No Place Like Home

by Leigh Michaels

  She stirred the coffee crystals into the hot water and carried her cup and her letter to the far corner of the big single room, where Omar the Persian cat watched sleepily from his comfortable nest on a blue cushion at one end of the couch. As soon as she sat down, the cat rose, stretched, yawned, and gracefully swarmed across the couch and into her lap. She stroked the soft white fur and said, “How would you like to move to a big house, Omar? A house where there’s room for all the cushions you want, and you don’t have to give up your couch every night so I can unfold it and make it into a bed?”

  Omar wrapped his front paws around her neck, then put his nose into her right ear and began to purr throatily. She jerked away from the rumbling, tickling noise and said, “That’s two in favor. I think you can call it a unanimous vote in this household.”

  But what house? she thought. Was it going to be so difficult to find just the right house for herself and Graham? Had Brendan McKenna been right? Was she asking too much?

  After a half-day with him, she had no doubt that the man knew his business. And yet, she just couldn’t believe that the perfect house wasn’t out there somewhere. Some day, and surely not too far in the future, she would walk into a house and say, This is it. This is where Graham and I will live, talk, laugh, and play, raise our children, grow old together.

  She was buying not just a house, she reflected, but a home for a lifetime, and that required a completely different sort of search.

  “I won’t settle for less,” she told herself. “In a city this size, there has to be a house that is just right for us.”

  The telephone on the kitchen counter rang, and she dumped Omar unceremoniously off her lap to answer it. It was Graham.

  “Where have you been, Kaye? They told me at the travel agency that you’d gone to look at houses.”

  “I did, Graham.” She was eager to share the results with him; her words were almost tumbling over each other. “I haven’t found anything wonderful yet, but today was just exploratory, to find out what sorts of things I like best, and—” She realized suddenly that she was babbling, and that there was no sound from the other end of the line.

  “Which firm did you go to, Kaye?”

  “First City.”

  “But surely you know that Andy Winchester always does my buying and selling, Kaye. He’s done it for years.”

  Kaye had never met Andy Winchester, but she knew who he was. If there was a million-dollar building project in the wind, the Winchester firm was always involved. “Yes,” she said. “I knew that. But I thought he only dealt with commercial properties, banks and industries and shopping complexes.”

  “Generally, he does. But as a favor to me, he’s agreed to help you find our house.”

  “But this agent has already spent a whole afternoon, just getting to understand what I want,” she pleaded. “Surely...”

  “Real estate agents have to expect that sort of thing,” Graham said reasonably. “They might show houses every day for a month and not sell anything at all.”

  “But surely it wouldn’t hurt to let him have a chance.”

  “Kaye, are you involved in a charity project, or are you looking for a house?”

  “The house, of course. But—”

  “Well, you’d be doing him a favor not to take up any more of his time,” Graham said reasonably. “He’s not likely to have anything we’d be interested in on his listings, anyway. Stop wasting his time, and let him work with people who are apt to buy from him.”

  “I suppose you’re right,” Kaye said unhappily.

  “Of course I’m right. Andy wants to show you a house tomorrow. It sounds perfect, Kaye. It’s one of the really wonderful houses in this city, done by a premier architect, and it isn’t even listed for sale, because the owners don’t want to have half the population of Henderson trooping through just to look at the wallpaper.”

  “If it isn’t for sale, Graham...”

  “Oh, they want to sell it all right. Andy’s a friend of theirs. That’s how he knows about it. Your precious First City person could never get you in there, because he’s got no idea they’re ready to move to Phoenix.”

  She sighed. He was right, she supposed. If Brendan didn’t even know that a house was for sale, how could he show it to her? A house she would have loved to own might change hands privately, and she’d never even know about it. Having good connections did make a lot of difference, and Andy Winchester certainly had them.

  “I wish you hadn’t told Andy about us,” she said.

  “What was I supposed to do? Tell him I wanted a big house so I could start a school for the disadvantaged? Come on, Kaye.”

  “Of course not. But the people at that club of yours are always talking about someone, and we did agree that we wanted to keep our engagement quiet for a little while.”

  “Let me assure you, my dear, that in the ten years I’ve known Andy, he has never breathed a word about any confidential deal, no matter how juicy the story was.”

  “I’m glad to hear that. But I wish you’d warned me. It would have saved me a lot of trouble.”

  “I just assumed that you would call Andy when you had time to start looking. I’m flattered, of course, but I didn’t realize that you were in such a hurry,” Graham pointed out. “And I’m sure the afternoon wasn’t a total waste of time. When you see the house Andy’s got in mind for us, you’ll appreciate it, after looking at all those dumps today.”

  She bit her lip. There was no point, she told herself, in arguing about the houses she had seen that afternoon. Of course they hadn’t been dumps—Brendan wouldn’t have dared show her a dump—but it was a silly thing to quarrel about. If she had liked one of those houses and wanted to buy it, that would have been a different thing, of course.

