Across the Counter (3 page)

The reaction, was instantaneous and almost amusing. Without a word, one of the juniors detached herself from the group and sped across to the timid little woman, while the girl with the dark hair also took a couple, of steps away from the over-favored customer and said, “I am Miss Lester.”

“
I
thought you must be.” Katherine still spoke pleasantly. “I’m Miss Renner. I’ve been sent up here from Bremmisons.

“You? Will you come this way, please?”

Miss Lester’s surface politeness was much in evidence now, but her very fine gray eyes remained cold and unfriendly as she conducted Katherine to a small cubicle at the rear of the department.

“I’m sorry I had to keep you waiting,” she observed perfunctorily.

Katherine thought there had been very little compulsion about it. But she had no intention of starting as the critical know-all or of alienating Miss Lester any more than was necessary. So she merely said, “That’s quite all right. I saw you were busy with a customer. But I just wanted to make myself known to you as I was looking around.”

It was not in her plans to start discussing things with this unfriendly young woman until she had had an opportunity to talk with the onetime owner of the store. Indeed, she would probably not have addressed her at all if she had not been annoyed by the general atmosphere of inattention in what she was already beginning to regard as “her” department.

So she merely talked generally of the inconveniences when reorganization has to take place, but also of the opportunity that it gave for a fresh line on one’s work.

It was the other girl who spoke with greater bluntness. Looking directly at Katherine, she inquired with scarcely veiled hostility, “Are you being given carte blanche to alter everything?”

“
I
wouldn’t put it that way at all.” Again Katherine refused to show annoyance. “I worked under someone who made an enormous success of ou
r
Separates Department and
I
think Bremmisons is willing to put a good deal into an attempt to make a similar success here. My job—”

“What suits a London store doesn’t always suit a provincial store, you know.”

“No. I realize that. But my job will be to find out what is especially good in the existing position and decide how far one could graft on new ideas. Or possibly,” she added calmly, since she thought Miss Lester needed a salutary shock, “whether the whole thing should be reorganized.”

“Does Mr. Kendale know about this?”

“
I
imagine he’s been informed,” said Katherine realizing that she had not confirmed that somewhat important detail with Mr. Arnoldson. “But in any case I think I should go and see him now.”

She rose to her feet, thus firmly putting an end to the conversation. Miss Lester rose, too, and unexpectedly said, “I’ll take you myself.” But whether this was a piece of belated courtesy or a casual demonstration of the fact that she was on special terms with Mr. Kendale, Katherine was not quite sure.

As in Bremmisons, the staff offices were on the top floor, and Miss Lester seemed to know her way around here very well. She briskly led Katherine along a corridor and without knocking ushered her into what was evidently a secretary’s outer office.

“Is Mr. Kendale in?” she inquired of the girl who was sitting there typing.

“Yes, Miss Lester.” Katherine noted immediately that the reply held just that note of respect usually reserved for at least minor
vips.

“Tell him there’s someone to see him from Bremmisons.” And with hardly more than a casual nod to Katherine Miss Lester took herself off with an air of having restored a natural sense of proportion to the situation.

The other girl had already disappeared into an inner office and Katherine was left there wondering a little uneasily just how she was going to tackle the formidable old gentleman described by Mr. Arnoldson as so uncooperative and difficult.

“Will you come this way, please?” The young secretary was holding open the door and standing aside for Katherine to enter.

Resolutely, she went in—and immediately stopped short.

For the man who rose from behind the big desk by the window might possibly be described as formidable, but certainly not as old. Tall, well built and unsmiling, he was not more than in his middle thirties, Katherine decided at a quick guess. And strongly suspecting some sort of trick on Miss Lester’s part, she spoke coolly and decisively.

“I’m sorry. I think there has been a mistake. I wanted to see Mr. Kendale. The assistant managing director.”

“I am the assistant managing director.” There was nothing especially friendly about either the well-pitched voice or the very direct glance. “And my name is Kendale.”

“But—” groping in her memory, Katherine tried to recall whether Mr. Arnoldson had made the initial mistake or whether she had missed something he had said “
—I
understood
I
was going to meet a formidable old gentleman!”

The man did give a grim little smile then.

“Not particularly old, but otherwise correctly described,” he replied dryly. “
I
expect you confused me with my father. But he hardly ever comes down to the store nowadays.”

