Across the Counter (16 page)

“Please don’t do that—now.”

“I’m sorry.” He looked contrite, even shocked. And she thought that possibly he saw his conduct for a moment with her eyes. “I’m just so—grateful.”

“Well, you’d better not say that until the position is actually cleared,” she told him dryly as the train drew at last into Morringham station. “There’s a lot of ground to cover yet, Malcolm. I’ll do my part as quickly as possible. And then it’s up to you to see how it affects Geraldine.”

“Everything will be all right.” He was wildly optimistic all at once. “I know it will be—now.”

“
I
hope so.”

She parted from him at the main exit of the station, refusing to let him take her home by taxi. She could not have said why, but she had had enough of Malcolm for the moment. The realization shocked her profoundly, but she could not deny it, even to herself.

It’s just that the whole interview was so trying,
she told herself.
Tomo
rrow I’ll
fee
l
different.

But the thought of tomorrow reminded her that it would not be Malcolm, but Paul, who would occupy most of her tomorrow. And the reflection disturbed her more deeply than she would have thought possible.

The Fallodens were very sweet and interested about her day, and she somehow managed to produce an amusing and satisfactory account of her visit to the family.

“I suppose your mother is especially delighted to think you’re marrying a local man?” Mrs. Falloden used exactly the same incongruous term to describe Paul as her mother had used. Perhaps that was the way mothers always looked at the satisfactory position of having a daughter settle near at hand.

“Yes. She’s very pleased,” said Katherine, feeling both untruthful and undutiful. Then she escaped to her own room—though not to sleep.

She lay awake for hours, listening to the nearby church clock chiming at intervals. And all the time she tried to remember exactly how she had once felt about Malcolm—and failed.

Not that she felt any less blank and wretched about having lost him and the wonderful days when they had been everything to each other. But each time she tried to remember the charming, teasing, affectionate ways with which he had beguiled her, she saw no more than his strained, absorbed expression as he urged her to help him marry Geraldine.

It was dreadful of him,
she thought once. And then she felt sorry for him. But in a half-embarrassed and not at all romantic way.

She must have
fallen asleep at last. For she woke with a start to realize that rain was streaming down the windowpanes and that it was time to get up.

“Oh, no!” she muttered, and very nearly pulled the bedclothes over her head. “A wet Monday morning, in addition to everything else!” Everything else being a possible scene with Aileen Lester and an inevitable one with Paul.

As she doggedly made her way through the rain later, it seemed to her that the scene with Aileen was slightly the more distasteful of the two, possibly because it was the more imminent. But when she arrived in her office to find no Aileen yet there and a note from Paul asking her to come and see him, she decided immediately, in sudden panic, that fireworks with Aileen Lester were preferable to explanations with Paul.

However, there was no avoiding the summons. And wondering anxiously if he wanted to discuss private or business affairs, she made her way to Paul’s office on the top floor.

She need not have worried. It was not his way to mix work and pleasure. He wanted to discuss with her certain drastic alterations that he been proposed, in the light of her own report, and there was nothing in their conversation that might not have taken place between any two executives on the firm.

In one sense, Katherine was gratified to be consulted like this. It was the ultimate proof that Paul had accepted her as a worthwhile addition to the staff. But part of her mind and heart was horribly and nervously occupied by the thought that before she left his office she must make it clear that their engagement was broken.

She tried to tell herself that there could be no real pain—only acute embarrassment—in ending something that had never engaged her feelings. But this somehow had little effect on the curious lump in her throat, or on the unutterably forlorn sensation that came over her every time she thought of handing back her ring.

“Well—” he leaned back in his chair at last, with an air of satisfaction “—I think that covers everything.”

“Y-yes
...
I think so.”

“Something else you wanted to raise?” He looked inquiring.

“No. Nothing to do with the work. Something more
...
personal.”

“More personal, eh?” He glanced at her in an amused and curiously indulgent way. “Well, what is it?”

But before she could answer the telephone rang beside him, and while he was answering it she had to sit there in indescribably nervous silence, trying to think of the best way of blurting out her announcement.

As he hung up, however, he seemed to have forgotten a
l
l about her abortive attempt to introduce a personal topic. He got up, scooping up the papers in front of him, and said, “They’re starting the board meeting half an hour earlier to suit the chairman, who has to go to London. And they want me to bring you along.”

“To bring
me
along?” She looked so startled that he laughed.

“There’s no need to be scared. Your report is one of the items on the agenda. You’re much more likely to be congratulated than shot at,” he assured her.

Then he held open the door for her, and she had to precede him out of the room with her engagement still unbroken.

