Rick was the one who found the hiding place. He called her up to have a look. “It's right here, in the soap dish,” he told her, pulling back the glass door of a perfectly ordinary tub and shower combination. A scrap of gold-edged paper lay in the little carved-out dish. “Read it.”
She took the paper gingerly. “Is it a joke?” she asked warily, considering Johnny's reputation.
He shook his head, and for the first time she realized he didn't have the bright, happy look of a man who'd discovered his birthday present. “It's not a dirty limerick if that's what you mean,” he grumbled. “Just another lousy clue to decipher.”
She read it out loud:
“I'm out of sight on a normal day. When a party comes, I'm out to play. I shine and spin and give you light. Please let me down. I'll make your night.”
She glanced up at Rick. “I take it this means nothing to you.”
He growled incoherently and didn't answer, glaring at her from under lowered brows.
“Enough.” She handed the poem to Rick. “You figure it out. Johnny is beginning to try my patience. I've got work to do.”
His handsome face registered mock distress. “You can desert me in my hour of need?”
“I can,” she returned smartly, starting for the door, “and I will.”
He stopped her with a hand to her cheek as she tried to pass. She paused, looking warily into his eyes and finding them disturbingly serious.
“I could forget all about this silly chase if you'd let me,” he said softly, his voice rough with sensual meaning. “I'd rather celebrate my birthday with you than have any number of Johnny's presents.”
She wasn't at all sure he was telling the truth, but for some reason his saying it struck a chord deep inside and she shivered. “The children should be back any moment,” she reminded him, turning blindly and escaping from the room.
Her heart was beating very fast, and that was strange. After all, what had happened in that bathroom? Rick had just made another pass, and she'd deflected it. Nothing out of the ordinary at all.
She stopped at the top of the stairs and pressed a hand against the quick throbbing in her chest. She had to get hold of herself. The car was arriving, and that meant the children were back. Pasting a warm smile on her face, she went down to greet them.
The rest of the day passed in a blur. With so many things to keep track of and prepare for, she shouldn't have had a moment's time to think of Rick. But it didn't quite work out that way. Somehow, he was always there, just at the edge of her thoughts. No matter how she scowled and shook her head to clear it, he wouldn't go away.
She was awash in conflicting emotions. On the one hand, she wanted to blot Rick out of her mind. On the other, everything she did seemed to concern him. And then there was the problem of his birthday.
She was afraid he was disappointed that something more spectacular hadn't arrived yet from his cousin Johnny. A brief wave of madness caused her to think wildly about giving him something herself, but she stifled that notion, knowing it was not her place to do so. And then there were the children.
“What's the custom in this family about birthdays?” she'd asked Erica.
Erica had looked up from the teen magazine she was reading and her little face seemed to freeze into place. “Custom?” she said hollowly. “This family has no custom.”
Terry laughed. “Oh, you know what I mean. When do you open the presents, do you have a special dinner, things like that,”
Erica went back to her magazine. “I wouldn't know,” she said icily. “You'd better ask someone who's been here longer.”
Not sure if the girl was using disinterest as a defensive measure or if the family really had few traditions, Terry risked asking one more question:
“You did bring a present for your father, didn't you?”
Erica didn't look up. “I didn't have time to get anything,” she said with a shrug.
Terry had to bite her tongue and force herself to walk out of the room. “It's none of your business,” she told herself, again and again.
But Anatole was her business. When he returned in the afternoon she got up her courage and marched down to the kitchen to confront him about the birthday dinner.
Taking a deep breath, she burst through the swinging door. “Anatole,” she said brusquely, “I want a word with you.”
He looked up at her, no smile of welcome on his thin lips.
“I realize that in houses like this there is often a struggle for power between the cook and the butler and I know we will be having our differences but I just want to say that I don't think it would be fair to use Mr. Carrington’s birthday dinner as a bone of contention between us ...”
Her words faded as she began to take in her surroundings. The entire food preparation table was taken up with elaborate dishes being prepared—obviously—for Rick's birthday. On the other side of the room she caught sight of a huge birthday cake shaped like a galloping horse and bearing the inscription “For He's a Jolly Good Fellow.”
“You're already doing it,” she finished lamely.
Anatole drew himself up to glare down at her. “My dear lady butler,” he sneered, enjoying her discomfort, “I don't think you understand. We here at Mar Vista hold Mr. Carrington in the highest regard. We don't need your help to determine how to celebrate his birthday.”
She'd put her foot into it again. But to her own surprise, she found she didn't really care. There was a warm glow lightening her load. She was happy that Rick was going to get his birthday party after all.
It was only moments later that a new element was added to her already hectic day. Aunt Julia arrived, and with her, one Brandy McAllister.
The children heard the car coming first.
“She's here! Aunt Julia's here!” Jeremy cried, springing to his feet from a game he'd been playing with his koala bear.
Erica joined him in running to the window.
“And she's got someone with her.”
“As usual,” Erica added, rolling her eyes.
Terry glanced at Rick. So it was true. Aunt Julia had brought along someone she hoped Rick would fall in love with and marry. Well, good, she thought to herself. Maybe she'll be wonderful, and he'll lose interest in me.
