Sherry came out of the bathroom, neatly wrapped in an enormous bath towel. She greeted Kristen with exuberance and asked, “Well, what’s it like, the way the other half lives?”
Kristen laughed.
“Wonderful! Very lavish, very lush, and a trifle boring,” she answered.
“Boring!” gasped Sherry, shocked. “My dear girl, you’re talking about the life I’d love. Did you have fun?”
“Oh, yes, lots of fun! Sherry, it’s a perfectly beautiful place, and the mills and the factory—”
“Phooey on that!” Sherry cut in briskly. “What’s it like at the house? I suppose you fall over the servants, and life is one sweet song?”
“Oh, it’s not quite like that! George works very hard and so does Eileen.”
“While the lovely Marisa sits on a cushion and sews a fine seam, no doubt,” commented Sherry.
“Not quite, but she does have a lot of fun and gaiety, and there are a great many attractive young people there for her to play with.”
“Well, there’s one here she can have to play with any time she wants him! Believe me, I don’t!”
Kristen asked swiftly, “Meaning Leon, of course?”
“Who else? Of all the first-class, copper-riveted brass-bound grouches, he takes first prize!”
“You’ve quarreled with him?”
“I’ve had that pleasure!”
“But, Sherry, you know he’s not himself.”
“Ordinarily, that would be an improvement! But he’s a couple of other guys, and that’s two too many for me!” Sherry snapped. “You’d think the world had doubled up its fist and clouted him one, just because he twisted his ankle! He seems to take it as a personal insult. The only time he comes out of his shell is when that weird bunch of folk-dancers are hollering and stomping.”
“Are they good?”
“Who knows? They’re loud. I always beat it back to the dressing room and stuff cotton in my ears while their act is on. But Lee sits with a pad and pencil and makes notes and watches and listens as if they were the world’s greatest Which, take it from me, they ain’t!”
“Where is he?” asked Kristen, and added, “And how is he?”
“Oh, his ankle’s practically well. The doctor says he can dance again in a day or two.”
“He’s probably in his room. I’ll go and see him.”
Sherry walked to the window, looked out over the beach and gestured to Kristen,
“See that very small figure way up near the rocks?” Sherry said grimly. “The one that’s hidden in a dark cloud of gloom? Well, that our boy. Every afternoon about this time he goes for a long walk along the beach and then suns himself there. Though how the sun, even this kind of sun, can get through that black cloud he wears these days, I wouldn’t be knowing.”
Kristen turned back into the room and said briskly, “Where’s my bathing suit? I’ll go talk to him, and get in a swim while I’m about it.”
“Luck, pal—and believe me, you’ll need it! He’s been like a bear with a sore head, instead of a rising young dancer with a twisted ankle. A little more of his gloom and I think the whole engagement will go to pieces with a loud boom!”
Getting into her bathing suit, Kristen eyed her worriedly.
“You really think so, Sherry?”
“I’m really afraid so, Kristy—and it would be a blinkin’ shame. Everybody except old Sore-Head is crazy about the place and making friends and having fun. But he’s a damper on everybody’s spirits. Zounds, it isn’t our fault he had to go and slip and twist his ankle—yet he seems to feel that it is. He goes around snapping people’s heads off, until I wouldn’t be surprised if one of the boys in the band took a poke at him and marred that handsome profile of his!”
Kristen slipped into her beach robe, thrust her feet into clogs and said, “Don’t worry. Maybe when he starts dancing again he’ll be all right.”
“Well, his disposition never was one the angels would envy, but nowadays—whoosh!”
Kristen paused at the door.
“When I left here a week ago, you were thrilled pink because you were going to have him all to yourself for a while,” she mused.
“And wasn’t I the prize dope of all time.” Sherry grimaced. “You hadn’t been gone twenty-four hours before he started going sour!”
Kristen scowled for a moment, and then she nodded.
“Well, I’ll see if I can find out what’s on his mind,” she said, and went out of the room.
On her way to the terrace, Kristen encountered Mr. Belmont, who greeted her warmly.
“So you’re back, Miss Dillard! I’m very glad! We’ve missed you.”
“Thank you, Mr. Belmont. I’m glad to be back.”
“I hope you and Westerman will be able to return to the floor show soon, Miss Dillard. I’m afraid the folklore group is not exactly what the Riviera needs,” he admitted frankly.
“I’m going out now to talk to Leon, and I hope we can be back in the show by tomorrow or perhaps the next night,” she told him.
“That’s good news, Miss Dillard—very good news indeed,” said Mr. Belmont with frank relief.
Kristen went down the steps to the beach, threaded her way through the sunbathers and hurried toward the distant spot where Leon lay.
He lay flat on his back, his arms beneath his head, his ankles crossed, and behind the dark sun-glasses she could not tell whether he was asleep or not. She dropped down on her knees beside him and sat back on her heels, studying him. Should she wake him?
