Authors: Brooke Hastings
Randy spent Tuesday afternoon and Wednesday morning poring
over the detailed statistics contained in the reports Luke had left
her. When inflation was taken into account the picture was depressing.
Until three years ago the store had done moderately well. Sales per
square foot, though not as high in most other branches, were
acceptable. In subsequent years, however, although receipts in current
dollars had risen, inflation and increased operating costs had meant an
actual drop in earnings. Some departments, such as children's clothing,
had resisted the trend and continued to do well; others, such as junior
apparel, had experienced painful declines.
The store, C & D's first suburban branch, was
located far from other major department stores in the city. There was a
motor inn under construction in the area, which meant detours and
traffic snarls, dirt and dust and general inconvenience to the shopper.
With the streets ripped up as they were, Randy had trouble even finding
her way into the parking lot.
She spent the rest of Wednesday in the store, remaining
until it closed at nine o'clock. As she walked through department after
department she tried to understand the reasons why some prospered while
others were failing. It apparently had little to do with how
well-displayed the merchandise was; the junior department, with its pop
music and trendy appearance, was fun and appealing and yet it attracted
fewer and fewer customers.
The signs of the building's age were everywhere. The
architecture was boring, the space chopped up by pillars, the lighting
old-fashioned. Basically it was a three-story stack of boxes. Yet the
uninspired atmosphere didn't deter wealthy women from continuing to
shop in the store's designer boutiques.
By the time Friday afternoon arrived Randy had waded
through more planning documents, commission reports, committee meeting
records and permits than she hoped to see for the next two years. The
woman she'd talked to at City Hall, she thought wearily, had been too
receptive for her liking. She'd learned that a major new county
building was under consideration for a site near the store, and that
the nearest highway interchange was scheduled for a complete
reconstruction. A number of smaller projects were in various stages of
planning and development, yet Randy estimated that it would be at least
four years before all the proposed projects were completed.
Unfortunately, there were no plans for any other retail outlets, which
might have brought additional shoppers into the area.
On the other hand, should C & D decide on a new
site, favorable locations were available. It seemed to Randy that no
amount of renovation could turn a fundamentally mediocre store into the
type of elegant building that housed the competition. Westchester
County was a good market; many women preferred to avoid the
transportation problems and crowds in Manhattan and shop locally. A new
store in a good location would earn enough extra profit to justify the
expense of site acquisition and construction.
Late Friday afternoon, as Randy sat in her office making
notes on her conclusions, her phone rang. The ring, as opposed to an
intercom buzz, meant that the call was coming from outside the
building. She was puzzled when a male voice murmured something
unintelligible in a foreign language.
"Uh… who were you trying to reach?" she asked
with exaggerated distinctness, thinking that the man probably spoke
very little English.
"Her Royal Highness Princess Elizabeth," was the response.
"Randy? Is that you?"
Randy immediately placed the voice as that of Aaron
Gregov, the professor she'd met in Cambridge. "Aaron! It's nice to hear
from you," she said. "Where are you?"
"In New York. I came down last night to talk to some
foundation people about funding one of my research projects. When can I
see you?"
Randy had put in a long, tedious week and the prospect of
going out was appealing. "I'd love to get out for dinner tonight," she
said. "Why don't you stop by the apartment to meet my parents and have
a drink and then we can go someplace to eat? And please come casual,
Aaron. I think I'm too tired for anything fancy."
Aaron said it sounded perfect and told Randy he'd see her
at six. At five-fifteen she went down to her father's office to walk
home with him, only to find that he was tied up in a meeting and had
left word that she should go ahead without him.
It was a warm, humid evening in New York. Randy,
perspiring from the eight-block walk, headed for the shower as soon as
she walked into the apartment. Then she dressed in snug-fitting jeans,
a red tube top and a short-sleeved print blouse which she left
unbuttoned and tied at the waist.
She was brushing her hair when her mother peeked into the
room. "Umm—very sexy," she teased. "Is that in Luke's honor?"
