“Yes, and I don’t like it. The idea of going off on a fishing trip without knowing or caring whether next month’s bills will be paid—” Her voice was scathing.
“Exactly which fisherman are we talking about?” After a long silence, Emily said, on a long note, “Oh. Now I think I understand.”
Kaye said crossly, “And just what marvelous insight have you achieved into my wounded psyche this time?”
“You’d better get Brendan McKenna out of your mind, you know. It isn’t healthy to be thinking about that handsome Irishman all the time.”
“What makes you think he’s even in my mind?” Kaye knew she sounded sharp, and she didn’t care.
“That is who you meant, isn’t it?”
Kaye bit her lip. Finally, she nodded. She hadn’t talked to Brendan in three days, since they had quarreled that night in Nora Farrell’s house, but she had been thinking of him, and she had to admit that it wasn’t very pleasant to have Emily almost reading her thoughts.
“He’s utterly crazy when it comes to money,” she said finally. “He says the future doesn’t matter as long as you enjoy today, and a lot of garbage like that.”
Emily watched her for a long moment. “Well, I don’t notice the sheriff being after him for not paying his bills,” she observed finally. “And his philosophy of life might not be exactly your ideal, but it sounds like a lot more fun than pinching pennies.” After a moment, Emily asked quietly, “Do you know what puzzles me, Kaye? Why are you taking it so personally? If you think Brendan McKenna is a fool about money, why not just ignore him, and let him go to the devil in his own chosen way? What does it matter to you?”
Good question, Kaye thought. Why didn’t she just laugh at Brendan’s ideas and go on about her own life? It certainly wasn’t going to affect her if his car payments weren’t made on time. So why did it matter?
“If you want my opinion, I think he’s crept into your heart,” Emily said.
“Crept into my... Emily, are you saying I’ve fallen in love with him?”
“Not necessarily. But he’s certainly attractive, and he’s been dancing attendance on you for two weeks. It wouldn’t be any surprise if you had let yourself become infatuated with him.”
Kaye thought about that one. Had she developed sort of a little-girl crush on Brendan McKenna? The idea made a frightening kind of sense. It accounted for all sorts of things – the kiss in Nora’s front hall among them.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” she protested. “I can’t be infatuated with him. I’m engaged.”
“Be honest with yourself, Kaye. Do you look forward to seeing him? Does your heart skip kind of funny when you answer the phone and it’s him? Do you find yourself thinking of things you want to tell him?”
Kaye bit her lip. “Yes,” she whispered.
“Infatuation,” Emily said triumphantly. “Nothing serious, of course. It will pass, with time. Though if you want to get over it sooner—”
Kaye hated herself for taking the bait, but she asked, “What do you think I should do about it, oh, great adviser?”
“Have a fling with him,” Emily said promptly. “There is nothing that will end an infatuation faster than to indulge it. I’ve done it myself a dozen times.”
Kaye’s voice cracked. “A dozen?”
“Don’t sound so horrified. I wasn’t speaking literally.”
“I should hope not. Thanks for the advice, Emily, but I think I’ll just let it wear itself out. If it is an infatuation after all, and not merely being bored with winter. I’m just not the type to go around having an affair with any man I find mildly attractive.” Kaye turned back to the itinerary she was preparing for a client’s car tour of the South.
But her mind wasn’t on the tour. For an instant, the travel agency faded away completely, and she could see Brendan’s face, hear his voice, feel the warmth of his mouth on hers, as surely as if she was back in the front hall of Nora’s house, in his arms.
Have a fling, Emily had said lightly. It was a casual, playful term for something that would be neither casual nor playful. Emily might be able to indulge herself that way and keep things casual; Kaye could not. An affair for her would be an emotionally searing experience, something that would forever change her.
And, feeling that way, how could she even consider doing anything of the sort?
My God, she thought. Just what is it about Brendan McKenna, anyway? What black magic is there about the man that could tempt me to risk everything I’ve hoped and dreamed of?
He was certainly handsome, and charming, and fun to talk to; so were a lot of other men, but she hadn’t felt any particular desire for them.
It is quite ridiculous to be feeling this way, she thought. Having an affair with Brendan McKenna would be a first-class disaster, a heedless gamble against breathtaking odds. And at the end, what? Certainly there would be hurt, and anger, and pain, and loss. Don’t forget the loss, she reminded. Because it’s Graham you would be losing...
She obviously had a self-destructive gene, Kaye told herself. She must have inherited it from her father, and she’d never even known it was there, till now. It was just fortunate for her that she’d met Graham first—steady, dependable Graham—before she ever ran into Brendan McKenna...
“The next best thing would be to leave town for a while,” Emily went on.
“I’d love to,” Kaye said absently. “What do you suggest?”
“How about a free ticket to the Bahamas?”
Kaye put her pencil down. “You are full of surprises this morning, aren’t you? What is this, a contest?”
