by Helen Conrad
Then she called for the children to join her.
“What is it?” Erica demanded as she surveyed the material that Terry had laid out.
“A birthday banner for your father. We'll put it up over the front door before they get back, to surprise him. But first, I want you and Jeremy to color in the letters with these pens.”
Erica's pretty face hardened. “No thank you,” she said primly and began to turn away.
Terry was losing patience. Why was she acting this way? She grabbed the girl by the arm before she could escape.
“What do you usually call your father?” she asked with forced cheer. “I don't want to put 'Happy Birthday, Rick' when it's from you two. Shall we put 'Dad'? Or 'Daddy'?”
Erica glared at her. “Neither. I don't ever call him those things.”
Terry tried to control her temper. “Well, what do you call him?” she asked sweetly.
“Put 'Mr. Carrington,'” Erica offered.
Terry bit down hard on her lower lip. “You don't call him that, either.”
Erica tried to look bored. “If you must put something, put 'Father,'” she advised. “I really don't care.”
Terry knew she was on shaky ground, but she couldn't turn back now. “He'd love it if you called him 'Daddy,'” she said softly.
Erica's eyes were cold. “Daddies are men who love and care for you,” she said sullenly. “He's never done that.”
Terry's hand went to her throat. “You're wrong. He loves you very much. And ... and he's trying to learn how to care for you, ...” Terry felt sorry for Erica, but she wasn't about to let her use self-pity to put up even more barriers. If Erica could only find out how rewarding it could be to trust someone again!
The girl was trying to pull away and Terry didn't dare let her. “Come on,” she encouraged. “Just color in a few letters and add your name at the end.”
“No,” Erica cried, anger flashing in her eyes. “I don't want to.”
Terry glared back. “I want you to,” she said through her clenched teeth.
“You have no right to order me around! You're not my mother!” Erica insisted angrily. The words were true. Terry couldn't force Erica to do anything she didn't want to do. Terry sighed helplessly. Frustration was bringing the sting of tears to her eyes. She couldn’t cry, for heaven’s sake. She was a butler!
“Terry,” a little voice said just behind her. She felt Jeremy's hand tugging at her skirt. “Terry,” he said again as she turned and looked down at him holding his raggedy bear. “I didn't buy Daddy a present,” Jeremy said, his eyes wide and vulnerable. “Could I give him my koala?”
She stared down at the adorable child and the tears came slipping out. She dropped Erica's arm, and to her surprise, the girl didn't bolt for the door. “Sure, honey,” she said in a strained voice. “I'll get you some paper. ...”
She was the one who escaped into the house to wipe her eyes dry and fumble for wrapping paper. When she came back out on the veranda she found them both lying on their stomachs coloring in the letters.
“I'm going to add flowers to the margins,” Erica was telling Jeremy. “You can color them in if you want.”
She could have cried again, just for the sheer joy of it, but she kept her tears in check this time and managed to act as though everything were going just as she'd planned.
In the end, the sign read “Happy Birthday, Daddy— from Erica and Jeremy” and it looked gorgeous nailed above the huge double doors of the entryway. Erica tried to pretend disinterest but Terry caught her twice, watching out the window for the limousine.
When the limo did arrive Jeremy raced out to greet everyone. Erica stayed inside, but Terry was sure she was stationed behind the drapes, not missing a thing.
Charles was the first to see the sign. His gaze flashed to Terry and back again, but no hint of reaction showed on his impassive face as he opened the car door to let out the occupants. Aunt Julia came out of the car, saw the sign, and smiled happily, turning to say something to Rick, who was helping Brandy out.
Terry couldn't hear their words, but she saw the expression on Rick's face as he looked up and read his birthday greeting. Pure astonishment was the first emotion he showed. Then pleasure. And, finally, a sheepish sort of discomfort, as if he weren't sure quite how to react.
As though to hide his awkwardness, he reached out and swung Jeremy up into his arms. The little boy squealed with delight and looked around for Erica. At the same time, Rick looked into Terry's face and raised a questioning eyebrow. To her amazement, she felt warmth flooding her face.
