Dream's End

by Diana Palmer

  Two

  She took out the long, white chiffon gown she’d been saving for a rainy day. It was low cut in a V-neck, sleeveless and fell seductively around her slender figure. Her feet were encased in white high-heeled sandals with a beading of rhinestones on the straps.

  She sat down in front of her mirror, looking curiously at the stranger she saw there—her long, waving hair tumbling down around her shoulders, her eyes bigger and more feminine without the protective glasses. She applied just a touch of eye shadow and lipstick. And when she was through, she stared at herself with astonishment. Remembering her mother’s valiant efforts to keep her from using “paint” or emphasizing her assets, she felt a pang of pure guilt at the way she looked. There was a sensuous air about her that had never been apparent before, and the white chiffon left a lot of soft, honey-colored skin bare. Before she could change her mind about it, she grabbed her lacy shawl and pearl clutch bag and hurried downstairs.

  Jim turned when he heard her footsteps and froze where he stood at the bottom of the staircase, looking up at her as if he’d never seen a woman before.

  “Well,” he said finally, on a hard sigh. “Well, well! I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything that could top that transformation,” he said, shaking his head. “Norie, have you always looked like that, or do you have some magical device upstairs?”

  “A fairy godmother,” she whispered conspiratorially. “But don’t tell anyone.”

  “Cinderella, is it?” He laughed. “Come hop into my horseless carriage, you gorgeous thing, and I’ll take you to the ball!”

  She did feel like Cinderella, even if Jim’s sleek blue convertible wasn’t exactly a golden coach. He took her to the Limelight Club, one of the better restaurants. They sat in a private alcove surrounded by live plants.

  Looking at her, Jim shook his head and sighed, his dark eyes still disbelieving. “I knew you were pretty,” he said with his usual candor, “but I didn’t know you were a potential Miss World. Why the rags and cinders all this time, Cinderella?” he asked.

  She shrugged. “I’ve never wanted to impress anyone,” she admitted with a tiny smile. “My mother was devoutly religious. She felt that vanity was the greatest sin, and she taught me to under-emphasize my assets.”

  “Does it embarrass you to look pretty?” he asked.

  She blushed. “I didn’t know I did.”

  He laughed. “I’m glad I had this idea,” he remarked, letting his eyes trace her lovely features, her smooth shoulders.

  “Who are we working on?” she asked as the waiter left their menus and went away.

  “Her,” he said quickly, nodding toward a woman who’d just come in on the arm of a much older man.

  Without being obvious, Eleanor half turned in her seat and got a glimpse of a lovely young blonde, as delicate looking as a rosebud, with a knockout figure.

  “Who is she?” she whispered.

  “The daughter of the man who owns the club—that’s her father with her.” He grinned suddenly and turned his attention back to the menu. “I think we’ve been spotted. Don’t look, but she’s really giving you a green-eyed look.”

  “Aha, that’s why you brought me here, to be stabbed in the back.” She smiled.

  “In a sense. You’re a real pal, Norie. I’ll do you a good turn one of these days,” he promised faithfully.

  “No need. I love playing cupid. Is she still glaring?”

  “Sure is…oh, my gosh!” His face drew up.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Hide behind your menu for a minute, quick!” Jim said.

  “Why?” she whispered.

  “Because Curry and Amanda just walked through the door!”

  She felt herself sinking down in the leather booth. Frightened suddenly, for no good reason, she quickly pulled the menu up to conceal her face, leaving her shoulders and a glimpse of her long hair visible.

  “Hello, Jim!” came Curry’s deep voice. “Haven’t seen you in a long time.”

  “You’re never home when I call at the ranch.” Jim laughed. “I get over a good bit to see Norie.”

  “Norie,” Curry scoffed. “My God, what a name. She looks like an Eleanor; pet names don’t suit her.”

  “You call her Jadebud,” Jim countered.