“No. A friend of mine turned traitor and bought a ticket for the one-day jaunt from our competition. She’s supposed to go tomorrow. However, poetic justice caught up with her—she fell down her basement steps last night and broke her leg. She called me last night and confessed what she’d done, and told me I could have the ticket.”
“So why aren’t you going?”
“1 can’t. There’s a school function that I can’t miss. Besides, it would take me three months of dieting before I could show myself on the beach. Do you want to go?”
“Marilyn would fire me in a minute flat.”
“No, she wouldn’t. In any case, she doesn’t need to know. I’ll tell her tomorrow morning that you called in sick.”
“If she finds out, I won’t have to pretend to be sick. And I’ll be out of a job, too.”
“When you come back, you can tell her all the details about how they make that trip work. They have to be cutting corners somehow to do it at that price. I certainly can’t figure it out, and I don’t think Marilyn understands it either.”
“You mean, go as a spy?” Stranger things had happened, Kaye told herself. “The promoters wouldn’t be pleased.”
“They probably won’t even recognize you,” Emily pointed out. “Wear your dark glasses, and you’ll be just one more tourist on the plane. How could anyone object, anyway?”
“Marilyn could.”
Emily looked irritated. “Kaye, you are the most rigid person I know,” she said disgustedly.
The front door opened and Marilyn came in, swinging her briefcase. Emily looked across at Kaye with raised eyebrows, as if to say that she’d never seen the boss in that frame of mind before.
Marilyn tossed her coat over a chair. “Kaye, you’re an absolute darling,” she said, and Emily’s eyebrows went even higher. “I wanted you to be the first to know. I’ve just bought a house, and it’s all because of you.”
“Me?” Kaye said weakly.
“Yes. You and that handsome young man you recommended. He’s such a charmer, isn’t he? He won’t stop at anything to clinch a deal.”
I hadn’t found him to be quite that way, Kaye thought. With me, he seems to want to talk me out of every house I find appealing. Or is he just using reverse psychology on me?
“At any rate, he showed me that house you liked so well in Henderson Heights—the one with the perfectly awful pink carpet. And I fell in love w
ith it. I just found out this morning that the owners have accepted my offer.”
“It’s huge, Marilyn. I thought you were looking for a smaller place.”
“Kaye, darling, whoever said that buying a house was a time to be practical?”
There was no arguing with that. My house, Kaye thought with a sudden pang. That beautiful modern house hanging over the still, snow-swept valley...
But she was surprised to realize she felt only a twinge of pain, and not an agonizing torment.
“See?” Emily said in a conspiratorial whisper, once Marilyn had gone to her office. “She’s in such a good mood she wouldn’t get angry at you, no matter what you did.”
“I’m not so sure,” Kaye said. But she had to admit that Emily’s offer was tempting. A day on the beach, to bake in the warm rays of the southern sun and to think—to get her mind straightened out and banish this ridiculous notion of Emily’s that she should have an affair with Brendan in order to forget him.
And the trip would be free, at that—the ticket would not drain even the tiniest amount from her carefully-hoarded savings.
“Are you positive you don’t want to use that ticket yourself?” she asked finally.
Emily nodded. “I’m certain. If you don’t go, Kaye, it will be wasted. I can hardly call up anyone else and ask if they want to travel with our competition.”
“That’s true.” With sudden decision, Kaye said, “Very well, I’ll go. But only if Marilyn approves.”
Emily looked startled. “Why risk it? She might say no.”
Emily, Kaye thought, had an underdeveloped sense of ethics. “Because I’m no good at faking illness,” she said. “If I tried to pretend I was coming down with a cold, I’d accidentally give myself a sore throat and have to stay home, and that really would be a disaster.”
*****
Brendan called about the middle of the afternoon, and Kaye was proud of her calm tone when she greeted him.
“It’s been days since I heard from you,” she said. “I was beginning to wonder if you wanted to drop the whole thing.”
“Funny. I was wondering the same thing about you.”
His voice was husky and warm, and it started doing drastic things to Kaye’s backbone. She said hastily, “Of course not. It would be pretty senseless of me to start all over with another agent, don’t you think?”
There was a long pause, and then he said, “Actually, that wasn’t what I called you about. I don’t have any houses lined up for you to look at, just now.”
“I understand that you’ve been busy with Marilyn’s purchase.”
“Do you mind? I know how much you liked that house.”
“That’s life,” Kaye said with a shrug, and was a little surprised to find that she meant it. “Since I couldn’t have it, I’m glad someone else wanted it. She’s very pleased with you.”
“As a matter of fact, I think I should split the commission with you,” Brendan said.
“Why?”
“Because you did more selling than I did. I just walked through with her. She’d already fallen in love with it from your description.”
