by Helen Conrad
She raced around the house, putting bedrooms in order for the two children, dusting the furniture, making sure the house was presentable.
Rick went out for an hour. He came back carrying books and a heavy briefcase. On his way in, he stopped by the kitchen, where Terry was making up inventory lists.
“Got anything you want me to do?” he asked, and it seemed to her that he really meant it. “Any heavy stuff to be lifted or tall ladders to climb?”
She gave him a skeptical look, wondering what his angle might be. Was it just her, or was he being a little too nice to the help? She wasn’t used to getting this sort of consideration from the men she worked with.
She hesitated for a moment, tempted. There were some heavy logs that needed to come in for the fireplaces. She would have loved to ask for his help there. But she quickly stifled the impulse, knowing that his offer was just another sign that he really didn't think she could do this job. Nope, she had to do things on her own. That was the only way she would ever be able to prove herself.
“No thanks,” she said, keeping her eyes on her lists. “I can manage.”
He disappeared into the den. She saw him going over papers when she peeked in. It seemed that Rick Carrington wasn't quite the playboy she'd pictured him to be. He was actually turning out to be something of a workaholic.
He glanced up and nodded, as though he was thinking about something else and hardly recognized her. And that, she thought to herself as she went on down the hall, was probably a good thing.
She slipped out shortly after lunch and drove down into the shopping district. Destiny Bay was a typical California beach town, with its little pastel houses, a fully operational marina, beachfront shops, a downtown section with two department stores and several wealthy enclaves.
Terry had spent most of the summers of her teenaged years here, when her father was working for the elder Carrington and the place hadn’t changed much. She smiled as she recognized stores from the old days, and especially as she passed by Mickey’s on the Bay, a simple seaside café that was run by a second cousin of hers. She didn’t have time to stop in now, but she made a note to do so soon. She hadn’t seen her in years, but Mickey had always been one of her favorite relatives.
She found a quick-print shop easily and had business cards made. “Terry Yardley, Professional Butler, White Glove Service Guaranteed” , with her cell phone number. She smiled, looking them over. That ought to do it.
She raced back to the Carrington estate and began hunting down her boss. The car was still in the driveway, but she couldn’t find him anywhere. That was odd. She went upstairs and looked out from the music room, a round space that was all windows and looked out over the entire estate. There was someone outlined in black against the blue sky, standing on the cliffs that jutted out over the surf below.
Something about the way he was standing there, slightly leaning out, as though against the wind, made her heart skip a beat. He wouldn’t jump, would he?
She bit her lower lip. What a dumb thing to think. The man had it all——money and a place in society that pretty much let him do whatever he wanted to do. That was the way it looked from here at any rate.
“Don’t be silly,” she muttered to herself.
And yet—a memory of the way his eyes had glazed over with sadness swam back into her mind. There was something putting a damper on his happiness. That must have been what had given her the idea he might be contemplating a leap into the sea.
“Fat chance,” she muttered as she began to make her way down the stairs. And just to prove it, she decided to go out onto the cliffs herself and see if he needed anything. Just to be safe.
“Hey there,” she called as she came within hailing distance. “I’ve got something for you.”
He spun and stared at her, almost as though she’d awakened him from a dream. “No kidding,” he said, but he looked puzzled, as though he wasn’t sure why she had come out such a way from the house and wished she hadn’t. Now she really felt foolish, because all she’d brought him was the card she’d had printed up.
Then he shook his head, shaking the mood away, and smiled at her. “You came back. I thought you’d gone.”
“Gone? Why would I go?”
He shrugged. “I saw you drive off. I thought maybe you’d had second thoughts about this whole butler thing.”
“Au contraire,” she told him with a flip look. “In fact, I went to get these made. Look.” She handed one to him.
He stared at the card for a moment, then looked at her and laughed. “So that makes it official, does it? Now that you have cards.”
“Exactly.” Her smile was definitely impertinent and she meant it to be. “And who are you to say otherwise?”
He shook his head, bemused. “I wish all careers were that easy to establish,” he said. “Just print up a card and off you go.”
“Why not?”
His gaze met hers and he frowned, searching her eyes. “Why not?” he whispered. “Why the hell not?”
There was something in his intensity that disturbed her. She knew she ought to head back toward the house. But she couldn’t go yet. She couldn’t just leave him here.
“So what are you doing out here on the cliff?” she asked.
That was not a question a servant ought to ask and he was obviously not going to give her a real answer.
“Thinking,” he said, as though that covered all bases. He gazed out over the sea with a distant look, seeing things he wasn’t going to explain. “Just thinking.” He shaded his eyes, looking further.
“You know what I used to do when I was a kid and I got upset?” he said softly, almost to himself. “When troubles got too heavy? When I didn’t think I could cope?” He snapped his fingers in the wind. “I used to grab a board and go surfing at the point.”
He turned and looked at her, his eyes bright with sudden anticipation. “In fact, I think I’ll do that right now,” he said.
“What? But…aren’t your kids going to arrive soon?”
