by Peggy Gaddis
He looked down at her with sudden sharpness.
“You’re not by any chance studying interior decorating in Atlanta?” he demanded.
“Oh, goodness, no. I’m studying to be a private secretary!”
“Shorthand squiggles and typing and stuff like that? What a shocking waste,” he protested, “for a girl with your — shall we say potential?”
Lynn laughed. “Oh, by all means let’s say ‘potential,’” she agreed. “I’m going to be a very superior, executive-type secretary. It says so in my diploma. An ‘extra pair of hands, eyes and a sixth sense’ for the Boss’ needs.”
“So you’ll remind him of important anniversaries, help shop for his wife’s presents, and maybe even do a spot of baby-sitting?” Wayde asked curiously.
“Oh, no, I’ll have my own secretary to look after such everyday problems,” she replied. “I’ve been taught how to enter a room gracefully, leave it without turning my back on the boss and whoever may be in the office with him; how to set the table properly when there is a luncheon conference in the board room, and how to arrange flowers on his desk and about the offices.”
“Are you planning to be a secretary or a housekeeper?”
Lynn laughed. “Mother wanted to know whether they were training me to be a secretary or to marry a millionaire,” she admitted, and added quickly, thankful that the moonlight would not reveal her blush, “I assured her it was a secretarial job I had in mind, millionaires these days being in notoriously short supply.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about that shortage if I were you.” She thought his tone was faintly mocking and it made her set her teeth hard. “I’m sure you’ll find one, if you really want to.”
“I don’t, of course,” she answered through her teeth. “I want only a good job and to make use of the training I’ve had. Shall we go back into the house? My father is supposed to get to bed early since his illness, and I’m sure he and Mother must be about ready to leave.”
“Of course,” said Wayde politely, and turned to walk with her back up the wide, shallow garden steps and to the terrace. At the door he stopped her for a moment. “If I do decide to redecorate the mausoleum, will you help?”
Lynn raised startled eyes. “Oh, but I don’t know the first thing about interior decorating,” she protested.
“That I doubt,” Wayde said firmly. “But I know that you would be able to suggest ways the place could be made a little more cheerful, even though I doubt even you could make it seem homelike. But I’d be very grateful if you would try.”
She looked up at him, hesitant, and he rushed on.
“I’ve got another couple of months to serve here,” he pointed out. “Bringing house guests down is a nuisance; they get bored, and there’s no way to entertain them. You said yourself that I needed some kind of hobby, something to pass the time. Why not try to make the place a little less like something out of a horror story? I wouldn’t know how to start, but together we might accomplish something.”
“It’s an idea,” Lynn agreed thoughtfully, and suddenly laughed. “I’m only pretending not to be enchanted by the thought. The woman hasn’t yet been born who doesn’t believe she could make a place inviting and homelike, whether she has to shop at the five and dime or in some fabulous place where money is only something to be spent.”
“Then you will?” Wayde was eager.
“I’d love to,” Lynn told him pleasantly.
“You really are a darling,” said Wayde so simply that the endearment barely registered on her mind. “I can’t tell you how grateful I am.”
Lynn laughed. “You’d better wait and see the results — you may hate the place even more when we’ve finished with it,” she warned.
“That would be impossible,” he said grimly. “Any change in the place would have to be an improvement.”
“It’s nice to know that you feel that way,” Lynn mocked as she walked into the house and to the drawing room.
Eight
In the morning, after Steve and the Judge had departed for the office, Lynn and her mother sat companionably over a final cup of coffee, and Ruth revealed her qualms about Lynn’s determination to spend some time with Wayde.
“I don’t like your going there unchaperoned, darling, and I just don’t have time to go with you,” she confessed suddenly.
Lynn stared at her, wide-eyed.
“Unchaperoned?” she repeated, and tried not to laugh. “Mother, how absurd can you be?”
Ruth’s head went up and there was a flush on her face.
“Well, I don’t care,” she insisted. “Maybe I’m old-fashioned, but Oakville is a small place, and I’m afraid people will talk!”
