by Joan Hohl
“I’m for bed,” Tina declared, giving up the effort of keeping her eyes open.
“You’ll miss the weather forecast,” Beth observed teasingly.
“Hmm.” Getting to her feet, Tina stretched her long, limber body. “I’ll stick my head out the window tomorrow morning.” She yawned again. “That method is more accurate anyway.”
Beth’s commiserating laugh followed Tina as she slowly mounted the curved staircase, her hand trailing loosely along the polished wood banister. Within minutes of entering her room, she was crawling under the cocooning comforter, no longer making even a token attempt to cover her yawn. Settling onto the welcoming mattress, Tina closed her eyes wearily ... and suddenly found herself wide awake.
After shifting restlessly for a few minutes, she threw the covers back and slid out of bed, deciding the room was airless and stuffy. Crossing to the window, she ran the shade up, flipped back the latch, and opened the window a few inches, drawing deep gulps of sea air into her chest.
The room quickly lost its stuffiness; Tina quickly lost her desire to sleep altogether. Sighing, she drifted back to the bed, burrowing her cold feet under the covers.
Now what?
Lacing her hands behind her head, Tina stared at the ceiling. She was tired, extremely tired, yet her mind raced at a speed that obstructed sleep. Her problem was that she didn’t want to examine the subject her mind raced with. Frowning into the darkness, Tina tested the name of her nemesis on her tongue. “Dirk.”
What did he want with her? Tina’s lips twisted wryly. Well, of course she knew what he wanted! The question was, Why? And why now? For, other than two abrasive meetings, she’d had no contact with him for five long years. They had both married during that time. The twist to her lips grew bitter.
She had no idea what had gone wrong with Dirk’s married life, but she knew what had interfered with hers.
The grating noise of Tina’s teeth grinding together sounded loud in the quiet bedroom. If it hadn’t been for Dirk’s obstinacy, she would still be married to Chuck.
Indeed? Tina winced at the nagging, ridiculing nudge from her conscience. Well, she temporized, perhaps the failure of her marriage wasn’t all Dirk’s fault. But his firm refusals to release her funds had certainly contributed greatly to it.
And Chuck’s other women? Tina’s conscience persisted. Her soft sigh betrayed a sense of an inadequacy she would never reveal to anyone else. Squirming in discomfort caused more by her thoughts than the awkward position she was lying in, Tina clamped her lips against a cry of despair. Why? Why? What had she lacked, how had she failed Chuck so very badly that he sought comfort with other women?
Was she too strong? Too weak? Too outgoing? Too retiring? Had she laughed too often? Too little? Had she disappointed him both emotionally and physically? Had she failed to fill his needs?
But what about her needs?
Tina closed her lids over the hot moisture welling in her eyes. Didn’t her needs count? If Chuck had felt unfulfilled he had certainly not been alone!
While Tina had looked forward to recreating the same type of homey atmosphere she had grown up in, Chuck had insisted on an exorbitantly priced showplace, a frame for his spectacular good looks. While she had hoped for intimate evenings at home, with quiet dinners and communicative conversation, he had demanded bright lights and hordes of flashy people. But in the final analysis, Tina’s biggest shock came when she finally pinned Chuck down to a discussion about children. She admitted to longing for at least two, ideally a boy and a girl. Chuck laughed in her face. Tina was sure she’d remember his taunt for the rest of her life.
“Children! Are you serious?” Chuck had actually sneered. “Procreation is for the middle-class mentality. The last thing I want is even one of the little brats cluttering up my life.”
What an absolute fool she’d been to allow Chuck to sweep her off her feet and into a whirlwind marriage. As is usually the case when one acts on impulse, Tina found the product fell far short of its gorgeous outer wrapping. Besides which, Chuck had been an unimaginative if not downright lousy lover.
Of course, Tina had had only one previous encounter on which to base a comparison. Dirk.
Tina’s head moved reflexively in denial of the memory that rose to torment her. No, she would not think of it! She could not bear to think of it. She was simply too vulnerable now, too tired, too burnt out. Curling into a ball of misery, Tina erected a mental roadblock against the memory of Dirk and that beautiful afternoon they had shared.
