by Diana Palmer
“Yes, Mother.” She got up, glancing wryly at Jordan, who rose with her. “She loves art. We had quite a collection until we lost everything.”
His eyes studied her quietly. “I’m sorry.”
“Oh, I’m not,” she said. “I think I had all my priorities mixed up. I rather like the idea of starting over and earning my own living.” She smiled. “I think I may even like revolutions,” she added with a pointed glance in her mother’s direction.
“Allow me to support the cause.” He rolled the cigar in his hand. “We own, among other concerns, an advertising agency, and I understand that you studied journalism in college.”
She gasped. “Where did you find that out?”
“Oh, I had the usual incredibly fast background check done on your family early this morning,” he said with a rakish smile. “By noon I knew that you were penniless, and I had a good idea why your mother was arranging to visit.”
She went flaming red, but he took her hand and smiled.
“That was unforgivable,” he said softly, “and I didn’t mean it the way you’re taking it. You remember very well how it is in our circles. I’m not a snob, but I’m no fool either. You said you want to earn your living, and I’ve got a job you can do. No strings. Try it for a month and if you don’t like it, go with my blessing.”
She was astonished at his speed. “But I’ve never had a job—”
“You can start in the morning. You’ll like the others. They’re young and bright and energetic, and they won’t think you’re my mistress.” He grinned. “In fact, I imagine most of them think I’m too somber to approach a woman.”
She looked up at him warmly. “I think you’re a very nice man,” she said.
“Don’t insult me.” He propelled her into the hall. “Mother, I’ve just hired a new employee,” he told Anna. “Meet our newest advertising whiz.”
Gussie beamed, and seeing that smile, Bess could be forgiven for wondering if she’d gotten her mother’s motives wrong. Had Gussie only wanted to help her find work? Or had there been a deeper, darker intent?
The next morning she reported to the Ryker Advertising Agency with her heart in her throat. She was wearing her best beige suit with a pink top, and her hair was pulled into a neat French plait at her nape. She hoped she looked businesslike but not too ritzy and standoffish. She was so nervous that she knew she was going to faint if anyone looked hard at her.
The receptionist was on the phone when she arrived. She had a card in her purse that Jordan had given her, with the name of an executive on it.
“Yes, may I help you?” the receptionist asked.
“I’ve come to see about a job,” she began. “I was told to ask for Mrs. Terrell?”
“Certainly.” The receptionist smiled and buzzed someone. Bess looked around the office, not wanting to eavesdrop. It was a beautiful place, full of huge potted plants with modern furniture and lots of light and sculpture. It had a welcoming personality.
“Miss Samson?”
She turned to find a tall, dark-haired woman smiling at her. The woman was wearing a vivid burgundy dress. “I’m Julie Terrell,” she said, introducing herself, “and I guess you could call me the head honcho. Won’t you come in?”
“It’s very nice to meet you,” Bess said uneasily as she followed Julie into a lavish office with a big drafting board and chair, computers, graphics charts, and a library that rivaled the one her family had prided itself on.
“Sit down.” She indicated a comfortable upholstered chair for Bess as she seated herself behind the desk and leaned back, kicking her shoes off. “Wow, do my feet hurt! I’ve spent two days working up a presentation for a new client and I finished it at two this morning. I work on my feet,” she added sheepishly. “They’re the most abused part of my body. Now, let’s hear about your qualifications.”
“I don’t have very many,” Bess moaned. “I have a journalism degree, but I’ve never used it...”
“Can you draw?”
“Why, yes,” Bess said, surprised.
Julie handed her a sketch pad. “Draw something.”
“What?”
“Anything you like.”
Bess did a quick sketch of a rose and added a diamond ring around the stem just for fun and handed it to Julie.
“Very nice.” She grinned. “Not just a rose, but a diamond, as well. Yes, you’ve got a creative mind. Can you do layouts? Mechanicals?”