  “Andy knows quite a bit about this house,” Graham went on. “I think I mentioned that the owners are friends of his, didn’t I? I’ll tell you all about it over dinner. Shall I pick you up in half an hour?”

  “All right,” she said. I should go and get dressed, she thought. After an afternoon of houses, she felt a little grimy. And of course she wanted to go to dinner with Graham; it wasn’t often that he was out of the office at this hour on a week night.

  But instead of going straight to her closet, she went back to the couch, where the Persian had settled down again on his cushion and was staring at her accusingly. “Sorry, Omar,” she said. “I didn’t mean to dump you like that.”

  Omar considered the matter, and then graciously forgave her and snuggled into her lap. She scratched his ears and reminded herself that Andy Winchester had known Graham for ever. They moved in the same circles, shared the same friends as well as the same clubs. Andy would know what sort of house Graham and his new bride would need, without any casting about wildly or exploring houses of all types, as she had spent the afternoon doing. That meant that dealing with Andy would be a lot easier for her in the long run, too.

  Besides, she told herself, what did it matter, as long as they got the right house?

  But she wasn’t looking forward to calling Brendan McKenna tomorrow to tell him that. He had gone to a great deal of trouble today. He would probably think she was nothing but trouble – with the dent in his car and now this, she thought gloomily.

  The doorbell rang. She looked at the clock, startled. Surely she couldn’t have daydreamed away a full half-hour! If Graham had arrived to pick her up and she wasn’t ready—

  But it had only been five minutes, which meant it couldn’t be Graham. She shifted Omar up to her shoulder and went to answer the bell.

  The man at the door stretched out a finger for the Persian’s inspection. He was holding a white paper bag. “Hello, Omar,” he said. “Your house-companion forgot her sandwich… Dare I call it a doggie bag, Kaye, or does he have a complex about the creatures?”

  “Hello, Brendan.” She took the bag. “Thanks for bringing it over—it was an awful lot of trouble to take for half a sandwich.”

  “Oh, but it’s
not just any half-sandwich—it’s your dinner, and I didn’t want you to starve. Besides, I thought the sauerkraut had interfered with the atmosphere in my car for quite long enough. What’s the matter? Something’s bothering you.”

  Kaye bit her lip. “We’ve hit a snag, I’m afraid. Can you come in so we can talk?”

  “Sure.”

  “I’ve only got a minute,” she warned, leading him to the couch. “Graham’s picking me up for dinner, and I have to get dressed.”

  “And the poor Reuben sandwich will be orphaned again?” Brendan sounded quite unhappy about it. “I’ve got a dinner date, too, or I’d eat it myself. After smelling it all afternoon...” He reached out to scratch the cat’s chin; Omar stretched his neck out and looked blissful, and when the scratching stopped, he strolled across the couch and began stroking himself against the tweed sleeve of Brendan’s sports coat. “What’s the problem?”

  “I’m going to look at a house tomorrow with another real estate agent.”

  “Is that all? I thought Graham had come up with a creeping case of bankruptcy or something.” He didn’t sound disturbed.

  “You don’t understand,” Kaye said, feeling a little desperate. “Graham wants me to work with him from now on, and not with you.”

  Brendan raised an eyebrow at that, but he merely looked down at the cat, who was in his lap by now, and said, “Who is it?”

  “Andy Winchester.”

  He nodded. “I see.”

  “You know him, of course?”

  “Everyone in town knows him. The man has quite a reputation. Well, don’t worry about me, Kaye. It’s all right; I hadn’t spent quite all of the commission money yet, anyway.”

  “Brendan, I’m really sorry.”

  “And in any case, I’ve never even driven a BMW, so I won’t mind so awfully much having to cancel my order. I hope there’s still time. Don’t you feel bad about it.”

  She felt stricken, her green eyes huge in a white face as she stared up at him. It was just the sort of thing her father would have done, she thought—spending a windfall before he got it, because he was incapable of realizing that it might not come true.

  Brendan McKenna would be safer playing Russian roulette, she told herself. It isn’t my fault what he does, but I don’t like to feel responsible. I should be glad that my association with him is over. Nevertheless—

  Well, he had been very generous with his time, and he had seemed to be truly interested in her, not just the sale.

  Stop it, Kaye, she told herself. Graham doesn’t want you to deal with Brendan, and that is that.

  She said, stiffly, “I wanted to tell you myself that as of tomorrow I’ll be house-hunting with Andy Winchester.”

  “That’s your privilege,” he said cheerfully. “I can’t say I won’t mind, of course; there are limits to my self-sacrifice. But I certainly can’t tell you who you should hang around with.”

  “Graham has always worked with Mr. Winchester.”

  “And of course if he’s found a person he trusts to do his buying and selling, he’d want to stay with that person. That doesn’t mean you can’t ever talk to me, and if I find something I think you’d like, we can still go look at it.”

