Her Leading Man (55 page)

None of her problems could be laid at his door.
He’d done everything
humanly possible to keep her
arrest from being known.
It
was
all on account of
Pablo Orozco’s pettiness that her career plans had
been
doomed.

Sighing, she told herself to stop dwelling on
her loss
.

The citizens of Indio and the Desert Palm Resort
threw a party for
the cast and crew of
Egyptian Idyll
that evening. It was a swell party, made
especially
so
for Christina because her costar wasn’t there. The
citizens of Indio
were disappointed, but Martin made
up a good excuse to explain Pablo’s
absence, and
everyone had a good time without him
.

Christina danced with the mayor, with Paul, with
the owner of the
Desert Palm, with Ben, with Indio’s
city fathers, and with several
goggle-eyed
Indio boys.

When she finally got to dance with Martin, her feet
were sore.
“I can’t
remember
the
last time I got stepped on
so often,” she muttered as they whirled around
the
ballroom.

He laughed. “You’re in demand, darling. All the
gay blades in town
want to hold you in their arms.”

“
Good heavens. I’ll never understand
why people
idolize picture folks. I mean, we’re all only
people.”

Martin shook his head. “The pictures only depict
pretty people,
darling. Isn’t that one of the reasons
you disapprove of them so
heartily?”

She
said, “
Disapprove? Do I disapprove of
them?”

“
You gave me that impression. At least when
we
first met, you did.”

“
Gad, what a stuffed shirt I
am.
”

He laughed.
“
No, you’re not. You’re just
a
high-
minded young lady with firm
principles and a
reformer’s
spirit.”

“
I guess so.” His description sounded
awfully
grim to her. In fact, she didn’t like it. Worried,
she said, “Am I
really that bad, Martin? Tell me the
truth. I don’t want to be nothing but a
fussy stick
of a woman. I really don’t want to be another Carrie
Nation or someone
like that.”

“
Good God!” Martin stared at her. “No,
darling,
you’re nothing like Carrie Nation. Trust me. I think
it’s fine that you
take the high road. You’ve made
me think about my own principles and goals
in life.”

“
I
have?”

“
You
have.”

As he continued to lead her in the merry waltz,
Christina gave her
brain a rest. Maybe that was the
real trick to life. Do your best, do it
with all the
energy you have, and when it’s over, relax and don’t
keep chewing on it.
Good advice.

She knew it would be difficult to take, too. But
she aimed to
try.

A caravan of crew members from
Egyptian idyll
drove
back
to
Los Angeles the
day after the wrap-up
party
.
Everyone was tired, but happy.
It was
generally
thought that
Egyptian Idyll
was going to be a smash
hit.

Gran sat straight as a ramrod in the passenger’s
seat of Christina’s
Runabout. She’d had only one or
two trenchant remarks to fling at people
before settling
herself in the motorcar. Christina thanked whatever
powers lurked nearby
that the old lady didn’t
create a fuss. Christina wanted to get out of
Indio
and
back
home so
she could figure out what to do
with the rest of her life now that
medical
school
didn’t figure into it.

They arrived in Los Angeles late that afternoon.
Martin had driven
the whole way alongside Christina
and Gran in his Pierce Arrow because he
wanted to
be
there to help if a tire blew or the engine overheated.
Gran had sniffed and
said they didn’t need
his help.

Christina, who knew better—she’d learned by this
time that it didn’t
matter what one’s
sex
was, and
that it was very nice to know someone
cared enough
to help out—thanked him sincerely. No catastrophes
befell them,
however, and after Martin had helped
them carry their luggage into the rented
cottage Gran
and Christina shared in Pasadena, he left for his
own
home.

An irrational sensation that she was being deserted
crushed Christina’s
spirits as she waved at Martin’s
retreating Pierce Arrow. She was extremely
glad that
they were in a civilized part of the country, where
telephones
were
commonplace. She tried to convince
her heart that she’d hear from Martin
soon.
Her
heart
didn’t
cooperate.

She was tired and depressed when she unpacked
and went to bed that
night.
Her
depression deepened the next day when Martin
didn’t telephone. Where
was
he? Was
he tired of her
now that they weren’t stuck in Indio?
Could he be
a
villain
in
disguise?

She chided herself for being missish and irrational.
A Mayhew woman did
not pine away over a man—any man.

Christina pined anyway, although she didn’t dare
exhibit her
emotional state to her grandmother. Gran
would only sneer at her and say
cutting things.
Christina didn’t think she could stand that. Since
she
didn’t
have anything else to do for the time being,
she busied herself in the
cottage’s small garden. Gardening
always soothed her nerves when they
were
on
edge.

