Karr seemed to read her mind. "By the beginning of next week it'll be pretty lonely around here."
Only if you stay away, she thought, and frowned. She'd meant that the other way around, of course—that she'd be happier if he did leave her in peace. "Oh, I'm never lonely. I'm far too busy."
"I know. That unusual job of yours must be one long adventure."
"It certainly is." She squared her shoulders and hurried to catch up with him on the landing. "Just now I'm putting together a special section to celebrate the tenth anniversary of Today's Woman."
"Celebrating the accomplishments of the last decade?"
She tried to find irony in his tone, because she was sure it must be there, but she couldn't. "Of course there's some of that, but the theme of the issue is looking forward to the next decade —to tomorrow's woman and beyond."
"Making a better world for your daughters?"
Maggie shrugged. "I doubt I'll ever get around to having any. My point is, the special section is why I was gone so long on this trip. And now that I'm back, I'm under a really rigid deadline to get it put together. It's the biggest feature section the magazine's ever done. So you see, I'm not being unreasonable to want more time. I can't possibly move and do my work too."
"Oh, I don't know. Send a crew of guys upstairs and they could have you out of here in a couple of hours."
She stopped on the landing. "Is that a threat?"
"Only if you want to take it that way. I meant it as a simple statement of fact—you don't have that much stuff."
"I have more than it looks like. But I'd have to sort and pack it myself, or I'd never find anything again."
"In the townhouse, you could have a whole floor to spread things out and sort. And an office with a door, too—so you could close it off and forget about your job."
"I don't want to forget my job, thank you; I like it quite well. And I have a perfectly adequate work space right here."
They reached the top of the last flight, and behind the locked door of the apartment, Tripp started to bark a greeting. His eager yips were interspersed with low growls, though, and Maggie turned to her unwelcome guest. "You know, I'm beginning to think Tripp doesn't like you," she said solicitously. "Perhaps you'd better not come in."
"Tripp? Is that the toupee's name?"
"He has a very aristocratic name that he won't answer to. He's been Tripp since he was a puppy because he was always under my feet."
"The size he is, it would be hard for him to be anywhere else," Karr said unsympathetically. "Didn't the landlords get complaints about him growling at the other tenants? Or did they think he was just a mechanical toy?"
"He only growls at people who upset him," Maggie said with a smile. She took her briefcase back. "Thanks for carrying this. Now I really do need to get to work."
"Of course. So do I."
Maggie's curiosity overcame her. "Exactly what are you planning to do to the house that can't wait a few more weeks?"
His eyebrows rose slightly. "Oh, I wouldn't want to keep you from your very important work with dull explanations."
"Have you considered starting on the ground floor," she suggested, "and working your way up?"
He tipped his head to one side. "And by the time I get all the way to the attic, you'll be out? I'll give it some thought."
Inside the apartment, the telephone started to ring, and Maggie fumbled for her key.
Karr said, "I'll be in touch, all right?"
He made it sound as if they were casual friends parting after a chance meeting, Maggie thought irritably and exchanging hypocritical promises about vague future plans.
Too bad she wouldn't be getting off that easily.
She stepped over Tripp to set her briefcase carefully on the library table, and reached for the telephone.
"How'd your lunch go?" her editorial assistant asked.
"Don't ask, Carol." Maggie pulled her computer out of the case and began sorting manuscripts into stacks.
"It was that enjoyable, hmm? Brian said to tell you he got the extra eight pages you wanted—and you'd better make them look as sharp as anything this magazine's ever published, because it's not his neck on the line now, it's yours. That's a direct quote."
"I assumed it was," Maggie said dryly.
The instant she hung up, Tripp planted himself in front of her and gave one short, emphatic bark.
"Not now, darling," Maggie told him. "I simply haven't time to take you for a walk this minute."
But she'd forgotten two things—how stubborn Tripp could be, and that Libby had probably spoiled him rotten in the last month, jumping up to take him out whenever he wanted. Maggie cast a guilty look at her computer and went to get his leash.
