by Arlene James
Carl took a seat on the sofa next to Cal. Jewel perched on the edge next to him. Cal sent a pointed look at Carl, who shook his head meaningfully. At once Cal said, “Let’s begin.” Betina, apparently, would not be in attendance. So be it. Paul took the letter from his pocket and carried it to John, who extracted the single sheet from the envelope and quickly scanned its contents. Silently he passed the letter over to Carl, who read it with Jewel peeking openly over his shoulder. The letter then moved to Cal, who merely glanced at it and passed it on to Joyce. Paul waited uncomfortably while Joyce carefully read every word. When she came to the part about Cal being recommended to assume Paul’s vacated post, she elbowed her husband and silently pointed it out. Cal folded his arms and shook his head, as if to say the idea was without merit. Joyce passed the letter to her mother, who read the whole with sad eyes. When she was done she leaned forward and laid it upon Paul’s knee. He didn’t want it back. He folded it and laid in on the coffee table, a huge glass and wrought-iron affair with rough corners.
Paul got up, unnerved by the silence, and clasped his hands behind his back. Perhaps they were waiting for explanation. He cleared his throat. “Last year,” he began, “before Grandfather died, I allowed myself to be seduced into an affair both unsavory and unwise...”
“We heard,” said John baldly, “that she came to you and presented herself naked as a jaybird.”
Paul’s jaw dropped. For a long moment he could only stare. Heat clogged his throat. He coughed it away. “Uh, I may have said things last night in anger and desperation that would have been better left unsaid. I apologize, to you especially, Aunt Jewel, and I promise—”
“Oh, she admitted it,” Jewel said dismissively.
“A-admitted...”
“We feel,” said Aunt Mary, “that Betina may be in need of some professional counseling.”
“She won’t go, of course,” Carl stated flatly. “That girl is too willful by half, and I blame myself. I really do.”
“Yourself, Uncle Carl?”
“In my zeal,” Carl went on, “to make her feel one of the family, I fear I overlooked behavior and attitudes that I should have corrected.”
“I am more to blame,” Jewel said. “As her natural parent, I should have taken the lead in discipline, but she never listened to me, you see, and it was so much easier to let Carl deal with it in his quiet, sensible fashion.”
“It might have been different if her natural father had allowed me to adopt her as I wished to do,” Carl said. “Heaven knows he took no particular interest in the child and contributed nothing to her support, but he remained adamant on that one point.”
“I had hoped,” said Jewel, “that love would change her, soften her somehow, cure her of the need to demand and manipulate. I was foolish, trying to see what was not there between you.”
“Poor Father thought her a sad, empty-headed sort of child,” Carl said. “I’m sure he felt that she needed someone to look after her, and no doubt she professed undying love for you, my boy.”
“And,” said John, “there was his fear that you would choose my path and fail to marry.”
Paul felt overwhelmed. “I see. I assume that you have had a chance to speak with her then.”
“Oh, we had a meeting,” Joyce said, “last night.”
“And we made some decisions,” said Cal.
For a long moment Paul could only stare. No wonder they were so tired and disheveled. After the party, they had called a meeting of their own! Paul rubbed a hand over the back of his neck and sat down in his chair. Somehow he had lost control of his meeting. He wasn’t even certain, at the moment, what was going on! Cal enlightened him. “Your resignation is rejected.”
Paul sprang to the edge of his chair. “That’s very kind of you, but, Cal, you of all people know that I can’t—”
“Of course you can,” Mary interrupted. “It’s all very simple, really.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Ah, perhaps this will help,” Uncle John said, leaning forward to extract from his back pocket a folded sheet of paper, which he tossed onto the coffee table.
“And this,” said Mary, extracting a similar paper from her small handbag.
“And this,” said Joyce, snatching from Cal the paper that suddenly appeared in his hand.
“And, of course,” began Carl, producing his own paper, which he handed to his wife.
“This,” said Jewel, adding it to the pile on the table.
