by Julia Anders
"Oh, yes, Saturday evening. I believe Mrs. Grant was one of the party. Did you two take to one another?"
There was a flicker behind Lynne's eyes as she remembered Justine Grant's hostility. She tried to think of a tactful answer.
Suddenly Madelaine's laugh rippled. "Oh, dear, I seem to sense that you didn't."
Lynne realized that Madelaine was pleased about it, and then she remembered the look of amusement in her eyes as she was selecting the clothes. Astonished, she said, "Why, you meant it to happen that way, didn't you? That's why you decided on the blue dress, because you thought it looked pretty enough that she'd be annoyed!"
"What an imagination you have! Why on earth would Justine Grant mind if there was another attractive woman around to share a little of the attention? And what difference would it make to me if she did?"
But there was still laughter in Madelaine's voice, and Lynne knew she had been right. Attractive clothing had been chosen instead of merely serviceable things in order, in some way, to score off Justine— perhaps only to annoy her; perhaps in hopes of getting her to reveal herself as a jealous cat. But why? Was Madelaine in love with her employer? Did she want to show up Justine's true colors in hopes of coming between the two?
Lynne felt disturbed. Somehow she had been made a pawn in a game to which she didn't know the rules.
Their food arrived and as the waiter served them, Madelaine asked, "Tell me about the little boy. I understand you got along well with him."
"Oh, yes," Lynne cried. "He's a darling. I miss him already. It's funny—I only knew him a week but it seems so much longer because we spent so much time together. I was the only one he could communicate with; it seemed to accelerate our friendship. Poor little lamb. I feel so sorry for him. I hope his mother recovers."
"How is it you happen to speak Italian so well?" Lynne didn't like talking about it, but her relationship with Madelaine Cheney seemed accelerated too, so she said, "I was studying to be an opera singer. I speak French and German, too."
"And you've given it up?"
Lynne gave a mirthless little laugh. "You're listening to this raspy voice and asking if I've given it up? Yes, I had an accident to my laryngeal nerve and I can no longer sing."
If there was sympathy in the other woman's eyes, she took care not to show it. Instead she said, "Your voice isn't raspy. It's just a little husky. Actually it's quite attractive—rather sensuous."
Now Lynne laughed in earnest. "Somehow I've never thought of myself in those terms."
"How did you wind up at the Corey Company?" Lynne told her about Uncle Simon, about his determination that she take a business course, and about her determination to pay off her debt to him and eventually to go back to school so she could qualify to teach languages. "That's why the notion of working overtime was so attractive to me," she explained. "It brings me one step closer to being free of that debt. At least," she added with a self-conscious moue, "it was attractive until I became suspicious of your high-handed employer."
"But it all worked out for the best after all, didn't it?" Madelaine's eyes searched Lynne's.
"I wouldn't have missed meeting Tonio for anything," Lynne said. If it was not a full answer to the question, it was the only answer she could give.
Jason Corey rubbed a weary hand over his face. Four days earlier he had attended the funeral of his sister-in-law, Francesca D'Allasio Corey. She had suffered a relapse two weeks after Tonio had been taken to her and his grandparents in Madrid.
The intervening days had been spent in arguments, legal tangles, and frustrations.
"The situation is impossible, Darren. You can understand that," Jason said to his legal advisor. "I can't leave the boy with his grandparents indefinitely, He's my brother's son—he's English. And I'm his closest relative."
"I understand your feeling well enough," Darren said, "but it's a sticky proposition. The fact is that the boy is in Italy with grandparents who don't want to give him up. You'll have to convince an Italian judge, not me. It's a pity he ever went back to Italy at all."
"That's water under the bridge, Darren. I couldn't keep the boy from his mother after she came out of the coma and wanted to see him. At that time there seemed a good hope for her recovery. And I couldn't keep him away from her funeral in Florence—even if I had had any idea there was going to be a custody battle."
"I'll tell you one thing, Jason. As a bachelor, you're not going to stand a chance of convincing an Italian judge that you ought to have the boy."