“No?” Still a little bewildered, she picked her words less carefully than usual. “But
I
thought he sat on the board and was rather—” She stopped and colored, and immediately a gleam of malicious amusement appeared in the unusually dark blue eyes that were watching her.

“Obstructive?” he suggested. “No, I am the Mr. Kendale who sits on the board and is rather obstructive. And you, I take it—” he picked up a letter that was lying on the desk in front of him “—are the Miss Renner who proposes to tell us how to run Kendales?”

“No.” With an effort Katherine recovered herself. “
I
don’t propose to do anything of the kind. Nor, I’m sure, was that Mr. Arnoldson’s idea when he sent me here.”

“Then suppose you sit down—” he indicated a chair, but still with nothing friendly in his manner “—and tell me what
was
Mr. Arnoldson’s idea when he sent you here.”

So Katherine sat down and in a firm but courteous way described to him Mr. Arnoldson’s proposal for the reorganization of those departments that catered especially to the young customer.

He thoughtfully rolled a pencil between his hands while she was talking, but he watched her with the greatest attention, and she thought he missed nothing. At the end he merely asked, “And in all this somewhat extensive reorganization, Miss Renner, are you supposed to act entirely on your own initiative?”

The faintly ironic tone of his voice did not escape her, but she maintained a perfectly pleasant manner as she said, “Only insofar as I’m to draw up a suggested plan.”

“Then to whom are you answerable
during your stay here?”

“To you,
I
suppose, Mr. Kendale,” she replied with deceptive mildness.

“To me?” His strongly marked eyebrows rose abruptly. “Come, that’s a novel viewpoint.”

“I don’t know why it should be.” She smiled. “You are the assistant managing director. I take it that, for all except final major decisions, you’re the boss.”

He laughed, and she noted that it was a very pleasant laugh even though it still held a touch of amused irony.

“Believe me, you’re the first person who’s come from Bremmisons with that idea,” he told her. “For the last month the general impression has been that what I say doesn’t go.”

Katherine didn’t reply immediately. Instead she studied him with a not unsympathetic attention.

“Mr. Kendale,” she said at last, “I’m more or less a local girl and that may be why
I
see things in a slightly different light. But in any case
I
realize that few things must be more galling than to act even as assistant managing director in a firm that one once owned.”

“I never owned it,” he replied quickly. “If I had been the owner instead of my father, Kendales would not have been sold.”

“I
...
see.”

“It would have been completely reorganized, of course. Possibly even with the younger customer especially in mind.” He paid that the tribute of a dry little smile. “But it would have remained a family business.”

Katherine bit her lip thoughtfully, for she realized she was now on very delicate ground.

“I’m-sorry, Mr. Kendale,” she said.
“
I think I would feel very much as you do if I were in your shoes. But the name still appears over the main door. I think it’s important still to make it one of the best stores in the country, don’t you?”

He was silent—perhaps in disagreement or perhaps in sheer astonishment—and she went on,
“
That being so, it will be better for you a
n
d me to pull together instead of away from each other, won’t it?”

“Undoubte
dl
y,” he agreed dryly and with a certain air of withdrawal.
“
Had you already decided that I would be uncooperative?”

She had, of course. Or at least Mr. Arnoldson had fully prepared her for such a contingency. It would be simple to give an easy denial, but she hardly thought that would carry much weight with this uncompromising man. Finally she said frankly,
“I
thought it quite possible you would resent someone you might well regard as an interloper.”

“I regard all of you from Bremmisons as interlopers,” he informed her, but this
time there was a glint of real amusement in his eyes.

“Do you really?” She shook her head slightly in regretful dissent from such a point of view. “That’s going to make it rather difficult for all of us, isn’t it? And not least yourself.”

“Do you suggest then, that
I
should agree with friendly meekness to every proposal that comes from the Bremmisons quarter?”

“No, of course not. But we aren’t all enemies and opportunists just because we come from the best store in London, you know.”

He stared back at her for a
moment and then he laughed. It w
as almost a gay; though rueful sort of laugh, and she had the curious impression that he had not laughed like that for quite a long time.

“You’re very refreshing, Miss Renner,” he said. “And I think I see why that wily old fox Arnoldson sent you up here. You’re quite an accomplished emissary of peace.”

