An Act of Love (4 page)

"You were going to stop seeing him anyway, I could tell,"
Randy protested.

"And you were going to agree to stay here with me anyway,
I
could tell," Linda shot back.

Randy, knowing when she was beaten, admitted that Linda
was right. "The truth is, I need someone to talk to," she said. "And
not just anyone. You. But first of all, I owe you an apology, Lin. I
was upset after your first divorce, because I really loved Jerry, but
when you married Brett, I was… shocked, I suppose. I told
myself you wanted his money, even though I know that's ridiculous.
Neither of us will ever have to worry about where our next designer
dress is coming from. Anyway, I've sort of cut you out of my life for
the last few years and I'm sorry. I was very childish."

Linda found some paper cups in a half-unpacked box and
took a bottle of wine out of the refrigerator. "Let's go sit in the
bedroom," she said. As they walked across the living room, she added,
"I understood what you felt. You needed to be on your own, away from
the family, to grow up. You also needed to learn a little about life to
stop judging me so harshly. But you got hurt along the way, didn't you?"

Randy nodded, suddenly unable to speak, and sprawled out
on the bed.

Linda sat down beside her. "Randy?" she prompted softly.

She shook her head. "I just—I've never talked
about it." She hadn't even told her apartment-mate, preferring to put
up a false front of sophisticated acceptance.

A moment later Linda's arms were around her and she was
sobbing on her sister's shoulder, choking out half-coherent phrases. "I
was crazy about him—when he'd touch me—and then he
went to Italy—and all the gossip—people kept
telling me…"

It took a long time for Randy to control herself, and
Linda patiently waited, murmuring gentle words of sympathy. Eventually,
of course, the story came pouring out. Sean Raley was handsome and
smooth and Randy had fallen like the proverbial ton of bricks. He'd
left for Italy in the middle of their blazing love affair for a minor
role in a film, but it wasn't very long before stories in the local
tabloids appeared, speculating on his relationship with the daughter of
his director.

"I guess it's an old story," Randy said in a flat tone of
voice. "His letters came less and less often, and when people would ask
about him I'd shrug and say that of course all men played around. But
it was tearing me apart. He used to tell me he loved me. I thought he
wanted to marry me, but obviously he didn't, because he married the
director's daughter four months ago. She'll help his career a lot more
than I ever could."

"I'd like to kill the man," Linda muttered.

"He's not worth it." Despite the bitter overtone, Randy
knew it was the truth. Now that she was calmer she could face the most
shattering part of the whole experience. "I don't think I really ever
loved him, Lin. I was crazy about him, and wildly infatuated, but I
never bothered to look beneath the surface and see the selfishness and
egotism there. When I think about how bad my judgment was, about how
stupid I was…" She paused. "Sean hurt me, but I hurt myself
more. And I always prided myself on being so level-headed,
and—and moral."

"Welcome to liberation," Linda drawled.

There was something about Linda's expression, so
world-weary yet indomitable, that made Randy smile. "I suppose I'm over
Sean," she said, "and I'm even getting my appetite back. For the first
time in my life I don't have to worry about what I eat, so I guess I
should thank him for that. But I don't have any interest in other men.
Dad's trying to match me up with that insane vice president of his,
Luke Griffin, and I almost wish I could tell him about Sean just so
he'd drop the subject. But I can't."

"Knowing Dad, I agree. But you need to get back into
circulation," Linda said. "Take it from a veteran, Randy, the best way
to get over an unhappy love affair is with a new man. And you might
even
like
Luke Griffin."

Randy straightened up, a little irritated. "Do you think I
want to go out with someone who knows that ten thousand shares of Dunne
Industries stock will be part of the package? Not to mention the
presidency of the company? The man will probably ooze charm and try to
convince me he's madly in love with me. And with my track record, I'll
probably be stupid enough to believe him!"

"All men are liars and cheats," Linda said solemnly.

Randy quickly understood Linda's point; she flushed and
looked into her lap. "Are you telling me they're not?" she asked.

"That's exactly what I'm telling you," Linda answered.