“With everything except the pink carpet,” Kaye laughed. “Brendan, I couldn’t possibly accept money for what I did. Sending my friends to you is the least I can do, since I can’t seem to find a house myself.”
“Then I’d like to take you to dinner to say thank you.”
And run into someone like Angela Warren, who would promptly tell Graham all about her evening out? Not that there was anything to hide, but still... “I don’t think that would be such a wise idea.”
“There’s nothing to be frightened of, Kaye.” There was a long silence, and then he said, “I wanted to tell you that I’m sorry for what happened at Nora’s house. I was reading the signals wrong, and I’m very sorry I made you uncomfortable.”
“It’s—” She cleared her throat, and said, “It was nothing.”
“I’d like to get things back to normal. We’ve pretty much exhausted the houses I had in mind, and I really don’t know where to look next. I’m tied up with a client all afternoon, but if we start over tonight with the multiple-listings books, by the end of the week we can be searching again.”
Kaye sighed. If there was anything she didn’t want to do, it was to look through all those books again, with their blindingly small print and tiny, grayish photographs—pictures that made all the houses look the same. But he sounded determined, and after all, she wanted this search to be finished just as much as he did.
“All right,” she said. “I’ll look at the books tonight. But not over dinner, Brendan.”
“Why? Would Graham object?”
She didn’t answer that. I don’t have to explain it, she told herself. “Why don’t you just bring the books over when you’re finished with your client?”
“All right,” he said finally. “That will be about six o’clock, I think.”
“That’s fine. I’ll be at home.”
Emily was watching her with an approving smile. “So you’re taking my advice,” she said cheerfully. “Inviting him over for a cozy evening in your little place. You’ve got better sense than I thought, except for one thing— you have to be at the airport by five in the morning. It doesn’t leave much time to enjoy.”
“I’m not planning on losing any sleep over Brendan McKenna,” Kaye said tartly.
Emily just shook her head regretfully.
*****
Kaye stopped on the way home and bought a bottle of wine. It couldn’t hurt to offer him a drink.
The little store was only a few blocks from Nora Farrell’s old house. Kaye drove slowly down the street, letting the car creep foot by foot past the big, dark house with the tower. It looked, in the dim moonlight, like a perfect setting for a haunted house tour.
What a shame, she thought. If Nora had been able to stay there, the house would still be a useful part of society. Now it, and Nora, were both lonely, without a place or a function.
She glanced at her watch and turned towards the street of bungalows where Nora lived now. It was nearly an hour till Brendan would come to her apartment, and something impelled her to stop and see that gallant old lady.
The same teenager answered the door. It seemed to Kaye that the same movie was flickering on the television set, and the same dishes were piled around the couch. The teenager recognized her and jerked a thumb towards Nora’s room. She found her way along the dim hall and knocked.
“Miss Reardon,” Nora said. There was a note of wonder in the cultured old voice, and Kaye had to choke back tears as she stooped to kiss Nora’s wrinkled cheek. “How I wish I still lived in my own house,” the old woman said. “I would like to offer you tea in my drawing room.”
There was no self-pity in her voice, merely the wish that her guest could be properly entertained. Kaye forced herself to smile and play along. “With a fire crackling,” she said, “and a cat asleep on the hearth rug.”
“Did Brendan tell you that I used to have cats?”
“No, but I thought it would make a beautiful sight.”
“I miss my babies,” Nora said dreamily. “They were always just cats—nothing purebred about them, I’m afraid. Mostly they were strays who found their way to me and stayed. But they all got old, and died.” She sighed. “It’s just as well. I couldn’t have brought them here, and I never could have sent them back out into the cold.”
Kaye shivered at that thought herself. Where was she to find another home for Omar? she wondered. She could feel confident about handing him over to someone like Nora, but there was no chance of that.
She pushed the thought away. She certainly hadn’t come here to start Nora mourning her lost pets. “We could pretend,” she said lightly, and pantomimed lifting a cup to her lips. “What a lovely, light fragrance this tea has, Miss Farrell!”
Nora smiled faintly. “They’d say I was having delusions,” she said. “And they’d lock me up.”
It was a small thing, r
eally, but it made Kaye furious. How dared they take away even the woman’s daydreams, she thought. There must be an answer. Somewhere, in a city of a hundred thousand people, there must be an agency that could help Nora Farrell. It was just too cruel that in a town this size there could be such a brutal difference in how people lived. How unfair it was, Kaye told herself, that Claudia Forrest had her huge penthouse apartment, her maid, her furs, and her fresh flowers, when Nora had so little.
Perhaps Claudia would help, Kaye thought. She cared about people. She would feel sympathy for Nora’s plight.
“I miss my house so much,” Nora said. There was a twinge of pain in her voice. “If I could only see it again, I’d feel better. But I’m afraid Brendan won’t take me to see it. He tells me he will, but I don’t think he means it.”
No Place Like Home Page 12
