An Act of Love (3 page)

It irked her no end when her father merely chortled. "I
told you, Luke is very charming—most of the time. Once you
meet him you won't stand a chance. So when will you start work?
Tomorrow?"

"I'm going to Cambridge tomorrow to see Linda," Randy
informed him, "and then up to New Hampshire for a while. After that
I'll have to straighten out a few things in Los Angeles before I can
come back to New York and start work."

Bill lit his pipe, took several puffs and pushed aside his
plate. "I'm tempted to ask you if you want a theatre date tonight, but
I have the feeling that if I did, the rest of your shrimp would wind up
on my head." He winked at her, smiling broadly.

"You're being charming," Randy accused, smiling in spite
of herself. "I'm certainly not going to argue with you when I've been
looking forward to seeing you and Mom for months. Why don't you tell me
your plans for me—besides marrying me off, that is."

Over the rest of lunch Bill did exactly that. Randy
listened with growing enthusiasm as he described the company's
executive training program, which would begin in September. She even
managed to hold on to her temper when he announced that she would spend
the summer itself as the executive assistant of his favorite vice
president, Luke Griffin. It was obvious that she could learn a lot from
the man and she was perfectly willing to do so, just as long as the
course of study was confined to retailing.

After lunch Randy toyed with the idea of spending the rest
of the afternoon shopping at C & D for clothes befitting an
executive trainee, but the combination of jet lag and French wine had
made her so sleepy that she decided to hail a taxi to her parents'
apartment instead. She walked in to find a note from her mother, Emily,
an interior decorator, saying that she was shopping with a client and
would be home at dinnertime.

Randy curled up on the canopy bed in the bedroom she had
occupied while growing up and fell asleep almost immediately, thinking
that her parents had left the room exactly as it had been two years
before, when she left for California. Her tastes had become more
sophisticated over the years and she would certainly want something
other than pink and white ruffles if she stayed in New York
permanently. It never occurred to her not to live at home; it was
better than spending her salary on some tiny apartment far from the
store. As for privacy, thanks to Sean Raley she felt no particular need
for it.

Emily and Bill arrived home together, bringing Italian
food and a bottle of chianti from Randy's favorite neighborhood
hangout. They ate in the dining room, the cardboard pizza box looking
incongruous in the company of the Dunnes' inlaid hardwood table and
French crystal wine glasses. When the subject of Randy's trip to New
Hampshire came up, Bill began a worried catechism.

"You're sure you'll be all right up there?" he asked.

Randy assured him that she would, only to have him
continue, "It sounds pretty primitive—no phone, no indoor
plumbing. You need to rest and gain some weight, not rough it in the
woods. I think you should call us…"

"Good grief, Bill," Emily groaned, "stop treating her like
a baby. When she was in California we didn't hear from her for weeks at
a time and you didn't carry on this way." She looked at Randy. "You go
up there and have yourself a great time, honey. Heaven knows you're
going to need to be relaxed when you come to work at the store. We'll
be gearing up for fall."

Randy shot her mother a grateful look, saying, "I thought
I'd spend a day or two with Linda before I join Sarah and her sister in
New Hampshire."

"I know she'd love to see you. She's just settling into
the house she bought, although knowing Lin," Emily laughed, "she's
probably reacquainted herself with all her old Cambridge pals by now.
She stayed with us for a few days on her way up from Texas. Did Dad
tell you?"

Randy glanced at her father, who had taken a sudden
interest in his pizza. It seemed he had chosen not to acquaint Emily
with Linda's recent activities, so Randy assumed that a change of
subject was definitely called for. She accomplished this so skillfully
that her parents never realized that she was purposely steering the
conversation away from Linda and onto her most recent acting job.

She took great delight in convincing her father that she'd
played a bedroom scene in the nude, but his shock gave way to chagrin
as soon as she admitted she was only teasing. Her mother promptly
announced that the stage would lose a superb actress if Randy decided
to go to work for C & D.

