by Amanda Cross
Kate sighed. What was there to say? She made a sandwich of her remaining bacon and toast, and ate it with pleasure. She felt good, she realized; living in the moment, in this sensation, and not looking over the edge into the next requirement of life. Had Leighton come to feel that too? One could either worry about Leighton or trust her, and Kate realized she had decided upon trust.
“So that’s settled, then,” Kate said at last, when their food was gone and they were drinking their coffee. “I’m glad you told me. Have you everything you need?”
“Not exactly,” Leighton said, holding her cup in both hands. “Could I put the ticket to India on your American Express card?”
Some weeks later, Charlie had a postcard from India. It was an ordinary Indian scene, a tourist’s postcard, and study it as she might, Charlie could find no significance in it. Nor was there a message. But where a message could have been, at the very bottom was a signature: “Winifred.”
Charlie brought it over for Kate to see. “It’s like her,” Kate said. “No wasted words.” Kate could say more later to Reed, when telling him about it. “She more or less promised not to be in touch; to disappear. The only one she could honorably send some sign of life to was Charlie. Martin has no connection with Charlie. And, after all, it was Charlie she had deserted in England, when she flew home to Martin. The true Winifred touch. And it reassures me, about Leighton, about everything.”
It was shortly after that that Charlie and Toby married, and were duly celebrated at the office of Dar and Dar, and at a gala dinner with Reed and Kate.
As the summer wore on, Toby was not surprised to be consulted by Larry about his annual fall party for the associates. But Larry was not worried this time; he was complacent.
“I can’t think why I got the wind up about inviting my sister, about her coming to the party, I mean. Her being there didn’t make the slightest difference, did it? It was good to see her, in a way. We had a nice chat. I hope she comes again. A man ought to see his kid sister once in a while, don’t you think, Toby?”
All the way home Toby tried to decide if Larry had been serious. Was he capable of irony? As he entered his apartment building, Toby decided, no, no irony; Larry had been serious. Kate wouldn’t come this year, of course. Toby would miss her. But, he thought, putting his key in the door and, as it opened, calling out that he was home, he would have Charlie next to him.
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Amanda Cross
Carolyn G. Heilbrun (1926–2003) attended Wellesley College, class of 1947, and later received her graduate degrees in English Literature from Columbia University, where she joined the faculty in 1960, retiring in 1992 as the Avalon Foundation Professor in the Humanities. She authored nine scholarly books in the fields of feminist literary criticism and autobiography. As Amanda Cross, she wrote fourteen academic mystery novels and several short stories, featuring Kate Fansler, an English professor and amateur sleuth.
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Bello
hidden talent rediscovered
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First published in 1987 by Virago Press Limited
This edition published 2018 by Bello
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Copyright © Amanda Cross 1987
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