The boardroom at Kendales was large and-impressive, and so were several of the gentlemen grouped around the table when Katherine and Paul entered. But there was a good sprinkling of very alert-looking people too, and among these, to her surprise and quite genuine pleasure, Katherine saw Mr. Arnoldson from Bremmisons.

As she came forward to greet him, she suddenly saw that Malcolm was there, too—a discovery that so demoralized her that she had difficulty in replying suitably to Mr. Arnoldson’s greeting.

A place was found for her near him, and Paul went and sat beside the chairman who—mindful of his London train perhaps—rapped on the table and opened the meeting with commendable briskness.

Much that was discussed was familiar to Katherine. All of it was profoundly interesting. And in spite of
herself she found her personal affairs slipping into the background of her mind as the bold plans for the future of Kendales were unfolded.

Her own part was discussed and substantially approved, while other aspects were debated with a heat that bordered on fierceness. But throughout the morning’s proceedings there was one thing that emerged with increasing clearness to Katherine. The man who dominated the scene was Paul.

She was not entirely surprised, but she was completely fascinated. He was known to her, she realized now, in a variety of moods—cynical, generous, obstinate, teasing—even relaxed in the background of her own family. But now she saw him in his natural element, and he took on a stature and an almost careless air of dominance that she found quite breathtaking.

“Unorthodox—but brilliant,” she heard Mr. Arnoldson murmur once, and she instinctively turned her head to smile her agreement with him.

“Yes, yes—you can well be proud of him,” said Mr. Arnoldson softly, for he was a kindly, not to say sentimental man at heart.

“Oh, I am,” whispered Katherine in reply. And suddenly she made the astonishing discovery that she was.

The warm, gratified, curiously excited feeling that she had been experiencing for some time was all at once defined for her. She was proud of Paul—in a glowing, almost possessive way.

Stupid of me,
she thought confusedly.
You can only be proud of someone who belongs to you. And Paul does not belong to me. That was the whole point of last night’s talk. He doesn
’t
belong to me—in any way.

And she glanced instinctively, almost guiltily, across the table at Malcolm.

To her intense irritation, he was not looking at her or Paul or anyone else. He was idly sketching on the pad in front of him, simply waiting until his own part in the proceedings should come up. Paul might as well have been reciting the alphabet for all Malcolm was impressed.

It’s just because it doesn’t concern him personally
, Katherine thought angrily.
He’s shallow and self
-
centered
—
that’s what he is!

An
d
then she realized that it was Malcolm of whom she was thinking these hard things, and the discovery shocked her so profoundly that she quickly looked away from him lest, in some indefinable way, he should sense her thoughts.

She looked at Paul instead. And again that warm sense of elation and pride came over her so that she smiled and
l
eaned forward, watching him, her eyes bright and her lips slightly parted in eagerness.

It was part of his strength and his charm that he held his audience lightly, and as his glance swept around it paused for a moment on Katherine. For some reason she could not possibly explain, his color rose slightly and his faint smile deepened before his glance traveled on, leaving her as confused, and in some way excited, as if he had kissed her in front of them all.

No one else had noticed, she felt sure. She even tried to tell herself that she had imagined the incident, or—if it had really happened—that it had no special significance. But she knew, as she sat there quietly beside Mr. Arnoldson, that in some inexplicable and rather terrifying' way, this board meeting was historic, not only for Kendales, but for herself.

CHAPTER
TEN

The historic board meeting
came to an end just after twelve o’clock. The chairman bade everyone a dignified but hasty goodbye and took himself off to the London train, while the others broke up into small groups, talking or arguing about either personal affairs or some aspect of the meeting.

“Very, very interesting,” Mr. Arnoldson observed to Katherine. “I thought you carried your part well, Miss Renner, and you must forgive me if
I
say again how sorry
I
am that we shall be losing you.”

“Mr. Arnoldson, you—may not.”

“I beg your pardon!” The astonishment on his face was the measure of the sensation that her broken engagement would inevitably cause.

“I said you—I may not be leaving, after all.” She wondered now why she had let the words slip out before she had even told Paul himself.

“You mean
...
?” Mr.
Arnoldson paused deliberately.

“Yes,
I
do. But please don’t say anything to anyone yet, will you?”

“Of course not, of course not. I’m indeed sorry.” And in tribute to the occasion he looked so solemn that Katherine felt they might almost have been standing at the graveside of a dear relative. “Permit me to say that I’m a good deal surprised as well as sorry,” Mr. Arnoldson went on. “When I observed a short while ago that you must be, er, proud of him, I thought you agreed with singular warmth.”