Lynn managed to restrain her amusement “Aren’t you forgetting our good friend, Mrs. Spencer? She’s still his housekeeper, isn’t she?”
“Oh, yes, of course.” Ruth was relieved. “I was forgetting Isabel. Yes, she’s his housekeeper, and I’m sure it will be perfectly all right for you to go there as long as she is there.”
“I’m so relieved,” Lynn mocked gaily, and hugged her mother. “What do you think is the first step in making the house over? Maybe sprinkle gasoline carelessly about and drop a few matches?”
“Oh, that wouldn’t help — the house is practically indestructible,” Ruth chuckled. “Stone and concrete and only the woodwork inside, and that looks as if it wouldn’t burn no matter what you did to it.”
Lynn made a gesture of mock despair.
“Then it will have to be something less dramatic,” she mourned lightly. “Well, I’ll think of something.”
“I’m sure you will, dear,” Ruth told her. “Hadn’t you better get started, dear? It’s after nine.”
Lynn hooted gaily. “And Himself is not ‘available,’ in Fitch’s words, until after noon!”
Ruth stared at her, shocked.
Lynn rose and began clearing the table.
“So you see, mine is going to be strictly an afternoon job,” she assured her mother cheerfully. “So I’ll be able to help you all morning.”
It was two o’clock when Lynn, driving her mother’s elderly car, turned in at the driveway of Inspiration Hill and parked near the front steps. Even as she got out of the car, Wayde opened the door and came to greet her, his face registering relief.
“I’d given you up,” he admitted. “I thought you had been merely fooling when you said you’d help.”
“I didn’t want to wake you,” Lynn mocked him. “Fitch seemed shocked when I asked for you the other day at two in the afternoon.”
Wayde grinned ruefully.
“Well, we’d had quite a party the night before and had been up until all hours,” he confessed. “Also I found a long time ago that the more I can sleep, the shorter my sentence seems.”
Lynn eyed him curiously. There was nothing hostile in her golden-brown eyes; just a cool curiosity about him that somehow made him redden.
“Sorry,” he offered a stiff and unrepentant apology. “I’m defaming your beloved home town again. I’ll try not to.”
“D’you know something?” Lynn observed thoughtfully. “I really think where the remodeling should begin is in your attitude toward the town and its people. I believe you’d be a lot better satisfied if you didn’t feel you were among enemies.”
“Am I not?” his tone was skeptical.
“Of course you’re not,” she assured him swiftly, a faint edge to her voice. “The McCullers are an integral part of Oakville. The whole town’s economy is based on McCullers’ industries. Without the mills, Oakville would be merely a ‘wide place in the road,’ and people here are grateful to the McCullers. They’d be friendly and welcome you, if you’d give them a chance.”
Wayde was listening to her, his eyes curious.
“You really believe that, don’t you?” he asked at last.
“Well, of course I believe it or I wouldn’t have said it,” Lynn answered spiritedly.
“And how would you suggest I begin to est
ablish friendly relations with Oakville?”
A spark that was faintly impish touched Lynn’s eyes, but she spoke demurely. “Well, you could begin by coming to church Sunday morning.”
His eyebrows went up.
“Church?” he repeated as though quite sure he hadn’t heard her correctly.
“Church,” she repeated firmly. “And afterwards, the Carters would be happy to have you go home to dinner with them.”
“I accept the invitation,” he said hurriedly, “with great pleasure.”
“Church?” she asked gently.
“Well, I had in mind the dinner invitation,” he answered.
“What are you afraid of, Mr. McCullers? Nobody in church will throw rocks at you, and I promise you the Reverend Sneed will not single you out as the object of his sermon. He’s a dear, gentle little man; he will probably welcome you publicly from the pulpit. And after church, a lot of the members will crowd around you and tell you how glad they are to see you.”
“Sounds intriguing,” Wayde agreed warily, eyeing her sharply. “And afterwards, I can go home to dinner with the Carters?”
