"Wouldn't you like a Martini? You haven't had one for a long time."
He hesitated a moment, then reached for the bottle of gin. It wasn't until he turned around that he realized there were two cocktails in his hand. Habit was a strange commander. He turned to put one of them back on the sideboard.
"May I, Father? I'm past sixteen. There are many girls at school whose parents allow them a cocktail at dinner."
He stared at her, then poured half of one drink back into the shaker. He gave her the half-filled glass. He raised his glass in a toast.
She smiled, sipping delicately at her glass. "This is delicious," she said, in exactly the same words and tone of voice he had so often heard his wife use.
He felt the hot, uncontrollable tears leap into his eyes and turned away swiftly so that she would not see. Her hand caught at his sleeve and he turned back to her. Her eyes were deep with sympathy. He let her draw him down slowly to the couch beside her.
And then, for a moment, he wasn't her father. He was just a lonely man weeping against the breast of his mother, his wife, his daughter. He felt her young, strong arms around his shoulders, her fingers lightly brushing his hair. He heard the rumble of her whispered voice within her chest. "Poor Daddy, poor Daddy."
As suddenly as it had come, the moment was gone and he was aware only of the firm, taut breasts against his cheek. Self-consciously he raised his head. "I guess I made a fool of myself," he said awkwardly.
"No, Father," she said quietly. "For the first time in my life, I didn't feel like a child any more. I felt grown up and needed."
He forced a tired smile to his lips. "There's time enough for you to grow up."
Later that night, after dinner, she came over and sat on the arm of his chair. "I'm not going back to school any more," she said. "I'm going to stay home and keep house for you."
He smiled. "You'd get bored with that quickly enough," he said. "You'd miss the excitement of school, of boy friends- "
"Boys!" she said scornfully. "I can do without them. They're a bunch of grubby little animals always mooning after you. I can't stand them."
"You can't, eh?" he said quizzically. "Just what kind of man would please your majesty?"
She looked down at him seriously. "I think an older man," she said. "Someone like you, maybe. Someone who makes me feel safe and secure and needed. Boys are always trying to get something from you, show that they're stronger, more important."
He laughed. "That's only because they're young."
"I know," she answered, still serious. "That's why they frighten me. They're only interested in what they want; they don't care about me." She leaned over and kissed the top of his head. "Your hair is so nice with that touch of gray in it." A note of regret came into her voice. "Too bad I can't marry you. I love you, Father."
"No!" he said sharply, so sharply that he surprised even himself with the inexplicable violence of his reaction.
"No what, Father?" she asked, startled.
He got to his feet and stared down at her. "No, you're not staying home. You're going back to school tomorrow. I’ll have Peters drive you up."
She stared up at him and her eyes began to well with tears. Suddenly, she was a little girl again. "Don't you love me, Father?" she cried. "Don't you want me to stay with you?"
He stared at her for a moment, then compassion filled him. "Of course I love you, darling," he said quietly. "But don't you see, we can't put ourselves in a shell to protect ourselves from the world around us."
"But all I want is to be with you, Daddy!"
"No, child, no," he said patiently. "I know that's the way you feel now but someday, when you're older, and maybe married with children of your own, you'll understand."
She tore herself from his arms and faced him angrily. "No!" she stormed. "I’ll never get married! I’ll never have children! I’ll never let some boy get his dirty hands on me!"
"Rina!" he exclaimed in a shocked voice.
She stared at him dumbly, then her face dissolved into tears again. "Oh, Father!" she cried in a hurt, broken voice. "Can't you see? It's not I, it's you who don't understand!"
"Rina, darling," he said, reaching for her. But she had already fled the room. He heard her running footsteps on the staircase, then her door slammed.
He came back to the present slowly, looking down the long dining table at the teacher, then at Rina. Her eyes were shining, brightly expectant.
"I am sure that if Rina's mother were alive, Miss Bradley," Marlowe said in his oddly formal manner, "she would be as happy as I am to entrust our daughter to your very capable hands."
Margaret Bradley looked quickly down at her soup, so that he could not see the sudden triumph in her eyes. "Thank you, Mr. Marlowe," she said demurely.
9
THEY STAYED ON DECK UNTIL THEY HAD PASSED the Statue of Liberty and Ellis Island, until the water was a bottle green beneath the ship and they could no longer see the shore.
"Excited?" Margaret Bradley asked.
Rina's eyes were sparkling. "It's like a dream."
Margaret smiled. "It will get better and better. Right now we'd best go down to our cabin and rest up a bit before dinner."
"But I’m not the least bit tired," Rina protested.
"You will be," Margaret said firmly but pleasantly. "We'll be aboard the Leviathan for six days. You'll have plenty of time to see everything."
She nodded in silent approval as they entered their cabin. Harrison Marlowe wasn't cheap when he did something for his daughter. It was a first-class cabin, with twin beds and private bath. He hadn't hesitated, either, when she'd suggested that Rina would need a new wardrobe. Instead, he'd simply written a check for a thousand dollars and told her that if it wasn't sufficient, she should let him know.
They had got only a few things in New York; the rest they would get in Paris. But without saying anything to Rina, she had ordered several things and had them sent directly to the ship. She couldn't wait to see the expression on Rina's face when she saw them.
The boxes were on the bed but she did not call attention to them. She wanted the moment to be just right. She took off her light spring coat and sank into a deep, comfortable chair. Opening her purse, she took out a package of cigarettes. It wasn't until after she had lit one that she became aware that Rina was staring at her. Then she realized that Rina had never seen her smoke.
She held out the package. "Have one?"
Rina hesitated.
"Go ahead," she urged. "It's all right. You'll find most European women smoke; they're not so provincial as we are."
She watched Rina light a cigarette and laughed as she coughed. "Don't swallow the smoke."
Rina held the smoke in her mouth and let it out slowly. "How's that?"
Margaret smiled. "Fine."
"This is fun, Miss Bradley."
Margaret looked at her. "Now that we're really on our way, I think we can dispense with formalities. From now on, you may call me Peggy." She got to her feet. "Would you like to bathe first, Rina?"
Rina shook her head. "No, Miss Bradley, you can go first if you like."
Margaret shook her head, smiling. "Peggy."
"I mean Peggy."
'That's better," Margaret said.
She looked up as Rina came out of the bathroom, tying the belt of her robe. Her long blond hair fell to her shoulders, looking even more silvery against her dark tan. There was a low knock at the door. Rina looked at her questioningly.
"I ordered sherry," she explained. "It's good for your appetite the first day at sea. I find it helps prevent mal de mer."
She took the tray from the steward and gave one glass to Rina. "Cheers," she said, smiling and sipping the wine slowly.
"It's nice," Rina said.
"I’m glad you like it."
Rina put the glass down. "Shall I wear my new blue suit tonight?"
Margaret assumed a shocked expression. "First-class dining is formal, Rina."