Chapter Nine

The construction documents were finished! They had been placed in the center of the conference table to be relished as a job well done. Randall beamed at his staff assembled for its Monday morning meeting. “If I had my druthers,” he twinkled at the digression from his usual vocabulary, “it would be, of course, that the documents could have been finished early enough to run them through a quality-control check. However, completing them on time has been miraculous enough, and I extend to you all my warmest congratulations.”

His smile lessened noticeably as he addressed Deborah. “When will Mr. Parker be arriving for them? He has not seen fit to take me into his confidence. No doubt he has you.”

Everyone, even John Turner, avoided looking at Deborah. It had become obvious that Deborah had fallen from grace. Rumor had it that Randall disapproved of her “romantic involvement,” as Bea phrased it, with the builder of the project. In staff meetings of the past three weeks, he had missed no opportunity to allude to the affair and remind her that he was displeased. Deborah had met his disdain with quiet dignity.

Now she answered steadily, “His plane will be arriving this afternoon. He’ll come by the office to pick them up so that he can have them at the city planning office first thing in the morning.”

“Why come here? You’ll certainly be seeing him this evening. Why can’t you simply take the documents with you after work?”

“I do not want the responsibility of having them in my possession,” she answered levelly.

“Very wise,” Randall said with a tepid smile. “Especially in the light of the theft you recently experienced. Tell Mr. Parker he will find the documents in my office.”

That afternoon Deborah did not attend the celebration party in the production room. Not even the anticipation of seeing Dan within the hour could ease her pain. She was suffering from the knowledge that a rare and irreplaceable affection was crumbling, and she was powerless to prevent it.

The last confrontation with Randall over Dan had been bitter. It had happened the morning of Dan’s departure for Phoenix. She had been summoned to Randall’s office and there, with a look of utter disgust distorting his sensitive features, Randall had termed her intimacy with Dan “a sordid little affair.” Since then he had hardly spoken to her. She looked up from her desk in surprise, therefore, when Randall came into the office carrying two glasses of Champagne.

“A peace offering,” he said, “with the hope that you will forgive me.”

Deborah took the proffered glass. “If it was your intention to hurt me, Randall, you’ve succeeded,” she said quietly.

Randall sighed disconsolately and strolled to the bay window. “I know,” he said, looking out at the snow-covered landscape. “I’ve not been proud of myself lately. I’ve seen a side of me that I never knew existed until three weeks ago when you told me that you were in love with Dan Parker. The knowledge, the pain of it, has brought out the worst in me. I can only hope you will understand that I’ve been acting out of the anguish of my disappointment.”

Deborah looked at him sorrowfully. “Disappointment, Randall? But why are you so disappointed? Is it solely because Dan Parker is the man I love and not someone else you consider more suitable?”

“No, child.” Randall turned to look at her, and Deborah saw the disturbance in the gentle blue eyes. “I guess that I never expected you to…” he hesitated over his choice of words, “fall in love. There have been so many eligible, worthy men in your life, but you were impervious to them all. You seemed…above the desires of the flesh, the needs of ordinary women. You cared only for your work, the firm, for Bea and me. Frankly, I had become used to the idea that you would always belong solely to us, take over the firm when I retired, inherit it upon my death.” He gave a heavy sigh and shook his head. “That you have met someone in the space of two short months to whom you’ve obviously given so much,” he went on, “and from whom you hope for marriage and children, has been rather a shock to me.”

Deborah got up from the desk, tears shimmering in her eyes, and drew him close. “But, Randall, you could be a part of it all. Why, you’d make a wonderful grandfather,” she said exuberantly. “Do you think I wouldn’t want you and Bea to share in my life still, that I wouldn’t need you anymore?”

“And what about your talent, my dear? What would become of that between diaper changes and housekeeping chores?”

“Is my talent so important when compared to the love of a husband and family, the making of a home?” It was a new and startling consideration. Deborah realized in amazement that if Dan married her, she would gladly set aside her career for a while, as long as it took to raise children in a loving, nurturing atmosphere. The idea thrilled her. To have a happy home and family of her own—now that would be a crowning design!

