Deceptive Love (3 page)

David was an amiable bear of a man and big enough to shift Schyler, but she shrank from that expedient unless absolutely necessary. It wasn't to her taste to have men fighting over her, and it might also give David ideas about his proprietary rights which she would prefer not to have raised. She and David had a most pleasant relationship and she had no desire to pass beyond the casual goodnight-kiss stage with him for the nonce. He was one of several men she dated companionably. It wouldn't suit her to single him out, except in desperation.

"All right, Keri. I did promise. Your wish is my command, with the exception, of course, of your wish for me to go out of your life. You might as well get used to the fact that I'm not going to do that." There was a note of grim determination in his voice, a warning she would do well not to disregard.

When he had gone she carried his glass, with its melting ice cubes and residue of diluted scotch, to the kitchen and dumped the remains down the kitchen sink. She really didn't understand Schyler at al
l. He had been a lightheart
ed playboy, happily flitting from feminine blossom to feminine blossom, to the despair of Van Metre, Sr., who had a strong dynastic sense. Schyler was the last of the Van Metre males, although he had several sisters, and it would be unthinkable to break the chain of direct descent from the founding Van Metre who had set up the family fortunes in the mid-eighteenth century by means better not enquired into too closely.

The Schyler of merely a year ago had blithely resisted all his father's persuasions and strictures on marriage, hence a partial explanation of Van Metre, Sr.'s initial delight and then astounded dismay at the course of his son's courtship of Keri.

Schyler had played at love too often and too long, Keri judged. She didn't want a man who was, at heart, every woman's man. He wanted her, would even marry her, because she was unattainable, but once he had her, another flower would eventually beckon and away he'd flit. She was of no mind to share her man once she had accepted him as hers, and as yet she'd met no man she had had the slightest desire to claim. One thing was certain, however. It wouldn't be Schyler!

She saw neither hide nor hair of Schyler for the rest of the weekend, although a charming nosegay of flowers arrived early Saturday morning. There was a card bearing a single, flamboyant
S
attached and she shook her head dolefully. She didn't dump them in the wastebasket because she didn't believe in wasted gestures. It wasn't the flowers' fault, but had Schyler been present to witness the action, she would have consigned them to the trash with emphatic force.

Monday morning was typical of such days. She snagged two pairs of non
-
runnable panty hose and broke a fingernail before the day had fairly begun. When she finally reached the office, she was as close to being late as she'd ever been in her working life and she hoped it didn't foretell a day spent accomplishing things by the skin of her teeth.

Her weekend had not been the relaxed one she had planned. She had been eternally tensed for Schyler's appearance, making it impossible for her to fully enjoy the
party
or the play the following evening. Sunday she had
spent
with Charles and Mary, lounging by their pool, but
even
Charles had little solace to offer when she told him
of
Schyler's reappearance
in
her life. Mary, who was a
dear,
thought it romantic. Keri assured her that it came closer
to
being a grade-one nuisance, but made little impression on Mary's opinion.

Keri managed to open and sort Mr. Simonds's mail before he came in, prepared to carry out her portion of their daily routine, but still with that sense of having to run just to keep in place. Mr. Simonds swept into the office with an unusual air of fluster himself, and before she could open her mouth to respond to his invariable greeting, he snapped out, "Come into my office, please, Miss Dalton," and bustled right past her into his own office.

"Well, well!" Keri's eyebrows rose in astonishment. "Someone's really been upsetting his routine." Mr. Simonds was a nice man, but he did tend to be persnickity. He
did
not like change. Keri gathered up her dictation pad, ready to take down a blistering letter or memo to the offender, and followed him into the office.

He swept his morning mail aside with a petulant gesture quite foreign to his usual manner. Keri sat in her customary chair, pencil poised, expression attentive.

"Mr.
Randolph's back." The words were abrupt. Keri
eyed
her boss with some speculation, but responded with a noncommittal murmur. "He wasn't due back for anoth
er
month," Mr. Simonds added plaintively. Keri main- rained her attentive expression, but inwardly her eyebrows
were
raised to her hairline!

