dean said, “That’s interesting.”
Freeman nodded. “Happens all the time. Tom gave the best to Steve and ignored Truly.”
�
��But he left all the land to Truly.”
“That was just to keep her out of the business end. I don’t say that he actually disliked her, but he certainly never went out of his way to shower any affection on her. So naturally she grew up with a cold indifference toward her father. You should have seen her at the funeral. Absolutely unmoved. I was watching her. She was far more interested in what the other women were wearing. Incidentally, she was wearing a tailored suit of some kind herself. She refused to wear black.”
Dean glanced back at Truly, interested now, then said, “It must have been hard on her as a kid.”
Freeman drank some champagne, touched a napkin to his mouth, and shook his head. “I don’t think so. The affection she would normally have shown her father she transferred to her brother. He’s ten years older, you know.” Freeman frowned and was curiously silent for a moment, then said, more to himself than to Dean, “It’s a peculiar relationship.”
“Truly and Steve?”
“Yes. It goes far beyond strictly brother-and-sister affection.”
Susan snorted, “Nonsense.”
Freeman told her patiently, “You don’t understand. I was pretty close to that family for a long while. I really got to know them.”
“Then just what do you mean?”
“Well, for one thing, Truly looks upon Steve as both a brother and a father. Then at times she goes out of her way to mother and protect him. She’s the sharper of the two, you know.”
Susan burst out laughing. “Now you’re really not making sense.”
She called the waitress over and the three ordered dessert. Dean looked around, but Truly and her escort were not at any of the tables. When the music started again he saw them come in from the direction of the cocktail room. Apparently they were not having dinner.
He watched them dance for a moment, then turned back to Freeman. He noticed that Susan had finished her own dessert and was stealing ice cream from Freeman’s bowl. She had also eaten Freeman’s cake and was looking longingly at Dean’s. He pushed it toward her, wondering how she kept her figure.
He told Freeman, “That’s all news to me about the Moores. Sounds to me like Truly has — what do you call it? — some kind of fixation where her brother’s concerned.”
“Oh, she has that, definitely. She idolizes him. Frankly, I think that’s why she hasn’t married yet. She wants a husband like Steve.”
Susan swallowed a mouthful of cake and giggled. “He’s her brother and father and son and now she wants him for a husband, too?”
Freeman chuckled. “I mean a reasonable facsimile. But it’s really no joke. As far as she’s concerned, the sun rises and sets on Steve. She knows his weaknesses, but just the same, he’s the male in her life who personifies and dominates all other males.”
“Maybe she’s secretly in love with him and doesn’t know it.”
Freeman said quietly, “I think she knows it.”
An oddly strained silence settled over the table, and when it was broken the subject was changed, almost as if they had all agreed on it. Dean asked Susan for a dance and took her out to the floor and at once felt her breasts pressed against him. She looked up at him with a soft smile he would have welcomed a week before, but his eyes narrowed and slid away. Susan’s husband was now in his employ. That made a difference. Dean had a rule that he was careful not to break, and that was never to foul his own doorstep. The Mitchells were now inside the Dean Holt door and the rule was automatically in effect. It was not easy, but he managed to take his attention away from Sue.
He saw Truly, but it was not until several minutes later that they were close enough to exchange words. The two couples slowed together in a corner and came to a stop. Truly introduced her escort, a name Dean failed to catch, and Susan beamed at the good-looking young man and gushed over Truly, who ignored her and chatted with Dean.
As they were about to resume dancing, Truly asked Dean, “Have you ever gone to one of Clyde Davenport’s Sunday breakfast rides?”
“Plenty of them. He’s my lawyer. Why?”
“He called Steve a little while ago and asked us all to come out in the morning. He thought it would be good for Steve, and I agree.”
Her escort interrupted: “Look, if you two would like to talk — ”
He smiled and put an eager arm around Susan and danced her away. Truly stepped into Dean’s arms. It was exactly as Sam Parker had described it, as if he were dancing with an armful of feathers. She had no weight, no body, no substance. And she followed his lead perfectly. Dean was delighted. Until he had reached his mid-twenties, Dean had done very little dancing, and that mostly in the back of a saloon to the blaring music of a jukebox. But with success he had felt the need of knowing how to dance properly, and twice a week for a year had driven to a dance studio in San Francisco for instruction. He had been one of the studio’s more apt pupils and had become quite conceited about his skill. Truly Moore was one of the few women he had danced with whom he considered equally talented. He forgot his dislike for her and lost himself in the pleasure of the dance.
