Splintered Heart (20 page)

"She's O.K. dear." Andrea smoothed down the little girl's hair affectionately. "After a nap your Mother will probably be better than ever!"

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Chapter 27

"Dear heart, what in the world are you doing here, checking up on hubby?" Charles greeted Marian in the outer office. Charles gestured towards a young man who was getting ice out of the water cooler, "Meet Henri! Isn't he heaven?"

The young man was obviously an athlete — broad shoulders, a non existent waistline, invisible hips, long muscular legs. He gave Marian a very shy, boyish smile.

"He's Premier Danseur with the
 
Ballet
 
Francaise
! If Henri likes you, and I can see he does, he'll fix you a delicious before-lunch martini!"

"It's a little early, don't you think?"

Henri said something in French which Marian didn't understand.

"Henri thinks you might prefer a glass of white wine, would you prefer wine luv?" Charles was in the middle of making a scale model of a kitchen. He had a joyous intensity — he loved working with his hands and his models were something that
Cooper-Riche
could offer that was quite unique.

"Charles, where is Ferris?"

Charles held up a delicate cylinder he'd fashioned out of paper. "Look, I've even put a very small label on it — Chicken noodle — does it look like soup?"

"It's very impressive. Is Ferris here?"

"Could have been much more impressive, if I hadn't been told to scrimp and save!"

"Charles, is Ferris in there?" She indicated the closed door to Ferris' office.

"A rich client shall be arriving soon, and Ferris wants to impress them with a sample of our excellence. You haven't said a word about my blue business suit — aren't you thrilled — you've got us both conforming now!"

"Can you buzz Ferris, please and let him know I'm here,
 
please
?"

"'Homemade in the Home' is the concept. So I put the can in the central position, ergo, we feel that soup is central nourishment-wise! Come Marian, have a look. Give me a housewife's opinion, even if you're not exactly our typical middle American housewife!"

"I said it's impressive, Charles!" There was an edge to her voice.

"Gracious sakes alive, the lady is certainly uptight about something! If you're not going to give me your reaction, do have a seat Marian, you're making us nervous." He gave her a condescending look. "Ferris is in his office, luv — very tied up, told us to hold all calls, not to disturb. But if you insist on barging in, I certainly won't stand in your way!"

Marian paced.

Charles was showing off for Henri. "Ferris and I are the only successful duo in the commercials' business. Big name corporations have staffs of fourteen minimum, but they don't have a Charles Riche on their payroll!"

"And Madame's husband — Monsieur Ferris — he is Le Premier Directeur du Cinema?" Henri asked.

"Some people think Ferris is the best," Marian said.

Charles smirked. "Le Premier Directeur du Budget. You've got him well-trained, Marian — receipts, cash slips — I can't take a taxi without filling out a voucher!"

There was a sound of furniture being moved. It seemed to come from behind the closed door.

Charles put down his matt-knife. "Maybe penny pinching is inevitable in marriage. Beware Henri, I may put you on an allowance!" Charles took a sip of the martini that Henri handed him. "Henri and I are going to give marriage a try, aren't we Henri?"

Marian caught the look the two men exchanged. It seemed very real, especially Charles — the homosexual affectation was gone — he just looked like a man in love. Until that moment, it had never occurred to Marian that Charles might have his
 
Miss Cresset
 
fears of being single, growing old alone. Marriage might help him. It had certainly transformed Marian Melnik.

"Alas dear Henri, you're too beautiful. The beautiful are never faithful."

Henri laughed. "The beautiful Madame finds us tiresome." He held out the glass of wine that he'd poured for her.

"I'm used to Charles' humor," Marian took the wine. Just then, from behind the door there was a peal of laughter — a female voice.

She went rigid. It was as if someone had slapped her in the face.

"I told you — your hubby is busy dear." Charles said in a sing-song mocking way.

Marian didn't knock. She pushed open the door.

She saw carrot-top curls. Her husband's dark waves. Two heads that were almost touching. They were in the middle of an intense discussion, and they kept talking for a second. In that second Marian saw that the girl was young, pixy petite, cute, bright as a penny. She was charming Ferris. Her husband was smiling the way he smiled when a female was pleasing him.

They both looked up and around, simultaneously surprised.

"Excuse me. Charles said... I didn't realize... " Marian felt her cheeks beginning to burn.

"Marian, darling, what a surprise!"

Ferris immediately got up, kissed her cheek, turned to the girl. "Wendy, I'd like you to meet my wife, Marian."

"Ohh, Mrs. Cooper, I've heard so much about you! Ferris...your husband...Mr. Cooper told me about the kind of work you do. I think it's really fascinating."

"Wendy is going to be working for
 
Cooper-Riche
 
part-time. Starting today in fact." Ferris was looking at his watch. "Oh-my-gosh, Wendy, you better get out in the front office. Make sure that Charles and what's-his-name are O.K. Ask Charles to show you the intercom, the buzzer, and the how the phone system works."

"Yes, Ferris. I'm delighted to have met you Mrs. Cooper. Hope I see you again, I guess I will, if things work out today, won't I Ferris?" Wendy made a sexy cute curtseying exit with a wave. "I'm keeping my fingers crossed."

The moment the door was closed, Ferris was fuming. "Did you see the two of them out there?" Ferris went into his private bathroom. "Dammit, Charles insists on having a ballet boy at the meeting!"

"What meeting Ferris?"

"They're going to be arriving here any minute now."

"Who?"

"You met them at the screening. Owen Brinkerhoff — he's the brother with the chain stores. He's sizing us up to see if
 
Cooper-Riche
 
is big enough to handle his expansion plans. Your friend Courtney will be at the meeting too."

"My friend Courtney?"