“You would sacrifice your career for the nebulous rewards of child rearing and husband pampering?” Randall was shocked.

“Many women are able to manage both,” she pointed out, trying to get him to envision gains rather than losses.

But Randall shook his head. “No, my dear. A talent like yours, in order to realize its fullest potential, must be kept pure from mundane concerns.”

“Randall, I can’t believe you feel that way!”

He patted her hand. “Alas, but I do, my child. But let us return to the subject of Dan. I still very much fear for you in your relationship with him. However, if you must love him, you must. There is no accounting for the indiscriminate visitation of that emotion upon two people. I will try to accept your feelings for him as graciously as possible. And I trust you will find it in your heart to forgive my conduct of the last three weeks.”

“You know I do. I just wish you could be happy for me.”

“I will when I’ve been given sufficient reason. As of our last discussion, Dan had not, ah, avowed his feelings for you. Has that status changed?”

“No,” Deborah replied, “but he’s invited me to return with him to Phoenix for Thanksgiving. That’s a good sign, don’t you think?”

“Well,” Randall considered, “in my day it was. Such an invitation was usually tendered to the young lady for the reason of meeting the man’s parents. Er, uh, whom are you going to meet?”

“Hang on to your socks, dear,” Deborah warned with a grin. “Alicia Dameron.”

Randall’s eyes widened. “Alicia Dameron! Dan’s old flame? Oh, dear—” His delicate brow crimped into a series of fine wrinkles. “I am out of step with the times!”

Deborah laughed and squeezed his arm affectionately. “It does seem unusual, doesn’t it? I suppose I should be jealous, but I’m not. I don’t know exactly how to feel about seeing her, but I do genuinely believe that whatever was between them in the past is over now. They’re just very good friends, like family it seems, and Dan says that Alicia is dying to meet me. This four-day weekend coming up is a perfect opportunity. Dan and I will fly to Phoenix together, then drive back. This time he’ll be staying in Denver until the plans are approved.”

“I am sure you’ll like that.” Randall’s smile was fragile. Again he shook his head. “It’s a different world, to be sure, than when I was a young man, but I wish you a splendid trip. Bea and I will miss you, of course. We’ve not missed many Thanksgivings together, have we? What arrangements have you made for Dempsey while you are gone?”

“He’ll have to go to a kennel, I’m afraid.”

“Oh, but he can’t!” Randall protested. “Dempsey is too big for a kennel. What if I come out and housesit for you? Your house shouldn’t be left unattended anyway. Thievery is rampant during the holidays. Bea can come, too, and we can go on some short hiking expeditions into the foothills. We haven’t done that for a long time.”

“Randall, Dempsey will love you forever!” cried Deborah gratefully. The world was suddenly becoming all sunshine and warmth. “I hadn’t wanted to leave him in a kennel. He would feel so abandoned.”

“We must spare him that feeling, mustn’t we?” Randall’s lips twisted with faint irony. “It’s the worst feeling in the world. Don’t forget to leave me a set of keys.”

When he had gone, Deborah raised the glass of Champagne to her lips in a thoughtful glow. Randall had not been able to resist that parting shot, but she felt no rancor toward him now. He did feel abandoned. She understood his feelings and felt very sorry for him, a childless, aging widower whose only involvement with a woman had been the clearly platonic one he had shared with Bea all these years. Deborah could not imagine that he had ever known passion, the extreme compelling urgency eating through one like fire, to fuse in a single union with another human being.

Deborah took her reflections and the glass of Champagne to the bay window and the aspen tree. What an ironic surprise that she wanted, after all, the life that her parents had tried to impose upon her.

A pair of large hands closed round her shoulders. “Hello, my beauty,” said Dan, his voice husky and close, his breath warm as he pressed a kiss on her neck. The presence of him was enfolding, igniting. She relaxed against him, savoring the feel of him, anticipating the moment she would turn.

  

In the night Deborah awoke, suddenly and completely. Dan lay asleep beside her, stretched out full length. She raised up to peer down at Dempsey curled in sound slumber on his pallet. The stars were overcast tonight. All was quiet, deep, dark. Yet she had been awakened by the revisitation of something—a dream, a memory, an idea—having, of all things, to do with Dempsey. It was like a feeling of déjà vu. Only recently—she couldn’t remember when—she had felt the same nameless exhortation, like an urgent voice lost on the wind trying to impart a crucial message that she must understand before it was too late.