Paul stared at the little heap of folded papers. Carefully he leaned far forward and picked up the one on top. Flicking it open, he stared, dumbfounded, at the bill of sale making over to him, for the amount of one dollar, Carl’s—and thereby Jewel’s—share of Barclay Bakeries. He knew without having to look that all the other papers as good as handed over to him the remaining shares, save, of course, Betina’s thirty percent. The enormity of what they had done hit him like a ton of brick. They had handed him their livelihoods without the least reservation!
“I-I cannot accept this.”
“You must,” said Mary.
“We thought first,” Joyce explained, “that we would simply activate our respective positions on the board and stand with you, as a block.”
“But then,” said Jewel, “I realized that I am vulnerable to Betina’s schemes. I wouldn’t want to take the risk of letting my judgment be clouded.”
“We thought it best,” said John, “simply to put the matter entirely in your hands.”
“To give you the power to control her,” Cal stated decisively.
“B-but it’s your only income!”
“Oh, we still expect to be paid,” Mary said.
“But you haven’t guaranteed that will happen! You can’t just hand it over blindly!”
“And why not?” John asked. “We’ve trusted you implicitly all these years to take care of us. Why should that change now? This way, you see, there can be no question about who is in charge. Betina cannot doubt that you have the power and the will to fight her.”
“And if it makes you feel better,” Cal said, “we’ll draw up something later spelling out your obligations to each of us.”
Paul stared at the man who could have had his job and marveled. He looked at Joyce, her face shining, at Mary, content and unruffled, at John, placid and unconcerned. He looked at Carl and Jewel and saw regret—and trust. Gently he eased back in his chair. He swallowed and tried to speak, but where were the words to express what he was feeling? How did one respond to such overwhelming love, such absolute trust? After several minutes John got up, stretched, and scratched his head.
“Well, I’m off. Think I’ll take a nap. Dining with friends later. Good day all.”
Jewel and Carl were rising before he’d finished speaking. “We didn’t sleep much last night,” she said. “Frankly, I’d like a long hot bath and a glass of wine, but I suppose I really ought to eat something first.”
“I’ll do you an omelet or something,” Carl said. “Better yet, we can pick up something on the way home.”
“Marvelous idea!”
They went out discussing what to pick up to eat. Mary got up, too. “Joyce dear, I want you to go back to bed.”
Cal waggled an eyebrow, leering. “And you wonder why I adore your mother,” he said to Joyce, who laughed. Mary took a playful swat at him and trundled toward the door.
“Paul, I’ll see you soon. Bring your lovely Miss Penno, will you, dear? I look forward to a closer acquaintance. Happy New Year!”
Cal got up and stretched without seeming in the least weary. “Think I’d better have a quick shave,” he said. He bent and kissed his wife on the mouth. “Don’t be long.”
Joyce shook her head, grinning. “We’re awful, I know,” she said to Paul, “but we’ve tried so long, and now that I’m pregnant, well, it just sort of takes the ‘work’ out of it, you know?”
Paul made no reply other than a slightly embarrassed smile. Joyce got up and walked toward him. She bent
down to bring her face on a level with his and looped an arm loosely about his neck. “I’m so happy for you. And I want you to know, we all understand that for our sakes you’d have married that scheming Betina without a word of complaint to any of us, if not for Miss Cassidy Penno. For that alone, we’re bound to love her. And one more thing. Cal won’t say it, but I will. It means a great deal to both of us that you would recommend him to take your place, but frankly, I’m glad he won’t have to. It’s a great burden to bear, the welfare of so many people, and I don’t just mean the family. You were bred to it. It’s yours by right, and so is the woman you love.” She placed a kiss just to the side of his mouth and said, “Now I suggest you go get her.”
It was the least necessary piece of advice he’d ever received, but welcome, nonetheless.
He stood and looked down at her. “Thanks, cuz. You called last night’s meeting, didn’t you?” She merely grinned, her hands clasped behind her back. “Did Betina really admit to that stunt she pulled in my office?”