“Provided some of our more important citizens don’t insist on that honor,” Lynn assured him demurely, the tiny dimple flickering for a moment at the corner of her mouth. “They may, you know. Company for Sunday dinner is a cherished thing in Oakville.”
Wayde shook his head.
“There couldn’t be anybody more important, to my way of thinking, than the Carters. I accept with thanks,” he told her firmly.
“Good! Mother and Dad will be delighted,” Lynn said lightly. “And now shall we get on with the job at hand?”
In the house, they were met by a tall, spare woman in late middle age, clad in an old-fashioned black dress that rustled as she walked.
“Lynn, honey, I’m so glad to see you.” She ignored Wayde standing beside Lynn and embraced the girl fondly. “I was sorry I wasn’t here when you and your mother and the Judge came to dinner. It was my day off, and you were gone by the time I got back. I do hope dinner was adequate?”
“Well, of course, Mrs. Spencer. It was delicious. Beautifully served, and a real event! But we wondered where you were,” Lynn answered warmly.
“Well, I’m glad. I don’t get on too well with that French chef Mr. Wayde brought back with him.” Mrs. Spencer was still ignoring Wayde, who watched her with wry amusement. “I suppose it’s because I can’t speak French and he won’t speak English. And of course most of his cooking is too foreign for me! But if you and your folks were pleased, then that’s fine. Do give Ruth my love, won’t you? And I hope the next time you come, it won’t be on my day off.”
“We’ll try to plan it that way, Mrs. Spencer, if we’re invited again.” Lynn smiled up at Wayde, trying to draw him into the conversation.
“You may depend on it, Mrs. Spencer, they will be,” Wayde said, as carefully polite as though he spoke to some grande dame in his own world.
Mrs. Spencer raked him with cold eyes, and her graying head went up.
“Would it be asking too much, Mr. Wayde, to expect you to advise me of the date you’ve chosen, so that I can be sure to be here? Lynn’s mother and I are old school friends and don’t see each other nearly often enough, with all I have to look after here.”
Her tone was icy, frankly hostile, and Lynn wondered that Wayde did not answer her in a similar manner. Instead, very politely he assured her that she would be advised of the date mentioned as soon as he had the Carters’ promise.
Mrs. Spencer sniffed disdainfully and turned back to Lynn.
“Why are you here, Lynn?” she asked frankly.
She listened with growing indignation as Lynn stumbled through an explanation; when Lynn had finished, Mrs. Spencer glared at Wayde.
“So the home your grandfather built and that he loved so much isn’t fine enough for you! You’ve got to get it all cluttered up with doodads so your fancy friends will be more comfortable! It was plenty comfortable for your folks before you.” Her angry voice died away beneath Wayde’s firm interruption.
Lynn looked anxiously from one to the other, feeling very uncomfortable and wishing she hadn’t come.
“That will be all, Mrs. Spencer,” said Wayde, and his tone was biting.
Mrs. Spencer hesitated a moment, and then, her eyes blazing, her face hot with color, turned and marched away, fury in every rustle of her taffeta petticoat.
Lynn watched Wayde’s darkly scowling face and murmured, “I’m sorry.”
“Why should you be?” Wayde’s tone was grim, his darkly scowling face hostile. “The fault was mine.”
“Please don’t say that!” Lynn pleaded. “Mrs. Spencer was just—”
“Being Mrs. Spencer, as she has always been and as I’m sure she always will be,” Wayde cut in grimly. “She’s been here so long I’m sure she feels the place is far more hers than mine. And the pity of it is I can’t deed it over to her and get the blazes out. I can’t even fire her or pension her off. I inherited her along with my three months’ annual sentence, and she can stay here as long as she wants to. And that will, of course, be for her lifetime. A pleasant prospect for me, isn’t it?”
And once more Lynn said awkwardly, “I’m truly sorry.”
Wayde stared at her, and his eyes were cold and hard, his handsome face was dark with fury.
“Sorry?” he repeated. “You ought to be ashamed of yourself!”
The tone made the words even more astounding, and Lynn took a backward step as though he had struck her; and her own anger rose, bringing a flush to her face and fire to her eyes.