She heard voices in the front drawing room and saw the silhouettes of two men bent over a roll of paper spread on the window seat at the front of the room.
Tripp growled very softly.
"Yes, I know its Elliot the Great and you don't like him," Maggie muttered, "but mind your manners anyway. He's not on your territory now, you're on his."
Tripp ignored her and unleashed a peal of barks. Karr crossed the room to the pocket doors and leaned against the jamb. "Well, well, if it isn't Maggie. I'm glad to see you cracking right down to that important work of yours."
Maggie gritted her teeth. "Don't you dare tell me that if I lived in your condos, it wouldn't be so hard to let the dog out."
"It's true. For a while, anyway, until he growled at the wrong neighbor and ended up on a barbecue grill." Karr turned back to his companion and pointed at the roll of paper. "That's got to be taken down first, and then that one. But as for the rest, I think we'd better wait and see."
See what? Maggie was dying to ask, or better yet to sneak a look at that drawing.
She suspected it was a blueprint of the house. What did Karr think had to go? Surely he wasn't talking about walls. But it was almost as bad if he intended to tear out the wonderful ornamentation-
He might be, though, she realized. All he'd ever said was something about upscale housing, but he'd never specified what his definition included.
She looked up at the frieze which decorated the hallway, yards and yards of carved wood depicting grapevines and heavy bunches of ripe fruit. She'd looked at it often, and admired it as a good example of its type, even though the subject didn't exactly move her.
But she'd never seen it this way, with sunlight and shadow playing tag through the vines and around the grapes. This was how it had been intended to look, and it would be a sin to tear it down.
It wasn't any of her business, she reminded herself. But it was immensely frustrating not to know what Karr was planning to do with this house.
Libby knocked on Maggie's door a couple of hours later and quietly put her head in. "I'm sorry to bother you," she said when Maggie looked up from the screen of her laptop computer. "But Dan and I wondered if you'd like to join us for a celebration dinner tonight."
"Celebrating your falling in love with the…what was it? Wakefield model?"
"Not exactly," Libby said carefully.
Maggie's eyes widened. "Elliot got it wrong?"
"Oh, no. It's the Wakefield we liked best. But it's the most wonderful thing, Maggie."
Maggie thoughtfully saved the computer file she was working on and pushed her chair back. She hadn't seen Libby this excited in a year.
"We were sitting there in the office with the rental agent, and at the last minute, with the lease right in front of us, I got cold feet and my fingers just wouldn't work. I asked Dan what we were going to do if we couldn't scrape up the down payment by Christmas so we could buy, and I said maybe we'd be better off to take these last few days and look for something else, something we could afford no matter what."
Maggie's jaw dropped in astonishment. "Libby, I had no idea you were such a tremendous negotiator. That was a stroke of genius!" And one in the eye for Karr Elliot, which didn't hurt her feelings, either.
"That's just
it—I wasn't trying. It simply happened."
"Not that it matters. So you're staying here? That's wonderful. With both of us fighting, maybe we can even make the case that—"
"Oh, no, dear. We're moving on Monday. You see, the agent excused herself to let us talk about it privately, and a few minutes later Karr came in."
The agent recognized a major-league problem and called in the top pitcher, Maggie thought with foreboding. And now Libby was on first-name terms with Elliot the Great.
"And…" Libby started to grin. "Well, the upshot is that we're not just renting the townhouse, we're buying it. Now isn't that something to celebrate?"
"Depends," Maggie said dryly. "How did he talk you into this? Last night you couldn't afford it."
"He didn't talk us into anything, Maggie. I wish you wouldn't be so paranoid about Karr, he's really a dear. He just said he wished he'd known we were thinking of buying, because there were all sorts of financing possibilities that no one would have mentioned since they thought we were only interested in renting, and when he started explaining what he could do…"
"In other words, he cut you a special deal to get you out of here."
