Where Love Has Gone (7 page)

“Your father saved my husband’s life during the first war, you know.”

“I heard the same story. But it was the other way around when my father told it.”

She picked up a small silver bell from the table in front of her. It tinkled gently. “Shall we have coffee in the solarium?”

I looked over at Nora. She glanced down at her wristwatch. “You and Major Carey go ahead, Mother,” she said. “I have an eight o’clock appointment downtown.”

A hint of a frown crossed Mrs. Hayden’s face and disappeared. “Do you have to, dear?”

Nora didn’t look at her mother. “I promised Sam Corwin I would go over his plans for a show on modern sculpture.”

Mrs. Hayden glanced at me, then at Nora. Her tone implied only the mildest protest but I had the feeling that she was choosing her words carefully. Whether it was because I was there or not I didn’t know. “I thought you were beyond that sort of thing,” she said. “It’s been such a long time since you’ve seen Mr. Corwin.”

“I have to, Mother. After all, it was Sam who was responsible for bringing Professor Bell to my show.”

I turned to the old lady. “Please don’t be upset on my account, Mrs. Hayden,” I said quickly. “I’m due back at the Presidio at eight thirty myself. I can drop your daughter off, if you’d like.”

“I don’t want to be any trouble,” Nora said.

“It won’t be. I’m using an Army car, so I don’t have to worry about gas rations.” “All right,” she said. “Just give me a few minutes to change.”

We watched her leave, and when she was gone I turned to her mother. “You have a very talented daughter, Mrs. Hayden. You should be very proud.”

“I am,” she answered. Then a curious expression came into her bright blue eyes. “But I must confess, I don’t always quite understand her. At times, I feel completely bewildered. She’s so different from the young girls of my time. But then Nora is an only child and I had her late in life.”

“It’s the war. We’re all very different.”

“Nonsense. I hear that all the time,” she said sharply. “It’s poppycock. Your generation isn’t the only one that fought a war. Mine did. And so did the young people of my parents’ generation.”

I could have argued about that but I didn’t. “Your daughter is very talented,” I said again. “Professor Bell often told me that talent isn’t always the easiest thing in the world to understand, or to live with.”

Her eyes brightened in amusement. “You’re a nice young man. I hope you’ll come to see us again. I have a feeling that you’ll be very good for us.”

“I hope so. But I’m going back overseas. Perhaps we’ll make it when the war is over.” She looked directly into my eyes. “It may be too late then.”

I guess the astonishment showed in my face, because she grew even more amused. I reached for a cigarette.

“I’ve heard you were a very promising young architect before you went into the service, Major Carey.”

“Apparently you don’t miss very much, Mrs. Hayden.”

“I try not to, Major Carey. It’s very important for a helpless widow to keep her eyes open.”

I started to protest. Helpless widow indeed! Then I saw her smile again and I knew she was having me on. “What else did you find out about me, Mrs. Hayden?”

“Before the war you applied for a position with Hayden and Carruthers. They were quite impressed with you.”

“The Army was more impressed.”

“I know that, Major Carey,” she said. “I also know your war record—”

I held up my hand. “Spare me that, Mrs. Hayden. What are you getting at?’

She looked directly at me. “I like you, Major Carey,” she said. “Under the right circumstances there could be a vice-presidency for you at Hayden and Carruthers.”

I stared at her. That
would
be starting at the top. Pretty good for a guy who never held a job after graduation. Hayden and Carruthers was one of the leading architectural concerns on the West Coast.

“How do you know that, Mrs. Hayden?”

“I know,” she said quietly. “I own the controlling interest in the firm.” “And what would you consider ‘the right circumstances’?”

She glanced at the doorway and then back at me. Her eyes were bright and steady. “I think you already know the answer.”

Just then Nora came back into the room. “I hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long.” “Not at all,” I said.

“The Major and I were having a most interesting little chat, Nora.”

I caught the quickly curious glance Nora threw at her mother. I looked down at the old lady.

“Many thanks for the dinner, Mrs. Hayden,” I said formally.

“You’re quite welcome, Major. You just think about what I said.” “I will, ma’am. And thank you again.”

“Goodbye, Major.”

“Night, Mother,” Nora said.

