“Do you honestly think she would?”
He evaded that question and asked another. “Have you seen the undies ad?”
“By accident. I nearly died of shock.”
“So have the hotshots of the company who peddle the stuff. They can’t believe their ad people shelved the campaign for all these months. They’re head over heels, Rana. Their sales have skyrocketed just in the week the ad has been out. You’re decorating billboards all over the country. They want to do a series of television commercials.”
“Using me?”
“Sure, using you. So the commercials will tie in with the print ads. They think, and I agree, that you can do for simple cotton underwear what Brooke Shields did for blue jeans.”
“I’m glad the ad is a success, Morey, but I don’t want to go back to work.”
“Not even to the tune of four hundred thou for a two-year contract?”
“You’re kidding.” Her legs folded beneath her, and she collapsed onto the rug.
“I see I’ve finally got your attention. I didn’t say we’d accept four hundred. I’ll counter with six hundred and I think we’ll get an even half a million. How does that sound?”
“Ridiculous.”
He chuckled. “Not so ridiculous. I could use the bread.”
Her lips puckered with worry. “Have you been gambling again? Did you overextend?”
“Never mind my vices. You sound like my ex-wife. When are you getting your tush on a plane back to New York?”
She caught a glimpse of herself in the cheval glass in the corner. The woman sitting Indian fashion on the floor of the tidy, but modest, apartment didn’t even resemble the model in the magazine ad. She was chubby by comparison. Her dark red hair hadn’t been conditioned or trimmed in months. Her hands were a nightmare, with their square, short nails and paint-stained fingers. Her four crooked front teeth made for a less than perfect smile.
“I’m not coming back, Morey,” she said softly, hoping he could sustain the blow. “I’m in no shape to. They wouldn’t want me. I’m twenty pounds heavier than when you last saw me. I couldn’t model underwear if I wanted to.”
“So we’ll send you to a fat farm for a couple of weeks. What’il it be, the Greenhouse or the Golden Door? You’re closer to the Greenhouse. Want me to make you a reservation?”
“Morey, you’re not listening. I’m not coming back. I don’t want to.”
The following silence was long and rife with tension. “Will you at least think about it?” Morey said finally. “It’s a heck of a contract to turn down. We’ll start slow, if you like. We’ll accept no other work but this. Half a million is a helluva lot of money, Rana.”
“I realize that,” she said miserably. She didn’t want Morey to suffer any financial setbacks because of her decision. “Don’t think I’m not flattered or grateful. I am. But I have another life here. And I’m liking it.”
She glanced at the door, thinking suddenly of the man across the hail. It unnerved her that thoughts of him should come to her mind at just that moment. He certainly had no bearing on her decision to stay in Galveston.
“Well, they’re in a hurry, but I’ve stalled them. I told them you were taking an extended vacation, just as I have all our other clients. I’ll give you a few days to sleep on it and call you back Friday.”
“All right.” She shook her head dismally. Her answer would be the same in a few days, or even in a few weeks, but she supposed it would be kinder to let him down gently than to refuse outright. His references to money made her uneasy. Morey had an almost compulsive penchant for betting on the outcome of any sporting event. “How’s everything else in your life?”
“Fine, fine. Don’t worry about me. ”
“Business is good?”
“Are you kiddin’? I’ve got Rana for a client and now everybody wants me as an agent.”
She was relieved. Morey’s agency had been handling showroom and catalog models when Rana and Susan walked through his door. When Rana’s career had taken off, he had moved uptown in more ways than one. Soon he had more clients than he could handle, and had hired several assistants. Rana would always be glad that her success had contributed to his.
“Well, good-bye, then. Take care of yourself. Watch that blood pressure. Don’t forget to take your medicine.”
“Yeah, yeah. Good-bye. Think about the contract, Rana. Give it serious thought.”
“I will. Promise.”
She replaced the receiver thoughtfully. Something wasn’t right. She could sense it. Was Morey taking care of his health? She was afraid he wasn’t, now that she wasn’t there to nag him about smoking too much and eating properly. She hoped he wasn’t too affected by her decision to leave the business.
Her musings disturbed her, and she welcomed the interruption of a knock on her door. She leaped up to answer it, swearing to herself that her heart hadn’t accelerated with the hope that it might be Trent. She had almost reached the door when she realized she wasn’t wearing her glasses, and hurriedly put them on before opening it.
“Can you come out and play?”
He couldn’t have looked more adorable. His hair was still damp and tousled from his shower. He had on athletic shorts and a ratty T-shirt with holes in it. He was barefooted, and the Band-Aid was still wrapped around his little toe.
With the same kind of affection Ruby had for him, Rana wanted to pinch him on the cheeks or on the bottom. He was just so damn cute. And far too much of a temptation. He was like an ice-cream cone to a dieter. One taste, and resolve flew out the window.
“No, I can’t,” she said firmly.
“Aw, please.”
She giggled at his wheedling tone. “I can’t. I’ve got to work. Don’t you have anything constructive to do?”
“I could go to a gym and do a light workout with weights. Or I could do Ruby the favor she asked and sweep out her greenhouse. She wants to plant some flowers in there.” He winked at her. “But my arm could be twisted to goof off.”
“Well, mine couldn’t be, so good-bye.”
“Some friend you are turning out to be,” he muttered as he wheeled to go.
Rana was smiling when she closed her door. She told herself her well-being was due to an overall good feeling.
Each day of that week passed in a similar manner. It became their routine to meet and run together every morning. Ruby usually had breakfast waiting for them, which Rana ate before rushing up to her room to work while the morning light was still good.
Generally Trent made a nuisance of himself, but Rana was good-natured about it. It was almost impossible to get angry with him. During the day he did odd jobs around the house for Ruby. Their evenings were usually spent in the parlor watching television or playing board games. One evening the three of them strolled around the block. Ruby filled them in on the gossip concerning almost every family. No one had skeletons that Ruby didn’t know about.
Another night, Trent got out the ancient, hand-crank ice-cream freezer, which he fondly remembered from his youth. He cleaned it, oiled its rusty crank, and asked Ruby to whip up some vanilla ice cream. A few hours later they were enjoying the homemade confection beneath the trees in the backyard.
Rana compared that tranquil evening to many she’d spent club-hopping in New York. She wouldn’t have traded.
Trent couldn’t remember a time when he had felt so relaxed and content in the company of a woman.
On Thursday Rana noticed she was low on supplies, and went to the art store to stock up. When she returned, she was carrying a package so large and cumbersome she could barely see over it. As she set it down on her worktable, she was confronted with a startling sight.
A man was reclining on her bathroom floor. She couldn’t see his head and shoulders, because they were inside the cabinet underneath the sink. But Rana recognized the shape of those muscular legs immediately.