“Yes, I minored in art,” she began, “but I thought writing—”
“Creating is what advertising is all about,” Julie told her. “And your forte, very obviously, is art. Take your hair down, please.”
Bess thought that this was surely the strangest interview she’d ever had in her life. “I beg your—”
“Take your hair down. We have an account coming up that’s going to feature a harried secretary, and when we can save money by using staff instead of models, we use staff. Yes, your hair is perfect, just what I pictured, so we’ll use you! There’s a bonus for that,” she added with a laugh. “Welcome to Ryker Advertising, and don’t say a word if Nell accuses you of getting here through Jordan’s bed. She’s been crazy about the big boss for years, but it gets her nowhere. He doesn’t look at women.”
That was what Julie thought, but Bess didn’t say a word. Apparently she didn’t know that Jordan had recommended her for this job. “What’s he like?” she asked.
Julie misunderstood and gave her a physical description. “Big,” Julie said. “His mother is Spanish, but his father was Dutch. Interesting combination, and he’s a complex man. I only know him from meetings. His mother sent you down, didn’t she? She seems to be a lovely person. We all like her.”
“Yes—” Bess began.
“Well, come on and I’ll find you a spot.” Julie, in bare stocking feet, wandered along the hall with Bess behind her.
There wasn’t a large staff, and Bess had the impression that the agency was still in its early stages and was still a struggling concern. That made her like it even more, because it gave her the opportunity to grow with it. And since Julie was the boss, it meant that Jordan Ryker didn’t have a chauvinistic bone in his body. He obviously hired by qualifications alone, because the office boasted three women and four men of whom one was black, one Mexican-American, and the other two white and middle-aged.
“All the men in the office are married, you notice,” Julie said dryly when the introductions were over. “Mr. Ryker’s idea apparently. I don’t think he approves of office romances.”
“I suppose it would cut down on productivity,” Bess agreed, tongue in cheek. “I like it here already.”
“You haven’t met Nell yet,” she said. “Well, brace yourself. Here goes.”
Bess was nervous, expecting a Tartar. But Nell was delightful. She had dark hair and blue eyes and she bubbled. She was dressed in vivid colors, oranges and reds and browns, and she looked the way Bess imagined an autumn wind might dress if it wore clothing.
“A new victim!” Nell exclaimed. She pushed back her short pageboy and grinned. “Hi! I’m the office maniac. They usually hide me when company comes. Are you staying or just passing through? If you’re staying, just remember that the big boss is mine. Private property. He doesn’t know it yet, but I’m working on him real hard.”
“Your secret is safe with me,” Bess assured her. She smiled wistfully. “I’ve got a tall male problem of my own.”
“Are you married?” Nell asked, peering at Bess’s finger, on which the small turquoise-and-silver ring was worn. Bess had put it on her engagement finger last night and slept with her cheek on it. She’d resolved to wear it on her engagement finger from then on, and Cade could think what he liked.
“No, I’m not married,” Bess said. “And not likely to be anytime in the near future unless I can tie up
the man I want and marry him without his permission,” she added dryly.
Nell grinned. “How old are you?”
“Twenty-three—almost twenty-four.”
“A young person, too,” Nell declared. “I myself am twenty-eight, and Julie here is over-the-hill. She’s thirty-three. Ancient.”
“Speak for yourself, old relic,” Julie returned. “Now, go away. I have to get Bess a desk and start her on the dog food account.”
“Dog food.” Nell put a hand to her head. “I see a dog wearing a crown, ordering his loyal subjects to eat nothing less royal than Goodbody’s Prime Rib Treat.”
“Nell does cost studies,” Julie said. “She’s also one of our best salespeople. She goes out and drags in new accounts.” She glowered at the younger woman. “She doesn’t do commercials or ads. No imagination,” she added with a tsk-tsk. “Let’s go, Bess, before she rubs off on you any more than she already has.”
“Peasant,” Nell scoffed, and went back to work.