  “In my good moods, when I want something,” Curry said darkly. “Eleanor’s not much to look at, even though she’s a damned good secretary. I flatter her a little now and then. It doesn’t hurt and,” he added with a heartless smile, “it helps keep her efficiency up.”

  “Curry, how can you talk like that about her?” Amanda scolded gently and Eleanor, listening helplessly, hurting, blessed her for it. “After all, she’s been with you for three years!”

  “She’ll be with me forever,” Curry said nonchalantly. “Where else does she have to go? No man will ever want her, that’s for damned sure, and I pay good wages. What else does the little spinster need?”

  “Someone better than you to work for,” Jim said with sudden, hot anger, and Eleanor knew without looking that those dark eyes would be narrow with it. “She’s never had a vacation, did you notice? She never takes time off at all, she just bows down to you as you pass by her. Someday she won’t be there for you to walk all over, Curry, and what will you do then?”

  Curry’s voice deepened as it always did in anger. “Are you still trying to steal her, Black?”

  “Any way I can, Curry,” he replied gruffly. “I may not be as colorful to work for as you are, but I’ll treat her decently and that’s something you’ve never done!”

  There was a short, tense pause. “How would you like to step around back with me?” Curry asked huskily.

  “Any time,” Jim replied tightly.

  “Now, boys,” Amanda said gently, “this isn’t the time or the place. Let’s just enjoy the meal, okay?”

  Eleanor felt the tension slowly relax, and she knew her fingers were trembling where they held the menu.

  “Let it pass,” Curry said roughly. “But, Black, you stay the hell away from my spread.”

  “With pleasure,” Jim ground out. “Watch your nose, while you’re about it, Curry. If it rains, you’ll drown.”

  Jim waited until Curry and Amanda were a few steps away before he took down the menu Eleanor was using as a shield. His face grew tighter when he saw the tears misting her soft green eyes.

  “Let’s get the hell out of here,” he told her. “I’ve lost my appetite.”

  She only nodded, throwing her wrap around her shoulders as she stood up. She felt a strange tingling at the back of her neck as she and Jim started out of the Club. It wasn’t until they were outside that she dared dart a glance backwards to see Curry staring after them. She kept her face carefully averted and followed Jim to the parking lot.

  “The damned high-handed son of a…” Jim was muttering as they pulled up in front of the ranch house after a light supper at a restaurant smaller than the club.

  “Don’t strain yourself,” Eleanor said with forced lightness. “Curry isn’t worth it, he really isn’t.”

  “Now will you come work for me?” Jim asked flatly.

  She nodded. “Just give me a day or two to work out the details and give Curry his two weeks’ notice.”

  “All right. Norie, I’m so sorry you had to hear that,” he said gently, brushing the hair away from her flushed cheeks.

  “I’m not. I only wish I’d known three years ago,” she said miserably. “Good night, Jim.”

  “Good night, Cinderella. I hope the ball wasn’t too bad.”

  She kissed him on the cheek. “The handsome prince wasn’t bad at all,” she teased as she got out of the car. “I hope your young lady gets jealous enough to call you up and propose.”

  “She might at that, you lovely creature. Good night!”

  She watched him drive away with a feeling of loss, of sweeping aloneness. With a sigh, her dreams shattered, her hopes in ruins, she turned and went into the house and up to her room. And she
cried herself to sleep.

  In the morning, she put the camouflage back on and went down to breakfast. Curry had already had his coffee and toast and headed out to wait for Smith to deliver the new filly, Bessie told her.

  The buxom housekeeper sat down at the table with Eleanor and sipped her own coffee.

  “Came in late last night, he did, must have been four in the morning,” Bessie remarked. “I barely heard him and looked at the clock. Out with that redhead again, I’ll bet.”

  “With Amanda? Yes, I think so,” Eleanor said vaguely.

  “She’s no country girl,” Bessie sighed, cupping her reddened hands around the mug of coffee. “If he marries her, he’ll be sorry. Won’t want kids, either, if I don’t miss my guess. Too proud of that slim figure.”