"That tall chap you talked with at the screening, and two lawyers are coming also. It's going to be damn embarrassing with that ballet boy hanging around!"

"Maybe they'll think Henri's the office boy." She remembered the elegant giant with the black cigarette, black holder, "Maybe they'll think it's chic if a French ballet dancer serves them drinks."

Ferris began brushing his hair vigorously. "When Charles is drinking, he can say the damndest, most outrageous things!"

"If the conversation gets too outrageous, you'll change the subject."

"You know you are being very sweet to me dear," Ferris was brushing with somewhat gentler strokes. "How come you dropped in? I thought you were going to be with your mother, aren't we supposed to get the results from the tests today?"

"Yes." Now was not the time to bring up any of her problems.

Ferris planted a noisy kiss on Marian's lips. "That's your reward for being such a darling and understanding wife. On your way out, tell Wendy to — "

"To act like she's been working here for a while," Marian knew his mind was working constructively now, planning how to handle the meeting. "I'll keep my fingers crossed for you." Repeating carrot-top Wendy's exit, she wondered if he'd notice, and knew he probably wouldn't.

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Chapter 28

Whenever it was important to impress a client,
 
Cooper-Riche
 
routinely hired office temporaries, sometimes for a week, sometimes even for a month if the job required a lot of paper work. Seeing carrot-top Wendy at Ferris' desk reminded Marian of how she'd lucked into Elena.

It was the early days of the partnership. Marian had dropped in unexpectedly. Of course, she'd noticed the girl with the mahogany hair at the typewriter. She was very noticeable — wild hair, flashy dress, and loads of jewelry.

Charles Riche had been putting up Christmas decorations. He came down off the ladder. Holding the string of colored lights, Charles had done a whole routine — drum roll, bugle call and the deepest of deep obeisance toward the typist, letting Marian know she was in the presence of royalty. Marian always remembered the Princess' response — she'd looked up, seemed almost annoyed at being disturbed, smiled minimally and gone back to typing away with furious energy and remarkable speed.

Charles took Marian aside, and explained, "This is Elena's last day, she insists on re-typing some stuff for Ferris even though she knows we can't afford to pay her for the extra hours. Isn't that sweet? Why don't you take her?"

"What do you mean?"

"You're taking on additional personnel aren't you? Ferris says you're taking over an entire floor, the penthouse or something in a fancy new building."

"Just a part of the twenty-ninth floor, we're certainly not ready for a full floor at this point!" Marian was moving her business into more prestigious quarters after the holidays.

"You'll thank your lucky stars that I introduced you, Marian. She's bright as a penny and eager to learn — what more could you ask?"

"I've got nine employees on my payroll, Charles. I can't take on any more till we get more clients." Marian was very concerned about expanding too quickly.

"I'm surprised Ferris didn't mention Elena — my God, she's like having three more employees. My Lord, the other night when I left she was scrubbing out the toilet!"

"She seems rather amazing."

"Dear heart, more than amazing. Come, we'll have a drink till hubby returns, I promise not to shock you."

Marian wasn't comfortable with Ferris' new partner. The men had worked together in a glamorous Madison Avenue Public Relations firm, and Charles seemed to resent the fact that his old bachelor pal was married — he had been treating her as if she were an old fashioned Miss Priss, so she was delighted to let him fix her a drink.

"First of all, the family had this
 
fantastic
 
hacienda, luv," With bottle and glass in hand, Charles indicated the size of it. "She was brought up like a Princess — had a governess, English and French tutors, riding instructor, piano teacher — she had everything, Lord, I can't remember anything the girl didn't have!"

"It seems to me, you are remembering pretty well," Marian commented into her glass. It was almost pure gin. She was trying to sip it without making a face.

"She's awfully reticent about her private life but I begged and pleaded. There's a photo in a travel magazine — the new Colombian government turned the family hacienda into a home for orphans of the 'revolucion' — an oasis for the homeless little partisans. Smack dab in the center of Bogata — manicured lawns, stable, tennis courts, servants quarters — my dear, if it hadn't been for 'La Violencia', our little Elena would be la creme de la creme of South American high society." Charles always pronounced foreign language phrases with an accent. "Surely you've read about 'La Violencia' in the papers? It was the early fifties. The poor dear was just a baby. Don't you remember those shocking photos in all the papers?"

"In the early fifties I was just a little girl myself," Marian was quickly adding backwards and forwards to see just how old she was supposed to have been. "Miss D'Ortega is just a few years younger than I am Charles."

"My gracious, you seem so much older and wiser — I mean, in terms of where you are in life!" Charles always made his little digs into compliments so you had to thank him when you felt like slapping him. "That's why you are the one to help the poor dear. What a trauma she's had, lost both her parents, grandparents — the entire D'Ortega clan except Elena was wiped out during La Violencia!"

Fixing himself a second drink, Charles described the gore, the plunder, the rape, and how a faithful butler named "Lopez" had managed to save the young girl along with one chamois bag of silverware he'd been polishing.

"A 'chamois' bag?" Marian imitated his pronunciation.

"One must keep one's fine silver in chamois — keeps it from tarnishing! My dear, it was riches to rags! A day later, our Princess is living on a farm in Medellin with nothing in the world except a chamois bag of silver spoons and this gold soup ladle — fab-u-lous — easily worth $20,000."

"You saw it?"

"In a pawn shop window. That's how she pays for her shrink. I saw the pawn ticket with my own eyes. How's your drink?"

"Oh, fine!" She took another careful sip. "Go ahead, what happened next?"

"Elena had to learn the facts of life, luv. Lopez had a family — suddenly she's got step-sisters, step-brothers, she's got to learn to milk cows, sort coffee beans, take care of the barnyard — 'shovel the shit' — that's what the poor have to do — those are the facts of life."