"And yet you assured me that Justine won't be free for at least a year."
"That's right."
"I can't let it drag on for a year. One point in our favor is that Tonio never actually lived with his grandparents, since they were in Florence, while Morgan, Francesca, and Tonio lived in Turin. But if we leave him with them for a year, it'll be that much harder to uproot him—and to convince the courts that it's a good idea to uproot him. Besides, the younger he is, the quicker he'll learn English and English ways. It'll be harder for him the longer we wait."
"Well, you could always marry someone else, Jase," Darren said half-jokingly. Then he sobered. "You know that isn't a bad idea. A marriage now—strictly a business proposition, of course. And then, when all the legal ties are snugly knotted with Tonio and you're safely back in England, a quiet divorce."
"You can't be serious! What woman would agree to such a proposal?" he scoffed. "It would have to be the right kind of a woman or we wouldn't be able to convince a court that I was fit to raise the boy. And I can't see that sort of woman agreeing to such a farce. Besides, what would Justine say?"
"Justine can't marry you for a year anyway. Surely she cares enough about what's important to you to go along with what would only be a charade." There was an odd, indefinable tone in his voice. "A reasonable woman with your best interests at heart couldn't object—when she considers what's at stake."
"You're really serious about this, aren't you?" Jason asked incredulously.
"Can you think of another solution?" Jason spun his chair around to face the window and stared sightlessly over the city for some minutes. "Even if I were to agree," he said at last, "and I emphasize if, where would we find a woman without other attachments, an honest woman who wouldn't take advantage of the situation, someone with the right qualities to impress a judge?" There was a sudden gleam in Darren's eye. "It wouldn't hurt if she spoke Italian and was already acquainted with the boy either, would it?"
Jason stared at him in astonishment. "You mean the little clerk-typist—"
"I mean the little clerk-typist whose manners are delightful, who speaks fluent Italian, whom the boy is fond of, and—who is quite a dish."
"It wouldn't work," Jason said thoughtfully. "A clerk-typist ought to take direction from the head of her company without argument, but this one's—independent. She seemed to take an aversion to me."
"Well, maybe you can mend your fences, old boy."
"Besides, for all I know she has a jealous boyfriend."
"Call Maddy in," Darren suggested. "She has a good instinct about people."
Jason buzzed for Miss Cheney.
"Maddy, we need your opinion on a personal matter," Darren said as she entered the room. "A woman's viewpoint."
"What we need is for you to convince this legal eagle that he's out of his mind," Jason put in.
Darren ignored him. "Here's the situation." He outlined the idea for her and sat back, waiting expectantly.
"And what is it, exactly, that you want from me?" asked Miss Cheney.
"We want you to tell us whether you think a woman would agree to such a proposal, whether Lynne Dele-van would be the right one. Or we want you to suggest a more suitable candidate, if you have one."
She looked very thoughtful, considering. "I think in many ways Lynne would be an ideal candidate, but I'm not sure she'd agree. It would take gentle handling."
"Why do you say that?"
"I think it would go against the grain with he
r to do anything that she considered dishonest."
Darren looked deflated.
"However," she went on, "if she could be convinced it's in a good cause— She's genuinely devoted to the boy, I know that. If she really thought it was in his best interest—"
"And how do you know of this devotion to Tonio?" Jason asked.
"We had lunch together just after she came back from Longridge. She wanted to ask me what she should do with the clothes."
Jason blinked. "The clothes?"
"Yes, she didn't think she should keep them. She said the cheque was too generous. She felt guilty about the money that had been spent on the clothes."
"Well, there's an indication of her honesty," Darren said in triumph.
"But there is one other thing." She paused. "I'm afraid she thinks Mr. Corey is rather high-handed. I'm not sure but what she wouldn't consider this further evidence of it—the idea of hiring a wife for half a year or so. It does have a rather lordly ring to it. You know—as if you thought you could just snap your fingers and expect a girl to jump into matrimony."