  “You have to admit, she’s the nicest one so far,” Eleanor said tightly, wishing Bessie could talk about something else.

  “That isn’t saying much.”

  “She loves him.”

  “Like fun,” Bessie scoffed. “She loves his money, and maybe she likes the way he is in…” She stopped, flushing.

  “Bed?” Eleanor finished for her.

  Bessie shrugged her heavy shoulders. “None of my business.”

  “None of mine, either,” the younger girl said with a smile.

  She went into the living room and sat down behind the desk. She was sorting the correspondence that needed answering when Curry came into the room.

  “Good morning, Jadebud,” he said brightly, looking younger than he had in weeks.

  She spared him a glance, feeling the wound open up at the sight of him, and wondered how she was going to break the news to him. Her heart began to race nervously.

  “Good morning,” she replied nonchalantly.

  His eyes narrowed. “Is something wrong, Eleanor?”

  He rarely called her by name. It made her tingle when he said her name like that, but she stiffened and held onto her resolution. “I…I wanted to ask you…”

  “I’ve got something to tell you, too.” He drew out a cigarette and lit it. “Now’s as good a time as any. I asked Amanda to marry me last night. She said yes.”

  Three

  It was like dying, Eleanor thought suddenly. Just exactly how it must feel to die. The quick, sharp blow vibrating through her body and all of life and love and color draining out in an invisible pool on the floor beside her chair. The cruel words she’d heard last night were nothing compared to this. Nothing!

  She knew her face would be pale, but she kept her eyes from showing anything, hoping he was far enough away that he wouldn’t see the sudden wounding in her quick pulse and unsteady breathing.

  His eyes narrowed. “Didn’t you hear what I just told you?” he asked curtly. “I’m getting married.”

  Her eyebrows went up. “I heard you,” she said carelessly, and forced a smile onto her lips. “Give me time, I’m trying to think up some condolences to send to Amanda.”

  He made a half smile at that, but something was troubling him. It showed in the turbulence of his silver eyes as he studied her through wisps of gray, curling smoke.

  “Eleanor,” he said quietly, “you won’t leave me?”

  She licked her pink lips nervously and dropped her eyes to her typewriter. “I…I’ve been trying to find some way to tell you,” she faltered, “that I’ve had…another offer.”

  “You’ve had other offers ever since I brought you here,” he said roughly. “From Batsen, Boster, even from Jim Black. Which one is it? Black?” he asked ominously.

  “Yes,” she replied calmly, lifting her face to catch the flare of anger in his dark eyes. “Please,” she said softly, “I’ve been here three years. You can’t really expect me to stay forever. There’s a whole world out there, Mr. Matherson, and all I’ve ever seen of it is my parents’ home and then yours. I’ve never been out on my own, I’ve never had the kind of freedom that you and other people take for granted. I’ve got to decide what to do with my life. I can’t do it here!”

  His eyes narrowed, and she saw his square jaw lock and she knew she was going to be in for a fight. “You’ve been doing it,” he snapped. “What’s the matter, honey, don’t I pay you enough? Do you think you’re worth more?”

  He studied her insolently, his eyes whipping over her slender body in the shapeless dress as she rose to stand unsteadily beside the desk. “My God, you wouldn’t bring five dollars on auction, you little chicken! What do you think you’re going to find out there, some man blind enough to want you?”

  Nothing, ever, had hurt her as much as those last cold words. It was just Curry, furious and meaning to hurt, to get even. But that didn’t register, not on top of what she’d overheard last night. She felt as if he’d put a knife into her and twisted it. She couldn’t stop the tears that welled hot and flooding in her eyes.

  She turned and walked toward the door, not looking at him, not speaking.

  “Where are you going, you scrawny ostrich?” he growled. “To hide your head in the sand?”

  She opened the door and walked out into the hall, blind to the appearance of Bessie, who stood there as if she’d been struck dumb. There had never been a cross word between Eleanor and Curry, not in three years.

