Randy didn't miss the calculating look in Linda's eyes. "I was supposed to see him again this weekend. I really am fond of him." She shrugged a trifle too dramatically. "But it looks like I'd better end it. I'll make you a deal. Randy. I'll try to talk some sense into Tom and send him back to his no-doubt loving wife if you'll stay with me for a week or two and keep me company." She flashed an engaging smile at her sister. "What do you say?"
"You were going to stop seeing him anyway, I could tell," Randy protested.
"And you were going to agree to stay here with me anyway, I could tell," Linda shot back.
Randy, knowing when she was beaten, admitted that Linda was right. "The truth is, I need someone to talk to," she said. "And not just anyone. You. But first of all, I owe you an apology, Lin. I was upset after your first divorce, because I really loved Jerry, but when you married Brett, I was… shocked, I suppose. I told myself you wanted his money, even though I know that's ridiculous. Neither of us will ever have to worry about where our next designer dress is coming from. Anyway, I've sort of cut you out of my life for the last few years and I'm sorry. I was very childish."
Linda found some paper cups in a half-unpacked box and took a bottle of wine out of the refrigerator. "Let's go sit in the bedroom," she said. As they walked across the living room, she added, "I understood what you felt. You needed to be on your own, away from the family, to grow up. You also needed to learn a little about life to stop judging me so harshly. But you got hurt along the way, didn't you?"
Randy nodded, suddenly unable to speak, and sprawled out on the bed.
Linda sat down beside her. "Randy?" she prompted softly.
She shook her head. "I just—I've never talked about it." She hadn't even told her apartment-mate, preferring to put up a false front of sophisticated acceptance.
A moment later Linda's arms were around her and she was sobbing on her sister's shoulder, choking out half-coherent phrases. "I was crazy about him—when he'd touch me—and then he went to Italy—and all the gossip—people kept telling me…"
It took a long time for Randy to control herself, and Linda patiently waited, murmuring gentle words of sympathy. Eventually, of course, the story came pouring out. Sean Raley was handsome and smooth and Randy had fallen like the proverbial ton of bricks. He'd left for Italy in the middle of their blazing love affair for a minor role in a film, but it wasn't very long before stories in the local tabloids appeared, speculating on his relationship with the daughter of his director.
"I guess it's an old story," Randy said in a flat tone of voice. "His letters came less and less often, and when people would ask about him I'd shrug and say that of course all men played around. But it was tearing me apart. He used to tell me he loved me. I thought he wanted to marry me, but obviously he didn't, because he married the director's daughter four months ago. She'll help his career a lot more than I ever could."
"I'd like to kill the man," Linda muttered.
"He's not worth it." Despite the bitter overtone, Randy knew it was the truth. Now that she was calmer she could face the most shattering part of the whole experience. "I don't think I really ever loved him, Lin. I was crazy about him, and wildly infatuated, but I never bothered to look beneath the surface and see the selfishness and egotism there. When I think about how bad my judgment was, about how stupid I was…" She paused. "Sean hurt me, but I hurt myself more. And I always prided myself on being so level-headed, and—and moral."
"Welcome to liberation," Linda drawled.
There was something about Linda's expression, so world-weary yet indomitable, that made Randy smile. "I suppose I'm over Sean," she said, "and I'm even getting my appetite back. For the first time in my life I don't have to worry about what I eat, so I guess I should thank him for that. But I don't have any interest in other men. Dad's trying to match me up with that insane vice president of his, Luke Griffin, and I almost wish I could tell him about Sean just so he'd drop the subject. But I can't."
"Knowing Dad, I agree. But you need to get back into circulation," Linda said. "Take it from a veteran, Randy, the best way to get over an unhappy love affair is with a new man. And you might even like Luke Griffin."
Randy straightened up, a little irritated. "Do you think I want to go out with someone who knows that ten thousand shares of Dunne Industries stock will be part of the package? Not to mention the presidency of the company? The man will probably ooze charm and try to convince me he's madly in love with me. And with my track record, I'll probably be stupid enough to believe him!"
