"Yes," Samantha said dully. "I do see."
"If Larry tells you about these people who want to buy him out," Marie thrust home the point, "you wouldn't sell, would you? Not now you know Zachary is so anxious for you not to do so?"
"Your fears for Zachary are commendable," Samantha said evenly, "but you don't need to plead on his behalf. He is quite capable of doing so for himself."
As if sensing she would antagonize Samantha by saying anything more, Marie took the hat box from her, smiled good-by and went on her way. But even when she was out of sight Samantha still felt her presence like some malevolent spirit. She did not want to believe what the girl had said, yet she knew it was true. It fitted so perfectly into what Larry had told her last night. How could Zachary have been so cunning? She felt too bitter to be angry and knew that even if she had felt anger, it would have been directed toward herself for having been so easily taken in by him.
Unable to bear serving any more customers, she went down to the staff cloakroom and changed out of her black dress. If only she need never return to Farrell's again. But whether she liked it or not she was still Uncle John's lynch pin, though at the moment she was so disgusted with Zachary she could well have done what Larry wanted her to do—sell her shares to the buyer he had mentioned last night.
As this thought came into her mind she frowned. Could Marie have made up the whole story in an effort to cause mischief between herself and Zachary? It would be wonderful if she could believe that. Yet there were several flaws in that; the main one being that Marie, no matter how jealous she was of her, would not wish her to harm Zachary by selling her shares to someone else. Perhaps she's hoping I'll be so angry with Zachary that I'll divide my shares between him and Larry and leave Farrell's, Samantha thought. This seemed such a logical explanation that she immediately decided to go and see Zachary. She would tell him what Marie had said and ask him to tell her the truth. There was nothing she disliked more than prevarication.
Having made her decision, she felt much happier, and was feeling almost cheerful by the time she arrived home. Had Zachary not been in Paris she would have telephoned his apartment and gone to see him immediately. Instead she started to think of Marie and Zachary's relationship. Would he go on seeing the French girl now that she was back from America or would his friendship with Samantha prove to be the more important one? Some of Samantha's cheerfulness ebbed. She knew what Zachary thought and felt when it came to Farrell's, but his innermost emotions were still unknown to her. Morosely she collected some things that needed washing and dumped them into the sink, hoping that physical activity would lessen her mental tension.
As soon as she reached Farrell's the next morning she went to Zachary's office. Mrs. Fielding told her he was not returning from Paris until later that morning and, because he had been uncertain of the exact time, had booked no appointments for himself until that afternoon.
"Would you like me to ask him to call you when he gets in?" the woman asked.
Samantha shook her head. "I'm not sure if I will be in the Millinery Department. I have to go out on some errands for the buyer. I will come up again later."
The errands kept her busy until after mid-day and by the time she returned to Farrell's it was approaching one o'clock. She debated whether to call Zachary on the telephone, but then decided to go up and see if he was there.
Breathlessly she sped down the corridor to his office and knocked at the outer door. Receiving no reply, she went in. The room was empty and she realized Mrs. Fielding had gone to lunch. She hesitated, wondering whether to come back later. But by then Zachary might be too busy to see her. Quietly she walked across to his office and opened the inner door. It swung back, giving her a view of him standing beside his desk with Marie leaning against him. Their faces were close and Samantha had no doubt they had been kissing. She felt as if her body had been sharply jarred and began to draw back. Before she could do so, Zachary turned and saw her.
"Samantha!"
He stepped away from Marie. There was no guilt on his face or in his manner, which made Samantha positive he had already decided which one of them he preferred. Her heart slowed its heavy beat and a great calm came over her.
"If you are busy," she said, "I can come back later."
"That won't be necessary. Marie is just leaving."
With graceful steps Marie left the room, her skirts brushing Samantha as she moved past her.
"Come in and sit down, Samantha," Zachary said, and watched as she stepped farther into the room. "It seems a long time since I saw you," he continued.
"It was only Monday."
"Well, that's a long time, isn't it? I had to go to Paris unexpectedly. I tried to call you but I couldn't get hold of you."
"You don't need to tell me where you are every day of the week." She could still see the image of Marie in his arms and the sharpness of the memory made her face sharp, too.
"I know I don't," he said, ignoring her tone, "but I wanted to do so. I have missed you."
"It looked like it," she said sarcastically.
A slight smile caused his lower lip to move. Seeing its sensuous curve she was overcome by jealousy. How dare he look at her like that when only a few moments ago he had been holding someone else? Knowing she had only herself to blame for Zachary's treatment of her in no way abated her anger.
"I came to see you about my shares," she said belligerently. "I understand Larry may sell out to someone else."
"So he's told you, has he?"
"Well you didn't," she said bluntly, "though I can't think why you kept it a secret."
"I didn't want to talk to you about family matters."
His words relegated her to the position of a stranger and she felt a spasm of hurt.
"Why won't you buy him out?" she demanded.
