Decidedly Married. Carole Page Gift
a perfunctory kiss and was out the door before either could protest.
They have more fun anyway when it’s just the two of them, she told herself as she headed for the freeway onramp. They always laugh more together than when it’s the three of us. I cramp their style. Spoil their fun.
Before she settled into a pity party of one, Julie reminded herself that her husband and daughter needed her to keep some balance in their lives. I keep them on track. I bring them back down to earth so they don’t soar away forever like helium-filled balloons. I give their lives stability and direction.
But somehow that knowledge didn’t comfort her. She knew her husband and daughter shared a special bond she could never break through. She would always be the outsider looking in; that seemed to be the quintessence of her life.
And now she had a feeling her relationship with Michael was growing even more strained and distant. Why couldn’t she respond to him the way he wanted her to last night? She had set him up. Why had she turned away, freezing him out? What was wrong with her that she couldn’t surrender to the sweet abandonment of loving her husband?
She wanted to blame her problems on a stranger named Beth, but maybe the real problem was Julie’s own irrational fears and feelings of inadequacy. I’ve got to meet this Beth, she decided. That’s the only way I’ll know if she’s a real threat to my marriage.
After work Julie stopped by Michael’s office with the pretense of suggesting a dinner date to make up for last night’s fiasco. His real-estate office, Ryan and Associates, occupied a quarter of the ground floor in a modern, three-story office building in a thriving, commercial section of Long Beach. The large suite of rooms was tastefully decorated in classic white antique furniture and upholstered armchairs, accented by ornate gold-leaf mirrors, bold, bright Cezanne prints and plush ivory carpets. It was an office that looked and smelled of success. Michael had a knack for making everything he touched seem wonderfully luxurious and appealing; no wonder he was a natural at selling houses.
Julie walked straight back to Michael’s private office with the deliberate, self-assured stride of a woman who knew she had every right to be here. After all, her husband owned the place. This was in a sense her company, too. She had a stake in it, a right to be here. That’s what she told herself every time she came in, every time she found herself feeling ill at ease in the midst of Michael’s perfectly ordered world.
Rose Gibbons, Michael’s secretary and girl Friday, stopped Julie just short of his door. “Hello, Mrs. Ryan. How nice to see you!” Rose was at least fifty, but she dressed stylishly and carried herself like a much younger woman. She had a wonderful smile and a way of making people feel she was genuinely interested in them. “Your husband’s out with a client, Mrs. Ryan, but he should be back anytime. Do you want to wait in his office?”
Julie looked around, hoping to spot the new girl in Michael’s office—and maybe in his life. “Michael told me he hired a new agent. I thought I might just say hello, welcome her to the firm, you know?” Did her words sound as lame to Rose as they sounded to Julie herself?
“Oh, sure, Mrs. Ryan. Miss Chamberlin has the office right next to your husband’s. Go right on in. I’m sure she’d love to meet you.”
Julie nodded and started across the wide expanse of carpet toward the cubicle next to Michael’s. Sure enough, Beth Chamberlin’s name was already on the carved oak door. Julie felt her ankles weaken, and her heart skipped a beat. What was she doing here? Spying on her husband? Trying to make something of nothing? Would this woman see through her and guess her real motive for wanting to meet her?
Julie was about to turn, walk away, and forget the whole thing, when Miss Chamberlin’s door opened and a tall, willowy brunette emerged carrying a stack of file folders. She met Julie’s gaze and flashed a radiant smile, showing perfect white teeth.
“Miss Chamberlin?” Julie inquired.
The young woman’s amber brown eyes glinted with recognition. “Yes, and you must be Michael’s wife. I’ve seen your picture on his desk. You’re Julie, right?”
“Yes, and you must be—Beth.” Outwardly, Julie was smiling, but inwardly she groaned over Beth Chamberlin’s classic good looks: a glowing, porcelain complexion, high cheekbones, a healthy mane of raven black hair and a perfect figure for her formflattenng silk blouse and short skirt.
“I’m so glad to meet you, Mrs. Ryan. You have a great husband. He’s really taken me under his wing.”
“Has he?” Julie’s tone was chilly.
Beth seemed not to notice; she was still beaming. “Oh, yes, he has. I’ve learned so much from Michael in the short time we’ve been working together.”
Julie winced at the cozy way Beth said Michael. It was the very tone she had used in her perfumed note. “But I thought you just joined the company, Miss Chamberlin.”
“Yes, officially.” Beth’s tone was buoyant. “You see, Michael and I worked on several deals together while I was still with Consolidated. When we discovered how well we worked together, he asked me to come over here to Ryan and Associates, and of course, I couldn’t say no. It’s such a wonderful opportunity. Michael runs a marvelous operation. There’s so much room for growth and advancement”
“And with all your energy and enthusiasm, I’m sure you’ll go far,” said Julie, trying not to sound snide.
Beth shifted the folders in her arms. “I hope so. I just don’t want to disappoint Michael—and, of course, everyone else here.”
“I’m sure you won’t be a disappointment.” Julie felt a churning sensation in the pit of her stomach. If she stood here another moment talking to Miss Sugar and Spice, she’d have a diabetic reaction. “I’d really better go. Please tell Michael I stopped by. I’ll see him at home.”
Beth’s bright eyes took on a sudden, keen shrewdness. “Mrs. Ryan, I’m looking forward to getting better acquainted in the days ahead. We have so much in common!”
Julie blinked with bewilderment. “We do?”
Beth broke into light, lyrical laughter. “Yes. We have Michael! Your husband and my colleague and mentor. He’s very important to both of us.”
Julie’s throat constricted, leaving her with nothing more to offer than a polite nod. She took an awkward step backward, then swiveled around and strode wordlessly out of the office, her breathing ragged, her mind reeling
As she climbed into her automobile and shakily turned the key in the ignition, she had the sensation she had just been attacked. But by what? An assault of sweetness? Youthful exuberance with a Doris Day smile? It was an irrational feeling, but she sensed the battle lines had been drawn. She was in for the fight of her life with an angel-faced beauty with the cunning of a snake.
On Saturday Julie telephoned her father, Alex Currey, in Crescent City, two hours’ drive from Long Beach. Since her mother’s death last year Julie had telephoned her father once a week to check on him and make sure he was okay. In some ways it was an empty ritual, for Julie always had the feeling her father wished she hadn’t bothered to call It was as if he were saying, We never talked when your mother was alive…what do we have to talk about now?
Still, she phoned him every Saturday at noon, as regular as clockwork. Her questions were always the same: Are you feeling okay? Are you eating right? Have you gone anywhere? Have you seen anybody? Do you need anything?
Her father always answered with one-word, often one-syllable replies: Yes…no…sure…nope…can’t…dunno…why?… nothing…nobody…nowhere. All dead-end answers, conversation stoppers, as if he deliberately wanted to keep communication with his only daughter nonexistent.
Julie always felt dry-mouthed