Love’s young dream! An impressionable teenager’s romanticizing of a very basic physical act, Tina chastised herself ruthlessly.
Bitter laughter shattered the midnight peace of the bedroom. Rejection at any age is emotionally demeaning; at nineteen it had been traumatic. In sheer self-defense, Tina had pushed the incident out of her conscious mind for a long time.
Now here it was, back to torment her, undermine her anger and hatred, and make her burn for him all over again.
Unaware of the tears that ran down her flushed cheeks, Tina clenched her hands, viciously digging her nails into her palms in an attempt to neutralize one pain by the infliction of another.
“Oh, damn you, Dirk Tanger.” The muffled cry sliced through the night and Tina’s heart. For, damn him as she often had—and would again—the truth was as undeniable as the pulse that beat through her bloodstream: she loved him.
“I won’t love him!” Angrily.
“I don’t want to love him!” Rebelliously.
“He doesn’t love me.” Despairingly.
Exposed, the wound throbbed and bled in the form of hot tears. Her face turned to the pillow, she sobbed herself to sleep tike an abandoned child.
Tina woke to the pervading chill of an early morning mist creeping on gray padded feet through the open window, and the ever-present soulful calls of the gulls. Her own emotions echoing the cries, she dragged her tired body from the bed, moaning a protest as she caught her reflection in the cheval mirror that stood near the wall opposite the bed.
Walking slowly to the glass, she peered at her reflection, frowning at the telltale signs of too many restless nights.
“Exercise, and plenty of it,” she murmured to the pale face staring back at her. “That’s what you need, my friend.”
Still clad in the short pullover nightie, Tina moved fluidly into her warm-up routine, stretching and bending to wake up her muscles. After half an hour of the workout, she dressed in jogging pants and jacket, socks and running shoes, and put a terry sweatband around her forehead. After leaving her room, she made a quick stop in the bathroom to scrub her teeth and splash cold water on her face. Then, draping a towel around her neck, she ran lightly down the stairs and out the front door, heading for the beach with the determination of a lemming.
Arms loose at her sides, elbows bent, Tina shook her hands lightly as she jogged at an easy pace to the promenade. Standing on the walkway, she drew deep drafts of the misty air into her lungs before skipping down onto the beach.
Once again Tina went through a warm-up of stretching and bending. Once the nighttime kinks loosened, she took off on the packed yet resilient sand near the water.
There were a few hardy souls like herself on the beach, jogging at various speeds from a fast walk to a flat-out dash. Tina, in for the long haul, maintained a steady, rhythmic pace.
She really didn’t like to jog; in fact, she loathed it. It hurt. And the longer she ran, the more it hurt. Working like a bellows, her lungs burned and screamed for air, her heart pounded until she thought it would burst from her chest, and she became light-headed. No, Tina did not enjoy running; Tina enjoyed feeling fit. Tina ran, each and every day—as a rule—to stay in shape.
This morning, Tina was paying dearly for laying off the previous two days. What she really wanted was a steaming cup of Beth’s coffee. What she was getting was the result of two days laxity. Still, the soles of her shoes beat a regulated slap on the sand. When her mind whispered tha
t with just a tiny bit more effort on her part she could very likely fly, Tina packed it in and went home.
“That you, Tina?” Beth called from the kitchen at the sound of the front door closing.
“Yes,” Tina called back from the foot of the stairs.
“Are you ready for breakfast?” Beth came to stand in the doorway to the dining room. At the sight of Tina her eyebrows arched. “Oh. Have you been jogging?”
“I’ll say!” Tina rolled her eyes. “Give me ten minutes to shower and dress and I’ll be ready to consume anything you put in front of me. I’m starving!”
“Take your time.” Beth laughed. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Neither am I. The realization flashed into Tina’s mind as she dashed up the stairs. She had been working, sometimes nonstop, for so very long, the idea of not having anything to do was unsettling.
How in the world was she going to fill up all the hours in the day? Tina wondered, turning her face into the shower spray. Perhaps she could help Beth with some of the housework. In actuality, the responsibility for the property was hers. After all, she owned the place.