Randy was baffled by the question. "Luke? What does he
have to do with it?"
"He's coming over for dinner. We're having the fish he
caught last weekend. I assumed you knew, Randy."
"I haven't seen him since last Tuesday, Mom. I have a date
with a guy I met in Cambridge."
"He came all the way from Cambridge to see you?" Emily
asked, sounding as baffled as Randy had been only moments before.
"He's here on business. His name is Aaron Gregov and he
teaches history at Harvard. Respectable enough for you?" Randy's mouth
quirked at her mother's befuddled expression.
"Well, of course, darling. But Luke…"
"What about him?"
Emily regarded her daughter for several long seconds, then
lifted an expressive shoulder in a half-shrug. "I told your father to
let you live your own life. Serves him right!" She flashed a slow wink
at Randy and left her to finish dressing.
Randy, both annoyed and amused by her father's
presumption, quickly finished brushing her hair and applying her
makeup. She walked into the living room to find Luke and her parents
talking, a bottle of sherry on the table in front of them.
"Hi, Dad. Sorry I missed you at the office," she said. She
turned to Luke, who had made himself completely at home in her parents'
living room. "And I'm sorry I'll miss your fish tonight."
"Somehow I doubt that," he said, apparently unconcerned by
that fact. "But you should be. It's not every night you get a chance to
eat dinner with me."
"Really?" Randy glanced at her father and couldn't pass up
the opportunity to pay him back for his matchmaking. She knew that Luke
wouldn't take her comments seriously, but Bill Dunne certainly would.
"I was under the impression from Dad that all I had to do was snap my
fingers and you'd come sniffing after the family fortune like a
bloodhound hunts rabbits, Mr. Griffin."
Bill Dunne almost choked on his sherry while Emily calmly
sipped hers and attempted to suppress a smile. Bill was revving up for
a stern lecture when Luke laughed and remarked, "You seem a bit jumpy
tonight, Miranda. Am I working you too hard?"
Randy smiled back at him. "Definitely, Mr. Griffin. That's
why I'm going out."
"You should have said something. It seems to me that if
I'm the cause, I should get first shot at providing the remedy."
"What did you have in mind?"
"I couldn't possibly tell you in front of your parents."
This verbal sparring, a substitute for a far different
sort of love play, was setting Randy's body on fire. She wondered how
she could possibly spend hour after hour in Luke's company without
giving up and throwing herself into his no-doubt astonished arms.
Fortunately for all concerned, at that moment the intercom buzzed and
the doorman announced that Dr. Gregov was downstairs. Randy opened the
front door and waited for him, but when he walked up and looked her
over his confusion was apparent. "Do I have the right apartment?" he
asked. "The Dunnes?"
"You've found them, Dr. Gregov," Randy said.
"Randy?" He studied her face. "But—your
hair…"
"Was a wig." She took Aaron's arm and led him into the
living room. "Don't you like me as a blonde, Aaron?"
His response, in full view of her parents and Luke, was to
tip her chin up and kiss her lightly on the mouth. "I like you any way
at all, princess," he said.
Randy introduced him to her parents and Luke and then
poured him a glass of sherry. Once he was seated he started to explain
how he and Randy had met.
"You have a charming daughter, but the only time I've seen
her she was wearing a dark wig. She and your older daughter cooked up
some scheme to pass her off as a Yugoslavian princess, and it worked
beautifully. Everyone was falling over himself to meet her." He smiled
at Randy. "Not that they wouldn't anyway. I teach European history, so
I knew she was a ringer. I lured her into the garden and made a pass at
her, just to see what she would do. She never stepped out of character
till I told her I knew she was a phony. I'm afraid I exacted payment
for my silence—a kiss in the garden and this dinner date."
"I'm surprised you didn't insist on a quicker payback,"
Luke said casually. "In Cambridge, that is." Only Randy understood the
reason for his comment, and it was all she could do not to laugh.
"I would have," Aaron answered, "but she was leaving town
for New Hampshire."