Linda left the house at ten the next morning to go into
Boston to look at oriental carpets for the living room. Randy decided
to stay at home, telling Linda that she felt the need to do something
more physical than shop, and teasing that one look at the kitchen
suggested an outlet for her excess energy. It was the only room on
which any progress had been made. The wallpaper had been stripped from
the walls, new cabinets installed and vinyl flooring laid down, but the
appliances needed cleaning and Linda's housewares were only
half-unpacked. It was typical of Linda that she owned every culinary
contrivance ever manufactured, even though her talents lay more in the
direction of promoting dinner dates than cooking. Fortunately for her
and Randy, Randy enjoyed cooking almost as much as she enjoyed eating.

Linda returned a few hours later, inspected the
now-spotless kitchen, and insisted on buying Randy a thank-you present.
In the end they dropped in on half a dozen local boutiques, buying an
array of businesslike but feminine outfits that Randy only hoped would
fit properly once she'd regained some weight.

After stopping at a phone booth so Randy could call her
friend Sarah, who hadn't yet headed north, to beg off the New Hampshire
vacation, the two sisters drove home. Randy tossed her shopping bags
into the trunk of her father's Lincoln—she'd have no occasion
to wear the clothing in Cambridge—and then drove the car to a
service station a few blocks away. Not only did she arrange to have it
repaired, a sweet smile and soft plea persuaded the owner to let her
leave it in his parking lot until she was ready to go home. It would
spare her the hassle of finding another parking space.

Over the next few days an assortment of ponytailed young
men and strong young women arrived at the apartment to hang wallpaper,
sand and stain the floors, and paint the ceilings and doors. Linda
trusted these people far more than Randy would have, letting them in in
the morning and telling them to lock up when they were finished. The
two sisters spent their days browsing in bookstores and art galleries,
shopping for furniture or clothing, or simply driving around the
countryside, enjoying the early summer weather. Only when Linda went
out to visit friends or dropped in on evening parties did Randy decline
to accompany her. She explained that getting back into circulation
wasn't her way of coping with disappointment, and Linda seemed to
accept that.

Late Friday afternoon, however, Linda returned to the
apartment and looked at Randy with a downright wicked gleam in her eye.
She was carrying a hat box and opened it up with a flourish to reveal a
brunette wig and several packages with cosmetics inside. Ignoring
Randy's wary expression, she began to affix the wig to her sister's
head, emitting a gleeful chortle when she was through.

"May I present… Her Royal Highness, Princess
Elizabeth of Yugoslavia," she announced.

"They don't have princesses anymore, Lin," Randy pointed
out.

"I know that. You're a deposed princess," Linda informed
her.

"A deposed princess," Randy slowly repeated. "May I ask
why?"

"Because the Communists are in power and your family was
booted off the throne, of course. You grew up in Paris," Linda
explained.

"In Paris. A deposed Yugoslavian princess," Randy said.
"What am I doing here? And why with you?"

"You're twenty years old and you're going to Harvard in
the fall. You're with me because your Mama adores C & D and
she's like this"—Linda held her thumb and index finger a
quarter of an inch apart— "with Mom. I volunteered to look
after you while you get settled in."

"And I'm
most
grateful for your
help," Randy said, adopting a French accent colored with the slightly
British lilt of cultured Europeans. Then she reverted to her usual
speech, which was free of regional intonation. "Who's the joke on, Lin?"

"I'm going to a party with a bunch of people who think
they're the social and intellectual elite of the world. I can't
wait
,"
Linda said with relish, "to produce
you
!"

Randy accepted the explanation, but not completely. "Would
it be paranoid to think that you're also determined to drag me out with
you?" she asked.

Linda smiled, but didn't attempt to deny it. "It will be
the best thing for you," she said. "Will you do it?"

Randy fingered the long hair of her wig, then smiled back.
"When could I ever resist getting up on a stage?" she asked.

