"Oh?" Mark's face showed a spark of interest. "That sounds as if she were setting you up for a scare."
"But there wasn't anything in the book about this house."
"House? What house?" Tony looked up alertly.
"You've got real estate on the brain," Karen said with a smile. "We were talking about another subject entirely."
"Then I don't want to hear about it," Tony said. "I'm trying to talk Cheryl into making an offer on this Leesburg house. You know, you could probably qualify for various loans-"
"We're so damned broke we could qualify for unemployment and welfare both," Cheryl said with a wry smile. "But that's not the problem, Tony. We just can't afford to get stuck with a huge mortgage, and taxes, and repairs, and all the rest. What do you think of the Poolesville property?"
They continued their discussion and this time Karen joined in. Mark relapsed into silence; he sat brooding, as animated as a mushroom, for some time and then suddenly got to his feet.
"I'm leaving," he announced.
"What's your hurry?" Cheryl asked.
"I've got some reading to do. Try to have a quiet night, please."
"We'll do our best. See you around."
"You won't see me around until Tuesday or Wednesday. I have to go out of town for a few days."
"Oh. Well, have a nice time."
"Thanks. You coming, Tony?"
"I think I'll stick around for a while," Tony said comfortably.
Mark nodded and wandered out.
Karen didn't offer to accompany him. He seemed totally preoccupied with some absorbing problem. Perhaps he was worrying about the job that lay ahead of him that weekend. Greatly as she had resented his efforts to watch over them, Karen had been conscious of a strange, flat feeling when she heard him say he would be gone for several days.
She was getting sleepy, but she hated to suggest that Tony leave. He seemed to be enjoying himself-elbows on the table, his face relaxed and free of care. He needed an interlude like this one even more than most people.
It was Cheryl who finally yawned loudly and declared she was too tired to talk any longer, even about real estate. She was kind enough to add, "You've been a big help, Tony. Karen and I will have another look at the Poolesville place tomorrow."
"I can't," Karen said. "I promised Julie I'd work tomorrow."
"Oh, damn, so you did. I guess you have to."
"It's the least I can do. I should have asked her to spend the night here-or offered to go to her…"
Tony got up. Taking Karen's hand, he raised her to her feet. "You're a nice person, Karen. Don't worry about that one, she's a survivor. Come on, walk me to the door. Night, babe."
"Mmm," said Cheryl, returning to her fact sheets.
"I'm sorry I had to cancel tonight," Tony said, when they were outside the room.
"For heaven's sake, you couldn't help it. That's part of your job."
"Want to try again Monday night?"
"Why… Sure, I guess so."
"Such enthusiasm." His teeth flashed in the light, and one hand lightly touched her shoulder.
"I'm sorry, Tony. I feel…" She raised her hands in a small, bewildered gesture. "Unreal. So much has happened the last few days, and then this, tonight…"
Somehow her hands settled on his chest and his arms were quick to respond, circling her shoulders and waist. There was strength and support rather than passion in their grasp and she pressed against him, grateful for the warm strength of him under her hands.
"You're one tough little lady, Karen. What you've been through would have floored most women. Most people," he amended hastily, and she laughed and leaned closer.
"I'm not so tough," she said.
"I meant it as a compliment."
He was just the right height-tall enough so that she had to raise her face for his kiss, not so tall that the long, lingering caress put an intolerable strain on her muscles. His lips were warm and softer than she had expected; not so much tentative-for he knew exactly what he was doing, and how to do it-as inquiring. Is this what you want? How do you feel about it? And this…
Her lips parted and all individual sensation-the warmth of his body against her breasts, the movements of lips and tongue and hands, were swallowed up in an overwhelming wave of sheer physical pleasure. She was only vaguely aware of a voice somewhere in the background, but Tony responded to it, releasing her, reaching for the door.
"See you Monday," he said, and was gone, with a last lingering brush of fingertips across her lips.
Cheryl called again. "Yes, I'm coming," Karen called back.
But she didn't move immediately. Tony was already out of sight, lost in the darkness. The air was steamy, sticky, and hot, but it didn't warm her; for a few blissful moments she had been enveloped in comfort, like wrapping herself in a warm coat on a winter day, and now she was cold again.
