An Act of Love

by Brooke Hastings

  "You actually lost your temper?" Randy was awestruck. "But you're always so… calm. When Linda left Brett for her tennis instructor you never said a word. I assumed…" She lifted her shoulders, momentarily speechless.

  "You assumed wrong. I don't approve of Linda's private life, you know that, but there's a caring, outgoing side to her that anyone would have to admire. I won't sit there and listen to someone who doesn't even know her condemn her out of hand." Bill shook his head, looking a little rueful. "I overreacted, I suppose, but it could have been worse. He could have been complaining about you."

  "I'm glad he wasn't." Randy had never attempted to correct her father's rather unrealistic view of her; Linda's mistakes had caused him more than enough parental guilt without adding her own to the load. "Listen, Dad," she said, "you tried your best with Lin. No daughter could ask for more wonderful parents than you and Mom, but there's something wild in her, something almost self-destructive at times. She's got all that energy, all that restlessness. There's nothing anyone can do about it—except Lin herself."

  "Sure, I know that." Bill slowly sipped his wine. "Rationally I know that. Most of all I'm probably annoyed with myself for losing my temper over the whole thing. I didn't go to all the trouble to lure Luke Griffin away from Stockman's in California just to have him resign in a rage over some pointless argument that I should have had the tact to avoid."

  Randy was intrigued by the statement. Her father preferred to promote from within his organization and rarely resorted to luring executives away from his competitors. He was astute enough in recruiting talent and wise enough in developing it that he seldom needed to go on a corporate raid.

  She was forced to contain her curiosity because the waiter was approaching with their first course. Although her father seemed to have little interest in the scallops in wine sauce that were placed on the table in front of him, Randy laid siege to her shrimp. She only succumbed to the urge to question him further when half the plate was clean.

  "Aren't you going to tell me more about this paragon of yours?" she asked. "Did you really swipe him away from Stockman's? And is Grandpa thinking of retiring as chairman so you can move up? Because Pat claims he's going to steal the presidency out from under my nose."

  Bill Dunne cocked an eyebrow at his daughter, his attention caught by her last statement. "What happened to spending the rest of your life in California? I thought trying to recruit you for C & D was a lost cause."

  But Randy was not to be sidetracked. "First you tell me about Luke Griffin, and then I'll tell you what I've decided."

  Her father leaned back in his chair, a teasing smile on his face. "As a matter of fact, I had him in mind for you. Intelligent, handsome, charming—and single. While you're in New York, why not go out to dinner with him? He's…"

  "Hold it right there," Randy ordered, waving her hand back and forth in protest. "No matchmaking. Just because you married the boss' daughter and took over the company doesn't mean you have to marry me off to some hotshot vice president who wants to do the same thing."

  "And how is your social life these days, Miranda?" her father asked. "Still keeping them all at arm's length?"

  The gentle gibe found its target, but not for the reasons that Bill Dunne thought it would. Having grown up with the example of a promiscuous older sister, Randy had consciously set out to avoid the mistakes that Linda had made. For the first twenty-three years of her life she'd succeeded, but then she'd met a fellow actor named Sean Raley who'd made her forget every sensible resolution she'd ever made. As a result of their love affair Randy was considerably less naive and self-righteous than she used to be.

  "Would it be the worst thing in the world if I never married?" she asked her father. "Men today don't seem to want to take the time to develop a relationship before they jump all over you. And very few of them are interested in making a commitment."

  "If I made that kind of blanket statement about women your feminist sensibilities would be outraged," Bill replied. "Men aren't all the same. Why don't you go out with Luke? I promise you he won't jump all over you."

  "I thought you were furious with him, that he was threatening to resign."

  "So we'll both apologize and that will be the end of it. I've told him about you, honey. He's looking forward to meeting you."

  Randy was not particularly tempestuous; on the contrary, she was unusually good-natured and accommodating. But her father had pushed too hard on the sorest of spots. She wasn't interested in Luke Griffin or anyone else right now.