It took her a good forty-five minutes with the makeup
Linda had purchased before she looked like a twenty-year old brunette,
but a last-minute check in the bathroom mirror still failed to satisfy
her. She looked demure enough in Linda's long-sleeved, round-necked
blue silk dress, but something was missing. "Jewelry," she finally told
Linda. "Pearls, I think."

Twenty minutes of searching turned up a pearl necklace and
earrings which Linda had packed at the bottom of a box of towels. When
Randy put them on, Linda nodded her approval. "High class and innocent,
but sexy," she said. "You're perfect."

The party was being held in the home of the president of a
Boston electronics firm, given by the son of the house, who was a
graduate student at M.I.T. The guests included a Big Ten football hero
whose parents lived nearby, miscellaneous local media types, political
staffers with an exaggerated sense of their personal power and young
professors with inflated opinions of their intellectual powers.

Randy and Linda arrived at seven, just in time for the
buffet supper, but Linda asked to speak with the host as soon as they
stepped inside, explaining casually, "I'd like to introduce him to the
princess."

The young woman who'd answered the door darted a startled
look at Randy, who smiled regally and inclined her head a fraction.
Then she hurried off. When their host appeared a minute later Linda
pecked him on the cheek and made the introductions. He looked a little
skeptical as his eyes flickered over Randy's body, but when she
extended her hand as though he should feel honored to take it, he
quickly shook hands and mumbled that he was very pleased to meet her.

"I do hope I'm not… crashing your party," Randy
said, her smile both teasing and self-possessed. "You must believe me
when I tell you how difficult it was to persuade Mama and Papa to allow
me to attend school here. One hears that Cambridge is rather wild, but
surely no more so than Paris, where I grew up."

Their host was thoroughly captivated. He offered Randy his arm, asking her permission to introduce her to
the other guests. The next two hours provided more entertainment than
she'd enjoyed in months as those present fell all over themselves to
meet her, to say the right things and find out about her. In the manner
of royalty everywhere, she put them at ease by encouraging them to talk
about themselves, doing so with such skill that none of them realized
that she was evading all their questions.

She had just excused herself to go outside for a breath of
air when she was joined on the terrace by a rather handsome man whom
she'd noticed staring at her earlier. "It is hot in there, isn't it?"
he said, not in the least intimidated to be talking to a princess.

"Very hot," Randy murmured. "The breeze feels lovely."

"Would you care to take a walk with me?" he asked. "Our
host's mother is an avid gardener. Some of her specimens are so perfect
they hardly seem real."

"Then I must accept your kind invitation," Randy said with
a formal smile. The man gestured to indicate the way, but didn't take
her arm or speak to her.

The full moon provided just enough light to let them
appreciate the beauty of the garden. Randy examined one of the roses
with genuine pleasure, gracefully bending down to catch the scent. As
she straightened, she was startled to feel the man's hand on the back
of her neck.

She gave no sign of surprise, knowing that good breeding
dictated that she simply withdraw, putting the man in his place. "Shall
we return to the house?" she asked with just the right note of
disapproval in her voice.

"Not yet," he said, laughing at her. He bent down to
whisper something in her ear. It was in a foreign language and Randy
didn't understand him.

"I beg your pardon?" she said coolly.

"I told you that I love you in Serbo-Croatian. Surely Mama
and Papa"—he mimicked Randy's use of the
terms—"must have told you that too, at some point?"

"I was born long after the war's end and was raised in
Paris. I never learned my native tongue." Randy hoped that the
explanation was convincing. "Perhaps I shall study it at Harvard."

"Nice try," the man said with a grin. "My name is Aaron
Gregov and I teach Eastern European history at Harvard. Princess
Elizabeth of Yugoslavia is old enough to be your mother. So who are
you?"

Randy sighed and peeked up at him, her eyes full of
laughter. "Oh, dear," she said in her normal unaccented English. "Are
you going to blow my cover?"

"That depends on what my silence buys," he teased. "Tell
me your name."

"Randy Dunne. Linda Franck is my older sister."

"You're a very good actress," Aaron told her. "If I
weren't an expert you would probably have fooled me. Do you live in
Cambridge?"