by Diana Palmer
Margie’s wide eyes found the older woman’s and all her fears were revealed in them. “The men in my life haven’t been the cream of the crop,” she said quietly. “What I knew of my own father was terribly unpleasant, and my husband was just another disappointment….” She looked up. “I suppose all men aren’t monsters, but how do you tell the good guys from the bad guys before you’ve lived with them?” she murmured wistfully. “I thought Larry was the best in the world. If I couldn’t trust my judgment then, how can I ever trust it again?”
Victorine looked troubled. “You have to learn to trust again,” she said. “I realize that’s easier said than done, but you may find that it comes naturally when you meet the right man.”
The younger woman sighed, finishing her coffee. She smiled shyly. “I’ve never talked to anyone like this. Except possibly Jan.”
“Then I’m flattered. What about your mother?”
“She died when Jan was born. I barely remember her. We were raised by our grandmother McPherson, a fierce old lady who was more interested in discipline than affection.” She sighed, smiling. “We loved her, but we grew up with only each other.”
Victorine was watching her with a strange expression on her face, watchful, calculating. “McPherson?” she murmured.
Margie could have bitten her tongue out. Had Victorine solved the puzzle? Was her identity about to be exposed?
“Is something wrong?” she asked, studying the older woman.
Victorine shrugged. “I keep thinking I’ve heard that name somewhere.” She laughed. “And you looked so familiar…oh, well, I suppose we all have counterparts, don’t we?”
“Yes, I suppose we do,” came the relieved reply.
“I like your sister,” Victorine said quietly. “I like the way my youngest acts around her. So protective and capable—so different from my old Andy, who was forever hoping for Cannon’s approval. He’s changing right before my eyes.”
“Jan loves him very much,” Margie remarked. “She’s happy in a way she’s never been. Poor little Jan. She was always on the receiving end of Larry’s temper, but she had to stay with us because she had no place else to go. Now that Andy’s come into her life, she smiles and plays…I thought she’d forgotten how.”
The older woman looked thoughtful. “Doesn’t that apply to you, too?” she asked gently. “I hear that typewriter all hours of the day. Are you another of those frustrated would-be novelists, Margie, out to write the Great American Novel? Come on, ’fess up. Are you?”
Margie burst into gales of laughter. “All right, yes, I am.”
“I knew it! What kind of books do you try to write—those delicious mystery novels?”
“Yes,” Margie lied, “however did you guess?”
The older woman laughed. “I don’t know, it just popped into my mind. Now, personally, I like those huge sexy historical novels. I read them by the dozen.” Her eyes were speculative as she studied Margie’s face. “Do you read those?”
“Oh no, they’re much too suggestive for my taste,” Margie lied again and prayed silently for forgiveness.
“I see.” Victorine lowered her eyes to her coffee, but there was a strange, tiny little smile on her mouth.
“Cannon doesn’t want Jan and Andy to marry,” Margie said, missing that giveaway smile.
“Yes, I know.” Victorine finished her coffee. “But he’ll get over it. All he needs is to be around Jan for awhile, see her with Andy and get to know her. He’s simply against marriage. He’s very protective of Andy and he doesn’t want him to make a mistake. Cannon’s marriage made him bitter—very much as yours made you bitter, I imagine. But he’ll come around.”
Margie sighed. “Oh, I hope you’re right. I do hope you are.”
* * *
Margie had hoped that she could stay in her room that night to escape the guests who were coming to see Cannon—as well as to avoid the man himself. She didn’t want another confrontation with him until she sorted her feelings out. But Victorine wouldn’t hear of it.
“You most certainly will not hide in your room,” the older woman said, her small figure drawn up to its full height.
“Oh, it wouldn’t be hiding,” Margie promised. “I’d just sort of hibernate for the night and hoard my strength for tomorrow.”
“No,” Victorine said firmly. “And wear something shocking,” she added with a grin. “So will I. We’ll show him!”
Margie burst out laughing. “You’ll be the greatest mother-in-law….”
“I don’t suppose you’d care to apply for the position of daughter-in-law?” Victorine asked hopefully.
“Andy wants Jan.”
“You know very well I didn’t mean Andy.” She cocked her head in the same way Cal did. “He wants you, you know. It’s written all over him.”
Margie’s eyes fell. “I don’t want that kind of involvement. I’m afraid.”
“So is he,” she replied, and smiled at Margie’s incredulous expression. “It’s true. Della soured him. He’s made sure that his women friends are very sophisticated and freedom loving—and that their idea of commitment is a hotel room rented for one night,” she added wickedly.
“Which is about all he wants with me,” Margie said quietly.
“Are you very sure of that?” Victorine asked. “You might be surprised, my dear. Now hurry and dress. And don’t forget—shocking apparel!”
But as it was, Margie was out of shocking clothes, having left all her daring gowns back in Georgia. Instead, she followed her mood and chose a gauzy Victorian-style dress with a high collar and a lacy insert above the ruffled bodice, and a flaring skirt boasting a ruffle around the bottom. With it, she put on lace-up high heels that flattered her small feet. She piled her dark hair into a high coiffure and used the lightest touch of makeup. The rest was sheer elegance, an illusion of old-fashioned delicacy that suited her slender figure and matched her reserved mood.