She
knew nothing of Mr. Randolph save his scrawled
initials,
D.R., which adorned countless memos, letters, and figure-packed papers which she filed, routed, and duplicated as required. He was RanCo, and he had been in Geneva, Paris, London, Rome, and various other major cities ever since she had come to work for Mr. Simonds, and through him, RanC
o. Mr. Simonds was a vice-presi
dent (as specified to Charles). D. Randolph was the major stockholder in the family-held corporation and the power on the throne. Judging from his output, he was also a workoholic.

Had she felt so inclined, she could have found out everything about him from his shoe size to the name of his first-grade teacher. An office grapevine is thorough, if not always accurate. But Keri hadn't been inclined. She knew the
D
stood for Dain. She wouldn't recognize him if she passed him in the hall.

If she had thought about the matter, cared enough to try to visualize the man, she would have pictured him as dynamic, bull-necked, and cigar-chomping, held together by Maalox and high-blood pressure pills. His wife would be occupied with suitable charities and the Opera Committee and his children would be stashed away in various Ivy League schools. But she hadn't cared enough to even speculate.

"Do you really speak all the languages Charles told me?" Mr. Simonds sounded hopeful that it had been sheer fabrication on Charles's part.

Keri looked at her boss in surprise. "Of course, sir," she answered stiffly. "Mr. Lawson wouldn't have said so if I could not. I do not, however, read Japanese, but I believe he made that clear, did he not?"

"Hmm, yes, yes," Mr. Simonds admitted abstractedly, "but you won't need the Japanese. The German and

French are the necessary ones, although the Italian could
be useful as well"

"Useful,
sir?" Keri was by now thoroughly bewildered.
She had
known this was going to be a strange day, but she
hadn't
realized it was going to affect everyone around her as well.

"Of
course. I told you. Mr. Randolph is back." He
leaned
back in his chair, drumming his fingers impatiently on
his
disarranged mail. He sighed heavily. "I hate to lose
you,
Miss Dalton. You're an even better secretary than
Miss
Mason was."

Praise indeed, thought Keri wryly. She breathed deeply o
nce,
for control, and said carefully, "Mr. Simonds, if you co
uld
just be a little more specific.
I...
I gather that I am no longer to be your secretary and that it is in some way
connected
with Mr. Randolph's return and my linguistic
abilities,
but. . ." she gestured her bewilderment expres
sively.

"He's already got two secretaries," Mr. Simonds exported in aggrieved tones. "Why does he have to have mine as well? There must be other secretaries who speak ah those languages. I don't like all these changes!" He raffled through the once carefully sorted piles of mail,
to
tally disordering them. Keri gritted her teeth.

"Who,
Mr. Simonds? Who has two secretaries? Mr.
Randolph?"
Keri strove to maintain a calm, rational tone.
So
so
meone
had to!
"

"
Of
course. That's just what I said. He's back and he's commandeered you because you speak all of those lan
guages."
Mr. Simonds glared at her as though she had
committed
some despicable crime.

"But
I'm
your
secretary," Keri said helplessly. What a Monday!

"Not
anymore," Mr. Simonds informed her glumly. "A typist from the secretarial pool is coming up to do the routine work and Personnel has been notified to replace you as soon as they possibly can."

"You mean that this is a permanent change?" Behind the clear-glass lenses Keri's green eyes began to emit dangerous sparks. She had hand-picked this boss. He was just what she had ordered, and it didn't suit her plans at all to be shunted around to some other, possibly less congenial (from her point of view) situation.

"Why, of course." Mr. Simonds stared at her in surprise. She didn't sound happy about it at all! Every secretary who worked for the company would give her eye teeth to be one of Dain Randolph's secretaries, and not just for the higher salary the position carried either. For the first time since she had come to work for him, he really looked at Keri. There was something about this woman ... a proud lift to the jaw line, the smooth clean line of her throat . . . which he had never noticed before. Her hair now . . . he shook his head. Fanciful, that's what he was. All this change was upsetting.