Randy's body was still on California time, and she had
difficulty both in falling asleep that night and getting up the next
morning. She managed to stay awake long enough to have breakfast with
her parents and kiss them goodbye, then went back to sleep for another
two hours before getting up for good.

Her first thought was to contact Linda and let her know
she'd be spending the night. Lin had no phone yet; she'd left the
number of the downstairs tenant in case the Dunnes wanted to reach her.
Randy called, accepting the woman's offer to leave a note on Linda's
door saying that Randy would arrive about three. Randy only hoped that
Linda would see the message and remember to be in the apartment to let
her in. If her sister were running true to form she probably spent very
little time at home.

The New Hampshire woods didn't require an extensive
wardrobe, so Randy packed only a few pairs of jeans and tee shirts, a
nightgown and swimsuit, and some toiletries into her small canvas
travel bag. She also borrowed an old ski jacket from her mother's
closet in case the weather turned chilly. The trip through Connecticut
and Massachusetts wasn't especially scenic or enjoyable, but the radio
made the time pass quickly enough. Unfortunately, about halfway to
Cambridge the air conditioning on her father's Lincoln turned
recalcitrant. The air became less and less cool until it became more
comfortable to shut off the system and open the windows. Rather than
stop at a service station along the way and risk a possible fleecing,
Randy decided to endure the heat and humidity and wait until she
arrived in Cambridge to have the car checked out.

She had no problem following her parents' directions to
Linda's house, and at two forty-five pulled up to a fairly new
two-family house with brown siding and white shutters. She spent the
next twenty minutes looking for a parking space because the small
driveway belonging to the house was illegally blocked by a beaten-up
van. Then a car pulled out around the corner and Randy quickly edged
into the space.

The outer door to the building was unlocked so she went
inside. There was a door at the rear of the downstairs hall that opened
into the tenant's apartment, while a flight of steps to the left led up
to Linda's half of the house.

Randy was two steps from the top of the stairs when she
heard the outer door open and then slam shut behind her. She turned
just as a breathless Linda came charging up behind her.

"I'm so glad you just got here. I got Mrs. Siskin's note
but I had to go run an errand," her sister explained, giving her a hug.
"And then I got stuck in the most miserable traffic along the river and
now some jerk is blocking my driveway." She fished out her key and
opened the door.

The apartment was in total chaos. Wallpaper had been
partially removed from four of the five rooms. The only furnishings
were a bridge table and two chairs in the dinette and a pair of
twin-sized mattresses and box springs in one bedroom. A black and white
television set sat on the kitchen counter and cartons were stacked up
everywhere. Linda, never terribly interested in housekeeping, had left
dirty laundry scattered all over the bathroom floor.

After a quick inspection Randy asked weakly, "What
happened to your furniture from Dallas?"

"It reminded me of Brett." Linda wrinkled her nose as she
uttered her ex-husband's name. Brett Franck was an oil millionaire
twice Linda's age. He had held his beautiful young wife's interest for
even less time than her first husband, a Harvard instructor whom she'd
married at twenty-one and divorced four years later.

"Besides," Linda went on, "it's been fun shopping for new
things. I've had a great time since I got here last week—all
I've done is buy, besides seeing my friends, that is. It's terrific to
see you again, Randy. I'm glad we'll be spending some time together,
even in
this
." Her hand circled the living room
where they stood.

It was obvious to Randy that Linda assumed she'd be
staying for more than a day or two. "I'm only staying till
tomorrow—or Thursday at the latest," she said.

Linda looked totally deflated. "Only two nights? But we
haven't seen each other since Christmas, and we barely had a chance to
talk then. I thought you would stay a few weeks. We've grown so far
apart since I married Brett and you went to California—I
thought we could catch up."

Linda seemed so genuinely upset that Randy felt terribly
guilty. "I'll come back later in the summer," she promised. "I'm going
to move back to New York for at least a few months and try working for
C & D. But I made plans to go up to New Hampshire with a friend
from college and her sister—their family has a cabin up
there."