“I don’t think that was in Mr. Arnoldson’s mind at all,” she murmured defensively.

“Of course it was,” he returned mockingly. “And that being so, I suppose it’s only fair to tell you for your own reassurance that there’s at any
rate one newcomer from Bremmis
ons with whom
I
shall have to be on good terms. That’s your chief assistant architect.”

“Malcolm Fordham, do you mean?” She felt the pleased, surprised color warm her cheeks. She might have known that dear, clever Malcolm would handle the situation well!

“Yes. Do you know him?”

“Of course! And I
...
I’m glad you think you’ll get on with him.”

“I said
I
shall
have
to get on with him.” Again there was that hint of irony as he made the correction.

“How do you mean? Where does the compulsion come in?”

“I’ve just had a phone call from my young sister,
a
nd she informs me that Malcolm Fordham is going to be my brother-in-law,” Paul Kendale explained with a shrug.

CHAPTER TWO

“Malcolm Fordham
—to be your
...
your brother-in
-
law?” Katherine actually found it difficult to draw breath in the unspeakable shock of the moment. “But I don’t understand. How
...
how can he?”

“By the simple process of getting engaged to my sister, it seems,” replied Paul Kendale disagreeably, and she was aware that he was regarding her with more attention than she could have wished. “You seem surprised.”

“I
...
am,” she said helplessly.

“Why?” he wanted to know.

She could not find an appropriate answer to that on the instant. And he went on in a dryly speculative tone, “Perhaps you mean that he didn’t exactly strike you as the marrying kind?”

“Oh—” Katherine groped for words and somehow steadied her voice “—I wouldn’t say that.”

She could hardly have thought of him more certainly as the marrying kind, of course. Only he was to marry her—
her.
Not this unknown Kendale girl whom he couldn’t have known for more than a month.

“Did you know him especially well?”

This time the man at the desk did not look directly at her. Instead he fixed his gaze on his hands loosely clasped in front of him.

She hesitated, almost overwhelmed by the temptation to break out into a furious, voluble explanation of just how well she did know Malcolm. She wanted to cry aloud that Malcolm was
hers
—that he was engaged to her. Only—she glanced down at her ringless hands with a further sense of shock—in final, practical fact there was no actual engagement.

That was the chilling truth. She was not so much the girl who was engaged to Malcolm as a girl who
thought
she was engaged
to him. And if she were to retain even a few shreds of dignity and self-respect, she must somehow conceal the true state of affairs from this man with the keen blue eyes.

With a tremendous effort she once more summoned the necessary words, and to her own surprise her voice sounded steady and natural.

“I don’t think
I
would describe myself as knowing him especially well,” she said coolly.
“
I was one of several girls he took out at various times. But then he’s a very social sort of person, as you probably know.”

“I don’t know,” was the curt reply. “
I
know hardly anything about him.” And the tone suggested that this was a state of affairs that Paul Kendale would have been quite pleased to leave unaltered. “However,” he continued with a shrug, “my sister appears to have made up for my lack of initiative in this matter. And so, as
I
said, I shall have to learn to get on with him.”

“I don’t think you’ll find it difficult.” Somehow she contrived to make that sound natural.

“No? Well, difficult or not, there are things we all have to learn to do even if we don’t particularly like them.”

“That’s true,” she murmured and for a bleak and terrifying moment she looked into a future in which she was going to have to learn to do without Malcolm.

I can
’t
, she thought in sudden panic-stricken misery.
I can’t! He’s my whole life. Oh, what shall I do?

But the present resistlessly claimed her again as Paul Kendale said, “When and where do you propose to start on your plan of campaign?”

“Campaign?” repeated Katherine vaguely, her mind still absorbed in the problem of Malcolm. Then she realized that not only must life go on but she must give some impression of being interested in it.

It was like dragging heavy weights out of a well to have to drag her thoughts away from Malcolm and fix them on the practical demands of her work. But somehow she forced herself to do it, and to say almost briskly, “I’ve already had a quick look around the store. And since Separates and Costume Jewelry were my specialities at Bremmisons, I’ll probably study those departments first.”

“Separates?” It seemed to her that he looked a trifle thoughtful. “You will need to have a talk with Miss Lester about those.”

