Houses of Stone, KATHY [classic literature books TXT] 📗

to accept your generous offer, but only as a loan. Strictly business. We'll go to a lawyer and draw up the necessary papers."

Peggy was silent for a moment. Voice and expression were neutral when she replied. "If that's how you want it."

"That's the only way I'll accept it." Another lie. She would have robbed a bank if there were no other way. She would have preferred to borrow from an impersonal source; a bank manager wouldn't lecture her about her personal habits and treat her like a two-year-old. But it would have taken weeks to get the money, even supposing she could persuade a bank to accept such doubtful collateral as a battered manuscript.

"Deal," Peggy said. "Now would you care to tell me about your weekend, or is that none of my business?"

"You'll be happy to hear that without your restraining influence I managed to behave like a complete idiot," Karen said cheerfully. She had made her point, and Peggy, no fool herself, had understood. Whether she would continue to accept the implicit conditions was another matter, but Karen didn't want her to harbor hard feelings.

"Oh, yeah?"

Karen glanced at her watch. She had a class in ten minutes, so she made it brief, describing only her encounter with Lisa Fairweather and Bill Meyer. One admission of fallibility was enough; there was no need to mention that she had also made a fool of herself with Cameron Hayes. "It wasn't very smart of me to go out there alone," she admitted. "But I don't think I deserved such total humiliation."

Peggy was trying not to laugh. She lost. "Sorry," she sputtered. "But it's such a classic, banal Gothic plot! Being rescued by the dark handsome man you detest, in the presence of the beautiful Other Woman—a blonde, of course ..."

"Meyer was thinking exactly the same thing, damn him. Conceited bastard ... He isn't handsome. What made it especially entertaining was having the Other Woman take me for a bag lady." She consulted her watch again. "I'd better get going. Have you any free time tomorrow or Wednesday? I'll try to set up an appointment with my lawyer. We might plan to drive to Baltimore on Saturday."

"We?" Peggy repeated.

"Of course."

"Okay. I'm free tomorrow after three, and on Wednesday morning. Wait a minute," she exclaimed, as Karen rose to her feet. "You haven't told me what happened after you got caught."

"I managed to get in touch with Mr. Hayes that evening. He took me out to the house next day; he's trying to clean the place up so he can sell it. He was very nice," she added, with a meaningful glance at her companion. "He didn't lecture me about my rude, careless behavior."

Relations between them continued to be self-conscious, if not actually strained, for the rest of the week. Peggy was curt and businesslike during the meeting with the lawyer, and left immediately afterward. There was no time for friendly conversation; it was one of the busiest weeks in the academic year, and Karen was pushing herself to finish her work as quickly as possible. She pushed her students too, scheduling exams at her convenience instead of theirs and rejecting all but the most compelling requests for extensions on papers and reports. Their response convinced Karen that they were the whiniest, most self-pitying bunch she had ever taught, and her opinion was confirmed when she found out some of them had complained about her to the departmental chairman.

"He had the gall to tell me I was obviously suffering from nervous strain, and that maybe what I needed was a more active social life," she reported bitterly. "Can you believe that guy?"

They were on their way to Baltimore. Peggy was driving—and smoking. Karen had not objected to either. Some concessions were necessary to reestablish friendly relations; Peggy's manner had been decidedly stiff when they met that morning.

Her efforts seemed to be succeeding. "Sure, I can believe it," Peggy said. "You'd better watch him, Karen. He's out to get you. Sexual harassment is a hot issue these days; he's not dumb enough to make a direct move or explicit remark, but he can drive you crazy without actually stepping over the line."

"He hasn't got anything on me. I haven't neglected my work; I'm completely caught up except for turning in final grades in two courses, which I will do on Monday. And once I've published the manuscript . . ."

"Fame and fortune will be yours." Peggy lit another cigarette. "If you found the right publisher, one with a little imagination and a lot of know-how, you could make a lot of money out of the book. Enough to buy me out."

"You won't be out unless you want out. I'm counting on you to help with the historical part. You can publish anything you like on that aspect."

"I wouldn't publish without consulting you."

"I know that."

Peggy tossed her cigarette out the window and gripped the wheel so fiercely her knuckles whitened. "Then why the hell did you make such a fuss about the money? What difference does it make who has legal possession? It's your field, not mine; I wouldn't tackle a project like that, I have better sense. Did you think I'd sell the publication rights to someone else?"

"Don't be an idiot!" Karen's voice rose to match Peggy's. "God, I'm sick of apologizing for things I never did and explaining statements that ought to be self-evident!"

"Give it one more try," Peggy said in a strangled voice.

"I have absolute confidence in your integrity. I didn't think for a moment that you'd double-cross me. I just want to own it myself. I want . . . control. For the first time in my life I want to be the sole determiner of what happens to me."

"The first time? You've been an adult for several years."

"Somebody's always trying to boss me," Karen muttered. "My parents, my professors, my ex-husband, Joe Cropsey . . . They all treat me as if I were a child. It's this damned chubby-cheeked face