There had been more to it than that. How much more she was unable to assess. She realized she was reluctant to face Cheryl. It was as if Tony's kiss had left a luminous imprint no observer could miss.
IT
rained during the night. Karen didn't hear the rain, or anything else; she slept heavily and woke later than she had planned. When she went downstairs she found Cheryl dressed to go out while the radio announcer burbled happily about the weather. "… sunny and warm, lower humidity, unseasonably mild…" From the pride and pleasure in his voice one would have thought he had produced the lovely weather by praying, or casting spells.
Karen poured coffee and sat down. She felt rumpled and disoriented; though she could not remember the details of her dreams, she knew Tony Cardoza had played a prominent part in them. She was not sure what she wanted to do about Tony-or whether she had any choice in the matter.
"I thought I'd let you sleep," Cheryl said. "After the awful day you had yesterday."
"Your day was the same as mine. At least nothing happened last night. What do you have on the agenda?"
Cheryl's curls were pinned high on her head, in an attempt to make her look businesslike. She glanced at the paper in her hand. "I'm going to see a realtor in Alexandria. There was an ad in the paper this morning that sounded interesting, so I called and made an appointment. I want to check out a few yard sales and get back early to do some mending."
Her handwriting was as compact and as neat as printing. Karen wondered whether there was some connection between neat handwriting and a neat, well-organized mind. Probably. Her own writing was barely legible, even to her.
"Very good," she said respectfully.
"You might be thinking about a logo," Cheryl went on, making a precise check by one of the items on her list. "We need something eye-catching that we can use on signs and ads and business cards and promotional literature. You're the artistic half of this partnership, so that's your assignment for the day."
"Logo, my eye," Karen said. "We need a name! They go together, don't they? At least they should."
Cheryl looked at her rather blankly and then burst out laughing. "My gosh, that's right-we haven't got a name yet. That's your department too, you're the smart one."
"I don't know why you keep saying that. I have some skills you don't have, but the reverse is certainly true-and yours are a lot more useful than mine."
"I don't believe it, but I sure love to hear it," Cheryl said.
"You can't get out of it that easily. We'll both think about a name and a logo. It will distract me from Julie's moaning," Karen added. "I really do feel sorry for her, but I'm not looking forward to this afternoon. I wish I could go with you. It looks like a gorgeous day."
"It is." Cheryl got up and opened the back door, admitting Alexander, who paused to sniff at Karen's foot before heading for his bed. "They say it will be nice tomorrow too. We'll spend the whole day rambling around."
Karen was a few minutes early, but she found that the shop was already open. At first she saw no one within and assumed Julie was in the office. Then something moved behind the desk in front, and as her eyes adjusted to the dim light, Karen saw Julie's pale face. It seemed to hang bodiless in mid-air, a pale oval lifeless as a mask. The parted lips and wide eyes were like an exaggerated artist's rendering of startled fear.
Then Julie let out a long, quivering sigh. Karen saw that her eyes were red-veined and her garish clown's makeup was less than perfect.
"I didn't think you'd come," Julie said.
"I told you I would. I'm sorry about Rob."
"You never liked him," said a flat voice she scarcely recognized as Julie's.
"I didn't dislike him."
"Yes, you did. And with good reason. He was a two-timing, cheap bastard." A single tear rolled down Julie's cheek, trailing a black slime of mascara. It was an obscenely pitiful sight, all the more so because Julie's frozen look did not alter and she made no attempt to wipe her face.
"I'm sorry," Karen repeated-but this time she meant it. "I didn't realize you were-that you had-"
"I wasn't," Julie said. "But I had." A ghost of her old mocking smile touched her lips. "Along with half the other female inhabitants of D.C. and suburbs. Maybe some of the males too. Oh, hell." She got up from her chair and went to the mirror. "What a mess," she said in a more normal voice, and reached for a tissue.
"Is there something special you want me to do?" Karen asked. She couldn't offer conventional expressions of sympathy; Julie's behavior, and her relationship with Rob, were not conventional.