“Oh,
I
am! At least, I mean that I admire him immensely. He’s a wonderful businessman, Mr. Arnoldson. Indeed, he’s a wonderful man,” she said more sadly than she knew. “But sometimes things don’t work out.”

“True,” agreed Mr. Arnoldson, obviously making a gallant attempt to look less puzzled than he felt. “Well,
I
will only say, Miss Renner, that if you should not—” he cleared his throat “—settle your future as you had hoped, you will always be extremely welcome back at Bremmisons.”

“Thank you,” said Katherine. “I’ll let you know.”

“Please do.” And he turned away to speak to someone else while Katherine slipped away out of the room.

She had not gone very far along the corridor, however, when Malcolm came after her.

“Kate—” He caught up with her near one of the big embrasured windows that distinguished this much older part of the building.

“What is it?” She turned to face him and then, almost instinctively, drew into the partial privacy of the window alcove.

“I just wondered if
...
anything had
...
happened yet.”

“What should have happened?” she asked coldly, because it both hurt and frightened her to think that she was rapidly being pushed further and further away from Paul.

“You know perfectly well what
I
mean! Have you said anything to Paul yet?”

“No, of course not. There hasn’t been time.”

“No, I thought you probably hadn’t. Otherwise he wouldn’t have been so cocky at the meeting.”

“I don’t know what you mean by ‘cocky.’ ”

“Of course you do.” He laughed. “He certainly threw his weight around, didn’t he?”

“I didn’t notice it,” she said crisply. “I thought he spoke extraordinarily well. And what’s more, so did Mr. Arnoldson.”

“Well, of course, this place is the passion of Paul’s life. That’s what really makes him glow. If he’s in love with anything, he’s in love with Kendales. Strange that anyone can feel that way about a store.”

“I don’t think it’s strange at all,” retorted Katherine, partly in defense of Paul, and partly because she sensed the fascination behind a large and varied business concern. “There
is
a sort of romance about developing a great store. Like grooming someone to stardom. And if you have the genius for it that Paul has, it might well become the most important thing in life.”

“Well, it certainly has with him,” Malcolm said carelessly. “There’s one thing, Kate. You won’t have difficulty with him on any romantic score when you call it a day. I don’t think that chap cares about any person. Only about Kendales.
“

She thought of the way Paul’s glance had rested on her for a moment, and how it had sent a strange, frightening and yet half-delicious flame running through her. And she turned on Malcolm with a vehemence that made him fall back literally.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said sharply. “You’re too shallow and self-centered even to begin to understand Paul.”

“Kate! What’s come over you?” he asked in astonishment.

“I don’t know. I mean—nothing’s come over me. Only I won’t have you talk like that.”

“Well, I don’t know what I’ve said that’s upset you so much.” He made a deprecating little movement with his hands. “All I wanted to make sure of was that you spoke to Paul as soon as possible, because—”

“About what?” inquired another voice. And Katherine, who was leaning back by now against the side of the window, straightened up, startled, as Paul came into view.

“What’s the discussion?” He was smiling very slightly as he looked from Malcolm to her, but there was nothing particularly indulgent about the smile. “What were you to tell me as soon as possible, Katherine?”

“
I
—” She stopped.

“Go on, Kate,” Malcolm urged her impatiently. “It doesn’t take much saying.”

“But not—in front—of
you,”
said Katherine, catching her breath on a shocked little gasp.

“Get out,” said Paul pleasantly to the other man.

“But—”

“Get out.”

If Paul remembered that he was supposed to be speaking to his future brother-in-law, he showed no sign of the fact. He did not raise his voice, but something in his manner made it perfectly plain that he intended to get rid of Malcolm even if it meant
dropping him out of the window.

Malcolm went. And Paul turned back to Katherine. But what he said, with genuine curiosity, was, “Were you really in love with that chap once?”

“Y-yes. Of course.”

“The ‘of course’ escapes me,” he said, but quite good-humoredly. “Don’t look so scared, Katherine. It isn’t like you. You were splendid at the meeting. So calm and determined about what you wanted.”

“Oh—” she smiled faintly “—I felt confident then. And you were absolutely wonderful.”

“Thank you.” He laughed, but a little as though her praise pleased him.

“You were so completely convincing and natural. Like a great actor with a role that brings out all that’s best in him. I think I understood just why you have such a
...
a passion for Kendales. It’s your natural element. In a way, it’s
y
ou.”

“It’s not, you know.” He smiled and shrugged. “Not yet. But it’s going to be.” And he set his mouth in a way that reminded her of the air with which he had carried everything before him at the boardroom table.