On reflection, a warm glow of ownership seeped into Tina. Too bad the house was so far away from New York. If it were just a little closer, she could live here and commute. Then it wouldn’t matter so very much that she had to give up her apartment.
At the consideration, Tina went still, oblivious to the water cooling as it cascaded over her body. What was she thinking of? she chided herself harshly. She loved her apartment. Hadn’t she come here with the firm intention to rest and gear herself for a showdown over money with Dirk? Had she lost sight of her goal after only two days?
Twisting the water faucet off, Tina shook her head sharply. Get your act together, she advised herself grimly, stepping onto the bath mat. Hold fast to your original plan to have the final round with Dirk.
And it’s not merely a question of the apartment, remember, Tina continued her silent lecture as she patted her glistening limbs dry. It’s your business, the car you loved that you had to give up, all the years of begging for what is yours, and all the years that arrogant man laughed in your face as he turned you down!
Turned you down. The phrase resolved in Tina’s mind as she dressed in soft wool slacks and a long-sleeved tailored shirt.
Damn him! Tina stamped her narrow foot into a supple leather boot.
Double damn him! Tina repeated the process with the other foot.
How dare he turn her down? Although Tina refused to examine the exact cause of the fury searing her mind, the issue had grown cloudy. Five years. Five long years, and still it hurt so very badly that Tina masked the pain with fury. But deep inside, where she absolutely would not look, a tiny voice wept with anguish.
Why did he reject me?
If I were a man, I’d beat him up! Uncaring of the childishness of the thought, Tina savored the idea of it as she dried her hair then brushed it out. Fiery strands crackled with electricity as she stroked the bristles through the shoulder-length mass. Tossing the brush onto the dresser, she met her own stormy eyes in the mirror. The very idea of her administering a thrashing to Dirk brought a rueful smile to Tina’s soft, delicate lips, and her sherry eyes lighted with grudging humor.
Okay, scratch the much-needed thrashing, but she’d find a way to make him pay for all the indignities he’d heaped on her over the past five years. Her mouth set in a grim smile, Tina made a silent vow. She’d get Dirk ... somehow. He’d been leading her on a merry dance long enough. The time had come to pay the fiddler. And in this instance, Tina Holden Merritt was the fiddler ... and it was her time to call the tune.
Feeling extraordinarily light, as though a weight had lifted from her shoulders, Tina began humming softly to herself as she went down the stairs. She was still humming as she time-stepped into the kitchen.
“Well, how do you do?” Beth smiled. “If jogging has that kind of effect on everyone, maybe I’ll take it up myself.”
The laughter that rippled from Tina’s smooth throat widened the smile on Bern’s lips. “Actually, I’m feeling great!” she admitted, the delightful sound of her laughter ringing out again. “Ready to face just about anything ... or anybody!”
“I’m so pleased.” Beth’s chest heaved with a sigh of relief. “To tell you the truth, Tina, you looked just about beat to your knees when you arrived here two days ago.” Tilting her head, she scrutinized Tina’s glowing face. “I know Dirk will be pleased when he gets back. He was very concerned about you, my dear.”
Talk about crash landings. Tina came down to earth with a decided bang. Dirk, Dirk, Dirk. All things considered, she was thoroughly sick of hearing his name. With a dismissive shrug, she plopped onto a kitchen chair.
“Dirk is not my keeper, Beth.” Though mild, Tina’s tone had an edge of impatience to it. “I can’t say I care whether or not Dirk is pleased.”
In the process of pouring grapefruit juice into a glass, Beth’s hand paused in midair as she glanced down at Tina in shock. “But ... Tina, Dirk is obviously very worried about you,” she exclaimed. “And isn’t he your guardian or something?”
“No!” Immediately contrite for the sharpness of her tone, Tina bit her lip in vexation. “Beth, I’m sorry.” Tina sighed, thinking, good-bye good humor. “Dirk has control of my inheritance until I’m twenty-five, but that’s all he has control of.”
“But he’s so fond of you,” Beth protested, chidingly. “Why, anyone could see that! It’s as plain as the nose on your face.”
“My nose is plain?” Tina made a weak attempt at changing the topic of conversation. “And here I always thought it was rather patrician.”