“I’ll be back long before that.” He gave her a grin and started off. “Surfing! Why didn’t I think of that before?” he called back. He flashed her business card at her. “Now that I’ve got a professional butler taking care of things, I’m free as a bird.” And he laughed as he began to sprint toward the garage where she assumed his surfboard was stored.
She followed more slowly, and by the time she got back to the house, his car was gone.
He was back two hours later. When he came in, he found her arranging flowers for the entryway table. He started to walk by, then hesitated and turned back.
“Has anyone tried to sneak a naked girl in here yet?” he asked hopefully.
She turned to look at him. His hair had been wet and was drying unevenly, spiking out around his head in a way that made her want to laugh. His face reminded her of a little boy wondering when his party was going to start. She bit back a smile, but it took effort.
“No,” she said. “Sorry to disappoint you, sir.”
“Too bad.” He shook his head sadly. “Oh well, last year with the naked centerfold was probably a high point.” His sigh was heartrending. “It was just a little too good to be true, wasn’t it?”
She told herself not to respond, but she just couldn’t hold it back. “That’s a matter of taste, I would say,” she murmured, then frowned as though completely concentrated on arranging flowers.
“Taste. Ah yes.” He grinned. “This year Johnny will probably spell out 'Happy Birthday' on the front lawn with flattened hedgehogs or something equally repulsive.” He grimaced. “It hasn't been a good year all around.”
She nodded, trying not to smile. “How were the waves?” she asked.
“Not so good,” he answered. “But it felt great to get in the water and paddle around. And I ran into my cousin Tag at the marina, who I hadn’t seen in a long time. So all in all, it was a success.” He stretched. “It had really been too long. I just hope I get some more opportunities
after the kids get here.”
The kids. The children. They were both on tenterhooks waiting for the big arrival.
He went back into the den and she heard papers rustling. She wondered what it was he actually did. She knew his family owned numerous business concerns and were on the boards of many others. Whatever it was, Rick had plenty of work to do.
But Terry didn't have any more time to think about that. She raced around for the next two hours, putting everything into proper order. When the time came for the children to arrive, she was ready to crawl into bed and sleep the night away.
“You've changed your clothes,” Rick remarked as he watched her emerge from the kitchen side of the house a while later.
“My gosh, you're right,” she said sarcastically without thinking. She bit her lip. One couldn't talk that way to the master of the house!
“What I meant to say,” she hurriedly added, “was-- of course, sir. I felt it was appropriate to put on more formal attire for the arrival of the children.”
She wasn't about to put on tails, but she had brought along a supply of navy-blue skirts and white blouses to wear on the job. She'd agonized over what to wear. Should she wear pants and tie and try to be as much like a man as possible? She'd decided against that. Who really wanted to see a woman dressed like a man? No, she would dress with feminine dignity. At least, she would try.
But Rick didn't seem to approve. He shook his head.
“You've changed your tone too. I like you better the way I found you in my closet this morning.” He frowned, his gaze skimming across her face and down toward the opening of her crisp shirt. “Can't we forget about this butler business for a while?”
She looked into his eyes and remembered, suddenly, why she'd been avoiding his gaze. There was too much in those eyes. She got the impression he could see things in her she didn’t want seen, and that he found them infinitely amusing. But it didn’t annoy her at all. Instead, she found it tugged at her, tried to pull her closer. And she didn’t want that.
“I think I hear the car,” she said unevenly, dragging her gaze from his. She was going to have to remember a new rule—never look into the eyes of a man you don't want to fall in love with.
Her hand flew to her mouth. Had she really thought those words? What was the matter with her? She was letting the excitement of this first day on the job get to her.
“You okay?” he asked, right behind her.
She nodded. Outside, a car door slammed. She went to the massive front door and flung it open.
A long black limousine was parked at the end of the front walk. The middle-aged chauffeur was opening the car door for the two occupants.
The girl slid out first. Terry knew she was twelve, but she looked at least three years older than that, and more like a model for a slick magazine than a little girl. Her blond hair was cut in a modern wedge style, the top layer falling over the shorter hair at the sides. Long silver earrings swung from her ears, and she was dressed in a fashionable black and white suit.
Terry couldn't help but remember how she'd dressed at that age. No one could pry her out of blue jeans and T-shirts.
“This is Erica,” her father said, introducing Terry to her. “And this is Jeremy.”
Jeremy looked like the five-year-old boy he was. He was dressed in a little blue suit, but he carried a huge stuffed koala bear held tightly in his arms. With his wide brown eyes and button nose, he looked a bit like a koala himself.
The children seemed to take her in stride. They barely wasted a nod on her. They were looking at their father warily, as though unsure of what to expect from him.
Terry had a sudden picture of her own homecoming after camp one year, how she'd flung herself into her father's arms and they'd laughed together.
This little rendezvous was sadly different. She turned toward the car, wanting to leave the family alone to greet one another.
Charles, the chauffeur, was taking her presence a little harder than the children had.
“Who the hell are you?” he whispered as she bent to pick up one of the bags he was taking out of the trunk.