"All men are liars and cheats," Linda said solemnly.
Randy quickly understood Linda's point; she flushed and looked into her lap. "Are you telling me they're not?" she asked.
"That's exactly what I'm telling you," Linda answered.
Chapter Two
Linda left the house at ten the next morning to go into Boston to look at oriental carpets for the living room. Randy decided to stay at home, telling Linda that she felt the need to do something more physical than shop, and teasing that one look at the kitchen suggested an outlet for her excess energy. It was the only room on which any progress had been made. The wallpaper had been stripped from the walls, new cabinets installed and vinyl flooring laid down, but the appliances needed cleaning and Linda's housewares were only half-unpacked. It was typical of Linda that she owned every culinary contrivance ever manufactured, even though her talents lay more in the direction of promoting dinner dates than cooking. Fortunately for her and Randy, Randy enjoyed cooking almost as much as she enjoyed eating.
Linda returned a few hours later, inspected the now-spotless kitchen, and insisted on buying Randy a thank-you present. In the end they dropped in on half a dozen local boutiques, buying an array of businesslike but feminine outfits that Randy only hoped would fit properly once she'd regained some weight.
After stopping at a phone booth so Randy could call her friend Sarah, who hadn't yet headed north, to beg off the New Hampshire vacation, the two sisters drove home. Randy tossed her shopping bags into the trunk of her father's Lincoln—she'd have no occasion to wear the clothing in Cambridge—and then drove the car to a service station a few blocks away. Not only did she arrange to have it repaired, a sweet smile and soft plea persuaded the owner to let her leave it in his parking lot until she was ready to go home. It would spare her the hassle of finding another parking space.
Over the next few days an assortment of ponytailed young men and strong young women arrived at the apartment to hang wallpaper, sand and stain the floors, and paint the ceilings and doors. Linda trusted these people far more than Randy would have, letting them in in the morning and telling them to lock up when they were finished. The two sisters spent their days browsing in bookstores and art galleries, shopping for furniture or clothing, or simply driving around the countryside, enjoying the early summer weather. Only when Linda went out to visit friends or dropped in on evening parties did Randy decline to accompany her. She explained that getting back into circulation wasn't her way of coping with disappointment, and Linda seemed to accept that.
Late Friday afternoon, however, Linda returned to the apartment and looked at Randy with a downright wicked gleam in her eye. She was carrying a hat box and opened it up with a flourish to reveal a brunette wig and several packages with cosmetics inside. Ignoring Randy's wary expression, she began to affix the wig to her sister's head, emitting a gleeful chortle when she was through.
"May I present… Her Royal Highness, Princess Elizabeth of Yugoslavia," she announced.
"They don't have princesses anymore, Lin," Randy pointed out.
"I know that. You're a deposed princess," Linda informed her.
"A deposed princess," Randy slowly repeated. "May I ask why?"
"Because the Communists are in power and your family was booted off the throne, of course. You grew up in Paris," Linda explained.
"In Paris. A deposed Yugoslavian princess," Randy said. "What am I doing here? And why with you?"
<
br /> "You're twenty years old and you're going to Harvard in the fall. You're with me because your Mama adores C & D and she's like this"—Linda held her thumb and index finger a quarter of an inch apart— "with Mom. I volunteered to look after you while you get settled in."
"And I'm most grateful for your help," Randy said, adopting a French accent colored with the slightly British lilt of cultured Europeans. Then she reverted to her usual speech, which was free of regional intonation. "Who's the joke on, Lin?"
"I'm going to a party with a bunch of people who think they're the social and intellectual elite of the world. I can't wait," Linda said with relish, "to produce you!"
Randy accepted the explanation, but not completely. "Would it be paranoid to think that you're also determined to drag me out with you?" she asked.
Linda smiled, but didn't attempt to deny it. "It will be the best thing for you," she said. "Will you do it?"
Randy fingered the long hair of her wig, then smiled back. "When could I ever resist getting up on a stage?" she asked.