That’s Paul as he should be,
she thought. And then, with almost frightening clarity,
that’s why I have to let him go.

It was as simple as that. Malcolm’s pleas and arguments fell away. The question of whether or not he married Geraldine shrank to minor importance. What mattered was that Paul should one day be head of Kendales. And if, by remaining engaged to him, she jeopardized that destiny, it was for her to withdraw.

The discovery so shook her that she was silent until he asked, “What was it you had to say to me, Katherine?” Here was the opening—presented to her without complication. For one dreadful, self-revealing moment she thought,
but I don’t want to say it! 'Something has changed. I can’t say it!

And then she heard her own voice, quiet and controlled, say, “It isn’t anything new, Paul. Only events have added some point and urgency to it. I don’t want to go on with our so-called engagement—that’s all. I want to break it now.”

There was a short pause. She supposed a startled one. But she could not bring herself to look at him, so it was difficult to tell how he had taken her statement. Then he simply said, “Why, Katherine?”

Until that moment she supposed she had intended to be quite frank with him. To tell him what she knew was involved, and to point out that her own position as his temporary
fiancée
was jeopardizing the happiness of two other people and his own security.

But after the way he had looked at Malcolm and spoken of him she could not imagine that the first part of the argument would carry much weight.

Hastily she' rearranged her ideas, and said, quickly and breathlessly, “I’ve been talking to
...
to
...
Mr. Arnoldson. He said how sorry he was that I wasn’t coming back to Bremmisons, because there was a big future for me there. He implied that if
...
if I hadn’t been getting married, there was a good opening waiting now.
My work here is really finished, Paul. I can’t expect that opening to wait for me indefinitely—can
I
?”

“I see.” He took her hand almost absently in his, and she wondered if it were quite by chance that it was her left hand.
“
You very much want to accept,
I
take it?”

“
Why
...
why, of course. These
c
hances don’t come every day. And at the moment I should go in on the crest of a wave of approval.” She was astonished to discover how convincingly she was building her case.

“That’s true. The timing is good.” He spoke almost academically, like any businessman considering the merits of a proposition.

“I’ve done what I could for you, Paul.” She hadn’t really meant to urge her own assistance to him, but she was getting nervous now and not so sure of what she was saying. “There’s no possible point in prolonging this engagement. It’s
...
it’s served its purpose.”

“I suppose you’re right,” he said almost disagreeably. “It’s served its purpose.”

And before she could realize what he was doing, he had slipped her magnificent ring from her finger.

There was something almost brutally final about the gesture, and it was all she could do not to cry out in protest. Not that she had had any intention of keeping his ring. But he might—surely he might have left her to remove it and hand it to him.

She felt shocked and hurt beyond any proportion to the event, and it was only with an effort that she kept tears back. And yet she knew she was being illogical. She had asked him to make it clear, as soon as possible, that their engagement was at an end. He could hardly have acted more promptly.

Katherine glanced timidly at him, but it was difficult to tell much from his impassive expression.

“I take it you’ll be going back to London almost immediately?”

“Y-yes. I think so.”

“Was that the advice Malcolm gave you?”

“Malcolm?”

“He was urging you to speak to me ‘as soon as possible,’ wasn’t he?” The touch of bitterness with which he said that showed how much he resented any sort of interference in his own affairs. “
I
suppose you’d been telling him about the London offer?”

“Yes,
I
had,” Katherine declared, with resolution.

“And he strongly advised you to accept? Disinterested fellow.” Paul gave a savage little laugh. “Well, Katherine, it’s been nice to know you.” And bending his head, he gave her the lightest kiss on her cheek before he turned and went on down the corridor.

She stood there staring after him, unable to believe that it was over, and quite, quite unable to believe that he could close the whole incident in that careless, callous way.

It was hard to say how she thought he should have ended things. The last thing she wanted was an emotional or harrowing scene. That would have been entirely out of keeping. But—this! This half-contemptuous brushing off was little less than an insult.

She would have liked to run after him and tell him how abominably he was behaving to someone who had, at least, helped him out of a difficult situation without consideration of the personal embarrassment involved. But it would have been ridiculous and undignified to continue the scene.

It was over. Those were the words that summed up the whole situation. And they struck upon Katherine’s heart with the inexplicable chill that terrified her.

Since it was impossible to follow Paul, she had no choice but to retrace her steps toward the boardroom. The door was open, and she paused to glance, with some queer, perverse nostalgia, into the room where she had seen Paul triumphant.

For a moment she thought it was empty. Then she saw that Mr. Arnoldson was sitting there at a side table, making some notes, and at the sound of her footsteps he glanced up.