“I’ve already had a chat with her,” Katherine explained. “I expect I’ll spend most of tomorrow in her department getting to know it thoroughly.” Though the .thought of having to spend a whole day anywhere, or with anyone, in her present state of mind was anguish. “Well, make your own arrangements.”

She was not quite sure if this indicated a willingness to give her a comparatively free hand, or merely a desire to get rid of her. At all events, he seemed to think the interview was now at an end and, to tell the truth, she was not sorry. All she wanted now was to get away somewhere by herself and somehow come to terms with this dreadful thing that had happened to her.

She bade Mr. Kendale a somewhat abstracted goodbye and went out into the passage that ran the full length of the top floor. But even here she could not count on being alone. If she leaned against the wall and shut her eyes—which was exactly what she felt like doing—someone would probably come along and ask if she felt faint.

Equally, she must somehow go on suppressing the wild impulse to weep that came upon her with increasing force every time she allowed herself to recall the almost casual words with which Paul Kendale had knocked the bottom out of existence.

It can’t really be true,
she told herself, though with little conviction.
There must be some mistake. It just
—
can’t
—
be
—
true. If I can go on believing that until I'm safely alone, perhaps I can bear it.

She glanced at her watch. But so confused were her reactions that she had to look at it twice before she took in the fact th
at it said ten minutes to four.

Too early to leave work on any ordinary day. But this was not an ordinary day. Not because it was the day on which her world had fallen to pieces—after all, that was immaterial to her employers—but because, as far as her job was concerned, this was a traveling day on which it was not really incumbent on her to work at all.

So without bothering to go to any other departments, Katherine left the store and began to walk rapidly in the direction of her hotel.

At first she thought of her small, secluded bedroom as a haven. A haven in
w
hich she could agonize and weep to her heart’s content. But the nearer she got to it, the less she wanted to reach it. For once she was entirely alone and no longer under the necessity of maintaining appearances, she would be face to face with the final acceptance of her misery.

Her pace slackened, she allowed herself to make a long detour, and presently she found herself outside the hotel from which Malcolm had directed his few, almost casual notes.

It was a much grander place than the quiet litt
l
e
hotel in which Katherine had taken a room. But then Malcolm was not given to quiet little hotels, or any of the things that go with them.

She hesitated almost a whole minute outside the entrance. Then, summoning all her resolution, she went into the hotel and approached the inquiry desk.

“Mr. Fordham, madam?” The clerk behind the counter looked up at her query. “I don’t think he had come in yet. I’ll inquire for you
...”
He reached for one of se
v
eral telephones, then looking past Katherine to the
entrance he replaced it again. “Mr. Fordham is just coming in now, madam,” he said.

“Thank you.” Katherine spoke in little more than a whisper. Then she made herself turn around and walk across the magnificent vestibule toward Malcolm.

As she did so the certainty hit her like a physical blow that there had been no mistake about Mr. Kendale’s information. The expression that came over Malcolm’s handsome face when he first saw her told her all that she needed to know.

Here was no delighted
fiancé
unexpectedly coming upon his beloved. Here was someone indescribably put out by an awkward encounter.

It was true that he made a splendid recovery and the look of consternation almost immediately disappeared. But it was not soon enough, and Katherine halted and let him come the last few yards to meet her.

“Why, Kate!” His affectionate shortening of her name hurt inexpressibly. And when he stooped to kiss her—presumably because he found it impossible to explain
not
kissing her—she moved her head sharply so that the kiss landed on the tip of her ear.

“What brings you here?” he asked with a lightness so well assumed that for a dizzy moment she almost wondered if she had mistaken that first look.

“Bremmisons sent me. It was Mr. Arnoldson’s idea.”

“And when did you get in?”

“About lunchtime.”

She wished she could sound a little more animated. But this level, unemotional sort of speech was all she could achieve in
her effort to keep her voice steady.

“Are you here for the day?”

“No. For something like a month.”

“A month?” For a moment she saw that look of consternation again, and suddenly there was a tight hand around her throat that made it difficult to speak at all.

“Here
...
” With sudden decision, Malcolm took her by the arm. “Let’s go over to that quiet corner and have some tea. I
...
must talk to you.”

She would have liked to say there was nothing he could tell her that she did not already know. But she had no control over her voice at this moment and so she let him shepherd her across to a quiet corner of the big lounge and order tea.