It took her a good forty-five minutes with the makeup Linda had purchased before she looked like a twenty-year old brunette, but a last-minute check in the bathroom mirror still failed to satisfy her. She looked demure enough in Linda's long-sleeved, round-necked blue silk dress, but something was missing. "Jewelry," she finally told Linda. "Pearls, I think."
Twenty minutes of searching turned up a pearl necklace and earrings which Linda had packed at the bottom of a box of towels. When Randy put them on, Linda nodded her approval. "High class and innocent, but sexy," she said. "You're perfect."
The party was being held in the home of the president of a Boston electronics firm, given by the son of the house, who was a graduate student at M.I.T. The guests included a Big Ten football hero whose parents lived nearby, miscellaneous local media types, political staffers with an exaggerated sense of their personal power and young professors with inflated opinions of their intellectual powers.
Randy and Linda arrived at seven, just in time for the buffet supper, but Linda asked to speak with the host as soon as they stepped inside, explaining casually, "I'd like to introduce him to the princess."
The young woman who'd answered the door darted a startled look at Randy, who smiled regally and inclined her head a fraction. Then she hurried off. When their host appeared a minute later Linda pecked him on the cheek and made the introductions. He looked a little skeptical as his eyes flickered over Randy's body, but when she extended her hand as though he should feel honored to take it, he quickly shook hands and mumbled that he was very pleased to meet her.
"I do hope I'm not… crashing your party," Randy said, her smile both teasing and self-possessed. "You must believe me when I tell you how difficult it was to persuade Mama and Papa to allow me to attend school here. One hears that Cambridge is rather wild, but surely no more so than Paris, where I grew up."
Their host was thoroughly captivated. He offered Randy his arm, asking her permission to introduce her to the other guests. The next two hours provided more entertainment than she'd enjoyed in months as those present fell all over themselves to meet her, to say the right things and find out about her. In the manner of royalty everywhere, she put them at ease by encouraging them to talk about themselves, doing so with such skill that none of them realized that she was evading all their questions.
She had just excused herself to go outside for a breath of air when she was joined on the terrace by a rather handsome man whom she'd noticed staring at her earlier. "It is hot in there, isn't it?" he said, not in the least intimidated to be talking to a princess.
"Very hot," Randy murmured. "The breeze feels lovely."
"Would you care to take a walk with me?" he asked. "Our host's mother is an avid gardener. Some of her specimens are so perfect they hardly seem real."
"Then I must accept your kind invitation," Randy said with a formal smile. The man gestured to indicate the way, but didn't take her arm or speak to her.
The full moon provided just enough light to let them appreciate the beauty of the garden. Randy examined one of the roses with genuine pleasure, gracefully bending down to catch the scent. As she straightened, she was startled to feel the man's hand on the back of her neck.
She gave no sign of surprise, knowing that good breeding dictated that she simply withdraw, putting the man in his place. "Shall we return to the house?" she asked with just the right note of disapproval in her voice.
"Not yet," he said, laughing at her. He bent down to whisper something in her ear. It was in a foreign language and Randy didn't understand him.
"I beg your pardon?" she said coolly.
"I told you that I love you in Serbo-Croatian. Surely Mama and Papa"—he mimicked Randy's use of the terms—"must have told you that too, at some point?"
"I was born long after the war's end and was raised in Paris. I never learned my native tongue." Randy hoped that the explanation was convincing. "Perhaps I shall study it at Harvard."
"Nice try," the man said with a grin. "My name is Aaron Gregov and I teach Eastern European history at Harvard. Princess Elizabeth of Yugoslavia is old enough to be your mother. So who are you?"
Randy sighed and peeked up at him, her eyes full of laughter. "Oh, dear," she said in her normal unaccented English. "Are you going to blow my cover?"
"That depends on what my silence buys," he teased. "Tell me your name."
"Randy Dunne. Linda Franck is my older sister."
"You're a very good actress," Aaron told her. "If I weren't an expert you would probably have fooled me. Do you live in Cambridge?"
"California. I'm only visiting here." Randy sensed that Aaron was attracted to her and since she didn't want any involvement she added, "I'm going up to New Hampshire tomorrow, and then moving to New York. I've had a lot of fun tonight, though. Thanks for not spoiling things."