“Terry Yardley,” she said primly, feeling like Mary Poppins. “The new butler.”
His face was hostile. “I've never heard of a woman butler before,” he growled. “The others aren't going to like this.”
“The others don't have to like it,” she said calmly. “But it's the way things are.” Her smile was as sweet as she could make it, but he didn't respond. “I'll take the children's bags up for them.”
She was surprised to find the children sitting stiffly in the living room like guests, while Rick stood in front of the fireplace looking strained. When Terry walked into the room he looked up with something very close to relief in his eyes.
“Here she is,” he said heartily, as though they'd been waiting for her for a very long time.
She looked at each of the Carringtons, smiling uncertainly, wondering what was expected of her. She was only the butler, after all. What was Rick asking for, social directing?
They were all gazing at her expectantly, and she supposed she ought to say something, if only she knew what. She glanced at Rick and he smiled encouragingly. She looked back at the children.
“Wouldn't you two like to go up to your rooms and change into other clothes to play in?” she asked, at a loss.
“No, thank you,” Erica said coolly, crossing her nylon-covered legs. “We're just fine.”
Suddenly Terry understood why Rick looked as though he needed rescuing. Was this child twelve or twenty?
“Well then, would you like to come with me to the kitchen?” she asked almost desperately. “I might be able to rustle up some lemonade or a soda.”
Erica's glance was as cool as her voice. “We wouldn't want to spoil our appetite for dinner,” she reminded Terry.
Terry barely managed to keep from gaping at that. But the girl had brought up a point that would have to be considered: dinner. There was no cook tonight. Where was dinner going to come from? Terry glanced at Rick and saw the same thought forming in his mind.
“Tell you what,” he said quickly. “I'll fix us all something to eat while you entertain the kids.”
“You'll cook?” Somehow she couldn't imagine the playboy in the kitchen.
“Of course.” He gave her a look of mock offense. “I can cook up a mean pan of spaghetti sauce, believe it or not.”
He was already heading for the doorway.
“I was considered the best chef in my fraternity at college,” he told them over his shoulder. “Without my culinary skills, twenty-two young men would probably have ended their college careers with rickets and scurvy.”
He raised his eyebrows as he looked at them.
“Of course that was quite a few years ago. But I'm convinced cooking is something you never forget, like riding a bicycle.”
He frowned.
“Now let's see, the water's boiling when those little bubbles start swimming to the surface, right?”
She laughed without even thinking, then quickly stifled it, remembering her place.
He grinned at her, gave her a wink, and disappeared in the direction of the kitchen. She looked at the children and found them squirming uncomfortably.
“Silly, isn't he?” Erica blurted out, then colored and glanced sidelong at Terry.
Jeremy said nothing; his eyes were big and curious.
Terry forced herself to block out any judgmental reactions to the children. It wasn't her place, she told herself. Though she did seem to find herself situated in the position of baby-sitter.
She'd never expected to be assigned this role, but here she was. After all, as her father always said, her main job was to keep the household running smoothly. If this was what Rick needed, this was what she would do.
“Well, Erica,” Terry said with a sigh, sinking down on a chair opposite the girl, “do you come out to Mar Vista often?”
“Not really. But we’re starting to, I guess.” The gi
rl looked at her primly. “We’re supposed to come every other weekend during school. But in the summer, they say we’ll be here more.”
“Haven't you... haven't you ever lived with your father full-time?” She was treading on dangerous ground here. But if Rick had left her to deal with the kids, she had to get some handle on what she was dealing with.
“Not since I was nine,” Erica answered. “Jeremy was just a baby. My mother left my father then. She took us to Louisiana to live with our grandparents there. I hardly ever saw him until last year, when my mother died.”
Her voice was as dispassionate as if she were reciting a train schedule. Terry frowned, wishing she could get the girl to melt through the icy protection she'd erected around herself. Somewhere inside there had to be at least a bit of the natural warmth her father had in such abundance.
“Did you ever go to my father's house?” Jeremy asked all of a sudden.
Terry smiled at the little boy. “I'm afraid not,” she said. “Is it much like this one?”
“Oh no,” he said, dark eyes wide and earnest. “It's very wild there. Like in cowboy days.”
Erica groaned with exasperation. “She doesn't care about that.”
“But I do,” Terry protested. “Tell me about it.”
“We only went there a few times,” the little boy told her obligingly. “We hated it.” Jeremy lapsed back into silence, still clutching his koala bear to his chest.
“It was rough and there were no servants,” Erica explained patronizingly. “We decided to come here for our visits instead.”
Terry looked at each child. “Where is your father's house?”
Jeremy didn't look up from his bear, but Erica answered. “He has a ranch out in the Santa Ynez Valley. He breeds horses or something.” She shrugged her disinterest.
The Santa Ynez Valley was only a little over an hour's drive away. And these children didn't want to spend time there, on a ranch, with horses? Had childhood changed so much since she'd been young?
She had to put a hand to her mouth and force herself to slow down, take it easy. This wasn't her problem, these weren't her children. She had no business interfering.