Libby considered that, and shrugged. "I suppose he did. But I can't say that I care, Maggie. We signed the papers right there, and we went straight back to the house and walked through and stopped in every room to hug and laugh."
It all sounded so horribly familiar that Maggie's mouth went dry with fear.
It's not the same, she told herself. Karr might be playing games with financing, but at least there was a townhouse, finished and ready to move into. And the Montgomerys would be the only ones to claim it.
"Oh, darling, it's ours," Libby said softly, "and it's so wonderful. Everything smells new and fresh, and the appliances have never been used, and the space—oh, Maggie, to have a real dining room! Well, it's not a room; actually, more like an alcove, but it's so much more than we have here!"
She was so happy that Maggie couldn't find it in her heart to do anything but smile and agree that without a doubt it had been the best thing ever to happen to Dan and Libby.
But under her relaxed surface, every muscle was clenched hard. That crack of Karr's about your friends the Montgomery’s liking the Wakefield model best… Maggie hadn't given it a thought at the time, but in replaying the memory; she could hear the satisfaction in his tone. He hadn't been delighted that Libby and Dan had fallen in love with the townhouse, or because they'd bought it instead of renting. He'd been so almighty self-satisfied because he had been able to eliminate Maggie's only remaining source of moral support.
And what really ticked her off was that he'd done it so neatly she couldn't even get angry at Libby and Dan for falling into the trap.
On Sunday afternoon, the busybody in the second-floor back moved out. Maggie happened to be going out to the supermarket just as a couple of young men were roping down the last piece of furniture in the back of an Elliot Development Corporation truck, and she hesitated for a moment before going over to speak to the woman who was supervising the work.
Maggie had tried to be neighborly when the woman first moved in—she'd taken a casserole downstairs and introduced herself, but the woman had never been friendly. And even though she'd spent all her time spying on the other tenants, Maggie would have been sorry to see her leave without even the chance to say goodbye.
The busybody sniffed when Maggie asked where she was moving, and looked around cautiously before she answered. "It's a little apartment in Mr. Elliot's complex," she said finally. "He said the rent won't ever be much more than here, but you can believe I'm going to keep my eyes open. He doesn't need to think he can pull something fishy on me."
How sad, Maggie thought, that a gesture which sounded so generous was received with such suspicion. "I wish you all the best," she said, and only after the truck was gone did she realize that though she hadn't actually stood up for Karr, she had mentally jumped to his defense nonetheless.
Of course, from all appearances the woman's new apartment was a generous deal, to say nothing of the work of actually moving her into it. And the busybody had been a paranoid sort from the moment she'd moved in; it wasn't difficult to discount her opinions. Still, for Maggie to suddenly find herself supporting Karr Elliot's behavior came as a bit of a shock.
She wheeled a cart through the supermarket aisles, trying to remember what was already on her cabinet shelves at home. Since Libby and Dan were in the depths of packing, with the movers scheduled to come early Monday morning, Maggie had invited them upstairs for a last dinner together.
Not that it was like the proverbial last meal, she thought. After all, they'd be only a few miles away—depending, of course, on where Maggie herself ended up. There would no doubt be many more evenings together. But it would be different, once they moved. They'd have new acquaintances, and so would she. Their lives would go in different directions…
"You may stop feeling sorry for yourself," she said firmly, and then realized she was standing in the frozen foods aisle holding a container of orange juice that she neither wanted nor needed, with a couple of interested spectators looking on. Maggie colored, put the orange juice back, and hurried on to the dairy section.
She was sitting on a bench in front of the store, munching a piece of licorice from a pack she'd just opened and waiting for the taxi she'd called to take her home, when a black Mercedes pulled up in the fire lane. Karr left the engine running and got out, pulling off a pair of aviator sunglasses as he came toward her.
"Hi," he said cheerfully. "Fancy meeting you here."