  Kaye shook her head. “Graham doesn’t want me to,” she said. “He thinks I’d just be wasting your time.”

  Brendan’s jaw tightened just a little. It made her the slightest bit uneasy. “It’s my time to waste.”

  “I think it would be best if we just forgot the whole thing. Graham was very definite about it.”

  Now there was no doubt about it; he was smoldering. So Brendan McKenna has a temper after all, Kaye thought. She was glad it was Graham he was angry at, and not her.

  “Tell me,” he said, very gently, “has Graham always shown this tendency to jealousy?”

  “Of course not... Jealous? What on earth do you mean?” Then she started to laugh. “Do you think that Graham might actually be jealous of you? Don’t be ridiculous! Graham’s a businessman—he’s not the sort to let personal feelings interfere. And he doesn’t even know you, anyway.”

  “You sound very certain of that,” Brendan said. “But of course you’re correct—what on earth am I thinking about? Graham Forrest has no reason to be jealous of any man on earth—certainly not a mere insect like me.”

  “That wasn’t what I meant.” She realized, belatedly, how very tactless she must have sounded.

  “Don’t apologize for telling the truth,” he said, and there was a hard edge to his voice. “I just thought it was possible that Graham didn’t want you associating with any males under the age of sixty. I stand corrected, and I’m happy for you.” He rose, and Omar yowled at being evicted from a warm lap.

  Kaye jumped up too, uncertain of how to patch up the mess she’d made.

  “Thank you for telling me about this yourself, Kaye,” he said, more gently. “It would have been much easier, I’m sure, to have said nothing at all, and just given me excuses whenever I found a house to show you.”

  She followed him to the door, eager to defend herself. “I’m not that kind, Brendan. I couldn’t just let you think that I didn’t even appreciate what you’d done, or that I was only having a good time at your expense this afternoon.”

  He smiled then. His dark blue eyes had a fascinating glow. “I never would have thought that, Kaye, no matter what.” He held out a hand to shake hers. “Good luck.”

  “Thanks for lunch,” she said uncertainly. Her hand slipped out of his warm grasp, and he pulled his gloves on.

  “My pleasure,” he said. Then he was gone into the cold night.

  *****

  Graham took her to his favorite club for dinner, where Andy Winchester joined them for dessert. Kaye tried to stifle a yawn as she ate her chocolate mousse, and found herself wondering where Brendan was having dinner, and with whom. The exotic brunette from the real estate office, perhaps? In any case, she concluded, it was a safe bet that he was having more fun than she was.

  The next afternoon Kaye and Andy Winchester toured the Aynsley mansion in Henderson Heights. And that evening, in her apartment, Kaye and Graham had their first quarrel.

  It was not a fight in any sense of the word; it was instead a coldly civil discussion. But it was nonetheless bitter, and it ended up with Kaye nearly in tears.

  “I can’t work with Andy Winchester,” she tried to explain to Graham. “He wouldn’t even listen to what I want. He just kept telling me what I should have.”

  The problem had actually started with her first glimpse of Andy Winchester. He was over seventy, she estimated, and slightly hard of hearing. He liked to punctuate his statements with a wave of a battered old black cigar, which was foul-smelling despite the fact that it wasn’t lit. Kaye was not impressed.

  She was even less convinced that she should put her trust in him when the tour started. Mrs. Aynsley had greeted them at the door with a cheerful smile. It was an intriguing house; it looked like a rectangular block that had been twisted by a giant and tossed aside. Graham was right about one thing; the architecture was strikingly unusual.

  But within ten minutes, Kaye knew that it was also an impossible house, by her standards. The windows were huge, but Mrs. Aynsley had the light shut out with heavy curtains, and when Kaye pulled one open, she discovered that the patio overlooked the golf course of one of Henderson’s most exclusive clubs. It wasn’t like having a public playground in the back yard, Kaye thought, but it was scarcely private, either. Anyone playing the course could look straight through the house unless the curtains were closed.

  What sense was there in having windows at all, she asked herself, if you couldn’t let the light in, and when you had no idea when a sheet of glass would explode under the weight of a stray golf ball? She shook her head at Andy Winchester.

  “Thank you, Mrs. Aynsley,” he said, his voice booming. “I’m sure Mr. Forrest will want a day or two to think about it before he makes an offer. You’re not going to hold these young people up,
are you?”

  Mrs. Aynsley fluttered and giggled. “Oh, Andy,” she said. “You know we have to get a good price. And that other buyer you found—well, it was a good offer, even if it wasn’t as high as we’d like.”

  Kaye strode down the path to Andy Winchester’s new Cadillac and slammed the door with unnecessary force. “I don’t think there is another buyer.”

  “Why, there most certainly is,” he sputtered.

  Kaye was not convinced. “In that case,” she said, “you had better advise Mrs. Aynsley to take his offer, because I am not interested in buying that house at any price!”