At the Just Us offices, the staff was gearing up for the March issue. It had always struck Belle as ironic, the way they had to think in terms of spring vacation in mid-December.
And this year they also had to plan for the June opening of the mall. Sandra had promised to drop by sometime during the day to show the staff what she’d been working on.
“Have you considered what you’re going to do when the baby’s born?” Anita asked that afternoon as she offered Belle a plate of Easter cookies. “By the way, these have peanut butter in them. You aren’t allergic to it, are you?”
“No. And I guess I’ll go for natural childbirth.” She picked a pink cookie shaped like a bunny, then took an egg-shaped one for her baby.
Anita tossed back her dark hair, revealing a pair of snowflake earrings. “I meant the magazine. You’ll have to take some time off in May, won’t you?”
“A few days, maybe.” Belle had called a referral service and had obtained the names of licensed day-care providers, but she wasn’t crazy about any of the ones she’d met so far. “If necessary, Sandra can put in a bit more time. She IS the publisher.”
“Did someone mention my name?” The hat appeared in the doorway first, a vast undertaking topped with a tiny Christmas village and miniature teddy bears. It was so darling that Belle found it impossible to care whether it might be tacky.
Into the room strolled Sandra, a portfolio under her arm and a grin on her face. The teddy bears bowed and danced as she removed three poster-size sheets and laid them on the desk. “Here it is, ladies! When Mira sees these, she’ll beg us to cosponsor the opening!”
Belle, Anita and Janie, who had followed in Sandra’s wake, gathered around. It was immediately obvious from the professionalism of the drawing and lettering that their boss had hired a graphic artist to create the renderings.
At the top of the first poster was the slogan Just Us: Together Into The Future. Below, a drawing of the planned megamall’s vast interior featured manikin families pushing baby carriages and escorting toddlers. Each wore a T-shirt bearing the slogan.
The second poster depicted the mall’s future Cathedral Court. In the center stood a manikin wedding couple surrounded by their attendants. Above them on the second floor, “Just Us” was spelled out in red blossoms against white.
The third picture showed a ski scene set up in front of a sporting-goods store, with manikins dressed for the slopes. They were skiing toward a banner that repeated the slogan Just Us: Together Into The Future.
“For the opening, we would place dummies in these tableaux around the mall.” Sandra beamed at their impressed reactions. “You know, couples with children, brides and grooms, people enjoying recreational activities. It would make the whole place feel more cozy.”
“That’s a good motto,” Anita said. “It’s got this nice chewy texture when I say it, kind of like peanut-butter cookies in my mouth.”
Janie nodded. “It’s an ongoing fashion show. The merchants can display their wares on the manikins right in the mall. If I were a store owner I’d like that.”
They regarded Sandra with new respect. The woman had a real flair for promotion, Belle realized.
“Let’s line up a presentation as soon as possible,” the publisher said. “Just Us is going to cosponsor this mall opening. Right?”
“Right!” they all cheered.
‘I’ll call now,” Belle said, and got on the phone. To her delight, the marketing director promptly gave her a date to make the presentation: January eighth at 1:00 p.m., at the mall’s on-site offices.
Hanging up, she relayed the news. The others whooped with excitement.
“Let’s celebrate!” Sandra twirled around the room, humming softly. In the teddy bear hat, she resembled a music box come to life. “We need to feel like a team, and what better time for a fresh start than New Year’s? I want to invite you—”
She stopped, hands fluttering in midair. “Oh, dear, there’s just one thing missing.”
“What?” asked Belle.
“We need to know what the other side is planning.” Sandra chewed on her lip. “We need a spy at About Town. Who could we recruit?”
“Is that ethical?” asked Janie. “I mean, I know you wouldn’t do anything unethical, Sandra. I just meant, well, how would it look if anyone found out?”
“Not a spy, exactly,”the publisher said. “Just someone who might let a little information slip.”
Everyone stared at Belle.
“What?” she said.