"He wants to dispose of his entire holding and I'd have to mortgage myself to the hilt to raise that kind of money." His expression grew bitter. "As you know so much, I presume you know he wants treble their market value?"
"They must be worth it," she replied.
"Worth it or not, I can't find the cash."
"Can you raise enough to pay treble for my shares? If you bought them you'd at least prevent anyone from having control of the store."
There was a moment of silence and twin points of light gleamed in the gray eyes watching her. "I suppose I could find the money to buy that number."
"I thought you could," she said dryly. "Was taking me out part of the softening up process to make sure I didn't go in with Larry?"
The light in his eyes intensified, turning them into silver chips of ice. "You must believe what you like."
"I'm asking you to tell me."
"I have nothing to say."
Her fury grew. How dare he stand there without defending himself? He had nothing to say because he was guilty. That was what his silence meant.
"I wish Uncle John had never left me those shares," she burst out. "I'm sick to death of playing piggy in the middle! The sooner I'm free to leave here, the happier I'll be."
Angrily she rushed from the room, banging the door so hard behind her that the window in the front office rattled.
Too upset to eat lunch she wandered the streets and then, still overcome by her feelings, went into the park. It was crowded with lunch-time workers eager for sight of the sun, and she wended her way between groups of chattering girls, huddles of men listening to the latest cricket scores, and loving couples sitting close and silent. Bitterly she remembered her Sunday stroll here with Zachary. How cleverly he had made her feel that his liking for her was genuine. He must have been delighted by the way she had succumbed to his charm. When would he have asked her about the shares? Had he been waiting to make sure she was totally besotted over him before doing so? Would he have asked to buy half of them or would he have confidently suggested buying them all? She would never know the answer to that question now.
Oh Zachary, she cried silently, how could you be so deceitful?
Her eyes filled with tears and she blinked her lids. He had been furious when she told him she knew the game he had been playing. The only decent thing he had done was not to try and lie his way out of it.
"Believe what you like," he had said, which she supposed was better than him having fabricated some story.
The only good thing was that she knew now that Zachary, unlike his cousin, had the interests of Farrell's at heart. In giving him control she could be certain he would never abuse his power or do anything to endanger the store. With him at the helm, it would remain a family concern and, when he retired, then his own son or daughter would take it over.
Would that be Marie's child? Despairingly Samantha turned away from the question. Zachary meant nothing to her. She must not think about him!
CHAPTER TWELVE
Samantha remembered Zachary telling her Farrell's had a grapevine system second to none when, entering the foyer of her apartment block, she saw Larry waiting for her.
"I hear you and Zachary had a fight this morning," he said, following her into the elevator.
"I had a fight with him," she corrected. "He considered it beneath his dignity to fight with me" She unlocked her front door and Larry came in and closed it behind her.
"I'm sorry you had to learn about him the hard way, Samantha. I wanted to warn you before, but I knew you wouldn't believe me. You'd have thought it was sour grapes."
She shrugged. "They say one only learns through one's own experience."
"At least he won't be able to fool you again."
"He won't have the chance. I'm pulling out."
"Thank heavens you've seen sense! I know you disliked acting as a buffer between Zack and myself, and now at least you've got a chance to get your own back on him."
"How?"
"By selling to my buyer, of course."
"I have already said no to that!" She did not attempt to hide her anger. "I may be disgusted with the way Zachary has behaved, but I still can't go against Uncle John's wishes."
"Don't be a fool!"
"I'd rather be a fool than—" She caught herself up, realizing the futility of repeating how she felt. But one thing she had to say—and the quicker she did it, the better. "Since Farrell's means so little to you, I'm letting Zachary have all my shares. At least then—"
"You're what?" Larry's face contorted with fury. "That's exactly what he's been angling for. Don't you care that you're playing right into his hands?"
"Of course I care. But I can't do anything else."
"You could pay him back for the runaround he's given you. Don't you mind being played for a sucker? He had no compunction ditching Marie for a few weeks in order to try and make you fall in love with him and give him what he wanted. What do you think he would have done once he'd got his hands on your shares?" Larry flung his arms wide. "If you want the truth, Samantha, I'll give it to you. Marie was in league with him. That's why she went to the States. She had no real reason to go. That play of her father's was only an excuse. She'd never have left Zack alone with you if he hadn't asked her to do so."
"It makes no difference to the way I behave," Samantha said stoically.
"Then I give up! If you're so crazy about him that you don't mind him laughing at you…" Larry strode to the door. "If you have any pride whatever you'll come in with me and show Zachary there are some things he can't control. Show a bit of spunk, Samantha."
"I'm thinking of Uncle John, not of myself."
Samantha put her hands to her temples. Larry opened his mouth then clamped it shut, the movement signifying that he knew when he had lost.
"Good-by," he said curtly, and slammed the door behind him.
She knew that what Larry had said was right, yet she could not do as he wanted. Much as she wished to hurt Zachary, she could not go against Uncle John's wishes.
Knowing she would have no peace of mind until she had resolved the situation and could return to Ireland, she decided to go back to the store and tell Zachary he must buy her shares immediately. Without bothering to make herself tidy, she ran down to the street and hailed a taxi.
