Perfect Partners

by Jayne Ann Krentz

“Letty my dear.” Philip got to his feet and came around the desk. He held out his arms. “I was told you were out of town. I've been wondering when you'd get back. We have so much to talk about.”

  He was smiling, Letty noticed. It was a classic Philip Dixon smile, graciously condescending, yet imbued with a certain patronizing charm. Philip had perfected that smile for use at faculty teas. It also worked very well, apparently, with graduate students.

  The fact that Philip Dixon was extremely good looking in a very patrician style helped.

  He was wearing a tweed jacket with flannel trousers, a blue button-down oxford-cloth shirt, and a maroon striped old-school tie, which Letty happened to know was a fake. Philip had graduated from a large California public university, not a private East Coast Ivy League school. One would never know that, however, unless one happened to inquire.

  “What on earth are you doing in my office, Philip?” She evaded his outstretched arms and brushed past him to reclaim her chair. She sat down quickly and tossed Keith Escott's five-year plan down onto her desk. Back in control of her own office, she folded her hands in front of her. “For that matter, what are you doing here in Seattle?”

  “Letty my dear, what a silly question.” Philip sauntered over to the chair on the other side of the desk, hitched up his neatly pressed trousers, and sat down. He crossed his legs and regarded her with gentle concern. “I'm here to see you, of course.”

  “Why?”

  Philip shook his head, looking saddened as well as concerned. “So much hostility, Letty. I was hoping you would have recovered your sense of perspective by now. I told you the other morning when I talked to you on the phone that we really must consider counseling for you. A good cognitive therapist will do wonders, I'm sure.”

  With an enormous effort of will, Letty hung on to her temper. “I thought you said I needed sex therapy.”

  Philip frowned thoughtfully. “I wouldn't be surprised if the hostility factor is part of the problem behind your inability to respond sexually. Again, a strong cognitive approach should get to the bottom of things in a relatively short time. But we can discuss that later.”

  “Really? And just what is it you wish to discuss now, Philip?”

  He smiled. “Why, Thornquist Gear, of course. Don't worry, Letty. I realize you're in way over your head here.” He chuckled kindly. “Let's face it, how many librarians would be equipped to take on the management of a company the size of Thornquist? But as your fiancé, I am fully prepared to deal with the business for you.”

  Letty nearly choked. “Is that right?”

  “After all, who better to take over the reins than me? This is my area of expertise, as you well know. As a member of the faculty at Vellacott, I have acted as a management consultant to businesses of this size and scope for some time now. As your future husband I see it as my responsibility as well as my pleasure to take the burden of Thornquist Gear off your shoulders.”

  Letty struggled for breath. “Philip, I don't think you're seeing the big picture here. Thornquist is my company. I don't need anyone to help me run it.”

  “Now, darling, I know it all seems like great fun at the moment, but the fact is, running a firm of this size takes considerable experience and training. If you want to dabble in it for a while, I don't see why we can't create a special title for you. Even let you have an office of your own.”

  “I have an office of my own.” Letty shot to her feet. “And you're in it. I would like you to get out. Now.”

  “Letty, you're becoming emotional, darling.” Philip said soothingly. “That's not like you.”

  The office door slammed open, and Joel walked into the room. His eyes swept Letty's tense features and then swung to Philip. “Your secretary apparently called mine earlier about a problem here, Ms. Thornquist. Who is this?”

  Letty took a deep breath. “Allow me to make introductions. Philip, meet Joel Blackstone. He's my CEO. Joel, this is Philip Dixon.”

  “Professor Philip Dixon. On leave of absence from Vellacott College.” Philip smiled and got to his feet. He stuck out his hand. “I'm pleased to meet you, Blackstone. I gather you've been holding things together around here since the death of Letty's great-uncle?”

  “You could say that.” Joel's voice was devoid of inflection. He ignored Philip's outstretched hand. “What's going on here, Ms. Thornquist?”

  “Philip seems to think I need help running Thornquist Gear,” Letty said tightly. She recalled Joel saying much the same thing to her just a few hours earlier: “You need me to run Thornquist Gear and we both know it.”