“Well, you are living with him,” said Sandra.
Belle couldn’t believe they would ask her to spy on Darryl. She wouldn’t and, besides, she couldn’t. “He never brings his work home. But…”
Indecisively, she pulled a model’s composite photograph from a stack on her desk. It showed Mindy in a variety of poses, wearing different outfits.
“She’s done some work for About Town and she’s very ambitious,” Belle said. “She probably drops by their offices fairly often. She came by here yesterday with this.”
Sandra took the composite. “I’m inviting you all to my New Year’s Eve party.” The celebrity-laden event was one of the best-known annual parties in the city. “Maybe this model would like to come, too.”
“You think she’d sell out Darryl Horak for an invitation to your party?” Belle asked, feeling both dismay and admiration at such a brash move.
Sandra’s party was an exciting event. Each time she attended, Belle found herself nearly overwhelmed by the extravagance and the sight of so many famous faces.
“It’s worth a try. I’ll have some top agents and directors there, you know,” said the publisher. “It’s a rare opportunity for her.”
“In her place, I’d probably go along with it,” said Anita. “I mean, she could get rich and famous real quick.”
“If she knows anything,’ cautioned Janie.
Remembering the skittish woman who’d fled on Thanksgiving, Belle actually felt sorry for her. But they weren’t asking her to do anything awful, just to describe something she might have seen. It wasn’t as if she owed Darryl any loyalty.
I wouldn’t tell, if it were me, she thought. But then, Darryl had given her a particularly long back rub the previous night. That called for at least a smidgen of loyalty.
Sandra dialed the phone number on the composite and got an answering service that put her through to Mindy’s home. From what Belle could hear of the conversation, it didn’t take much tempting. A few minutes later, the publisher hung up, elated.
“She’s seen their posters, all right,” she announced. “All she would reveal is the theme, but that’s helpful.”
“Well?” demanded Belle. “What is it?”
“About Town: Adam Brings Eve Back to Paradise,” said Sandra.
A chorus of catcalls filled the room.
“Adam brings Eve?” demanded Anita. “I wonder if I could throw the rest of my cookies far enough to hit those chauvinists in the head.”
“It sounds like something Greg would come up with!” hooted Janie. “Can you believe it? I honestly can’t believe they would go that far overboard.”
“I can see it now.” Sandra, as usual, managed to dominate the room with a mere tilt of her head. “A paradise theme. Women in sarongs and bikinis. Perhaps a man in a tuxedo, James Bond-style. We’ll pull the rug right out from under their feet. We’ll incorporate a scene just like that.”
‘‘Did she by any chance say when they’re making their presentation?” Janie asked.
“January eighth,” said Sandra. “That isn’t—Was that—When did you say we were scheduled, Belle?”
“The same day.”
“Probably the same time, too,” Sandra said grimly. “Didn’t Mira say she likes to get people together to compare ideas?”
“She thinks it generates creativity,” Belle recalled.
“It might generate mass murder,” grumbled Janie.
“Don’t worry, ladies,” said Sandra. “
I’ll take care of this situation. I’m glad we’ll be seeing Mira at the same time—we can use it to our advantage. And let’s all be extra friendly to Mindy at the party. We owe her a great deal.”
As the others chorused their agreement, Belle realized what this meant. Mindy would be at the party, with her luscious mane of dark hair and her incredibly willowy body.
Even though Belle’s rational mind reminded her that she was carrying a new life, she couldn’t help feeling awkward about her lumpish figure. Fancy clothes would only emphasize her rotundness and everyone else’s sleekness.
As her houseguest, Darryl would naturally accompany her to Sandra’s. The prospect of being contrasted with all those glamorous people was daunting.
Really, she decided, she would rather stay home and be comfortable. There were more enjoyable things to do on New Year’s Eve than mingle with famous people and eat fabulous food.
She just wished she could think of what those things were.