“Fortunately you’re meeting Nell on one of her more sedate days,” Julie murmured dryly as they went back down the hall. “You should see her when she’s being vivacious.”
“No fish dinner for you today,” Nell called after her. “You’ll have to get a can of worms and catch your own.”
“See what I mean?” Julie grinned.
Bess was given space in the office next to Julie’s. Most of the so-called offices were only partitions in fact. Bess’s place had a desk and a drafting table, along with a telephone, computer, printer, and modem.
“I hope I don’t have to use that immediately,” Bess said uneasily, nodding toward the computer.
“No problem. We give lessons,” Julie said dryly. “Now sit down and I’ll run you through this new account and you can work on some ideas for the presentation. But don’t take too long. We only have this week to get it together.”
After the first day Bess was sure that she wasn’t intelligent enough to learn the operation of that computer. But the next day Nell removed Julie from the console, sat down, and proceeded to make English out of what had been Greek to Bess the day before. By the end of the second day Bess could pull up files, do graphics, and even print things out without help. She felt like a million dollars.
Gussie was watching Bess’s progress with uneasiness. “I don’t see why you won’t just sell the pearls,” she muttered later in the week while Bess was sprawled in the living room of the small apartment working on drawings for the ad campaign. “Having Donald buy them back with that money wasn’t sensible.”
“Yes, it was. They’re a family legacy. And they’re mine,” she added, looking up. “Great-aunt Dorie gave them to me.”
Gussie grimaced. “I’m sure she thought you’d use them to good advantage, not lock them up somewhere.”
“If I took the money, it would be gone in a week, and you know it, Mother,” she said. “This way we’ll have them for an emergency. And have you thought any more about a job?”
“I most certainly have not.” Gussie sat down irritably, crossing her legs. “I expected Anna to invite me to go with her and Jordan to Europe, but they left this morning. They won’t be back for two months.”
“Why should they have invited you?” Bess asked.
Gussie sniffed. “Well, they know I’m not suited to staying at home all the time. I thought they would, that’s all.”
“Did you ask them?” she exclaimed.
The older woman fidgeted. “You never get anything unless you ask for it,” she muttered. “I’m bored to death. And I don’t want a job. I’m going shopping tomorrow,” she added, daring her daughter to say anything.
Bess felt years older now that she had a job and a future. She sat up, her hair falling gracefully around her face, and glared at her mother. “If you go shopping, it had better be with your own jewelry and not with our joint credit cards, or I’ll take back everything you buy. I swear I will. I refuse to spend my life in debt because you’re trying to live in the past, Mama.”
“You can’t talk to me like that,” Gussie snapped.
Bess glared back. “I just did.”
Gussie got up, infuriated, and walked out of the room.
Bess put her work away because the backlash from the argument continued for the rest of the night. It wasn’t easy standing up to Gussie, and it upset her to have hard feelings with her mother. But she had to start somewhere. If she didn’t, Gussie would walk all over her for the rest of her life.
She looked at the silver ring on her finger and touched it lovingly. At least Cade had cared a little, to give her such an heirloom. She kissed it softly, wondering where he was, what he was doing. Probably he wasn’t even thinking about her, but she couldn’t stop herself from dreaming about him.
The next day she finished the drawings she’d started for the dog food presentation and put them on Julie’s desk before she went home. Julie was in a staff meeting and wouldn’t be out until well after quitting time.
“I hope they’ll do,” Bess sighed.
Nell hugged her warmly. It was that kind of an office; everyone was open and friendly and affectionate. Bess, who’d never had real affection before, was overwhelmed and delighted by the feeling of belonging.
“They’re terrific,” Nell said. “Now, you go home and stop worrying.”
“I’ll try.”
“It’s Friday night. Poor Jordan, alone in Europe with his mother, when he could be here, taking me out on the town.” Nell sighed. “I guess I’ll read a romantic novel and throw myself off the roof.”
“You nut.”