It was difficult to remember afterward what he said to her, or she said to him, during the few minutes they waited. But no sooner had the waiter brought the tea and withdrawn again than Malcolm began to speak
—
abruptly and as though compelled by something stronger than himself.

“Kate, I’m sorry—” he looked at her and then away again “—I’ve got some news for you, and it’s no good pretending that it’s nice news.”

“I know,” she said, and she was astonished to notice that she was pouring out their tea with a perfectly steady hand.

“You know? But you can’t know.”

“Yes, I do. It’s about your engagement to Mr. Kendale’s sister, isn’t it?”

She had to say it. It was impossible to sit there and drag the admission from him. Better to get the horrible moment over as quickly as she could.

“Good heavens, Katherine—” he actually lost a little color “—how did you know?”

“He told me.”

“Who did?”

“Mr. Kendale.”

“Mr. Kendale?” Malcolm sounded both incredulous and irritated. “Why did he have to go interfering, for heaven’s sake?”

“He wasn’t interfering. He had no idea the news had any special significance for me. He just
...
mentioned that his sister had become engaged to you when we were discussing the various people who had come up from Bremmisons.”

“Like
that? Without any
...
preparation?”

“Like that—without any preparation,” she agreed stonily, because an almost stolid calm seemed to be the only mood with which to meet this appalling situation.

“Oh, God Kate, I’m sorry!”

In an odd way that comforted her a little—to know that at least he was not entirely uncaring of her misery. Indeed, he went on eagerly, “Heaven knows that wasn’t the way I meant you to hear about it. I was going to make a special journey to London tomorrow, to see you and tell you myself.”

“Were you really?”

Well, it was a nice thought, even if it mended no broken hearts. And staring down into her teacup she said, “You won’t have to bother now, will you?”

“N-no.” He looked profoundly unhappy.

There was a slight, uneasy pause. Then, apparently feeling that something more was called for in the way of explanation, he went on more awkwardly—and therefore more endearingly—than she had ever heard Malcolm speak before. “I wish I could tell you how it happened, Kate. It must seem the most utterly callous and inexplicable thing to you. But then these things
are
inexplicable,” he added desperately.

“I suppose
...
they must be.”

“I won’t try to tell you just how this
...
this feeling for Geraldine hit me—”

“No! Please don’t!”

“But it honestly wasn’t of my seeking, Kate. I thought of myself as engaged to you. We
wer
e engaged, even if I hadn’t actually given you a ring.”

“Thank you, Malcolm.” The tears came into her eyes. But they were tears of relief rather than added distress. For at least he was not denying what had existed between them. And in admitting this, he at any rate left her her self-respect and her memories untarnished.

“I can only say that I thought you were the girl for me until I met Geraldine—and then I knew I was wrong.”

She winced slightly, and he went on hastily, “There is no easy or kind way of saying it, Kate. But you’re too fine for me to tell you anything but the truth. Some girls would try to make capital out of the situation, make things as difficult as possible for me—and
I
suppose no one could blame them. But I just know, with a sort of shamed relief, that you’re simply not that kind.”

“No,” she agreed, and she even managed a faint smile for this oddly timed tribute. “I’m not that kind. And of course there’s no question of my
...
my making things difficult for you. Only tell me—” she hesitated a second “—does
she
know about
...
about me?”

“No,” he said sharply. “And she mustn’t
...
please.”

“Very well,” Katherine said, and tried not to mind the realization that Malcolm could not have started, then, in Morringham by describing himself as an engaged man. But perhaps there had been neither time nor opportunity to make that clear. One must try to be tolerant and understanding.

She sat there wondering what else there was to say. Presumably he was doing the same, for the silence lengthened out between them until, evidently feeling he must break it, however clumsily, he said, “In the circumstances, are you going to ask them to
...
to recall you to London?”

“No! Certainly not.” She looked extremely taken aback. “You can’t expect that of me.”

“I don’t
expect
anything of you, Kate,” he said hastily. “You’re an entirely free agent. I just thought it might be easier for you than being here
...
now.”

She supposed there was some truth in that. Except that absolutely nothing was going to be easy in the immediate future. But at least she must hold fast to the wonderful opportunity that Mr. Arnoldson had given her. It was enough, she thought bitterly, that she had to give up Malcolm, without having to give up her interesting job, too.