The gleaming facade of Farrell's loomed into sight some ten minutes later and she was about to tell the driver to take her round to the staff door when she stopped herself. There was no need for that; this phase in her life was ending.
The taxi stopped outside the main entrance and she jumped out. As she did so the commissionaire nodded to the driver to remain where he was. He was holding several large dress boxes and a young messenger boy was behind him, carrying four more.
Someone had been on a shopping spree, Samantha thought and moved toward the entrance. Then hastily she turned her back as she saw Marie coming out heading toward the taxi. So Zachary was going to foot that bill! Even for someone who was notoriously extravagant, the French girl had excelled herself this afternoon. Samantha's anger toward Zachary was exacerbated by this knowledge. It was not envy, she assured herself. It was misery at knowing he cared enough for Marie to pander to her desires.
Trying to forget the episode she went up to the top floor. Pushing open the door of Mrs. Fielding's office she forced a smile to her face as she said she wanted to see Mr. Farrell.
"He won't be able to give you more than a moment," the woman demurred. "He's on his way out. I am not sure he—"
She stopped as the inner door opened and Zachary came through it, halting abruptly as he saw Samantha.
Moistening lips which were unexpectedly dry, Samantha had to swallow hard before she could find her voice. "I want to—to talk to you, Zachary. It won't take a moment."
He stepped back and waited for her to precede him into his office before he closed the door. She stared at him coldly and he stared back at her. His crescent-shaped brows met above his eyes, casting a shadow over them which made their expression inscrutable. But his mouth was set in an uncompromising line.
"From the look on your face," he said, "I don't think you have come here to apologize to me."
"I don't owe you an apology."
A spasm—which could have been anger or irritation—passed swiftly over his face. "Then why have you come here?"
"To tell you that I want to leave for Ireland as soon as possible and that you must buy my shares at once."
"Are you sure?"
"Sure?" she echoed, not sure what he meant.
"Sure that you do want to sell," he said. "Don't do anything in a temper, Samantha. By tomorrow you may regret your decision. Sleep on it and—"
"I don't need to sleep on it. I'm fed up with the whole business and I want to go home. You can have the control you want, and I hope you'll be very happy with it."
"I'm sure I shall be," he murmured. "Although you obviously hate me, I'm glad you are doing the right thing."
"I don't hate you. I despise you."
"The sharp tongue has come back again, I see."
"Not for long," she retorted. "When I'm in Ireland you won't be hearing it."
"You can't leave until you have signed various documents that my lawyer must draw up."
"Can't they be mailed to me?"
"No. I will also have to make arrangements for the money."
"What money?"
A fleeting expression crossed his face, though his voice remained toneless. "The money for your shares."
With a quick intake of breath she went to the door, then with her hand on the knob, looked at him over her shoulder. "I don't want any money for the shares. Not a penny."
"Then I won't take them."
"I'm giving them to you."
"I'm refusing them." His face was hard. "Since you have made it so clear that you despise me, you can't expect me to accept your charity. You will either let me pay you for the shares or you can keep them."
She thought quickly, then said in a small voice, "Not treble the value, though. The market prices only."
"Very well."
She frowned unhappily. "It will still be an enormous amount of money."
&nb
sp; "I hope you will spend some of it at Farrell's." He gave a measured look at her crumpled cotton dress. "We have an excellent dress department here from which I am sure you could benefit."
"If there are any dresses left in it after your girl friend has finished shopping!"
One side of his mouth lifted in a half smile. "Be careful what you say, Samantha, or I might think you're jealous."
"Never of you!" She closed the door behind her and walked blindly to the elevator.
The next few days were the longest and most miserable she could remember spending. Peter came around for drinks one evening but only to tell her he was flying out to New Zealand to see Jackie.
"I miss her," he confessed, "and if the only way I can get her back is to marry her, then that's what I'll do."
"I wouldn't propose to her in those terms," Samantha warned. "If Jackie had wanted to snare you, she needn't have gone to New Zealand to do it."
He knew instantly what she meant and gave a half smile. "As a matter of fact I want to marry that madcap friend of yours. I can't even rustle up enough interest in another girl to take one out. Coming from me, that's some admission."
"How long are you going for?" she asked.
"A month. I'm hoping we'll make it our honeymoon. You can give us our wedding present on our return!"
"I will have to send it to you from Ireland. I'm going back home."
"And this place?"
Her eyes widened. "Of course. What a fool I am for not thinking of it myself. I'd be delighted for you to take it over."
"Done." He gave her a curious look. "How come you are returning to the land of peat and bog? I thought you were having a ball here."
"The ball is over."
Peter was astute enough to sense her reluctance to say more, and he finished his drink and made his farewells.
By Monday, Samantha was ready to leave London. She longed to disregard Zachary's instructions and only because she didn't want him to know she was running away from him, did she heed them.
Roberta Leigh - Love in Store Page 15