9
THE BEACH LAY peaceful in the haze of a December morning. Only a few seals played among the waves. Dar-ryl inhaled the briny air and picked up his pace, the slap of his jogging shoes on the walkway forming a counterpoint to his troubled thoughts.
Belle had slept late, this being Saturday morning. Despite his resolve to wait on her, he hadn’t been able to resist sneaking out. He’d needed to pick up mail, and he missed his usual jogging route.
Besides, he was having trouble facing her since turning in his article yesterday. Even though he owed the truth to those unhappy fathers, he couldn’t help feeling as if he’d betrayed her trust.
It didn’t help that Belle had come home last night looking depressed. It never ceased to surprise Darryl how clearly the woman showed her emotions.
When she was happy, her face glowed. When she was sad, she wilted like a flower.
She’d muttered something about Sandra Duval’s New Year’s Eve party and how she didn’t want to go. Darryl couldn’t figure out why not. He would love to attend.
He’d been almost certain the cause of her unhappiness was that he would be going to visit his aunt and uncle in Santa Barbara for Christmas next week, but Belle had declined his invitation to join them. She was looking forward to spending the day with Janie’s family in nearby Inglewood, she said.
If the problem wasn’t Christmas, what was it? Darryl waved absentmindedly to one of his volleyball buddies as they passed each other, jogging in opposite directions. How was a guy supposed to figure out what went through a woman’s mind when she refused to tell him? He wished Belle would spill out her thoughts as clearly as she revealed her emotions.
He was nearing the coffee shop that marked the turning point of his jog when he spotted Jim Rickard. Jim, who earned money between assignments by peddling human-interest pictures to news syndicates, was photographing a toddler feeding a sea gull.
The boy looked a lot like Nick at that age. Tori had recently canceled plans to bring the boy west to visit his father this Christmas, announcing that they would be going to Florida with her new boyfriend instead. Darryl wondered if Jim had been drawn to the toddler because he missed his own son.
Halting beside some parked cars, Darryl jogged in place until his friend finished shooting. Then, by unspoken mutual agreement, they moved along the outer lines of a triangle until they intersected in front of the coffee shop.
“Inside or out?” Jim brushed sand from his jeans.
“Out.” Darryl chose a table near the railing that gave them an unobstructed view of the beach. “I’ve been indoors too much these days.”
“How’s it going?” asked his friend, straddling a chair across from him.
Darryl explained about completing the article and feeling guilty. “After all, she is having my kid,” he said.
Jim, Greg and Elva had all figured out by now that the child was his, and he didn’t bother to pretend otherwise. As long as the press didn’t find out, Darryl saw no point in keeping his paternity a secret.
“And now she’s down in the dumps and I’m not sure why,” he concluded as the waitress delivered their cups of cappuccino. “She says she doesn’t even want to go to Sandra Duval’s New Year’s Eve party.”
“I don’t pretend to be an expert on women,’ Jim said. “If I were, I’d have been more careful who I married.”
“Sandra’s famous for laying on a great spread,” Darryl continued. “And Belle loves parties.”
“Maybe she’s avoiding it because pregnant women aren’t supposed to drink,” Jim suggested.
“So what?” Darryl wasn’t much of a drinker himself. He had developed a particular aversion to spiked punch. “I’m sure they’ll have soft drinks.”
Jim drummed his fingers on the table. “Could there be somebody she wants to avoid?”
“Me,” Darryl said. “But she won’t know it until the article comes out.”
“Then it must be her weight,” he said. “Tori refused to go anywhere when she was pregnant. She thought she looked like a cow.”
“You mean Belle is pouting because she can’t fit into a size seven?” Darryl demanded. “That’s ridiculous!”
“Well, perhaps there’s something deeper affecting her moods.” Jim gazed at the ocean as it swelled with one of its periodic high waves. “Having a baby means her life is changing forever.”
“So is mine.” Darryl couldn’t believe his friend was overlooking the obvious. “As you know, my whole article is about the fact that parenthood means as much to men as to women.”