"I've been waiting to get you alone for the past two hours," Aaron said. "And as far as thanking me goes, there are more suitable ways than with words."
With a smile, Randy twined her arms around his neck and brushed her lips over his mouth. The kiss was something of an experiment for her, a way of finding out whether she could touch a man without instinctively recoiling. The answer turned out to be yes, and when Aaron deepened the kiss, turning a superficial caress into a possessive discovery of her mouth, she was surprised by how pleasurable it was. She supposed that Aaron was appealing to her without being too appealing; she could enjoy the kiss without worrying that she'd be tempted to go too far.
After several seconds she gently pulled away, saying she wanted to go inside, but Aaron didn't seem discouraged by her withdrawal. "Can I have your New York address and phone number before we leave?" he asked. "I'm down in the city every month or two and I'd like to take you to dinner." When Randy agreed he took her arm to escort her back to the house, well-pleased with himself.
Later, driving home, the two sisters laughingly discussed the evening. Randy told Linda what had happened in the garden, admitting, "I have to thank you twice, once for all the fun I had tonight, and the second time for helping me find out that Sean Raley didn't warp me for life."
"Are you going to see Aaron again?" Linda asked.
Randy shrugged. "I will if he calls. It's the least I owe him. Besides, I really did like him. I guess your theory about how to get over an unhappy love affair makes sense."
"Just don't overdo it," Linda quickly answered. "Too much of a good thing can be a mistake. Take it from me, I know."
On Saturday morning Linda drove out to western Massachusetts, to the inn where she'd arranged to meet Tom Havemeyer. Although Randy wondered why Linda was keeping the date at all, she told herself that her sister was far more knowledgeable about breaking off a love affair than she would ever be. In the meantime, she enjoyed being alone, especially at night. The twin mattresses and box springs were now attached to frames and a king-sized headboard, all of which had arrived on Friday, and although there was plenty of
room in the bed Linda was a restless sleeper whose tossing and turning had kept Randy up at night.
Randy spent a couple of hours on Saturday morning catching up on her sleep, and then, her energy restored, decided to tackle the house. Although the walls were papered and the floors refinished, the workers had left sawdust, strips of paper and other miscellaneous debris scattered everywhere. Since Randy was accustomed to daily dance and exercise classes she enjoyed the physical labor involved in sweeping and washing and polishing. She felt a real sense of accomplishment when she was finished, but had enough of a sense of humor to realize that if she wanted the place to stay as clean as she'd made it, she would have to hire her sister a housekeeper.
Linda returned on Monday morning, looked around at the spotless apartment and rewarded Randy with a huge hug. "This is fantastic," she said. "I was going to hire a cleaning service, but now I don't need to bother."
The phones had been installed earlier that morning, prompting Linda to continue, "Let me make a few calls. I'll bet if I coax hard enough I can get the carpets here tomorrow and the furniture delivered on Wednesday and Thursday. Which means that I can go away with Roger on Friday. Do you mind?"
Roger? Randy thought. Who's he? But all she said was, "Of course not. In fact, I was thinking of driving up to New Hampshire in a few days. I don't have any way to reach Sarah, but as far as I know she's still at the cabin."
"Perfect," Linda said. Ninety minutes later, after the most dazzling display of pleading and flattery that Randy had ever witnessed, she managed to schedule every item of furniture except for the dinette set.
"They won't bring it till Friday," she told Randy. "Can you wait around for it? If not, I could talk to Mrs. Siskin downstairs and—"
"No problem," Randy interrupted. "All I really want to do is hear about your weekend. I'm dying of curiosity."
They sat down at the cardtable in the dinette, Linda bringing in a couple of cans of soda from the kitchen. "You would have been proud of me," she began. "I spent all of Saturday listening to Tom's problems and convincing him to try again with his wife. He went off to the room to sulk and I went into dinner. They serve it family-style, at long tables. And the most gorgeous male just happened to sit down next to me." She winked at Randy. "By this morning we were the best of friends."
An Act of Love Page 3