“Betina has a way of letting her temper get the better of her,” Joyce said “She not only admitted doing you the high honor of seducing you, she ranted about how you insulted her by wanting out later. She said—quite authoritatively, I might add—that was the best sex you’d ever had.”
“Ha! Shows how much she knows! The best sex I’ve ever had I didn’t even get!” At Joyce’s look of intrigued puzzlement, he merely smiled secretively, waved a hand and said, “Never mind.”
“Uh-huh, well, anyway, she scandalized the old folk, and when she started raving about burying the Bakeries just to get at you, everyone knew we had to do something. We discussed it and discussed it, and Cal finally came up with the ironclad solution. Not a soul objected, Paul.”
“I’ll never forget it,” he vowed, “and I’ll never let down you or any of the family.”
“We never doubt it. Now go, will you?”
He laughed and said, “I’ll let myself out.” He was still chuckling when he got in his car.
Chapter Ten
Cassidy sighed and looked at the green plumed hat as if she had never before seen it. She had intended, several minutes ago, to box it with the costume with which it belonged, but thoughts of Paul and last night’s very public scene had distracted her. She still remembered in agonizing detail the look of utter malice on Betina’s twisted face—and all because of her. She shuddered to think that she, however unwittingly, had brought that down on Paul. How could he think she would let him lose everything for her? She shook her head, uncertain with whom she was angriest, Paul or that woman.
Tony was in the front, receiving the returned costumes, inspecting them for damage, and carrying them back to Cassidy for repair, if needed, and proper packaging for shipping to the consignor. She had reglued the feather on the hat after inserting a tiny wire into the broken stem in order to stiffen it. She now wrapped it carefully in plastic and placed it within the reinforced niche inside the box. As she worked, she heard Tony speaking with someone out front. Nothing remarkable about that. They’d been coming in steadily for the past two hours, returning their costumes and gushing. Some of them wanted to gossip about the scene between Paul and Betina, but Tony showed surprising adeptness in avoiding the subject. Cassidy was surprised then when she realized that he had raised his voice almost angrily—until she recognized the answering voice as Paul’s.
She closed her eyes. She had been dreading this moment since she’d found herself in Tony’s car the night before and realized that she had merely put off the final confrontation. Eventually she would have to convince Paul beyond any doubt that it was over between them, irrevocably, completely over. She had searched her heart and her mind for hours for a way to do that, knowing that no matter what her words, he was likely to see the truth on her face or in her eyes. She would be surprised if he couldn’t feel it in the air, for it seemed at times that their bodies sent these invisible, uncontrollable messages to each other. Yet she was determined. She could not let him give up everything for which he’d worked for so much of his life. For the first time, she truly understood how he could walk away from her that night when she’d meant to seduce him. He had believed it best for her. Now she had to do what was best for him.
She wasn’t surprised when he pushed his way into the workroom, Tony with him. “I told him you didn’t want to see him,” Tony grumbled. “He wouldn’t listen. As usual.”
Paul threw off Tony’s hands with a shrugging motion of his shoulders and arms. Tony bristled, looking rather like a puppy playing attack dog. Paul ignored him with insulting ease, saying to Cassidy, “I have to talk to you.”
She kept doing what she was doing, fastening the straps attached to the costume box containing the green hat. “Paul, we said all we had to say to each other some time ago.” She flicked a glance up at him. “You said it yourself. You’re not the man for me.”
“Things have changed.”
“Not as far as I’m concerned.”
“Honey, please listen to me. I’m not giving up anything to be with you. My family has—”
“That’s what you say now,” she cut in. “That’s not what you said the last time.”
“Last night—”
“Not last night, Paul, last time. You said, quite clearly, that you are not the man for me. I’ve decided you’re right.”
“That was before I realized that I just couldn’t give you up! And it was before—”
“She said she isn’t interested, Spencer.” Tony stepped forward, puffing out his chest in a show of aggression. “What’s it take for you to get it, a building to fall on your head? The lady’s moved on, see?”