Her heart was thumping again as she followed the rest of the family to the door. She had to stop feeling this way. The woman with Aunt Julia would be beautiful, rich, cultured, and educated, and Rick deserved as much. But she refused to be jealous!
The door was thrown open and there were cries of greeting and hugs all around. Terry stood back, waiting to be of service, but it was a few moments before she could untangle the flying arms and bodies long enough to get a clear picture of the visitors.
Aunt Julia was a tiny lady, her white hair pulled up in a knot behind her head and held fast with an old-fashioned black hat. She wore a heavily embroidered black coat and she had ballerina slippers on her feet. Though she must have been in her seventies, her eyes were bright with young thoughts. Altogether, she was nothing like Terry had expected.
“Rick, darling,” Aunt Julia said once the kissing and hugging began to wind down. “I'd like you to meet Brandy McAllister.”
Everything stopped as everyone turned to look at Brandy, who was standing by the car. If Aunt Julia had been a surprise, Brandy was a revelation. Nothing could have been further from the woman Terry had pictured. From the electric-red lipstick to the tight spandex mini-dress, Brandy looked as though she would be far more at home on Hollywood Boulevard than she would at the Polo Lounge. She fluffed her thick, curly black hair with one hand while she waved cheerily with the other. Cracking her gum and giving everyone a big grin, she said, “Hi ya, everybody! Say, this is some pad you've got here.”
Rick's smile of welcome seemed ragged at the edges. “We're happy to have you, Miss McAllister,” he said. “Children, show Miss McAllister into the parlor. I have something I want to discuss with Aunt Julia for a moment.”
Brandy sashayed off on fou
r-inch heels with the children. Rick turned to his aunt. “Surely this is not one of your candidates for the great Carrington name?” he asked, shaking with laughter.
Julia waved her hand. “Of course, darling.” She turned and saw Terry standing behind her. A female butler didn't give her a moment's pause. “Take my coat, won't you? There's a dear. I know you'll think I'm losing my beanie to be wearing a coat on a day like this, but everywhere you go they have that dreadful air-conditioning.”
Terry hurried forward and took the heavy coat, returning the gentle smile the older woman gave her.
“Rick, be reasonable,” Julia said as she turned back to her nephew. “I've brought you everything from a nuclear physicist to a member of the British royal family. You've scorned each and every one of them. It finally occurred to me that I might be on the wrong track. A bimbo might be more your style.”
Rick was overcome with amazement. “You'd actually encourage me to marry a... bimbo?”
Julia shrugged grandly. “Why not? There are nice girls in that line of work too. Anyone, at this point, who could care for you and the children ...”
Rick threw up his arms. “Where on earth did you find her?”
Julia took the pins from her hat, handing it to Terry, and smoothed her hair back into place. “In a bar down in Venice. She was dancing on this little stage. I bought her a drink and we talked. We quite hit it off, I think.”
Rick looked to Terry for help, but, suppressing a smile, she shook her head and continued putting the hat away in the hall closet.
“Are you serious?” he demanded of his aunt. “Do you mean to say you've been barhopping for me?”
Her withered old hand pinched his cheek. “Hasn't it become clear to you yet that I'd do anything for you?” she said happily.
“Even countenance my marriage to a bimbo if it made me happy?”
“Of course.”
Rick turned suddenly and gestured with his head toward Terry. “How about a nice butler? What do you think?”
“A butler?” Aunt Julia seemed to really notice Terry for the first time. “Well, hello, dear, I don't believe we've met.”
“The butler,” Rick announced. “Terry Yardley.”
Julia shook Terry's hand firmly. “Not Martin Yardley's daughter?”
“So she claims.”
“I'm so glad you're here, dear,” said Aunt Julia, still shaking her hand. “Martin was always so dependable. And that's a quality Rick needs around him.”
“That, and bimbos,” Rick muttered, shaking his head. “Come on, Aunt Julia. Let's go entertain our visitor.”
CHAPTER SEVEN:
Aunt Julia Shakes Things Up
Brandy McAllister was a force Terry could deal with. She didn't feel the least bit threatened by the woman. Threatened? No, that wasn't the word she'd meant. Relieved was more like it. Brandy wasn't going to sweep Rick off his feet, more's the pity.
Still, there was something else which did bother her, and Terry decided she had to do something about it. That little problem was the way Rick's children were ignoring his birthday.
But to do anything about it, she had to have a chance to get to the children alone. That wasn't easy. Rick kept popping up at odd moments, muttering “I shine and spin and give you light” and shaking his head.
“Got any new ideas?” he asked. “How about 'I'm out of sight on a normal day'? What do you think? The moon? An umbrella?”
She threw him a flippant smirk. “How about your good sense?” she said, then bit her lip. She was supposed to be a butler, not a smart aleck.
Late in the afternoon her chance to do something for Rick's birthday came when he and Aunt Julia took Brandy into Destiny Bay for a sight-seeing tour and Terry was left alone with the children. It was now or
never, and she knew it.
First she rummaged through the storeroom and found something she could use—a bolt of coarse muslin. Searching in Rick's library, she found a whole set of marking pens. She took both items out onto the veranda, spread the cloth out fully, and went to work with the pens, outlining “Happy Birthday” in huge letters.
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 op
ened 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.
Promoted to Wife (Destiny Bay) Page 9