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

of mine, I suppose. You wouldn't understand—"

"Whew." Peggy let out a long, relieved sigh. "So that's the problem. You think I don't understand? I'm five feet tall, for God's sake! You think it's tough being a chubby-cheeked woman, try being a short chubby-cheeked woman."

"I don't think of you as short," Karen said, genuinely surprised.

"Neither do I. That's the trick. But it took me a long time to figure it out." Peggy smiled wryly. "Well, that cleared the air. At least I hope it did. We're more alike than you might suppose, Karen. I've been through it too—the patronizing smiles, the condescending remarks, the pats on the head. And although it was a long time ago, I was once as prickly as you are. Yes, you are—with some reason—but take it from me, my friend, being constantly on the defensive makes life a lot tougher than it has to be. I'll try not to boss you if you try to bear in mind that I boss everybody. It's one of the privileges of age. Nothing personal."

"I'll try," Karen agreed, still in a mild state of shock. Peggy was so mature, so respected, so completely in control of her life, it was almost impossible to believe she had ever been shy and insecure. With a violent effort of imagination Karen tried to picture Peggy as a timid young girl. She couldn't do it.

"So where do we go from here?" Peggy asked.

"To Virginia. I'm leaving on Monday, as soon as I turn in those exam scores and clear up a few odds and ends. I talked to Cameron Wednesday; he said he'd find me a room or an apartment. I can't afford to stay in a motel for weeks on end."

"Weeks," Peggy repeated. "That long?"

"I can work on the manuscript there as well as anywhere," Karen argued. "Maybe the ambience will inspire me."

"Be funny if it turns out to be the wrong house," Peggy said. "You still don't know for certain."

"I have a hunch."

"Oh, great. I can't go with you, Karen." She gave Karen a sidelong smile and added, "No, I'm not sulking. I really can't. I promised a friend I'd come for a visit. He's been ill and he ... What's the matter?"

"Nothing."

"Now you're sulking. I'll be back in a week or ten days. Have you found out when the auction is to be held?"

"Memorial Day."

"The delay does makes sense, at that," Peggy said thoughtfully. "Memorial Day and Labor Day are the big weekends for country auctions. They're hoping to attract the city slickers. Well, I'll be back by then. I hope you won't take offense if I suggest that my experience could be useful."

"No." Karen decided she might as well admit the truth, before Peggy misinterpreted her frown. "I'm in trouble," she admitted. "Joan and I were supposed to go to Nag's Head for a week, right after graduation.

To unwind. I forgot about it until you mentioned your friend." " 'Were supposed,' " Peggy repeated. "You're going to cancel?"

"What else can I do? Don't answer that! I've been waiting for weeks already. Having to postpone it another week would make me crazy. I'll just have to think of some excuse for Joan."

"You could tell her the truth."

"I don't want her to—" Karen stopped. "Maybe I should, at that."

"Truth is not only more virtuous, it's a helluva lot easier in the long run," Peggy muttered. "You can't keep the manuscript a secret much longer. Too many people know about it."

The accuracy of Peggy's assessment was brought home to Karen when they arrived at the bookstore to find that Simon was—reluctantly— entertaining a guest. His guarded look was sufficient warning; when the other man advanced to greet her, smiling amiably, his hand outstretched, Karen bit her tongue and kept her mouth closed. However, she could not bring herself to shake hands with him.

"I'm leaving," Meyer said, before she could speak. "Mr. Hallett has already explained you have a business appointment." He turned to Peggy, offering the hand Karen had rejected. "Dr. Finneyfrock? I don't believe I've had the pleasure of meeting you. I'm Bill Meyer."

"How do you do?" Peggy gave him her hand, and a smile as broad and hypocritical as his. "I've heard a lot about you, Dr. Meyer."

"How nice. Allow me to congratulate you, ladies. May I have the additional pleasure of taking you to lunch after you've concluded your business? Mr. Hallett too, of course."

"Why not?" Peggy said, before Karen could refuse.

"Good. I'll wait in that charming little bar across the street. Take your time."

The door closed behind him with a musical tinkle.

"I'm sorry," Simon began.

"It's not your fault." Karen gave the closed door a resentful scowl. "He doesn't know we were in that bar, does he? If that son of a bitch knew I was following him ... He led me on a wild-goose chase that day, through the worst traffic in Baltimore, in the rain ..." Rage choked her.

"Cool it," Peggy said. "So what if he did? You've won and he's lost."

"Perhaps he is only being a courteous loser," Simon suggested.

"Sure," said Karen.

Their business was soon concluded. As Karen's hands closed over the precious bundle she saw that Simon's eyes were fixed on her and that his expression was not that of a man who has just accepted a large check. She smiled at him. "Thanks, Simon. Thanks for letting me win."

Simon shook his head. "I hope I won't regret it."

"The check won't bounce," Peggy said cheerfully.

His dour expression brightened as he turned to her, offering one of the small glasses he had filled from a cut-glass decanter. "That was my chief concern, of course."

Peggy insisted they all accept Meyer's invitation. "He's up to no good," she declared with obvious relish. "But we may as well find out what he wants. If the three of us can't outwit him we ought to be ashamed of ourselves."

Simon rolled his eyes heavenward. "I suppose I must join you. The superior intelligence of an older and wiser man is obviously