  Philip chuckled benignly. “Now, Letty, there's no need to get defensive. You know as well as I do that you cannot possibly run Thornquist by yourself. You need an expert. You also need someone you can trust to look after your best interests. Who better than the man you're going to marry?”

  “There seems to be a slight misunderstanding here,” Joel said softly.

  Philip gave Joel a reassuring smile. “Don't worry, Blackstone. I'm sure we're going to work very well together. We'll schedule a meeting sometime during the next few days for you to give me a full report on the status of Thornquist Gear. Make sure it's complete, because I intend to use it as the basis of my new operating plan.”

  Letty saw the grim menace in Joel's eyes, and she panicked. At this rate there would soon be blood all over her office. “Mr. Blackstone, please, let me handle this. I'll talk to you later.”

  Joel turned to look at her. Letty held her breath as she saw the anger seething in him. She was sure he was going to tell her to go to hell. But at the last instant his expression altered slightly. She realized he had himself back under control.

  “Right, Ms. Thornquist,” Joel said with a civility that grated on every nerve ending Letty possessed. “I'll be in my office when you need me.”

  12

  Good Lord,” Morgan Thornquist said in amazement that evening when Letty told him the story. “What happened next?”

  Letty wrinkled her nose and adjusted her glasses. She was sitting on the sofa in her father's living room, waiting for Stephanie to appear from the bedroom. They were due at Stephanie's infant nutrition class in half an hour.

  “Joel left. Philip told me he wanted to take me out to dinner tonight and talk about our future. I told him I had other plans for the evening, which was the perfect truth. But you know Philip. He just said we'd arrange something for tomorrow evening. I finally got him to leave. He's staying at a hotel downtown.”

  “What about Joel? How did you explain things to him?”

  “I didn't,” Letty admitted. “I was a total and complete coward about the whole thing. I waited until the coast was clear, and then I made a dash down the hall to the elevator.”

  “You just disappeared?” Morgan looked surprised. “That's not like you, Letty.”

  “I couldn't help it. I just had to get out of there. I left the building for the rest of the day. I haven't seen either Joel or Philip since that scene in my office. I have to be blunt, Dad. I'm not exactly accustomed to handling this kind of thing.”

  Stephanie walked into the room wearing a stunning red maternity dress that had a row of crisp, full-length pleats across the front. “What aren't you accustomed to handling, Letty?”

  “Two men squabbling over me.”

  Stephanie gave her a surprised look. “But they're not squabbling over you, are they, Letty? They're fighting over Thornquist Gear.”

  Letty's stomach clenched as the full impact of that statement sank in. Of course. Trust Stephanie to get straight to the heart of the matter. “Good point, Stephanie. I hadn't looked at it in quite that light.”

  Morgan frowned. “It does seem highly probable that Dixon's insistence on renewing the engagement may stem from the fact that you are now something of an heiress, Letty.”

  “Thornquist Gear is a sizable inheritance by anyone's standards,” Stephanie added. “No wonder you suddenly find yourself trapped between two ambitious suitors, Letty.”
r />   Letty felt a little ill. There was no denying that Joel's apparent eagerness to start an affair with her might be motivated by his interest in controlling Thornquist Gear. She had to keep that possibility in focus at all times. “You know something? The fast lane has a few potholes. And when you hit them fast, you hit them hard.”

  * * *

  An hour later Letty dutifully teamed up with Stephanie when the instructor in the infant nutrition class announced that it was time to learn the fine art of making vegetable purees.

  The clatter of utensils and the rise and fall of the voices of the other students filled the classroom. The instructor, a short, energetic woman named Dr. Humphries, was a noted expert in early childhood nutrition. She began moving from station to station giving advice and encouragement in a raspy, high-pitched voice.

  Stephanie was, as usual, concentrating intently on the task at hand. She wore an apron over her red smock, and her short hair was covered with a net. She bent over the cookbook that lay open on the classroom counter.