There was a soft tap at the inner door. Keri rose from her chair, walked over, and opened it. One of the secretaries from the typing pool stood uncertainly waiting. Keri knew her slightly and decided she was competent for an interim period, though not up to the sustained pressure of the job. She smiled reassuringly at the girl, and then turned back to Mr. Simonds.

"All right, sir. I understand you had no choice." She walked over to his desk and picked up the disarranged stack of mail, saying dryly, "I'
ll re
sort these and explain the procedure to Miss Gossard at the same time. I'll also brief her on the more urgent items and the general office routine. When I feel that she is ready to take over, I will report to Mr. Randolph's secretary.

"You had two calls which are fairly urgent. The memo
is
on your desk and if you would return them while Miss Gossard and I go over your mail, we'll be done by the time you're ready to deal with it."

Keri carried the mail out briskly, majestically sweeping an awed Miss Gossard before her. Mr. Simonds considered her exit in a somewhat bemused fashion and said, just as she reached the door, "But Miss Dalton, Mr. Randolph expects you at once. His Miss Barth was most specific."

Keri paused and responded in repressive accents. "Mr. Simonds, if I were to leave before I made sure everything was running as smoothly as possible under the circumstances, I would be a most inefficient secretary. Presumably Mr. Randolph desires my services because I am efficient. I shall leave your office in good order. Was there anything else, sir?"

"No, no. Carry on, Miss Dalton." He subsided. When
she
had shut the door quietly between the two offices, he pursed his lips in a silent whistle. Miss Dalton was
definitely
displeased. It made him feel somewhat better. His own day was not the only on
e to suffer unpleasant disrupt
ions and inconvenience. Miss Dalton was on her high horse and he'd just found out how quelling she could be,
seated
upon such a lofty mount.

Keri dealt efficiently with the mail (for the second time)
and
answered Miss Gossard's questions, but her mind was
busy
on other things. Of all the rotten luck! Schyler back
and
now a new boss to impress with her colorless efficien
cy,
well
, there was no help for it, she sighed. She'd just
nave
to come down heavy as a dedicated and desiccated
secretary
until she sized up her new boss. He'd be more of a challenge to work for—any man who could keep three secretaries busy had to be—but she wasn't worried about her ability to cope with any job. She just sent up a fervent prayer that this boss was devoted to his own wife as well.

Miss Gossard was watching Keri with wide eyes. The lucky girl, to be going to work for Dain Randolph! Not that she looked capable of utilizing her chances in
that
direction, though. A very icy customer, Miss Dalton, although if she did something about her clothes and hair, and maybe got contact lenses . . . why, she might even be passable.

Keri was blissfully unaware of Miss Gossard's speculations. She explained the filing system, briefed Miss Gossard on the current active contracts, told her how and when Mr. Simonds preferred his coffee, and generally tried to prepare her to assume a burden beyond her capabilities.

When she had done all she felt was possible in the short time at her disposal, Keri tapped on Mr. Simonds's door and took her leave. She assured the slightly apprehensive Miss Gossard that she would be available if serious difficulties should arise. There was nothing personal to clear from her desk, so Keri gathered up her purse, nodded to Miss Gossard, and left.

Before she sought out her new office, Keri made a quick foray to the rest room. She wanted to be sure her prim exterior was as flawless as makeup and expression could make it. She recaptured several stray wisps of hair, renewed her lipstick and powder, assumed a formal, austere expression, and sailed forth to present herself to Mr. Randolph's Miss Barth.

Miss Barth was a revelation. She was as determinedly glamorous as Keri was determinedly effacing. Keri was 
gleeful
. With such a charmer available, it would be easy to remain part of the office furniture. Any roving eyes would stop on Miss Barth.