  "One more word about Mr. Griffin and you can find yourself another daughter—or heiress apparent," she said firmly. "Here I've finally decided that I'd like to learn enough about the business to make a decision about the future, and all you want to do is marry me off to some ambitious vice president who'd probably sell his soul to get his hands on C & D. Of course he'd like to meet me! But I don't intend to be the docile little woman behind some insufferably arrogant man." She frowned at her plate, then stabbed a hapless shrimp with her fork.

  It irked her no end when her father merely chortled. "I told you, Luke is very charming—most of the time. Once you meet him you won't stand a chance. So when will you start work? Tomorrow?"

  "I'm going to Cambridge tomorrow to see Linda," Randy informed him, "and then up to New Hampshire for a while. After that I'll have to straighten out a few things in Los Angeles before I can come back to New York and start work."

  Bill lit his pipe, took several puffs and pushed aside his plate. "I'm tempted to ask you if you want a theatre date tonight, but I have the feeling that if I did, the rest of your shrimp would wind up on my head." He winked at her, smiling broadly.

  "You're being charming," Randy accused, smiling in spite of herself. "I'm certainly not going to argue with you when I've been looking forward to seeing you and Mom for months. Why don't you tell me your plans for me—besides marrying me off, that is."

  Over the rest of lunch Bill did exactly that. Randy listened with growing enthusiasm as he described the company's executive training program, which would begin in September. She even managed to hold on to her temper when he announced that she would spend the summer itself as the executive assistant of his favorite vice president, Luke Griffin. It was obvious that she could learn a lot from the man and she was perfectly willing to do so, just as long as the course of study was confined to retailing.

  After lunch Randy toyed with the idea of spending the rest of the afternoon shopping at C & D for clothes befitting an executive trainee, but the combination of jet lag and French wine had made her so sleepy that she decided to hail a taxi to her parents' apartment instead. She walked in to find a note from her mother, Emily, an interior decorator, saying that she was shopping with a client and would be home at dinnertime.

  Randy curled up on the canopy bed in the bedroom she had occupied while growing up and fell asleep almost immediately, thinking that her parents had left the room exactly as it had been two years before, when she left for California. Her tastes had become more sophisticated over the years and she would certainly want something other than pink and white ruffles if she stayed in New York permanently. It never occurred to her not to live at home; it was better than spending her salary on some tiny apartment far from the store. As for privacy, thanks to Sean Raley she felt no particular need for it.

  Emily and Bill arrived home together, bringing Italian food and a bottle of chianti from Randy's favorite neighborhood hangout. They ate in the dining room, the cardboard pizza box looking incongruous in the company of the Dunnes' inlaid hardwood table and French crystal wine glasses. When the subject of Randy's trip to New Hampshire came up, Bill began a worried catechism.

  "You're sure you'll be all right up there?" he asked.

  Randy assured him that she would, only to have him continue, "It sounds pretty primitive—no phone, no indoor plumbing. You need to rest and gain some weight, not rough it in the woods. I think you should call us…"

  "Good grief, Bill,"
Emily groaned, "stop treating her like a baby. When she was in California we didn't hear from her for weeks at a time and you didn't carry on this way." She looked at Randy. "You go up there and have yourself a great time, honey. Heaven knows you're going to need to be relaxed when you come to work at the store. We'll be gearing up for fall."

  Randy shot her mother a grateful look, saying, "I thought I'd spend a day or two with Linda before I join Sarah and her sister in New Hampshire."

  "I know she'd love to see you. She's just settling into the house she bought, although knowing Lin," Emily laughed, "she's probably reacquainted herself with all her old Cambridge pals by now. She stayed with us for a few days on her way up from Texas. Did Dad tell you?"