Rats. She was blushing.
“Mr. Carrington,” she said stiffly, head high and eyes staring at the horizon, “perhaps you and your guests would like to know that dinner is planned for seven. If you like, I will serve sherry in the sitting room at six-thirty.”
“That will be fine, Yardley,” he drawled, amusement charging his tone. “Do you like butlers, Jeremy?” he asked as he went past her with the child still in his arms.
The little boy nodded emphatically.
“So do I.” He grinned, but didn't look back, and Terry felt herself coloring again.
Rick watched the dinner proceedings with a sense of detachment. He sat at the head of the table, while Aunt Julia sat at the other end with the two children on either side of her. Brandy was at Rick's elbow, and Mr. and Mrs. Maxwell Granger, old friends of Julia's who owned the neighboring estate and had been invited by Julia to help celebrate his birthday, sat in between.
Rick glanced at Brandy, marveling at his aunt's sense of humor, and received a worldly-wise grin in return. He liked Brandy. She had no illusions. She knew why she'd been invited out to a weekend at Mar Vista—and it wasn't as a candidate for the Carrington name. But Brandy was determined to have a good time.
Aunt Julia was a wily old bird. She'd brought Brandy as a warning. And Rick thought he understood what she was hinting at.
Brandy was a symbol of the women there'd been in Rick's life. Some had been more beautiful, most had been more elegant, but they'd all been Brandys in the end. She was a woman who made her living being used by men. And what had he ever done but use women?
He took a long sip of wine and went through his usual rationalizations. After all, could he help it if women seemed to like him? He was handsome, wealthy, could be charming when he felt like it. Why shouldn't women like him? And why shouldn't he enjoy that attraction? In their own way, they were using him just as much as he was using them.
He glanced at Terry as she served the wine. Why was he so convinced that she was different from the other women his life had been cluttered with? What drew his interest in a way it hadn't been drawn for years?
Partly, of course, it was because she didn't seem tempted by the things most women liked about him. She wasn't throwing him flirtatious glances. In fact, she hardly ever looked his way. She was so intent upon being the perfect butler.
He smiled as he watched her, and a warm feeling filled his chest. There was something about her that seemed to open up his life to new experiences, to new feelings that he'd never had before.
“She cares,” he thought. “She really cares.”
Was that what was changing him?
Because he was changing. Just before dinner he'd done something he'd never done before. Jeremy had come to him with a brightly wrapped birthday present and he'd opened it, joking with everyone as he tore apart the paper. And there inside had been that raggedy koala bear Jeremy loved.
Rick had stared at the little bear and frowned. He was aware, as he'd never been before in his life, that what he did next had the capacity to hurt someone or make someone happy.
He'd looked up slowly into his son's wide, waiting eyes. “Thank you, Jeremy,” he'd said gravely. “I never had my own koala bear before.”
Jeremy smiled, and that smile had given Rick a jolt of warmth smoother than butter-laced rum. “I know,” his son said shyly.
Rick had picked up the bear and given it a quick
hug. “This is just what I've always wanted. But I need someone to take care of him for me. Who do you think could do that?”
“I could,” Jeremy piped up happily. “I could take care of him and you could come and get him whenever you need him.”
“Good idea,” Rick replied, handing the bear back to Jeremy. The boy stood looking up at him, eyes shining. And then he did something he’d never done before, something that had always seemed too awkward, too unnatural for him to do. He leaned down and kissed his son’s round cheek.
He mused over the incident. He could remember having done things, having been manipulative, in order to make someone like him or do what he wanted, or just for the hell of it. But he couldn't remember having been wary of what he said just because he was being careful of the feelings of another human being. A whole new series of possibilities stretched before him.
Brandy held her glass out for her third refill, let out a piercing laugh, and brought Rick back to the present to realize he was being spoken to.