Deborah lay back down and breathed deeply to calm the palpitations of her heart. How ridiculous that a night that followed such a gratifying series of events should be interrupted by a nightmare. She glanced over at Dan, sleeping soundly. Well he might. The construction documents had been completed on time. They were ready for the final phase of verification before their execution into reality. She was positive the zoning commission would find no fault with the plans. They met every safety requirement, considered every public need from bathroom facilities to parking spaces for the handicapped. By the middle of December, the documents would be returned with the commission’s full approval to begin construction. Dan’s dream would be under way to fulfillment.

Then why this palpitating heart? she wondered. Why the pinprick of concern in the back of my mind? She didn’t want to become like her mother, who used to worry over nothing.

  

“Go easy on that,” Dan admonished as Deborah took a sip of the Champagne just served the first-class passengers. “You haven’t had anything to eat today, I’d bet.”

They were airborne, leaving the glistening white peaks of the Colorado Rockies for the vast brown stretches of the Arizona desert. Temperatures were in the seventies there, Dan had said, just right for swimming. Deborah hoped so. After the pressure of the last nine weeks, she could think of no better way to recharge the batteries than to lie around a swimming pool, soaking up the sun.

“I’ve been too excited to eat today,” Deborah said, relishing the Champagne, snuggling down into the comfort of the first-class seat. “This tastes wonderful. Now tell me again what we’re going to do in Phoenix?”

Dan made a great show of turning his head in surprise, the hike of his brows clearly asking, all that we’re going to do?

“No, silly.” She giggled, the Champagne already at work in her bloodstream.

“Tonight when we arrive, we’re going to my condominium. You’ll meet my housekeeper, Mrs. Watson. She’s been with me for years and will move to Denver once I’ve built a house there—”

“You plan to build a house in Denver?” Deborah interrupted, letting the stewardess refill her glass.

“That’s my plan. Do you think you might like to design it? I won’t be getting around to it for a while, not until the head-quarters are finished and the company is transferred to Denver. But yes, eventually, I’d like to have a home of my own in Denver. I’m getting tired of town houses and condominiums.”

“They say that happens to bachelors.” Deborah’s eyes widened ingenuously. “You were saying about Mrs. Watson?”

Dan’s expression did not change by a flicker of an eyelash. He went on blandly, “She’ll have a grand meal prepared, I’m sure. She’s a great cook. You’ll like her.”

“What will Mrs. Watson think about…you and me…about my staying with you?”

“Mrs. Watson is not one to question or comment. She was told to prepare the guest bedroom. Whatever conclusions she draws she will keep to herself.”

“I would imagine,” Deborah could not resist commenting, “that your Mrs. Watson has had numerous occasions on which to draw conclusions.”

Dan smiled across at her and fondled her hand. “Jealous?”

“Yes,” she admitted frankly.

“Good. That’s a telling sign.”

“Of what?”

“That you’re falling under my spell.”

Whatever that means, thought Deborah. Why can’t he tell me he loves me? “So continue with the schedule of events,” she urged.

Dan explained that they would be going to Alicia’s for Thanksgiving dinner. There would be two other guests, both men, Alicia’s agent and attorney. “She’ll probably cook the meal herself. In your honor she’s preparing cornbread stuffing for the turkey. Do you like cornbread stuffing?”

“Very much. It’s called dressing, though. Cornbread dressing. That’s awfully nice of her, Dan. Imagine—having Thanks-giving dinner cooked by a movie star! You know,” she turned to him matter-of-factly, “you’ve brought a number of surprises into my life.”

Dan lifted her fingertips to his lips, his gaze engaging hers. “I hope to bring you many more,” he said softly.

Mrs. Watson opened the door to them with a broad smile. She was an angular woman whose gray hair and numerous wrinkles suggested an age in the late fifties. Dan had said the woman was a widow whose only child had been killed in Vietnam. “Welcome to Phoenix, Miss Standridge, to Mr. Parker’s home. I have heard nothing but good things about you.”