Jason flushed with annoyance. "It wouldn't precisely be matrimony. It would just be a job. I thought that point was clear. However, I agree, she's not suitable."
"But she is," Darren insisted. "In fact she's your only living link with Tonio. It was obvious how crazy he was about her that weekend I saw them together. Think how much more compelling it would be if you had a wife Tonio was already fond of."
"But from what Maddy says, she'd never agree. We're just wasting our time discussing it."
"I didn't say she wouldn't," Madelaine commented. "I just said it would take careful handling. I know she does need money."
"What's a girl like that doing in a typing pool anyway?" Darren demanded.
Madelaine decided against revealing the whole story. "Her parents died and she fell on hard times. An old curmudgeon of an uncle with a bee in his bonnet about the business world offered to support her through a secretarial course; it was that or starve. But a business office is not what she's fitted for, by any stretch of the imagination. So now she's working and slowly paying off her debt to her uncle, after which she hopes to support herself through some courses which would qualify her to teach languages in a school. It's going to be a long haul."
"And if taking on this job would mean money to pay off her uncle and take her courses—" Darren said excitedly.
"If she could be convinced, I think she's the perfect choice," Madelaine said. "Would you like me to sound her out? More or less prepare her for your proposition?"
"Splendid idea, Maddy," Darren said. "Sensitive girl like that—Jason's bound to put a foot wrong."
"Wait a minute, you two," Jason interrupted. "Before you rush out and buy a ring, I haven't agreed yet. You both seem very eager to foist this girl off on me."
Darren turned an innocent gaze on him. "Foist her off! Well, I like that! I'm merely trying to choose the best possible candidate to help you get custody of Tonio. If you have someone in mind that you prefer, go ahead."
"No," Jason said slowly. "I have no one else in mind. This is just happening very fast. I'm wondering how Justine is going to react."
"Jase, if you decide to hire a temporary and purely legal wife to help you gain custody of Tonio, well, it is your decision, isn't it? Not Justine's. And if you're going to do it, what possible objection could Justine have to this girl over any other?"
There was a long, silent moment. Then Jason said, "Very well. It's settled then. Will you speak to her, Maddy?"
"Certainly, sir. I'll do my best." As she rose to leave, her eyes met Darren Lloyd's in a moment of wordless communication.
"That is absolutely preposterous!" Two spots of color burned on Lynne's pale cheeks as she sat facing Madelaine Cheney in the same restaurant where they had had lunch before. Tonight Madelaine had requested a booth in a quiet corner.
"It's not preposterous in the least," Madelaine said firmly. "It's eminently sensible. Think of it-money to repay your uncle, money to study for your teaching degree, all at one stroke. No more typing pool. And a trip to Italy thrown in."
"But marriage!" Lynne protested, her mind reeling from the suddenness of it.
"I've explained to you it would be marriage only in a legal sense. You're being employed to act a role temporarily, nothing more. Good heavens, if you played the role of Mimi in La Boheme you wouldn't really expect to have to get consumption, would you? This is just acting. Don't worry about the marriage part. It's only a formality."
"But it seems so—dishonest."
"Now, look here, my girl. Morgan was young and high-spirited. He was living in Italy because he was a test driver for an Italian motor car company. He never expected to make it a lifetime career. He had every intention of quitting and coming back to take his place in the family firm and bringing his son up as an Englishman. Why, he had put him down for his own school practically as soon as Tonio was born. It's only through a tragic act of fate that his plans were interrupted. Mr. Corey's trying to do what his brother would have wanted. Is that so terrible?"
"No, I suppose not," Lynne said slowly, "but still, it is trickery, and I suppose his grandparents must love him very much."