Maggie looked around. She could think of no reason for him to be in this particular shopping area in the middle of a Sunday afternoon. He didn't strike her as a gourmet cook—and if he was going into the store, he'd hardly have left the engine running. But there was nothing else in this strip mall but a dry cleaners and a dentist's office, both of which were closed on weekends.
"Is it my imagination," she said dryly, "or do you have radar where I'm concerned?"
He smiled warmly. "You've noticed! Can I dare hope you feel it, too?"
"As a matter of fact, the way I feel when you're around can best be described as extremely uncomfortable."
"Are you certain that's me? It could just be a result of too much licorice." He put one foot up on the bench beside her, leaning an elbow casually on his knee. "I said I'd stay in touch, you know. It's been—my goodness, almost forty-eight hours since we've talked. I didn't want you to feel neglected."
"Well, now that you've made sure of that, feel free to go about your business." She looked around the mall once more. "What is your business here, anyway?"
"I came out to Eagle's Landing to see you, and Libby told me you were here. So I came to give you a ride home so you didn't have to juggle your grocery bags on the bus."
He really had a very nice smile, Maggie thought. His eyes lit up, and his teeth gleamed, and wonderful little laugh lines came to life everywhere. The whole picture teased at her senses, and she wished she hadn't noticed; it was going to be even more difficult to ignore him if every time he grinned at her she wanted to smile back.
"Thanks, but I've already called a taxi. And speaking of Libby, she and Dan signed the contract on the townhouse in an awful hurry. Aren't you just a little worried about whether their mortgage financing will go through?"
"Oh, it will."
"Spoken like a man who knows," Maggie murmured. "I didn't realize it was so easy to get a mortgage these days."
"Didn't you?" Karr asked easily. "Would you like one? I'll see what I can do." His tone was so casual he might have been offering an ice cream cone.
"No, thanks. I'm not particularly interested in the sort of creative financing deals that developers seem to specialize in."
He frowned a little. Just then Maggie's taxi pulled up, and she started to gather up her bags. Instead of helping—as he would if he'd been a gentleman, Maggie thought irritably—Karr wandered over to the taxi.<
br />
She turned just in time to see him give something to the driver; the taxi took off, and Karr came back, dusting his hands.
"What—" she began.
"There's no point in him trailing out to Eagle's Landing when I've got nothing better to do this afternoon anyway. I'll swap you a ride for a piece of your licorice."
"I don't have much of a choice now, do I?"
He grinned and started loading her purchases into the back of the car, handling the three bags of food as easily as if they had no weight at all. "There's a lot of stuff here. Am I invited to the party?"
"Who said I'm having one? Maybe I'm just stocking up. I don't get to the store all that often."
He helped Maggie into the passenger seat. "Why don't you have a car, anyway?"
She shrugged. "Too much bother. I seldom have so much to carry that I can't take the bus, and I wouldn't drive into the city anyway—a car is purely a nuisance in the Loop. So why have it sitting around unused for weeks at a time?"
The glance he sent her way was quizzical. Maggie couldn't understand why; her explanation was perfectly rational, even if it didn't happen to be quite the truth.
"This one's nice, though," she added generously.
"Thank you. If you like, I'll drive you past the condos and the townhouses."
"Oh, that's all right. I wouldn't want to put you to any trouble."
"Don't give it a thought. Compared to all the trouble you've already been, this isn't even worth mentioning."
She glared at him, and realized that the corner of his mouth had curved very slightly upward. She gave up; whatever she said was likely only to amuse him more, and she was obviously going to see the townhouses and condos anyway.
As developments went, she had to admit they weren't bad. The townhouses were lined up in a row, as the brochure had showed, with garages nestled between each unit, creating the illusion that each house stood alone. They weren't arranged in a straight line, however, but in a long, easy curve, so even though all the houses were as alike as peas in a pod, the effect was somehow gentler than the average townhouse complex.
The Only Man for Maggie Page 5