  “What about those reservations for my Miami trip, Miss Perrie?” he said from the doorway of the living room, his voice harsh and unpleasant.

  Eleanor had her hand on the banister and she turned, with tears running down her cheeks, her slender body shaking with mingled rage and humiliation.

  “If you want the damned reservations, you call for them,” she told him fiercely. “And you’ve got my two weeks’ notice right now!”

  She whirled, ignoring the shock on his face, and ran upstairs.

  She stayed in her room for the rest of the day. All day, without moving from the chair by her window, from which she could watch the Appaloosas dancing in their paddocks, the prize black Angus cattle grazing on the meadows that stretched flat and green to the horizon.

  She wanted to go downstairs and throw something heavy at the arrogant cattle rancher. Three years of putting up with his temper and his tirades, of standing between him and the whole world, of smoothing his path, making his stupid reservations, sending flowers and cards and gifts to his women, keeping up with his correspondence, being dragged out of bed at two in the morning to write a letter about a bull he wanted to buy. All that, for three years, and in five minutes he’d forced her out of his life. Perhaps, she thought miserably, he’d even done it on purpose.

  With his uncanny knack of reading her, it was possible he’d guessed how she felt and was making it easier for her to go. She’d rather have thought that than to have thought he’d cared so little about her that he could insult her so easily.

  Chicken. Ostrich. Wouldn’t bring five dollars at auction. Find a man blind enough to want her. Her eyes closed on the painful words. He’d never spoken to her like that before. He’d ranted and raved, and lost his gunpowder temper, and growled at her slowness when he was pacing the room waiting for some typing. But he’d never made his remarks personal, he’d never touched her, or tried to. It had been a non-physical relationship from the very beginning. It had been a comradeship. Until today, when he finally decided to tell the truth and let her know what he really thought of her as a woman.

  Fighting tears, she reached for the telephone and dialed Jim Black’s number.

  When he answered, a sob involuntarily tore out of her throat. “Jim?” she asked huskily.

  “Norie, is that you?” he asked incredulously, and she remembered that he’d never seen her cry. Very few people ever had.

  She fought to control her voice. “It’s me. I…I’ve just had an awful blowup with Curry. Could you…I shouldn’t ask you to come here after what he said last night, but…”

  “Give me five minutes,” Jim said curtly. “He’s welcome to try to throw me off the place if he wants to.”

  The line went dead. With tears still in her eyes, Eleanor sa
t down at her vanity table and tried to do something about her face. What she saw in the mirror made her angry. The same owlish face, the same screwed-up bun of hair, the same pale and lifeless look. It made her hungry for the different person she’d been last night, when men looked at her and smiled. She’d never known what it was to be admired before, and she found that it was like a drug. She put her mother’s scoldings in the back of her mind and went to work.

  She tore the pins out of her long hair and let it fall around her shoulders, brushing it vigorously until it began to shine and bounce back in perfect waves. She took off the unsightly glasses and put them aside. She fixed her face with a hint of makeup, the way she had for her date with Jim.

  Then, riffling through her closet for something that looked leisurely, she found a patterned green skirt with a solid green terry top that just matched her eyes, and changed into them.

  She slipped her feet into a pair of white sandals and went downstairs to wait for Jim, all traces of tears removed, her heart pounding hard because she was unsure of herself, of what she’d say if Curry…

  Before she could finish the thought, the door to his den opened and he walked out into the hall, his face hard and lined, his stride uncompromising. She stood there like a slender young statue, dreading the confrontation she knew was yet to come.

  Just then, he looked up and saw her, frozen there against the banister, and an expression she’d never seen before swept across his arrogant face.

  He looked at her as if he’d never seen her before, at the slender young body whose gentle curves were no longer hidden in shapeless dresses, at the waving dark hair flowing around her shoulders, the green eyes so pale and wide that looked back at him like those of a frightened kitten.