“Your nose is elegant... as are all your features, and you know it.” Beth frowned fiercely at Tina. “And don’t try getting away from the subject, either. Dirk Tanger is a very nice man.” A grin flirted with her thin lips. “Not bad to look at, either.”
Wrong. The last thing Dirk is, is not bad to look at, Tina thought exasperatedly. Dirk Tanger is downright devastating. Damn his hide!
Against her will, a picture of her tormentor rose in Tina’s mind, burnished-gold hair glinting in the sunlight, sapphire-blue eyes laughing at her, white teeth flashing in a teasing grin. The vivid image sent a sensuous chill tiptoeing the length of her spine.
“Be that as it may,” Tina said repressively, whether to herself or Beth was beside the point, “Dirk’s attractiveness has nothing to do with it. And I’m not convinced about his concern for me. Dirk looks out for number one—always.”
The carton of juice landed on the table with force. “Tina, really! I think you are being terribly unfair. Why, I’ve known Dirk for over four years now, and he’s never been less than a gentleman.”
Yes, but then you have no money under his control. Prudently, Tina kept the indictment to herself. Mentally shrugging, she decided to leave the bubble-bursting to Dirk; raining on parades was simply not Tina’s style. Holding up her hands in a gesture of surrender, she smiled conciliatorily at Beth.
“If I agree that Dirk is definitely a gentleman,” she teased, “may I then have some breakfast?”
“Oh, good grief!” Beth went into her bustling routine. “I am sorry. What would you like? Eggs? Pancakes? Swiss breakfast?”
The last suggestion stopped Tina. “Swiss breakfast?” she repeated blankly. “What in the world is that?”
“I can see you’ve never had breakfast in Atlantic City,” Beth retorted.
“I haven’t been in Atlantic City since I was twelve,” Tina admitted somewhat ruefully. “First because I was too busy getting an education, then starting my business, and later, because I simply couldn’t afford taking a chance of gambling away my money.” Tina frowned. “But what has that got to do with this Swiss breakfast?”
“I first ate it there,” Beth replied. “And I’ve since concocted my own version.” Lifting the carton, she filled the glass in front of Tina. “What I make is pretty close to the original, if I do say so
myself.”
“I believe you.” Tina hid a smile. “But what is it?”
“Oh.” Beth grinned sheepishly. “Cold oatmeal,”
“Cold oatmeal?” Tina shuddered delicately. “I think I’ll pass.”
Beth’s smile turned smug. “Would you trust me enough to take one taste?” Without waiting for Tina to reply, Beth went to the refrigerator and removed a small dish. On the way back to the table, she scooped a spoon from the cutlery drawer. Dipping the spoon into the cereal, she passed it to Tina, who sampled it very cautiously.
Prepared to hate the stuff, Tina chewed slowly, then an expression of amazement spread over her face. “This is delicious!” she exclaimed in astonishment. “What the devil have you got in there?” Accepting the bowl from Beth, Tina dug in hungrily.
“All good things.” Beth smiled serenely. “Bits of pear, peaches, apricots, raisins, and pecans, all mixed together with cream.”
“Hmmm,” Tina murmured. “Heavenly.”
“I thought you’d like it.” Beth poured cups of coffee for Tina and herself. “It’s one of Dirk’s favorites.”
Dirk—again! Fortunately, Tina was sliding the last spoonful into her mouth; her appetite went flat. “Then it’s too bad he isn’t here to enjoy it,” she observed diplomatically.
“Yes.” Beth sighed. “I was hoping he could return today.”
Tina wasn’t, but refrained from offering her opinion.
“The man works too hard.” Beth’s tone held conviction. “Has ever since I’ve known him.”
That did it. Rising, Tina went to the counter where the coffeepot was placed and refilled her cup. The absolute last thing she wanted was a running account of Dirk’s virtues. As far as she could ascertain, Dirk had none. Suddenly deciding she needed to talk to her shop manager, she headed for the doorway.
“If you’ll excuse me, Beth”—Tina flashed her a smile— “I have to check in with the shop. I’ll clear out of your road.” Her glance rested on the old-fashioned-style wall phone. “If there’s another phone?”