Her friendliness eased Deborah’s embarrassment immediately and indicated that perhaps the woman had drawn some conclusions after all, and favorable ones, too. It was an uplifting thought.

At the swimming pool the next morning, Deborah drew the eyes of all those who had come out on their patios with newspapers and coffee cups. Dan had already whistled his approval of the bathing suit. “But I am so white!” she despaired, looking down at her pale limbs.

“What can you expect of a Colorado snow bunny? You’re lucky to have the kind of skin that doesn’t burn. By the time we leave, you’ll have a tan.”

She already had a smattering of one, Deborah discovered, as she dressed for Alicia’s Thanksgiving dinner party. Her skin radiated a healthy glow, a flattering foil for the ivory Grecian dress so suited to the line of her figure. She had brought along a rope of pearls with a turquoise and diamond clasp to set off the dress. There was a matching bracelet, legacies from her mother.

A number of times during the drive to Alicia’s house in Scottsdale, a suburb of Phoenix, Deborah felt Dan’s eyes leave the road and wander over to her. She sat in a delicious glow of excitement, her eyes presumably on the famous Camelback Mountain looming in the distance. It seemed to her like an extension upward of the desert itself since no trees and little vegetation grew on it. But her mind, her heart, her body throbbed with awareness of the man beside her and the pleasurable certainty that he loved her. It was only a matter of time, perhaps during this weekend, that he would declare it.

Alicia herself opened the door to her rambling, white-stuccoed, Spanish-inspired mansion. “Deborah,” she fluted, extending a diamond-beringed hand, long red fingernails glistening. “I knew you would be exquisite. Welcome.”

“Thank you,” said Deborah, enveloped at once in the breathtaking essence of all that was Alicia Dameron. Dan seemed totally inured.

“Hello, princess,” he greeted her, casually kissing the proffered cheek. “I’m hungry as a bear. When do we eat?”

“Shortly. Deborah, how do you stand him?”

“Easy.” Deborah smiled.

“Good for you,” said the actress.

After dinner, their hostess left the men with cigars and brandy on the deck of the sparkling blue swimming pool to take Deborah on a tour of the house. Once alone, Alicia minced no words. “Has he told you yet that he loves you?”

Deborah was too amused by Alicia’s directness to be taken aback. For all her dazzling beauty, fame, and diamonds, the actress was what people from the South termed “down-home folks.”

“No, he hasn’t,” she answered.

“Have you told him how you feel?”

“No,” said Deborah.

With a lavish flash of the diamond rings, Alicia demanded, “Well, why ever not? It’s plain as mud on a clean floor that you two are mad about each other. What are you waiting for?”

“I’ve not wanted to rush things. Dan is the kind of man who has to have time to live with new feelings. I must be a new feeling for him; I might even be a threat to his concentration on business. Except for you, he has never permitted a woman to take precedence over it.”

“Oh, that—” Alicia airily waved aside that notion. “I never took precedence over anything in Dan’s life, not in the way you mean. I happened to come along when his life was at a low ebb. He was hurting from the loss of a childhood friend in a car accident, a man he loved like a brother. You probably know that Dan’s mother died when he was very young. Even though his father was still living until a few years ago, Dan was practically an orphan. He adored the mother of the fellow who was killed. I guess she had sort of taken him under her wing and treated him like another son. She was a strong influence in his life, probably the main reason he’s a wealthy man today. Anyway, when her son was killed, she sort of shriveled up like an autumn leaf and died within the year. Dan suffered a double loss—” Alicia broke off at the stark look on Deborah’s face. “You didn’t know all of this?” Alicia inquired. “Surely Dan told you?”

“No.” Deborah shook her head slowly, stunned by the impact of Alicia’s revelation. “No, he hasn’t.”

“Possibly because it’s still a very painful subject with him, Deborah. It doesn’t mean anything. You have a lifetime to share these things.”

For Deborah, the remainder of the visit was torture. She thought it would never end. The chill within her had expanded until she felt it seeping out through her pores, absorbing the warm sun captured earlier in the day. At one point, Dan asked in concern, “Everything okay, honey? You seem awfully quiet.”