Nell laughed gaily. “Not really. I love life too much. Have a nice weekend. Good night.”
“Good night.” Bess watched the older woman go and noticed that the minute Nell stepped outside the building, she changed. The bubbly personality seemed to be eclipsed, leaving a somber, quiet, very dignified woman. Bess’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully. She wondered if Jordan Ryker had ever seen that side of Nell and figured that he probably hadn’t. It might make all the difference, but then, his heart belonged to some other woman. Nell wouldn’t be in the running anyway, she supposed. It was a pity, because a happy person like Nell was just what a man like Jordan needed.
She took a cab home with her paycheck in hand. It was just for the week, but it looked like a small fortune to Bess, who’d become used to living without luxuries or pocket money.
The apartment was quiet when, beaming and feeling excited about her first check, she entered it. But when she got into the living room and saw the boxes strewn across the sofa, her smile faded.
Gussie came out in a short fur jacket. Blue fox. She pushed back her hair. “Isn’t it lovely?” she asked with faint hauteur. “It was on sale, so I bought it. And those things. And I’m not taking them back, and neither are you. I refuse to live like a pauper!”
Bess stared at the check in her hand. It wouldn’t buy even one of the dresses on that sofa, much less several of them and a fox jacket. She turned and picked up the phone.
“What are you doing?” Gussie asked. “Bess!”
Bess dialed the number of the credit card company that had issued the card she and her mother shared, got an operator and canceled the card.
“How could you! How dare you!” Gussie exploded. “You cannot do that. I forbid it!”
Bess turned, indignant and furious. She was working like a tiger and budgeting her own needs, only to have her mother outspending everything she could ever make. It was just too much to swallow.
“You listen to me,” she said unsteadily. “I’m working for my living now, and it isn’t going to be to support you in the style to which you’ve become accustomed. I am not buying fox jackets or designer dresses, and I’m not supporting you. When I told you that, I meant it. Either you take those things back or you get out and tr
y to pay for them yourself.”
“Take them back! Never!”
Gussie grabbed two of the dresses and, staring contemptuously at Bess, she ripped them apart.
Bess felt her face go pale, but she didn’t flinch. “If that’s the way you want to wear them, suit yourself, but I’m not making any payments. If you won’t move out, I will.”
Gussie’s face went red. “You won’t. You can’t make it without me.”
“Hold your breath and see.” Bess went into her bedroom, took out her suitcase, and began to pack. She hadn’t expected Gussie to make it easy for her, but having to live like this was just impossible.
“You aren’t going anywhere,” Gussie said, but with less vigor.
Bess just kept packing. She was scared to death. She didn’t know where she was going to go, or even if she could find an apartment, but she was certainly going to try. She at least had her paycheck. She could phone Donald tomorrow from the office and tell him what had happened.
Gussie began to cry. “What will I do without you?” she wailed. “I can’t live by myself!”
Bess didn’t answer her. She knew her face was almost white with fear and emotional strain, but she had to do this. It was now or never. If she didn’t break free of Gussie this time, she never would.
“Where will you go?” Gussie moaned.
“I don’t know,” Bess said firmly. She picked up the suitcase. “But at least I won’t have to worry about anyone’s bills except my own.”
The older woman sat down heavily on the couch beside the ruins of the two dresses. She looked her age for the first time in Bess’s memory.
“You don’t have to leave,” she said dully. “I think I can find a place to go more easily than you can.” She swallowed her tears and rubbed at her eyes with a pathetic kind of wounded pride. “You don’t understand how hard it is for me...”
“Yes, I do,” Bess replied quietly. “But you don’t understand the reverse. Daddy was always there to take care of our finances, to look after us. Neither of us ever had to lift a finger, and now we’re paying for it.” She sat down on a small chair, putting her suitcase down beside her. “But, Mama, I can’t be Daddy. I can’t take care of you. It’s going to be all I can do to take care of myself, don’t you see? I’m not strong.”