“So you’re back,” he said quietly. Startled, she realized that he was not asleep and had probably been watching her progress along the beach.
“I’m back,” she agreed, and smiled warmly. “Did you miss me?”
Leon sat up, took off his glasses and scowled at her.
“Miss you? Why should I? I couldn’t dance anyway, so there was no point in your hovering around. Much better for you to make time with our esteemed boss. Which, I’m sure, you did.”
Color burned in Kristen’s face.
“Why, yes, I think I did,” she said coolly. “He wants to marry me.”
She hadn’t meant to say it. The words had slipped out, and instantly she was ashamed of herself.
“Which, of course, you’ll be delighted to do,” said Leon, and his eyes were bleak.
“I haven’t quite made up my mind,” she admitted.
A smile touched with contempt and entirely free of mirth curved Leon’s handsome mouth.
“Putting the poor guy through the wringer, are you? Stretching out the suspense, keeping him dangling, so he’ll appreciate you properly when you consent to end his misery? A very feminine trick, Kristy, my girl! Very feminine!”
“It’s not like that at all,” Kristen defended herself hotly. “I like him a lot. But I’m not sure that I love him.”
His smile was thin-lipped and bitter.
“Oh, come on, Kristy!” he mocked. “A man with all that money? Of course you love him—how could you help it? And you’re jumping with glee at the idea of marrying him.”
Kristen studied him for a long moment.
“Sherry told me that you’d developed into a first class grouch,” she told him deliberately. “But I don’t find you changed at all. This is the way you’ve been ever since I’ve known you. And I don’t know why I’ve put up with you.”
“Don’t you? Where else would you have gotten the training I’ve given you—and a chance to come here and snag yourself a millionaire?” he drawled infuriatingly.
Kristen still sat back on her heels.
“How soon will you be able to resume The Act?” she asked quietly.
“Begin dancing again? Oh, as soon as I can find and train another partner. And that’s not going to be easy, I’ll admit, off down here—that is, unless Marisa—”
She shook her head definitely.
“Marisa is going to be married,” she said quietly. “Dancing lessons were never anything serious for her; just something to kill time for a little, until she decided what she wanted to do with her life.”
“And now she has decided to marry.”
“Yes. She feels a deep sense of responsibility toward the people who have worked on the plantation ever since her ancestors employed their ancestors.”
“Royalty being loyal to devoted subjects—”
“I suppose it does sound like that, but it didn’t when Marisa told me,” Kristen answered stiffy.
“I’m sure.”
“So if you want to finish this engagement, I’m afraid you’re stuck with me as a partner.”
He looked at her sharply.
“You mean you’re not going to marry Got-Rocks right away?” he shot at her.
“I’m not sure I’m going to marry him at all,” Kristen answered. “And I promised you in New York, Leon, that I’d stick with The Act as long as you wanted me to.”
“And I told you that any time you wanted out, you had only to say so.”
“Well, I don’t want out, and that’s that.”
He sat up now, eyeing her eagerly.
“I wouldn’t want you to make any real sacrifice for The Act, Kristy, but if you’re sure you don’t mind sticking until the end of the season—”
“I want to!”
He gave her a warm, eager smile.
“That’s wonderful, Kristy. I’m so glad. I’ve got some wonderful ideas for a Martiniquais number, from watching this folklore group. Kristy, they are really wonderful!”
Kristen laughed, deeply relieved.
“Sherry hates them. She says they just ‘holler and stomp,’” she told him.
“Oh, well, Sherry’s a ‘pop’ singer. The only music she understands is a rock ‘n roll number or a syrupy ballad. She can’t appreciate the deep basic qualities of the numbers the folklore group do,” Leon brushed Sherry’s criticism aside. “Do you know, Kristy, the very way the women tie their head scarfs, every knot tied in them means something? For instance, if there is a single point, it tells the girl’s friends and admirers she is unattached; if two or three points are tied, she has already found her man.”
“That sounds like a good idea,” Kristen commented. “It should save a lot of confusion.”
Leon laughed. “Oh, I think it’s an idea that should spread to other countries where the poor males are kept in the dark about the condition of a gal’s heart.”
He stood up, brushed off the sand and held out his hand to her, lifting her to her feet.
“We’ll start in the morning,” he told her eagerly. “I’ll get some of the folklore musicians to play for us and we’ll get the routine started. I don’t think we’ll do the number for a while; maybe not here at all. It should be a sensation back in the States; perhaps we could take a few of the Martiniquais musicians back with us.”
And then he caught himself and said awkwardly, “Sorry. I forgot you wouldn’t be going back to the States with me.”
“Let’s not worry about that now, Leon. Let’s get ourselves oriented for our first performance here.”