“We were so glad to be able to join your little celebration. Why, Max and I have known you forever, Rick,” Mrs. Granger was saying, smiling about the table a little uncertainly. Things were not quite what she was used to and she was having trouble getting a fix on the situation. But at the same time, she was trying her best to make polite conversation.
“Yes,” Max chimed in a little too heartily. “You always were a rascal as a little one, chasing the peacocks all over our yard.” He chuckled. “They'd spread their bright tails and you'd run after them, roaring like a young lion.”
Brandy was having a fine time and enjoying the wine. She giggled at what Max had said. “Things haven't changed much, I'll bet,” she said blurrily, winking broadly at Rick. “It may be girls instead of birds, but you're still chasing—”
“Do you still have those peacocks?” Rick said quickly to the Grangers. “I remember the way they screamed. Their cries gave me nightmares.”
Brandy was still laughing at her own joke. She aimed an elbow at Rick, meaning to give him a companionable jab in the ribs, but unfortunately her eyesight had suffered from the wine and she hit a water glass instead, sending the contents shooting across the table.
“Oops,” she said, and giggled again.
“No problem,” Rick assured her.
“That's what butlers are for,” Terry murmured for him alone as she bent over the table with a dry cloth to sop up the mess.
Aunt Julia hardly seemed to notice the commotion. She went on talking to Erica and Jeremy as though everything were normal.
But the Grangers were becoming a bit concerned. First they'd been confronted with Brandy in Day-Glo green anklets and a rhinestone-covered mini-skirt. Then the female butler. Now Brandy was getting tipsy. The Grangers began looking over their shoulders, ready to run for their car.
Terry bent near Rick again to finish cleaning up the spilled water. She wasn't wearing perfume, but he caught a wonderful scent, warm and very feminine as she brushed his shoulder. He had the sudden urge to bury his face against her, to close his eyes and breathe deep.
“Behave,” she whispered near his ear as she bent to pick up a dropped napkin. “Or I’ll stick you with the carving knife.”
He grinned. He hadn’t meant to make his feelings quite that obvious. So he turned to his aunt and asked a few family related questions, just to get people off the track.
“I’m sure you stopped in to see some of my cousins on your way over here,” he said. “What’s new with the Carrington clan?”
“Well…” Aunt Julia looked as though she was glad he’d asked. “I did go down by the embarcadero. I wanted to take a look at Jennifer’s new shop, The Magnificent Munch 2. Adorable place. I’m sure she’ll do wonders with it.” She took a sip of wine. “But more to the point, she’s about to deliver!”
“Pizza?” Rick said, smart aleck-like.
“No, dear. She and Reid are having a pair of babies. Didn’t you know?”
Reid was his cousin, Jennifer his cousin’s recent bride, but a girl he’d known all his life. He grinned. “What else is new? The girls Matt and Grant married are almost as fertile. We’re getting a whole passel of new Carringtons in one fell swoop. The town ought to think about outlawing more Carrington children, just out of a basic sense of self-defense.”
“Nonsense. We Carringtons make this town what it is.” But she laughed when she said it, and the visitors didn’t take offense.
“You know what we've forgotten to do,” Julia said suddenly to the entire table. “Let down the chandelier.” She turned to Mrs. Granger by way of explanation. “My father had it custom-made, you know, for parties, back in the Roaring Twenties. It lets down from the ceiling and there's a little motor...”
Terry and Rick were no longer listening. Their eyes met and they both repeated, in unison, “ 'When a party comes, I'm out to play'!”
Laughing, Rick rose and reached for the switch that activated the chandelier. There was a sound of grinding gears as the huge contraption began to lower, and as it came down, confetti showered the table, along with paper party hats and colorful noisemakers. And along with them, another clue on a large white cone of paper.
Rick grabbed it and read aloud, “ 'Look under your pillow, birthday boy.'” He grinned at Terry. “Come on, let's go.”
He'd taken her by the hand and started for the door before he realized she was resisting.
“I can't go,” she hissed at him desperately. “I'm the butler. Remember?”