The photographer turned toward him, his gaze locking with Darryl’s. “But you’re not married to her, my friend. So your life is only changing as much as you want it to.”
The comment seemed so blatantly unfair that Darryl couldn’t even figure out where to start protesting. In any case, he didn’t get a chance, because the wave was subsiding, leaving a dazed-looking seal floundering on the sand.
“I’ve got to get a shot of that,’ Jim said as a couple of children approached the seal cautiously. “And make sure the critter gets away safely, of course.” He tossed some money on the table. “Happy New Year, my friend.”
“Same to you,” Darryl said, and meant it.
Jim had been way off base, but he’d only been trying to help.
GIRL, YOU HAVE to get it together. So it’s New Year’s Eve. So everybody else is going to be eating shrimp and Brie and you’ll be chomping chips and watching TV. Who cares?
Belle regarded herself grimly in the bathroom mirror. A red blotch on the side of her nose bore a suspicious resemblance to a zit. She suspected Mindy’s skin had been airbrushed at birth. So had everyone else’s among the beautiful people of Los Angeles.
Wallowing in self-pity was not productive but it felt good. She was glad that Darryl had gone out earlier so she could indulge herself. She wondered if An Affair to Remember would be on cable tonight to give her an excuse for a good cry.
Slouching into the kitchen, she sat at the table and began writing her New Year’s resolutions:
No. 1. Throw Darryl out and turn spare bedroom into nursery.
No. 2. Keep Darryl and make him redecorate nursery.
No. 3. Replace Darryl with Brad Pitt.
Hearing a key turn in the outer door, Belle crumpled the list and tossed it in the trash. On a second sheet of paper, she wrote:
No. 1. Reread War and Peace.
No. 2. Learn Japanese.
No. 3. Make exercise video.
Darryl came in carrying a large plastic bag. “What are you doing?”
“Making my New Year’s resolutions,” she said.
To her disappointment, he didn’t read over her shoulder. Instead, he handed her the bag, which was draped on a hanger.
“For you,’ he said.
Belle regarded the gift suspiciously. “What is it?”
“Go put it on.” There was a determination in Darryl’s tone that made her stand and head for the bedroom. She might as well see what he’d brought, she told h
erself.
Closing the door behind her, Belle reached inside the plastic covering. Her hand touched something that felt crunchy, the way evening dresses did when they were shot through with glittery threads. Puzzled, she removed the bag and examined the garment.
It was a black dress woven with metallic threads that shifted colors in the lamplight. The tag read One Size Fits All.
Belle couldn’t resist. Peeling off her oversize T-shirt and stretch-paneled jeans, she wiggled into it.
The mirror on the back of the door showed a low-cut yoke revealing ample cleavage. Billowing sleeves gathered at the wrist while, below the bust, the dress cascaded to a scarf hemline that teased her calves.
The dark color set off the brilliant red of her hair, which Belle had touched up the previous day in a fit of restlessness. She hated to admit it, but Darryl had found the one dress capable of luring her out of her nest.
From the closet, she retrieved a pair of low-heeled black boots studded with tiny rhinestones. They gave the outfit a distinctive look-at-me note.
As she applied makeup, she refused to ascribe any noble motives to her housemate. Everyone she knew ached to attend Sandra Duval’s party. Obviously, it had been worth this investment to Darryl. Still, she was glad he’d made the effort.
She emerged from the bedroom in a burst of goodwill at the same time that Darryl stepped from the spare room. He wore a tuxedo, shiny black with a pleated white shirt. Its tailored lines emphasized his height and masculine build.
In the rough-and-tumble of everyday life, Belle had forgotten how handsome Darryl could be. From his high cheekbones to his confident stance, he radiated sophistication.
He hadn’t merely created the About Town male for his readers to emulate. He really was that man, and, tonight, he belonged to Belle.
She took his arm and let him lead her out of the condo. For this one occasion, she would indeed let Adam bring Eve to Paradise.
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