"Then we'll have to let you go," Luke drawled. "We can't
allow Miranda to welsh on her obligations."
"I'd hardly call it an obligation, Mr. Griffin." Randy
looked up into Aaron's eyes, her smile entrancing. "I only wish all my
royal duties were as pleasing as this one, Dr. Gregov," she murmured,
using her Princess Elizabeth accent.
"You can see that the world lost a promising actress when
C & D gained a future executive," Bill told Aaron.
Randy rose to leave, taking Aaron's hand to pull him up
along with her. "Don't you mean
president
?" she
said with a wink.
A friend of Aaron's, a professor of Asian history, had
recommended an unpretentious little restaurant in Chinatown. Although
the place had a plain linoleum floor and paper placemats on its
formica-topped tables, the aromas wafting out of the kitchen promised a
superb meal.
"Jim told me that they serve Americans different food from
Asians," Aaron explained. "I thought we'd try something authentic."
When the waiter approached, he proceeded to order in a combination of
some Chinese dialect and English, asking for items that weren't on the
menu and communicating well enough, since the waiter kept smiling and
nodding and writing.
The food, when it came, was unlike any Randy had tasted.
The flavors were stronger, the soup fishier, some of the ingredients
unidentifiable. When Aaron asked if she'd feel reassured to know what
she was eating she quickly shook her head. "I'll enjoy it more if I
don't
know where it came from," she admitted.
They took their time over dinner, talking about Randy's
experiences in Hollywood and Aaron's travels in Eastern Europe. On the
way back uptown they stopped for American dessert and coffee, returning
to the Dunnes' apartment about ten. Randy's parents and Luke had
finished dinner and were back in the living room, discussing business.
"Don't you three ever stop?" Randy asked.
"I'm getting a private report tonight, darling," Emily
told her. "After all, I'm a major stockholder. Since Mother and Dad are
off poking around Europe, the least these two handsome men can do is to
keep me informed about what they're doing with my money."
Randy led Aaron into the kitchen and poured him another
cup of coffee. They talked for half an hour until Randy, yawning,
apologetically explained that it had been a hard week and she was
tired. At the kitchen door Aaron turned her into his arms and tipped
her chin up for his kiss. The touch of his mouth against her own wasn't
unpleasant, but her body failed to ignite the way it always did when
she was near Luke Griffin.
Sensing her minimal response, Aaron lifted his head.
"What's the matter, princess? Too tired?"
"I suppose," she murmured.
"Come on, Randy. What's wrong? Something's changed between
Cambridge and New York."
It was only fair to be honest with him. "I'm sorry,
Aaron," she said. "I met someone else, and…"
"Griffin? Your boss?"
"How could you tell?"
He shrugged. "There's an electricity between the two of
you that's pretty hard to miss." He took her hand and led her to the
center of the kitchen, well away from the door. "Look, Randy, I'm not
going to stand here and pretend I had only friendship in mind when I
called. But if you're not interested, you're not interested. Why don't
I call you next time I'm in town? If your feelings have changed, fine.
If not, I'd enjoy getting together for lunch, or maybe a play. Okay?"
"You're very understanding," Randy said.
"Understanding has nothing to do with it. I enjoy your
company. Besides, I figure I can sponge a free meal from your parents,
or better yet, a place to stay."
"Any time," Randy answered. She and Aaron returned to the
living room, where Aaron shook hands with the two men and kissed
Emily's hand with practiced smoothness. Randy walked him to the
elevator afterwards, raising her face for a good-night peck as the door
opened and waving goodbye as it closed.
She was yawning when she let herself back into the
apartment. Her mother got the first good-night kiss and her father the
second. Then she came to Luke.
"Don't stop now," he grinned.
She was just tired enough to call his bluff. When her lips
provocatively lingered against his mouth she felt him stiffen slightly
and draw away. The fact that he so obviously wanted more than a kiss
did wonders for her frame of mind. From time to time over the past few
days she'd had her doubts about what she was doing, but now she pushed
them aside. Things were going to work out perfectly.