For the first time since Randy's arrival Linda really
looked at her sister, and what she saw distressed her. "I thought you
loved acting," she said. "How come you're thinking of giving it up?"

Randy shrugged. "It isn't as much fun as I thought it
would be."

"Really?" Linda studied Randy for an additional five
seconds. "You've lost a lot of weight."

Randy started to explain about the movie role she'd been
dieting for, but her voice trailed off as Linda's dubious look deepened
into disbelief. "It's a long story," she finally said, her voice
slightly husky.

Linda put a comforting arm around Randy's shoulders. "It
always is, with men," she murmured. "You can tell me about it over
dinner, but right now I need to go to the supermarket. Keep me company?"

Randy agreed, wondering how her sister had immediately
guessed the real reason for the absent twenty-five pounds when the rest
of her family had so easily swallowed her story about the movie role.
Experience, she supposed, and the fact that up until two years ago the
two sisters had been unusually close.

Although Linda was four years older than Randy, she'd
almost never complained when Randy tried on her makeup or barged in on
her and her friends or borrowed her clothing. Every crush and dream and
hope had been confided in her older sister, even though the reverse was
certainly not true. As for their recent estrangement, it was Randy's
doing, not Linda's.

As they shopped for groceries, Randy was reminded of just
how much fun her sister could be. Linda entertained her with stories of
Dallas society, mimicking the southern belles and Texas oilmen almost
as perfectly as Randy might have. By the time they got home and Randy
started cooking dinner she was in a much better mood and no longer
anxious to run up to New Hampshire.

Linda was still on the subject of her marriage when they
sat down to eat. "I really thought I was in love with Brett," she
explained as she helped herself to a piece of fish, "and I admit he
spoiled me rotten when it came to material things. But after six months
the marriage was a disaster. His children hated me. I was bored and
restless—he wouldn't hear of me taking a job—so I
filled my days with charity work and tennis. Everyone was twice my age,
except for the tennis pro." She made a helpless little gesture with her
right hand. "After the first few months Brett and I might as well have
had separate bedrooms, Randy. The tennis pro—
Andy—kept chasing me, and eventually I let him catch me. He
even proposed, but at least I had the sense not to plunge into another
marriage. I came back to Cambridge because I was happier here than
anywhere else, even though my marriage to Jerry didn't work out."

"What are you going to do up here?" Randy asked.

"I've thought about putting my fine arts degree to use by
opening a gallery or antique shop." Linda was only pushing her fish
around now, a wistful look on her face. "What I'd like most of all is
to be a buyer for C & D, traveling around the way Grandma and
Grandpa do, looking for one-of-a-kind items for the boutique in the
Manhattan store. But I know Dad would never give me the
chance—not given his opinion of me."

"You'd be surprised at his opinion of you," Randy told her
sister. "He got into a huge argument with one of his executives over
you."

Linda laid down her fork, totally baffled, and Randy
proceeded to explain what had happened between Bill Dunne and Luke
Griffin. Lin was both surprised and pleased that her father had
defended her so staunchly, murmuring when Randy finished the story,
"Tom Havemeyer. I'll be darned. I didn't realize he was related to
anyone at C & D—he told me he worked for one of our
suppliers. The funny thing is, I never go out with married men. I don't
need that kind of trouble. You have to sneak around, and all they want
to do is tell you their troubles. But Tom begged me to meet him, and he
was so sweet that I broke my rule and made an exception for him."

"I think you'd better unmake it," Randy said. "That
brother-in-law of his is liable to come up here and strangle you if you
don't."

Randy didn't miss the calculating look in Linda's eyes. "I
was supposed to see him again this weekend. I really am fond of him."
She shrugged a trifle too dramatically. "But it looks like I'd better
end it. I'll make you a deal. Randy. I'll try to talk some sense into
Tom and send him back to his no-doubt loving wife if you'll stay with
me for a week or two and keep me company." She flashed an engaging
smile at her sister. "What do you say?"