“No, I don’t see, and if you don’t get out of my face, you little twit, I’m gonna smack you!”
“That’s it,” Cassidy said, getting up from her work table to walk over to the wall-mounted phone. “I’m calling the police.” She lifted the receiver.
“You’re what?”
She turned back to face him, the receiver pressed against her ear. “I said if you don’t leave, I’m going to call the police.”
“Are you out of your mind? I only want to talk to you, to explain—”
Cassidy turned back to the phone and pretended to punch in the three-digit emergency number. In the process, she caught Tony’s eye and gave him an almost imperceptible nod. As prearranged, Tony delivered the coup de grace.
“Don’t you get it?” he shouted practically in Paul’s face. “Cassidy’s made her choice. She spent last night with me.”
A shocked silence told her that Tony’s words had had the desired effect. She closed her eyes and bit her lip, knowing that she had to get him out of there quickly before she herself broke down and admitted that she’d only spent the night on Tony’s couch, crying, in case Paul had gone looking for her at her house. Calling up more strength than she’d known she possessed, she turned back to face Paul, trying not to see his stricken expression, and said very clearly into the telephone receiver, “I want to report a belligerent customer at my shop at—” She didn’t have to say more. Paul turned and walked out of the building without another word.
He was in shock. He sat in his living room, staring at the empty fire grate and the pine cones mixed in among the poinsettias that his housekeeper had arranged around it. The decorated tree in the corner was dark and cold, which was just how he felt. Tony. He’d known, of course, from the very beginning that the boy—and he was a boy—had a crush on Cassidy, but Cass herself had been aware and unimpressed. Well then, he had undoubtedly driven her to it. He had driven her straight into Tony’s arms. Or had he?
He sat forward on the dark green leather sofa and clasped his hands together. She had been uncomfortable last night with all the attention he was showering on her, the public attention, anyway. Privately, she’d always been so wonderfully responsive, so warm and loving and so magically right. She was twenty-five years old. For twenty-five years she had waited for the right man with whom to share herself, and sh
e had chosen him, not Tony. Out of sheer love, he had refused to accept such a magical, treasured gift, but nothing had ever meant more to him than the offering. Had his refusal driven her to Tony? Not right away apparently. If at all.
A sudden certainty lanced through him, propelling him to his feet. No. Not Cassidy, not his loving, charming, so quietly strong Cassidy. What then was going on? Aw, God. He closed his eyes, feeling the strength of unselfish love wrap itself around him. He should have known instantly. He’d done it himself, made the hard choice, done what he was sure was best for her. Now she was doing what she thought was best for him. And he hadn’t managed to tell her that the threat no longer existed. True, she hadn’t given him much chance. Calling the police, for pity’s sake! He could almost laugh. First, though, he had to find a way to make her listen to him.
And if he was wrong? If by some unimaginable irony she had actually done the thing she claimed to have done? Could he live with that?
He pushed his hands over his face, searching—and could find only one answer. He could not live without her. He could forgive her anything, at least once, for the chance to make a life with her. Now how to make her understand? How to get a hearing? Maybe he needed someone else to deliver the message, but to whom would she listen? Who was most likely to get a hearing even on an unhappy subject? And then he knew.
It was 3:40 when the rush hit. They’d received returns steadily all afternoon, and then suddenly they were swamped. Cassidy left the work room to help Tony, knowing that she’d have to finish repairs and packaging over the following days. They had planned for this. She knew what she was doing, and things would have been fine, if William and, incredibly, Betina Lincoln hadn’t stormed in together. Cassidy could hardly believe her eyes, William bringing that woman here? Despite the fact that the shop was filled with people, Cassidy stopped what she was doing and came around the end of the counter. She stared at William, seeing only the same censure and disdain that she’d always seen, and she was in no mood to put up with it. She pointed at the door and said, “Get out.”