“Ashamed of myself?” she repeated in angry amazement. “For what?”
“For trying to get me to give your charming friends at Oakville a chance to make a fool of me,” his voice grated through clenched teeth. “I was here, minding my own business, bothering none of the Oakville people; and you come along with your carefully acquired charm and lure, and try to coax me to let myself in for more of what I get from Mrs. Spencer every time I turn around. Well, no thanks, my pet. Sweet and pretty and alluring as you are, it won’t work! Church on Sunday and mid-day dinner at your home! It’s quite tempting bait, but I’ve been offered such bait before.”
“You are the most outrageous, the most incredible, the most loathsome creature I’ve ever met in all my life,” Lynn raged at him, her voice sputtering a little beneath its load of helpless fury.
Wayde studied her coolly, and his jaw did not soften.
“Thanks,” he said curtly. “Of course I’ll be glad to have you make whatever changes you may wish in my charming home.”
“Why, you — I wouldn’t stay here five minutes if you got down on your knees and begged me!” Lynn cried furiously, and turned toward the door so swiftly that she tripped and would have fallen except that Wayde’s strong arms shot out and caught her.
For a dazed moment she stared up at him, quiescent in his arms. Wayde grinned tautly, bent his head and kissed her.
Lynn caught her breath, and then suddenly she was herself again. She wrenched herself violently from his arms, and Wayde’s smile was thin-lipped and contemptuous as he offered his cheek for the resounding slap she barely managed to avoid.
“What — no angry slap for a liberty you were obviously anticipating?” he mocked her.
Lynn had always hated herself for the fact that when she was deeply angry, she burst into tears. And at this moment she was so busy trying to control the infuriating, unbearably humiliating tears that she dared not try to speak.
Wayde stood waiting, mocking her emotion, hands jammed deeply into the pockets of his expensively tailored sports jacket.
“Well?” he said at last when she still dared not risk speech because of the thickening lump in her throat. “Now that we have cleared the situation up, shall we get started?”
Lynn could only stare at him, wide-eyed, and Wayde gave a little chuckle that had no mirth in it.
“Well, after all, you did come here t
o make plans for redecorating, didn’t you?” he mocked her. “Or was that just a gag?”
And then, unable any longer to restrain the impulse, Lynn’s hand shot out and struck him hard across the face. Instantly shocked at her own violence, appalled by the reddening mark that was already showing on his cheek, she stood for a moment just looking at him.
“Is that something they taught you in the charm school?” he suggested dryly after a moment. “Very old-fashioned, and I’m afraid it won’t get you very far in the business world — that is, if it is the business world you’re aiming at.”
Lynn swallowed hard, found a mist of tears obscuring her view of him, turned and walked out.
Nine
Gradually Lynn slipped into the pleasant routine of home. She spent afternoons with her old friends; she walked over to the Estes farm, and she and Bert became firm friends. Her pity for him deepened as she saw him grieved again by the loss of his cherished wild things, and it added to her bitterness against Wayde. It was all very well to insist that posting the land wouldn’t help. She couldn’t avoid the feeling that it might, and her resentment against Wayde burned hotly.
She came home one afternoon an hour before dinner time, and as she entered the house, heard voices from the living room. Obviously her mother was entertaining company. And Lynn stood very still as she heard a voice that she would never be able to forget: Wayde McCullers’.
Her jaw set hard, her eyes blazing, she walked to the doorway of the living room and looked in. Wayde sat at ease in a big armchair, and Ruth sat on the divan behind the tea tray. And Wayde was laughing at something Ruth was saying. Lynn felt doubly betrayed when she saw Ruth’s friendly, smiling face turned to Wayde.
Wayde looked up and saw her, and the laughter left his face and he stood up instantly, putting down his teacup, his expression abashed.
“What are you doing here?” she demanded of him hotly.
“I came to apologize.”
“Well, you can trot right on home again. You’re not welcome here!”
“Now, Lynnie darling—” Ruth began, her tone conciliatory.