  Randy glanced at her father, who had taken a sudden interest in his pizza. It seemed he had chosen not to acquaint Emily with Linda's recent activities, so Randy assumed that a change of subject was definitely called for. She accomplished this so skillfully that her parents never realized that she was purposely steering the conversation away from Linda and onto her most recent acting job.

  She took great delight in convincing her father that she'd played a bedroom scene in the nude, but his shock gave way to chagrin as soon as she admitted she was only teasing. Her mother promptly announced that the stage would lose a superb actress if Randy decided to go to work for C & D.

  Randy's body was still on California time, and she had difficulty both in falling asleep that night and getting up the next morning. She managed to stay awake long enough to have breakfast with her parents and kiss them goodbye, then went back to sleep for another two hours before getting up for good.

  Her first thought was to contact Linda and let her know she'd be spending the night. Lin had no phone yet; she'd left the number of the downstairs tenant in case the Dunnes wanted to reach her. Randy called, accepting the woman's offer to leave a note on Linda's door saying that Randy would arrive about three. Randy only hoped that Linda would see the message and remember to be in the apartment to let her in. If her sister were running true to form she probably spent very little time at home.

  The New Hampshire woods didn't require an extensive wardrobe, so Randy packed only a few pairs of jeans and tee shirts, a nightgown and swimsuit, and some toiletries into her small canvas travel bag. She also borrowed an old ski jacket from her mother's closet in case the weather turned chilly. The trip through Connecticut and Massachusetts wasn't especially scenic or enjoyable, but the radio made the time pass quickly enough. Unfortunately, about halfway to Cambridge the air conditioning on her father's Lincoln turned recalcitrant. The air became less and less cool until it became more comfortable to shut off the system and open the windows. Rather than stop at a service station along the way and risk a possible fleecing, Randy decided to endure the heat and humidity and wait until she arrived in Cambridge to have the car checked out.

  She had no problem following her parents' directions to Linda's house, and at two forty-five pulled up to a fairly new two-family house with brown siding and white shutters. She spent the next twenty minutes looking for a parking space because the small driveway belonging to the house was illegally blocked by a beaten-up van. Then a car pulled out around the corner and Randy quickly edged into the space.

  The outer door to the building was unlocked so she went inside. There was a door at the rear of the downstairs hall that opened into the tenant's apartment, while a flight of steps to the left led up to Linda's half of the house.

  Randy was two steps from the top of the stairs when she heard the outer door open and then slam shut behind her. She turned just as a breathless Linda came charging up behind her.

  "I'm so glad you just got here. I got Mrs. Siskin's note but I had to go run an errand," her sister explained, giving her a hug. "And then I got stuck in the most miserable traffic along the river and now some jerk is blocking my driveway." She fished out her key and opened the door.

  The apartment was in total chaos. Wallpaper had been partially removed from four of the five rooms. The only furnishings were a bridge table and two chairs in the dinette and a pair of twin-sized mattresses and box springs in one bedroom. A black and white television set sat on the kitchen counter and cartons were stacked up everywhere. Linda, never terribly interested in housekeeping, had left dirty laundry scattered all over the bathroom floor.

  After a quick inspection Randy asked weakly, "What happened to your furniture from Dallas?"

  "It reminded me of Brett." Linda wrinkled her nose as she uttered her ex-husband's name. Brett Franck was an oil millionaire twice Linda's age. He had held his beautiful young wife's interest for even less time than her first husband, a Harvard instructor whom she'd married at twenty-one and divorced four years later.

  "Besides," Linda went on, "it's been fun shopping for new things. I've had a great time since I got here last week—all I've done is buy, besides seeing my friends, that is. It's terrific to see you again, Randy. I'm glad we'll be spending some time together, even in this." Her hand circled the living room where they stood.

  It was obvious to Randy that Linda assumed she'd be staying for more than a day or two. "I'm only staying till tomorrow—or Thursday at the latest," she said.