She went downstairs alone, meeting Victorine and Jan at the bottom of the stairs.
“This is shocking?” the older woman asked, shifting to emphasize her deeply plunging, plum velvet gown as she glared at Margie’s outfit.
“It shows my ankles,” Margie explained, nodding toward them. “At the turn of the century, that was quite shocking.”
Victorine laughed delightedly. “So it was.”
Margie studied Jan, delightful in the silky pale yellow gown that clung to the soft lines of her figure.
“You look like a tea rose,” she told her younger sister.
“Doesn’t she, though?” Victorine agreed, surveying her. “Superb taste in clothes, my dear. It will matter, one of these days.”
Jan colored prettily and smiled. “I didn’t want to embarrass Andy by coming down in something flamboyant.”
“What’s this?” Andy asked, moving toward them in his elegant evening clothes. “Embarrass me? Like fun.”
Jan laughed delightedly, running to him. “Do I look all right?” she asked, wanting his approval.
“Good enough to eat,” he murmured, bending to brush a kiss across her forehead.
“Could you save that for the bedroom?” Cannon growled, joining them, his eyes intimidating as they met his brother’s. “I can’t walk through the house without finding you two in a clinch somewhere.”
“Don’t look, if it bothers you, brother dear,” Andy said with a sudden, uncharacteristic show of spirit. Then he smiled coolly. “And for your information, Jan and I aren’t sharing a bedroom. There’ll be plenty of time for that—after we marry.”
“Without my approval?” Cannon asked insolently.
Andy straightened, drawing Jan closer. “If we have to, yes. Take a look, Cal. I’m all grown up now. I’m not the high school kid who used to worship at the altar of your machismo. And whether you believe it or not, I’m quite capable of supporting Jan and myself.”
“Working at what, exactly?” Cannon asked.
Andy shifted. “At the mill, of course.”
“Think again,” Cannon replied, his eyes glittering with triumph. “If you marry without my consent, you’ll start from scratch and without a penny.”
“Cannon…!” Victorine began.
“The trust is set up so that I have full control over your purse strings until you attain the ripe old age of thirty,” Cannon added, ramming a hand in his pocket to draw out his cigarette case. “And there’s no question about my authority to hire and fire as I please. So don’t throw your weight around with me, boy. It will get you exactly nowhere.”
“If you’ll excuse us,” Andy said quietly to Victorine and Margie, “I think we’ll spend the evening in town.”
Jan looked close to tears, and Margie’s heart went out to her. Damn Cannon! As she was thinking it, her eyes were telling him how she felt. But he didn’t even flinch.
“I’m so sorry we have guests coming,” Victorine told her eldest son with blazing eyes and a cold smile. “I’d love to discuss that little speech with you, dear boy.”
He smiled in amusement at his mother’s bridled fury. “No doubt you would, Mother dear. But despite the pressure from you and Andy, I’m not budging one inch until I’m convinced that he isn’t making a mistake in his choice.”
“Will you spend the rest of his life tell-ing him which women to date, which fork to use, which television programs he may watch…?” Margie broke in.
“It’s none of your business,” he replied curtly.
“Jan is my sister; of course it’s my business.” She glared at him. “She’s had quite enough heartache in her life without having to be barbecued by an overprotective stuffed shirt like you!”
Cannon looked as if he’d like to take a bite out of her, and Victorine had just opened her mouth to speak when the doorbell sounded.
“Oh, your guests are here,” Victorine said quickly. “The maid will let them in, but shouldn’t we greet them?”
Cannon was still glaring at Margie. “Later,” he said menacingly, “you and I are going to have a few words together.”
“Oh, I’ll just look forward to it!” Margie drawled, smiling sweetly.
He turned and strode angrily toward the front door while Victorine gave a mock sigh of relief, drawing Margie along with her.
There were two businessmen at the door, one tall and solemn, one short and heavyset with a red face. Cannon followed them into the living room, sparing Margie a pointed glare as he introduced Bob Long and Harry Neal.
In short order, Margie found herself standing alone with Bob Long as the others argued about the current administration’s economic policies.
“Do you argue politics, Mr. Long?” Margie asked politely.
He shook his head, looking somewhat irritated. “My great interest is water conservation.” He glanced at her. “And I’d hardly expect you to know much about that.”
His chauvinistic attitude pricked her a little, but she smiled. “On the contrary, Mr. Long, it’s an interest of mine, as well. I come from a small town outside Atlanta. We use two million gallons of water per day, and we draw from a tributary of the Chattahoochee River. The nearest town to us has a processing plant that uses a million gallons a day on its own, to say nothing of the city’s consumption of three million gallons a day.”
Bob Long stared at her as if he feared his hearing had failed him. “And it draws from the same tributary?”
“Partially,” she said. “But last year, when the drought came, the town had to drill three additional wells to meet water consumption, and right now we’re looking at the feasibility of a county-wide water and sewage system.”
“That’s just what happened to us,” he replied, and proceeded to tell her how the problem had come about and what the governing body had done to alleviate it.