Her mother’s voice caught us at the door. “Don’t stay out too late, dear.”

I caught the fragrance of Nora’s perfume as she settled back in the seat. It bugged me. It wasn’t the kind of perfume one wore to a business meeting.

“Where to?” I asked.

“Lower Lombard Street. I’m not taking you out of your way, am I?” “Not at all.”

She moved closer and I felt her hand on my arm. “Did Mother talk about me?” “No.” I wasn’t exactly lying. Or for that matter, telling the truth. “Why?”

“No reason,” she said casually. We drove silent for a few blocks.

“You’re not really due back at the Presidio by eight thirty, are you?” “No,” I said. “What about you? Can you get out of your date?”

She shook her head. “Not now. It’s too late.” She hesitated. “It wouldn’t be fair. You understand, don’t you?”

“I read you loud and clear.”

She looked at me. “It’s nothing like that,” she said quickly. “I didn’t say anything.”

I stopped the car for a traffic light. Its red glow turned her skin to flame. “What are you going to do now?” she asked.

“I don’t know. Go down to Chinatown … the one on maybe.” “That’s pure escape.”

The light changed and I started the car again. “The purest,” I agreed. “But it’s still the best way I know to turn things off.”

I felt her hand tighten on my arm. “Is it that terrible?” “Sometimes.”

I could feel her fingernails through my jacket. “I wish I were a man!” “I’m glad you’re not.”

She turned toward me. “Will you meet me later?”

I felt the hardness of her small breasts against my sleeve. I knew then that I had been right. She was everything I’d thought and it was there for the taking, but something held me back.

“I don’t think so,” I said. “Why?”

“No reason.” I was annoyed with myself. “It doesn’t matter.” “It does to me. Tell me.”

I sensed the angry harshness creeping into my voice. “I know at least a dozen places in this town where I could get seconds if that was all I was looking for.”

She let go of my arm and moved away. I saw sudden tears forming in her eyes. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I’ve been away so long, I’m afraid I’ve forgotten how to act.”

“You don’t have to apologize. I deserved it.” She looked out the window. “Turn here. It’s in the middle of the next block.”

I pulled the car to the curb.

“You have three more days of leave?” “That’s right,” I said.

“Will you call me?”

“I don’t think so. I’m going down to La Jolla to get in some fishing.” “I could come down there.”

“I don’t think that would be wise.” “Oh! You’ve got a girl there?”

I laughed. “No girl.” “Then why—”

“Because I’m going back to war,” I said harshly. “Because I don’t want any ties. I don’t want to have anything to think about but making the next day. I know too many guys who lost all their tomorrows looking behind them.”

“You’re afraid.”

“You’re damn right I am. I told you that before.”

Her tears were for real now. They rolled slowly down her cheeks. I put my hand on her shoulder. “Look, this is silly,” I said gently. “Everything is screwed up right now. Maybe, someday, when the war is over. If I make it—”

She interrupted me. “But you told me yourself that no one is three times lucky.” “That’s about the way it figures,” I admitted.

“Then you really don’t believe you’ll call me. Ever.” There was a strange sadness in her voice. “I always seem to be apologizing to you. I’m sorry.”

She stared at me for a moment, then got out of the car. “I don’t like goodbyes.”

I didn’t have a chance to answer as she ran up the steps without looking back. I lit a cigarette and sat there watching as she rang the doorbell. After a moment a man came and let her in.

When I got back to my hotel, around three in the morning, there was a message under my door.

Please call me in the morning so that we may continue our discussion.

It was signed Cecelia Hayden.

I crumpled the note angrily and threw it into the wastebasket. I went down to La Jolla in the morning without bothering to call her.

Within the week I was on my way back to Australia and the war. If I ever thought that the old lady was hung up waiting for me to call I would have only been kidding myself.

There were some things she couldn’t wait for. The next day she called Sam Corwin.

4

__________________________________________

“Mrs. Hayden,” Sam Corwin said, coming into the room where the old lady waited for him. “I hope I haven’t kept you waiting.”

“Not at all, Mr. Corwin,” she replied crisply. “Please sit down.”

He sank into the chair and looked at her with curiosity. Ever since she had called that morning, he had been wondering what it was she wanted to see him about.