  “First peel and chop the carrots,” Stephanie read.

  “I guess I can handle that.” Letty picked up a carrot from the small pile on the counter and started to wield the peeler with swift, efficient strokes.

  Stephanie watched in horror. “No, not like that. Be careful, Letty. You mustn't take off so much of the skin. You're removing the most important nutrients.”

  “I don't think so. I read an article once that said the nutrients in vegetables lie just under the skin, not on the surface,” Letty said patiently.

  “I don't care what you read. It's obvious you're stripping off far too much of the carrot. Here, let me do that.” Stephanie grabbed the carrot and peeler from Letty and went to work.

  Letty stepped back out of the way and wondered why she was feeling irritated. It was not as though she actually wanted to peel the stupid carrot. “How did your appointment with the doctor go today?”

  “It went very well, thank you.” Stephanie worked intently on the carrot. “She says everything is right on schedule.”

  “You don't sound convinced.”

  “Well, it's just that there are so many unknowns, aren't there? Everything can look perfectly normal at this stage, but something could go dreadfully wrong at the last minute.”

  “Not likely, Stephanie.” Letty watched as her stepmother finished peeling the carrot and began chopping it up into perfect disks. “I'm sure everything is fine. Just as the doctor says.”

  “She is one of the finest obstetricians in the city. Board certified in two specialties.”

  “So you've said.”

  “She's written several papers on the special problems of women who get pregnant after thirty-five.”

  “You gave them to me to read,” Letty reminded her.

  Stephanie examined the precision-cut carrot. “I wonder if the slices are thin enough.”

  “They're going into a blender, Steph. It won't matter if one is slightly larger than the others. They'll all be turned into mush.”

  Stephanie's mouth tightened. “I'm sorry if you're bored. You don't have to come with me to these classes, you know.”

  “Yes, I do. Dad would be hurt if I didn't. We're doing this for his sake, remember.”

  “Yes. Yes, I do remember.”

  Letty closed her eyes briefly. “Stephanie, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to sound rude. I'm not bored, really. Your classes are very interesting. It's just that I'm exhausted from that trip to Echo Cove, and it was upsetting to find Philip in my office this afternoon. I think I need a good night's rest.”

  “You needn't apologize. I realize you're still having difficulty handling the fact that your father has remarried and is starting a second family. If you feel you can't overcome your hostility, you may have to consider counseling.”

  Letty gritted her teeth. Everyone was suggesting therapy lately. “I am not hostile.”

  “Denial is never a helpful approach.” Stephanie spooned the carrots into the small steamer. “How long does it say to cook them?”

  Letty glanced at the cookbook. “It says twelve minutes. Personally I never cook carrots that long. Why don't you try five or six minutes and then check them?”

  “This is for an infant,” Stephanie said. “The food needs to be thoroughly softened.”

  “If you say so.”

  “Watch the time.” Stephanie turned on the heat under the carrots. “Twelve minutes, exactly.”

  While the carrots cooked, Dr. Humphries gave a short lecture on the nutritional value of homemade baby food. When the twelve minutes had passed, Stephanie jerked the lid off the steamer and ladled the cooked carrots into the blender.

  “They're well done, all right,” Letty observed.

  Stephanie shot her a chilling glance. “How long does it say to blend them?”

  “One minute. Then stop, stir, and blend for another minute.”

  “Time me.”

  “I don't think you have to be that precise about it. Just start blending and stop when it turns into carrot soup.”

  “I would prefer to follow the recipe, if you don't mind.”

  Letty raised her eyes ceilingward. It was hard to believe this was Stephanie, the gourmet cook who normally could whip up the most exotic creations with cool expertise and a casual flair. She obediently glanced at the minute hand on her watch. “All right. Go.”

  The roar of the blender cut off conversation for one blissful minute.

  “Stop,” Letty called.

  Stephanie lifted the lid and glanced inside. “I don't see any big pieces left.”

  “It looks like carrot soup, all right,” Letty said. “Maybe we should stop now.”