Toward the end, however, she again asked him about Davenport and he said, “You’ll probably enjoy yourself. He puts on a terrific breakfast. Strictly ranch style, of course. You’ll have to wear Western clothes.”
“I know that.”
“Are you going?”
“Yes. We’ve already accepted. But I was wondering — ”
She was wearing high heels and her eyes were a fraction above his own. He looked into her eyes and murmured, “Hmmm?”
“Perhaps you could be persuaded to come along with us. I don’t think Clyde would mind.”
“Hell’s bells, I have a standing invitation at his place any time I can make it.”
Her features had softened and she was smiling at him in a way that had him puzzled, an almost friendly attitude. “Then will you go with us?”
“Well, I — ”
She said quickly, “You won’t even have to drive. I’ll pick you up at your house at eight.”
“O.K.,” he laughed. “It’s a deal.”
But when he had returned to the table he wondered how he had let himself in for a day, or at least part of it, in Truly’s company. The dancing, he thought. It couldn’t be anything else.
But then he was restless again. Before dancing with Truly he had been relaxed and enjoying himself, but suddenly his restlessness had returned and he again felt lost and had to be on the move. He drove into Carmel and spent some time at the Pine Inn bar, then went out to the edge of town to close Mission Ranch. He was sober when he got home and lay awake in bed for a long while. He thought of Truly and dissected her in his mind and liked little of what he found and wondered why he had been such a damn fool as to accept her invitation.
He was up at seven in the morning with a sour taste and the befuddled feeling that he had committed himself to a foolish action. Knowing that he would not eat again until noon, he had breakfast at home and growled at his houseboy throughout the meal, complaining about the eggs, the bacon, and everything else on the table. He felt a little better when he was dressed in Western riding clothes. He enjoyed the increased height the high-heeled boots gave him. But he was still in a bad frame of mind when Truly picked him up. He got into the powerful car, grumbled something inaudible to her, and slouched down in the seat as they pulled out of the driveway. He was damned if he was going to make any attempt at being sociable. They were halfway to Salinas before he realized that Truly was not being sociable either. To hell with her, he thought.
But curiosity got the best of him and he turned slightly to appraise her from the corners of his eyes. She was also in Western clothes, with a gaily designed silk shirt, a kerchief knotted about her throat, snug-fitting gabardine trousers, a flat-crowned white hat with a roll to the side brims, and pointed boots with cleverly tooled designs. Dean had a hunch that she was probably a very good horsewoman.
She was staring straight ahead, her lips pressed firmly together, and there w
as a sullen expression in her eyes. Dean had to smile. She looked the way he had been feeling when he got out of bed.
“Cat got your tongue?” he asked.
She snapped at him, “It’s the same cat that has yours.”
“Yeah. We’re sure a couple of happy characters, aren’t we? Hangover?”
“I never drink that much.”
“I’ve heard that before.”
“But I mean it. I don’t care that much for alcohol. Is that your problem?”
“No.”
He sat back to light a cigarette, liking the feel of the powerful car and the speed they were traveling and the competent way Truly handled the wheel. It was a beautiful day, with no suggestion of fog and, for a change, no wind in the valley. It would be even warmer and nicer in the Gabilan foothills. A perfect day for a ride and a barbecue later. The sour taste left him and he sat up with a smile. It could be a nice day, after all, even in Truly’s company.
They drove into Salinas and turned down Main Street, which was deserted that early in the morning, then turned east again on Alisal toward the hills. As soon as they hit the open road Truly pressed down on the accelerator and the car leaped ahead at better than a hundred miles an hour.
Dean asked, “What’s the top speed?”
Truly shrugged. “It’s supposed to be over a hundred and seventy. After all, this is the world’s fastest sport racer.”
“I guess you like speed.”
“Sometimes, when I’m in the mood. I don’t feel like it today.”
He glanced at the speedometer and asked wryly, “We’re dragging an anchor at a hundred and ten?”
She looked at him briefly and permitted a bare smile to flicker across her lips. She slowed the car down to eighty. “Scaredy cat.”
“Look, baby. I like plenty of speed too, when I’m driving. But I don’t trust anyone else, especially a woman.”
She frowned at him and sighed and again concentrated on the road. They were cutting through the great bean farms at the eastern end of the valley when she said suddenly, “Honest to God, that Betty!”
“Your brother’s wife?”
Hunger and the Hate Page 13