She came right to the point. “Nora’s been nominated for the Eliofheim Foundation Award for Sculpture.”

Sam looked at her with a new and sudden respect. There had been rumors to that effect, but the names of the nominees were very closely guarded. Especially since this was the first award to be given since the war.

“How do you know?” he asked grudgingly. Even he hadn’t been able to get any confirmation. “It doesn’t matter,” she said briskly. “What is important is that I do know.”

“Good. I’m very happy for Nora. I hope she gets it. She deserves it.”

“That’s what I wanted to see you about. I want to be sure that she does get it.” Sam stared at her. He didn’t speak.

“Money can be a terrible handicap sometimes,” Mrs. Hayden continued. “Especially in the arts.

I would like to make certain that my daughter’s wealth doesn’t adversely affect her chances.” “I’m sure it wouldn’t, Mrs. Hayden. The judges are above that sort of thing.”

“No one is above prejudice of one sort or another,” she said definitely. “And at the moment it seems to me that the whole liberal arts world is oriented to the Communistic ideology. Almost everything accomplished by anyone outside that group is automatically rejected as bourgeois and unimportant.”

“Aren’t you rather oversimplifying it?”

“Am I?” she countered, looking directly at him. “You tell me. Almost every major art award during the past few years has been won by an artist who if not actually Communistic was at least closely aligned with them.”

Sam had no reply. She was very nearly correct. “Supposing I did agree with you. I still don’t see what can be done about it. The Eliofheim can’t be bought.”

“I know that. But we both know that no one is beyond influencing, beyond the power of suggestion. The judges are only human.”

“Where would I start? It would take some very important people to make them listen.”

“I was talking to Bill Hearst at San Simeon the other day,” she said. “He felt very strongly that Nora deserved the award. He felt it would be a triumph for Americanism.”

Now it was beginning to make sense. He should have known right away where her information had come from. “Hearst could be helpful. Who else?”

“Your friend Professor Bell, for one,” she said. “And Hearst has already talked to Bertie McCormick in Chicago. He’s very much interested too. There must be many others, I’m sure, if you’d put your mind to it.”

“It would take a lot of doing. This is February, so we have less than three months before the awards are announced in May. Even then we couldn’t be sure.”

She picked up a sheet of paper from her desk. “Your salary at the newspaper is about forty-five hundred. In addition to that you average approximately two thousand dollars for magazine articles and miscellaneous pieces.” She looked over at him. “That’s not really very much money, is it, Mr. Corwin?”

Sam shook his head. “Not very much, Mrs. Hayden.”

“You have expensive tastes, Mr. Corwin,” she continued. “You have a nice apartment. You live well, even if not entirely within your means. For the past few years you’ve been running into debt at an average of a little more than three thousand dollars a year.”

He smiled. “I don’t worry too much about my debts.”

“I realize that, Mr. Corwin. I understand that a good deal of that money is never repaid in cash, but in favors. Would I be too far off if I assumed that your overall income is in the neighborhood of ten thousand a year?”

He nodded. “You wouldn’t be far off.”

She put the sheet of paper back on the desk. “I’m prepared to pay you ten thousand dollars for your assistance in securing the Eliofheim Aware for my daughter. If she get it, we will enter into a ten-year contract guaranteeing you twenty thousand a year, plus ten percent of her gross earnings.”

Sam calculated swiftly. At Nora’s present rate of output she should be able to gross between fifty and a hundred thousand a year if she won the award. “Make it fifty percent.”

“Twenty-five percent,” she said quickly. “After all, my daughter still has to pay her gallery fees.”

“Just a moment, Mrs. Hayden. This is going a little too fast for me. Let’s see if I understand what you’re saying. You’re hiring me as a press agent to help Nora get the Eliofheim Award?”

“That’s right, Mr. Corwin.”

“And if she gets the award, we then enter into an agreement whereby I become her personal representative, agent, manager or whatever for a period of ten years? For this I will be paid twenty thousand a year plus twenty-five percent of her gross earnings from her work?”

Mrs. Hayden nodded again.

“What if she doesn’t get the award?”

“Then there wouldn’t be much point in any agreement, would there, Mr. Corwin?”