They were busily discussing new legislation allocating water consumption by municipalities when Cannon interrupted them.
“I hate to break this up, Bob,” he murmured with a hard glance at Margie, “but Harry and I need some input from you on the merger proposal.”
“Merger.” Bob Long blinked. “Oh, yes, the merger.” He turned and shook hands with Margie. “I can’t remember when I’ve enjoyed a conversation so much. We must do this again.”
Cannon gave her a strange, puzzled glance as he led the older man away.
Andy and Jan had just rejoined the group. Andy looking fighting fit, and Jan herself looked as if she were ready to enter into the fray with her man. Even Cannon’s harsh look when they came into the room wasn’t enough to bother either of them.
“Well, well,” Margie teased. “Changed your minds?”
“Sure did.” Andy grinned. “I took a course in advanced dragon slaying in college. I went outside, looked at the car and decided that running is something you only do when the odds are stacked against you.”
“Same here,” Jan said with a rare show of spirit. “Cannon may not like me, but by gosh, he’s going to accept me one of these days.”
Margie grinned at them. “That’s the spirit. I’ll help any way I can, right down to supporting the two of you while you get started if it comes to that.”
Andy gave her a warm smile. “I wouldn’t let you do that,” he said gently. “But having your support means a lot. Thanks.”
“What are future sisters-in-law for?” Margie shrugged theatrically.
“By the way,” Andy asked, “was old man Long actually smiling at you when we came in? He hates people. Mostly he stands in corners and sneers into his drink until it’s time to talk business, and then he disagrees with everything that’s been said.”
“That name sounds familiar,” Jan murmured.
“It ought to—I’ve been moaning over it for weeks.” He glanced at Margie. “Cal’s trying to talk Long into merging his knitting mill with our corporation. Long won’t budge. They’ve had meeting after meeting after meeting, and Cal’s had to do all the negotiating himself—but with every junior executive in Long’s company. This is the first time Long’s even agreed to meet with him face-to-face.”
“I think I’m flattered,” Margie murmured with a smile.
* * *
At dinner, she wasn’t surprised to find herself seated next to Bob Long, who turned out to be a former planning commission member. They didn’t run out of subjects all through the meal. In fact, Bob Long was the last to leave—a totally different man from the sour-faced executive of a few hours before.
“You still haven’t given me an answer on the merger proposal, Bob,” Cannon re-minded him with a hard glance in Margie’s direction.
“Oh, that.” Bob waved airily. “Go ahead with it. You have your people draw up the contracts and send them over. I’ll sign them. It’s been a pleasure, Mrs. Silver,” he added, holding Margie’s slender hand in his bony one and smiling down at her. “I hope we’ll meet again sometime.”
“So do I, Mr. Long,” she said with a genuine smile of her own. “Good night.”
He nodded, waving at the others, and went smiling out the door.
“My God,” Cannon said shortly, staring at Margie with glittering eyes. “I’ve been trying for months to get him to agree to the damned thing so that Harry and I could go ahead with our expansion plans. He wouldn’t budge. He wouldn’t even meet with us. And he spends a couple of hours talking to you and acts as if he couldn’t care less about the whole thing!”
“He’s an introvert,” Margie told him. “He doesn’t mix well, and that makes him argumentative. He only wants to be treated like everyone else, to be part of the conversation, but he doesn’t know how.”
“You did,” Cannon pointed out.
“I was a reporter,” she reminded him. “An old editor told me years ago that there are no dull people—only interviewers with no imagination. After that, I went the extra mile to draw people out. It’s not hard. You simply find things they like to talk about, and listen as much as you talk.”
“How simple you make it sound, dear,” Victorine said. “It isn’t, you know.”
“A
nyway, I enjoyed it,” Margie said. “We had quite a talk about water usage and restrictions….”
“Both my sons sat on committees dealing with conservation issues in Chicago,” Victorine remarked. “Cannon went on television about it.”
“I didn’t know Bob was even interested in water conservation,” Cannon muttered, and looked at Margie as if that were her fault.
“I think we’ll go watch television,” Andy said, holding Jan’s hand tightly and smiling down at her.
“Well, don’t sit too close,” Cannon warned with a faint smile. “To the set, I mean. You know what they say about radiation.”
Andy managed to smile back. “So they do. But I can take care of myself, big brother. And of Jan, if she’ll let me.”
Cannon studied the younger man. “We’ll do some serious talking one of these days.”
Andy nodded. “I think we’ll have to.”
“I’m going for a drive,” Cannon said, turning. “Get a wrap and come with me, Margie.”
She glared up at him. “Not me,” she replied.
“Yes you. I’ll take you for a romantic ride in the moonlight,” he chided.
She studied his hard face and sighed. Well, it was inevitable that she was going to have to stand up to him. It might as well be tonight—then she wouldn’t have to spend the rest of her vacation wondering when it would come.
“If I’m not back in two hours,” Margie told Victorine in a stage whisper, “call the sheriff and tell him you suspect foul play.”
Victorine laughed at her. “I will, but I’ll do my best to protect you, dear. I’ll swear he drove you to it….”