  “No, the directions said to stir and blend one more minute.” Stephanie stirred the carrot mixture and lowered the blender lid. “All right. Ready?

  “Ready.” Letty watched the second hand creep past. “Stop.”

  Dr. Humphries strolled up at that moment and peeked inquiringly into the blender. “Oh, dear. We took it a little too far, didn't we?”

  Clearly alarmed, Stephanie grabbed the cookbook off the counter. “But it says blend for a total of two minutes.”

  “It depends on the number of carrots you use,” Dr. Humphries explained. “We're only making a small portion tonight. Next time try it for one minute.”

  “Yes. All right. One minute.” Stephanie stared at the blender full of liquid carrots as the instructor moved on to the next station.

  Letty realized her stepmother was on the verge of tears. “Stephanie?”

  Stephanie snatched the blender off its mount and rinsed out the orange mixture under the faucet. “Read the next recipe to me.”

  “Stephanie, it's only a bunch of carrots,” Letty said gently. Awkwardly she put her arm around Stephanie's trembling shoulders.

  “Don't you think I know that?” Stephanie pulled away and wiped her eyes with the hem of her apron. “Just start reading, will you?”

  Letty picked up the cookbook and slowly read the next recipe aloud. Stephanie engaged in a flurry of precision slicing and dicing. When she was finished, she appeared to have herself back under control.

  Letty timed the next batch of pureed vegetables with great care. Stephanie looked enormously relieved when the instructor pronounced the finished product perfect.

  “Excellent, Mrs. Thornquist. Just the right texture for baby's delicate taste buds. Now, then, back to our seats, everyone. We will discuss fruit juices next.” Dr. Humphries sailed to the front of the classroom. The students trickled back to their chairs.

  Stephanie whipped out her notebook and prepared to take down each and every pearl of wisdom that dropped from Dr. Humphries's mouth.

  “Stephanie?” Letty sat down slowly beside her.

  “Yes?”

  “You know what you said earlier about Joel and Philip fighting over Thornquist Gear, not over me?”

  “What about it?”

  “I think you were right. It was a very good insight. Not exactly
flattering, but probably accurate.”

  Stephanie shrugged. “It seemed obvious. Everyone wants something. Once you know what that something is, you can understand their motivation.”

  “I don't suppose it's very likely that Philip has come chasing out here to Seattle because of undying love, is it?” Letty tried to keep her voice light.

  “No, but is that really a major problem? A mutual interest in a business like Thornquist Gear can unite a couple even more firmly than a baby or physical passion.”

  “I hadn't thought of that.”

  Stephanie clicked her ballpoint pen into the ready position as Dr. Humphries stepped to the lectern. “You know, Letty, Philip must have been genuinely fond of you in the beginning or he would never have asked you to marry him. If that affection is combined with a strong business bond, marriage to him might be very stable and satisfying.”

  “Provided I got into therapy,” Letty muttered.

  Fortunately Dr. Humphries was already holding forth on the virtues of homemade fruit juices for infants. Stephanie did not hear Letty's remark.

  Half an hour later they left the class and walked out into the cool night. Stephanie got behind the wheel of the Porsche. “It was a good session. Dr. Humphries has her doctorate in infant and childhood nutrition.”

  “So you mentioned.”

  “She's a noted authority on the subject.”

  “Gee, I don't know, Steph. A hundred bucks to learn how to pulverize vegetables into mush seems a bit steep. If you ask me, Dr. Humphries has a nice racket going. I could have shown you how to do that for fifty.”

  Stephanie stared, tight-lipped, at the street ahead. “You don't understand.”

  “There are a lot of things lately that I don't seem to understand.”

  Life was definitely simpler back in Indiana, Letty thought.

  Joel leaned on Morgan Thornquist's doorbell until Morgan finally responded. He took his thumb off the bell when the door opened.

  “Is Letty here?”

  Morgan removed his reading glasses and studied his uninvited guest. “She's out with Stephanie. They're attending a class on infant nutrition. They should be back in a few minutes. Want to come in and wait?”