  Linda looked totally deflated. "Only two nights? But we haven't seen each other since Christmas, and we barely had a chance to talk then. I thought you would stay a few weeks. We've grown so far apart since I married Brett and you went to California—I thought we could catch up."

  Linda seemed so genuinely upset that Randy felt terribly guilty. "I'll come back later in the summer," she promised. "I'm going to move back to New York for at least a few months and try working for C & D. But I made plans to go up to New Hampshire with a friend from college and her sister—their family has a cabin up there."

  For the first time since Randy's arrival Linda really looked at her sister, and what she saw distressed her. "I thought you loved acting," she said. "How come you're thinking of giving it up?"

  Randy shrugged. "It isn't as much fun as I thought it would be."

  "Really?" Linda studied Randy for an additional five seconds. "You've lost a lot of weight."

  Randy started to explain about the movie role she'd been dieting for, but her voice trailed off as Linda's dubious look deepened into disbelief. "It's a long story," she finally said, her voice slightly husky.

  Linda put a comforting arm around Randy's shoulders. "It always is, with men," she murmured. "You can tell me about it over dinner, but right now I need to go to the supermarket. Keep me company?"

  Randy agreed, wondering how her sister had immediately guessed the real reason for the absent twenty-five pounds when the rest of her family had so easily swallowed her story about the movie role. Experience, she supposed, and the fact that up until two years ago the two sisters had been unusually close.

  Although Linda was four years older than Randy, she'd almost never complained when Randy tried on her makeup or barged in on her and her friends or borrowed her clothing. Every crush and dream and hope had been confided in her older sister, even though the reverse was certainly not true. As for their recent estrangement, it was Randy's doing, not Linda's.

  As they shopped for groceries, Randy was reminded of just how much fun her sister could be. Linda entertained her with stories of Dallas society, mimicking the southern belles and Texas oilmen almost as perfectly as Randy might have. By the time they got home and Randy started cooking dinner she was in a much better mood and no longer anxious to run up to New Hampshire.

  Linda was still on the subject of her marriage when they sat down to eat. "I really thought I was in love with Brett," she explained as she helped herself to a piece of fish, "and I admit he spoiled me rotten when it came to material things. But after six months the marriage was a disaster. His children hated me. I was bored and restless—he wouldn't hear of me taking a job—so I filled my days with charity work and tennis. Everyone was twice my age, except for the tennis pro." She made a helpless little gesture with her righ
t hand. "After the first few months Brett and I might as well have had separate bedrooms, Randy. The tennis pro— Andy—kept chasing me, and eventually I let him catch me. He even proposed, but at least I had the sense not to plunge into another marriage. I came back to Cambridge because I was happier here than anywhere else, even though my marriage to Jerry didn't work out."

  "What are you going to do up here?" Randy asked.

  "I've thought about putting my fine arts degree to use by opening a gallery or antique shop." Linda was only pushing her fish around now, a wistful look on her face. "What I'd like most of all is to be a buyer for C & D, traveling around the way Grandma and Grandpa do, looking for one-of-a-kind items for the boutique in the Manhattan store. But I know Dad would never give me the chance—not given his opinion of me."

  "You'd be surprised at his opinion of you," Randy told her sister. "He got into a huge argument with one of his executives over you."

  Linda laid down her fork, totally baffled, and Randy proceeded to explain what had happened between Bill Dunne and Luke Griffin. Lin was both surprised and pleased that her father had defended her so staunchly, murmuring when Randy finished the story, "Tom Havemeyer. I'll be darned. I didn't realize he was related to anyone at C & D—he told me he worked for one of our suppliers. The funny thing is, I never go out with married men. I don't need that kind of trouble. You have to sneak around, and all they want to do is tell you their troubles. But Tom begged me to meet him, and he was so sweet that I broke my rule and made an exception for him."

  "I think you'd better unmake it," Randy said. "That brother-in-law of his is liable to come up here and strangle you if you don't."