“Oh.” He looked back at the shocked faces all around the table, not letting go of her hand. “It's my birthday present from Johnny.” He waved the paper cone at them. “It's waiting in my room and...”
He moved closer, talking conspiratorially. “Between you and me, it's safer to take protection at this time of night. There could be a burglar on the stairs. Or someone hiding under my bed.” He glanced from one face to the next. The Grangers looked as though they were convinced Mar Vista had been converted into a nuthouse.
“Listen, anything can happen.” Rick added. “Why I found a girl in my closet yesterday. You can't be too careful.” He winked, grinned, and turned for the door.
And the next thing Terry knew, she was being escorted into his bedroom. Rick was whistling “Happy Birthday to me” under his breath, but he stopped as they came to his bed. He put his hand on the pillow and looked at her.
“Here's your last chance,” he told her archly. “I'll throw away anything Johnny might have cooked up without even looking—if you tell me to.”
She met his gaze, then looked quickly away. “Are you crazy?” she murmured. “I'm as curious as you are. Pull up the pillow.”
Counting to three, he did just that, and beneath, finally, was his birthday card.
It was huge. Rick picked it up, flipped it open, and caught the folded bit of hair and plastic that fell out, reading quickly, aloud, “ 'Hey, Rick. Have a good one. The wad of stuff that came inside this card is for you. Blow it up and you will find an exact representation of Angelina. She's waiting for you at the telephone number listed below. All you have to do is call, and she'll be with you in half an hour. Sweet dreams, cousin!'”
They both stared at the hairy plastic. “That's Angelina?” Terry asked skeptically.
Rick grinned, and without another wasted word began to blow on the little valve that stuck up from the plastic. First an arm appeared, then a leg, and, in no time at all, a fully representational woman. A very naked woman.
“Angelina,” Rick said gravely, “meet Terry Yardley.”
Terry shivered, making a face. “She gives me the creeps.”
Rick frowned reprovingly, covering Angelina's ears. “Don't say that in front of her. She has feelings, too, you know.”
“She's also got a lot of other stuff,” Terry muttered, wrinkling her nose. “Here.” She pulled off the cardigan sweater she was wearing over her blouse and handed it to Rick. “Cover her up.”
Rick dressed her and sat her
down on the brocade-covered chair. “There,” he said cheerfully. “Now this is more like it. I knew Johnny wouldn't disappoint me. Isn't she lovely?”
Terry didn't know whether to laugh or cry. “Not very.” She turned to go back down. “I'd better get back...”
Rick was suddenly in her way, and when he caught her shoulders and pulled her against him, she went limp, too surprised to fight.
“You owe me a birthday kiss,” he murmured, running his hands lightly over her back.
His eyes were huge and she was drowning in their golden light. Her mouth opened to protest, but his lips were covering hers before she could get a word out. For just a moment, she couldn't resist him.
Hot as liquid metal, they seemed to fuse together, sharing breath, sharing a pulse that beat between them like an engine that couldn't be stopped.
The bed was right behind him. The lockable door was right behind her. Giving in to temptation seemed so terribly easy.
Finally she found the strength to break away, and when she did, fury filled the aching regret she couldn't force back.
“Damn you, Rick Carrington,” she cried, her hands balled into fists. “You have got to be the greediest man I've ever met!”
Her anger didn't provoke him. He smiled lazily, leaning back and watching her from beneath lowered lids. “I'll admit to being hungry for you,” he said softly. “But for the rest, I'll take the fifth.”
She shook with suppressed longing and hated herself for being so weak. “You know, this really is disgusting,” she snapped at him. “I mean, you've got women everywhere. You've got your aunt carting in females as though there was a sale on at the local five-and-dime. You've got your cousin procuring for you. I'll bet your friends at the country club are constantly trying to line you up with someone. Aren't they?”
His shrug was self-deprecatingly modest. “Well, sometimes...”
She threw her hands up in the air. “So what do you want with me, Rick Carrington?” She glared at him. “You've got all the women any normal man could deal with in a single lifetime. Leave me out of it!”