And still Martin didn’t call. The early summer
evening
dragged on and on, and Christina pruned rosebush
after rosebush. She
even enlarged the
back
flower bed,
hoping the energy she used up in
so doing
would leave her too tired to fret.

No such luck. By the time eight-thirty rolled
around and she could
no longer see where she was
putting her spade, Christina knew she had to
give
up on
the garden.

So she went indoors and took a bath, washing her
hair, too, since
she’d managed to get so sweaty working
outside all day long. She’d skipped
dinner, telling
Gran that
she’d eaten such a huge lunch that she
couldn’t hold another
morsel
.

I
t was a lie. Her stomach had been in
knots at
lunchtime, and she hadn’t downed a thing.

She hated herself. That she, Christina Mayhew, an
enlightened and
modern female, should be suffering
these agonies merely because the man she
cared
for—oh,
very well, the man she loved—hadn’t been
in touch for a few hours was
humiliating.

Christina was sitting on the front porch in a light
evening wrapper and
sipping a cup of chamomile
t
ea—she’d always heard chamomile tea was good for
the nerves—when the
throb of a motorcar snapped
her to attention. Could it be . . .?

But she wouldn’t let herself get excited, mainly for
fear that if this
motorcar didn’t contain Martin she’d
be too disappointed. It was impossible for
her not to
hope,
though, even though she wouldn’t show it. She
was, after all, an
accomplished
actress
, thanks to her
thwarted desire to become a
physician. She could
hide her emotions when she chose to
.

The machine pulled up in front of the cottage, and
she jumped up in
spite of herself.

“
Christina!”

It was
Martin
! Christina very nearly fainted
with
relief.
“Good evening, Martin.” My, my, wasn’t she
formal, though? But she wouldn’t let
herself race
down the porch stairs and fling herself into his
arms,
just in
case he’d had a change of heart
.

That he hadn’t, she learned moments later when
he charged up the
porch steps and swept her into his
arms.
“God, I’ve missed you!”

How sweet. “I’ve missed you, too,” she admitted
after they’d shared
a long and passionate kiss.

“
What’s
going on out there?”

They both looked up at the sound of Gran’s
cranky
question. She was leaning out an upstairs
window,
glaring down at them and looking as cranky as she
sounded.

Martin waved to her. “Good evening, Mrs. Mayhew.
I have some news for
the two of you.”

“
It’s
too late for news,” Gran snapped.

“
Pish-tosh,” said Christina, eager for
Martin’s
company. “If you don’t want to
h
ear it,
I’ll tell you
in the morning.” She knew good and well her
grandmother
wouldn’t
allow that. Taking Martin by
the arm, she whispered, “Come on
inside. Gran will
be joining us in a second or two.”

“
Oh.” He sounded disappointed, which
tickled
Christina.

“
She’ll
be all right. I can handle her.”

He lifted an eyebrow in a gesture Christina
recognized
as
one of clear disbelief She laughed. “Honest,
I ca
n
.”

“
If you
say so.”

After she’d led him into the house and turned on
the electric lights,
Christina noticed that Martin
looked fit and happy. Much more happy than
she’d
been
all day. She wasn’t sure what to make of that—except to conclude
that she’d been overly emotional.

“
I have some good news for you,” he said
after
he’d removed his hat and sat on the comfortable sofa
in front of the
fireplace.

“
Good. I could use some.” She hadn’t intended
to
sound so dispirited. Martin’s absence, and her
present
lack
of a goal in life had plagued her all day, however,
and she couldn’t
help it. “May I get you some
tea?”

“
Tea?” Martin’s nose wrinkled. “That’s all
right.
I think I can live nicely without tea, thanks.”

Christina laughed. “I think we have some sherry”

“
That’s
better.”

“
Be
right back.”

By the time she returned with some sherry for
Martin, her
grandmother had hobbled downstairs. She
hadn’t bothered to take the rags out
of her hair or
to remove the wrinkle eradicators plastered to her
face, and Martin,
who had stood politely at the elderly woman’s entrance into the
front room, was trying
to keep from gaping at her.

Assessing the performance in one glance, Christina
reassured
him
.
“Don’t mind Gran, Martin. She only
showed
up like that because she figured it would
shock
you.”

Mrs. Mayhew said, “Heh.” She was pleased by
Christina’s spunk,
though.
Christina could tell.

After taking a quick sip of his sherry, Martin said,
“It
worked.”

Another “Heh” issued from Christina’s grandmother.
She sat with a groan
on a straight-backed
chair she’d pulled up so that she could be in on the
action, whatever it
was.