"Perhaps," Madelaine said briskly, "and perhaps a great part of their motive for wanting to keep him is that they'd prefer to have an Italian grandson to an English one. Don't forget, they didn't live in the same town—it's not as if he would be torn from the arms of people who had raised him. And there's Tonio's welfare to think of. They're his grandparents, after all, a whole generation removed from his parents. And he's a lively, normal, noisy little boy, isn't he? Quite a handful for grandparents to manage. Also think of this. If something happens to them, or when Mr. Corey eventually marries in earnest, he'll surely get guardianship and Tonio will be uprooted again. Isn't it better for him to have this happen only once, while he's still young enough to make the adjustment easily?"
"It seems like playing God," Lynne said unhappily. "How can I be sure Mr. Corey is the right one to be Tonio's guardian?"
"Tonio's father was his brother," Madelaine said patiently. "He's the natural choice. Besides, you aren't the one making the judgment. If you don't agree to do the job, someone else will."
"Then why me?" Lynne asked.
"Because Tonio loves you already."
Lynne was silent a long time. Finally she said, "I promise to consider it seriously."
"Consider it quickly," Madelaine advised. "Remember, I told you before, when you have to make up your mind quickly, you'll find you can do it."
On the street in front of the restaurant Lynne took Madelaine's arm and turned to face her. "Why not you, Madelaine? You're wholly devoted to Mr. Corey. You could do it without all this soul-searching."
Madelaine's gaze went quite opaque for a moment. Then she gave a wry smile. "Because, my dear child, I don't want to make either of us ridiculous. He's thirty-one; I'm forty-three. So don't get the wrong idea. I'm devoted to him, but it's his welfare I'm interested in. I just want what's best for him—not the man himself."
Lynne went home to her small flat and crawled into bed to stare into the darkness. She knew sleep would be impossible. Her mind was in turmoil such as she had not known since the day she had finally learned that she would never sing again. But for that she had had weeks of fear to prepare her for the final verdict. This—this was a bolt from the blue and it took her breath away.
"One door closes and another opens," Madame Bertelli had said. Was this chance to pay off her debt to her uncle and make a start on a new career the first crack of light through a new door that was opening?
CHAPTER FIVE
Following Miss Cheney's advice, Jason Corey had his talk with Lynne at dinner, rather than summoning her to his office. "There's something rather daunting about you when you're behind your desk. You seem to be issuing orders rather than making requests," she had said.
His brow lifted. "It's a wonder I've been able to keep such loyal
employees."
"Oh, I'm not easily daunted," she had replied. "But this is a different and much more delicate matter than office routine."
And so they were sitting in an excellent, quiet restaurant with two icy cold martinis in front of them.
Lynne twisted the stem of her glass nervously. She had rather obstinately refused to wear any of the new clothes that Jason Corey's money had paid for. She had wanted to be completely her own woman while they talked. She was wearing a simple white blouse and black skirt but she had knotted a soft coral scarf around her neck which softened the effect.
"Knowing Miss Cheney's efficiency, I'm sure she explained the situation thoroughly."
She nodded, not giving him any help.
"Darren Lloyd has studied the matter and he's convinced this is the only way. Francesca's parents refuse to give the boy up. I can't say that I blame them. He's all they have left of Francesca. And there may be—other factors. However, though I'm sorry for the loss of their daughter, it's Tonio who matters most, because his life is ahead of him."
"I know this is what Morgan would have wanted. The last time we saw each other, we discussed his fascination with the test-driving job, but he told me that he had had about enough and was almost ready to pack it in and come home. 'When Tonio starts school, it should be an English one,' is what he said."
"Francesca was driving when the accident happened," he said irrelevantly, his voice suddenly going hoarse.
Lynne maintained a sympathetic silence, giving him a chance to recover.
"I wish it could be done straightforwardly," he said, "but Darren has convinced me that without a wife I don't stand a chance of getting the boy. Strange, isn't it? If Francesca had been killed outright, along with my brother, none of this would have been necessary. When I brought the boy home, he'd simply have stayed. No English court would have questioned it. But it would have been too cruel not to let him see his mother after she regained consciousness. And it seemed only right that he should go back with his grandparents for the funeral."