Julie dabbed carefully at her eyes and replied, without turning, "There's plenty to do. I'm closing for a week, maybe two. My nerves are shot to hell. And with nobody to help me…"
The complaint was an echo of Julie's old maliciousness, aimed directly at Karen; but Julie's heart wasn't really in it, and Karen did not react.
"I think that's a good idea," she said. "You need a rest. August is always slow, a lot of places close then."
"Here comes a customer," Julie said. "Take care of him. I have a lot of paperwork to clear up."
She spent most of the afternoon in the office. Karen didn't disturb her; the fine weather had brought shoppers out in large numbers and she was kept busy. One woman who had bought a Victorian nightgown from her came back, bringing a friend, and was disappointed to find Karen had nothing on hand. Karen took down her name and address and promised to notify her when she was open for business. She realized she should have started a mailing list earlier. Perhaps Julie would let her display her cards and brochures-in return for favors rendered, of course. She knew Julie's present mood was temporary; she would bounce back, bitchy and greedy as ever, after the initial shock had worn off.
The telephone kept Karen busy too. Most of the calls were inquiries she could handle herself; a few she passed on to Julie. Late in the afternoon came a call for Karen herself. With typical arrogance Shreve did not identify herself. She assumed-correctly-that Karen would recognize her voice.
"I called the house," she announced. "That woman-your partner?-said you were at work."
"That's no woman, that's Mark's sister," Karen said. "She is my partner, yes."
"Oh. You don't like to be alone, do you? Always someone hanging around."
Karen suppressed her irritation. Everything Shreve said had a heavy current of innuendo. It must be a Washington habit; even "hello" could be made to sound sinister or suggestive.
"Well, you know how it is," she said meaninglessly. "What can I do for you, Shreve?"
"We've discussed it before."
"A dress for the party?"
"The dress, yes. I'm getting tired of being put off, Karen. When can I have it?"
Karen hesitated. She knew she was being silly, behaving like a nervous mother watching a favorite child leave home for the first time, but she really hated seeing one of the beautiful old dresses go to Shreve.
Since it must be done, let it be done quickly. She said, "They've been cleaned. If you're that anxious, you can come to the house tomorrow."
"I'm going out of town. What about Tuesday?"
"All right."
"I'll be back Tuesday morning. Come about three. Do you know how to get to the house?"
"No. Why can't you-"
"Because I choose not to. Because I'm buying and you're selling. It's the good old free enterprise system- remember?"
Karen discovered she was squeezing the hard plastic of the telephone so hard her hand ached. Carefully she relaxed her fingers, one by one. Rude customers are part of the deal, she told herself. Rude customers are part of the deal…
There was some comfort in the thought that Shreve wouldn't crack the whip quite so hard if she were not angry about something else. Mark hadn't liked her overt demonstration of possessiveness the other night.
Stop it, she told herself. You're pathetic. Like a teenager with her first crush, finding signs of hope in every careless word.
"Are you writing this down?" Shreve demanded.
"Sorry. I was thinking about something else. Give it to me again."
After she had hung up she sat quietly for a moment, clenching and unclenching her fists and counting under her breath. When she looked up, she saw that Julie had come into the shop and was watching her. "Was that Shreve?"
"Yes. She wants a dress for some party Miriam is giving."
"Watch out for her," Julie said. "She can be a real bitch."
"I know. But thanks for the warning."
"She and Mark," Julie began. Karen felt her face stiffen. She met Julie's look with one of cool disinterest, and after a moment Julie turned away. "It's almost closing time. I want to pack some of the smaller things, there's no sense in leaving them lying around. Give me a hand, will you?"
They filled several cartons with jewelry, silver, and the more valuable pieces of crystal, and stacked them by the door.
"That's it, I guess," Julie said. She looked so tired and forlorn, Karen put an impulsive arm around her. Julie flinched, as if her touch had been red-hot.
"I'm sorry," Karen said in surprise.
"No, I'm sorry. I didn't mean… I'm just so damned jumpy." She hesitated, then said awkwardly, "I didn't mean to give you a hard time, all these weeks. You've been a big help."