She managed a convincing smile. “I’m fine. The food and wine have made me drowsy, that’s all.”

In the evening when they had finally returned to the condominium, Mrs. Watson was just leaving. “I thought I told you to take the day off!” Dan exclaimed. “What are you doing back here?”

“Now don’t scold.” She wagged a finger at him in affection. “I just came in to tidy up a bit and to make sure everything was in readiness for you young folks to have a nice breakfast in the morning. I don’t come in until eleven, you see,” she explained to Deborah. “Mr. Parker is one for a nice breakfast, he is. Oh, and Mr. Parker—you know that photograph you always keep on the bureau of your room? It’s missing.”

“No, it isn’t,” Dan replied. “I knocked it off accidentally, and the glass broke. I put it away until I can get it replaced.”

“Oh,” Mrs. Watson said, satisfied, and wished them a good night.

Deborah went out on the patio to wait for Dan to bring her a glass of milk and himself a nightcap. The night air was pleasant and balmy. Lifting her gaze heavenward, she saw that her evening stars followed them to Phoenix. They winked in merry familiarity, insensible to her mood.

Dan came out on the patio and handed her a glass of milk. “Want to tell me about it?” he asked, taking a seat. “Was it anything that Alicia said?”

“Goodness, no,” Deborah lied. “She was so friendly and pleasant. I could come to like her very much.”

“Then what is it, Deborah?”

Deborah studied the contents of her glass. “Dan…do you think we’re going too fast? I mean, we’ve only known each other a little over two months, and I—I feel that I am getting involved with you more deeply than I—I want to. You’re the most exciting man I’ve ever known. It’s been easy to lose my head over you, to forget for a while the—the importance of my career to me.”

Dan sat in the shadows. Deborah sensed that he had become motionless. “I thought you wanted some space in my life,” he reminded her. His voice had the quiet quality of a rock.

“Well, I did—I do—” She squeezed her eyes shut, as if it hurt to think. “Oh, Dan, I don’t know what I’m saying!”

“Then let me interpret, Deborah. You’re saying you don’t know how you feel about me yet, that I’m rushing you toward something you’re not sure you want. Is that what you’re trying to tell me?”

Deborah nodded miserably, her eyes downcast. Dan stood up. “I’m sure you can understand if I’m surprised. It seems that I have been sailing in this boat all by myself.” Deborah knew he was looking down at her, waiting, hoping for her to speak. She could feel the heavy weight of his disappointment when she did not. “Is there anything else you want to say to me before I say good night?”

“No,” she whispered, her head still bent.

“Then you’ll find the guest room more than comfortable, I believe. Good night, Deborah.”

Dan caught a glimpse of his rigid countenance in the hall mirror as he passed to his room. The desert in the full heat of summer had seldom looked more forbidding. He began undressing, angrily yanking at his tie, chucking cuff links into the jewelry compartment on the top bureau drawer. His eye fell upon a small blue velvet ring box. He took it out and lifted the lid, his mouth tightening. The two-carat solitaire in the Tiffany setting winked back at him playfully, mockingly. He had intended placing the box on Deborah’s breakfast plate in the morning. Now he snapped the lid shut and hurled the box back into the bureau drawer before slamming it shut.

In the guest room, Deborah wept bitterly into a pillow long into the night. Lord, she had paid a thousand times for what she had done. Was there never to be a final payment for the tragedy of eight years ago? How cruelly ironic that Dan had been a victim of a tragedy similar to the one she had caused. The loss of his friend, the loss of the woman who had been like a mother to him might just as easily have been Roger and Estelle. Her heart twisted with the memory of Dan’s face that one time he had alluded to a low period in his life. Pain, still fresh, had flitted across those clear eyes. He would never be able to forgive her. Her own parents had not. How could Dan?

She had planned to make a clean break of the past this weekend. Now she never would. To tell Dan would mean to risk his rejection, and she could never bear that. There was still the burden of her parents’ censure on her shoulders, the weight of Estelle’s, the weight of her own. She could not add Dan’s.