sorted old ones. And they talked. Owen told Laura about his parents and grandparents, the first four hotels he bought—still his favorites though his company owned over fifty in America and Europe—and about Iris, ^e woman he had loved since he was fifteen, his wife and the mother of his children, whom he still longed for every day, though it had been almost forty years since she died.
And Laura talked, too, carefully choosing the memories she would share. She told Owen the same story she had told Leni: how she and Clay had lived with relatives after their parents
Inheritance
were killed in an automobile accident, and recently moved out because they didn't like it there. She told him, truthfully, what she remembered about her mother and father, a few anecdotes about her brother Clay— but nothing about Ben; don't slip and say anything about Ben —and the classes she had liked best in high school. For the first time she talked about her dreams of being an actress. 'I've had three parts in school plays and everybody says I'm really good. And I love being on the stage, all that makebelieve . . ." She talked about studying acting in college, if she ever found a way to go. "I mean," she fumbled when she remembered she'd lied about college the day they met, "I was going to start this fall, but I don't know, it may not work out ..."
"There's nothing wrong with pretending," Owen said gently.
"I wasn't pretending!" she said hotly. "I thought I'd go! I wiU go!"
"I'm sure you will," he said, still gentle.
She bit her lip. "I'm sorry. I don't know exactly what I'll do about college. I'll figure something out."
"Well," he said offhandedly, leafing through a leather-bound book, "I could loan you the money for tuition. And board and room, too, if you need it." He heard Laura's sharp breath and nodded slowly. "I could certainly do that. A loan, of course, though I wouldn't expect you to pay it back until you had graduated and were earning your living, acting or perhaps something else. However, there would be one condition." He looked up and met her quick frown. "I'd expect you to write to me, and visit me, too. I wouldn't want to lose track of you."
Laura's face was radiant, her mind racing. "It's so wonderful ..." / never have to steal again. I can go to college and learn to be somebody. And I have a friend. She put out her hand, then drew it back. She wanted to touch Owen, she wanted to kiss him, but she thought he might be angry. All he'd done was offer to loan her money. He probably loaned money to lots of people, and he wouldn't want them to start slobbering over him. She kept her hand in her lap. "You're wonderful. Thank you, thank you so much ... I'll make you proud of me, I'll work so hard . . ." She turned her head
Judith Michael
away to hide the tears that stung her eyes. "I'll write to you every day," she said briskly and picked up a book, staring at it blindly until her tears dried.
"Once a week will be sufficient," Owen said with a calm smile, and they went back to work.
From that day, Laura found it easier to talk about her life in New York, her favorite books, the hours she had spent in Cal Hendy's bookshop. She was still careful, she still had to stop herself sometimes in mid-sentence, but by th&end of their first week together the best time of her day was with Owen. It was a time when she could almost relax and forget everything outside his quiet rooms.
The only thing she couldn't forget, as hard as she tried, was Clay's admiring voice when she had told him about her part-time job. '*God, you're clever, Laura. Who else could have wormed her way into the family and made the old guy trust you in less than two months?"
Owen met her in the kitchen just after lunch and took her to meet the family. They went from house to house along paths lined with old-fashioned gas lamps and rhododendron bushes, and Laura was reminded of books she had read about an earlier century, when people made calls in the afternoon,
And Laura talked, too, carefully choosing the memories she would share. She told Owen the same story she had told Leni: how she and Clay had lived with relatives after their parents
Inheritance
were killed in an automobile accident, and recently moved out because they didn't like it there. She told him, truthfully, what she remembered about her mother and father, a few anecdotes about her brother Clay— but nothing about Ben; don't slip and say anything about Ben —and the classes she had liked best in high school. For the first time she talked about her dreams of being an actress. 'I've had three parts in school plays and everybody says I'm really good. And I love being on the stage, all that makebelieve . . ." She talked about studying acting in college, if she ever found a way to go. "I mean," she fumbled when she remembered she'd lied about college the day they met, "I was going to start this fall, but I don't know, it may not work out ..."
"There's nothing wrong with pretending," Owen said gently.
"I wasn't pretending!" she said hotly. "I thought I'd go! I wiU go!"
"I'm sure you will," he said, still gentle.
She bit her lip. "I'm sorry. I don't know exactly what I'll do about college. I'll figure something out."
"Well," he said offhandedly, leafing through a leather-bound book, "I could loan you the money for tuition. And board and room, too, if you need it." He heard Laura's sharp breath and nodded slowly. "I could certainly do that. A loan, of course, though I wouldn't expect you to pay it back until you had graduated and were earning your living, acting or perhaps something else. However, there would be one condition." He looked up and met her quick frown. "I'd expect you to write to me, and visit me, too. I wouldn't want to lose track of you."
Laura's face was radiant, her mind racing. "It's so wonderful ..." / never have to steal again. I can go to college and learn to be somebody. And I have a friend. She put out her hand, then drew it back. She wanted to touch Owen, she wanted to kiss him, but she thought he might be angry. All he'd done was offer to loan her money. He probably loaned money to lots of people, and he wouldn't want them to start slobbering over him. She kept her hand in her lap. "You're wonderful. Thank you, thank you so much ... I'll make you proud of me, I'll work so hard . . ." She turned her head
Judith Michael
away to hide the tears that stung her eyes. "I'll write to you every day," she said briskly and picked up a book, staring at it blindly until her tears dried.
"Once a week will be sufficient," Owen said with a calm smile, and they went back to work.
From that day, Laura found it easier to talk about her life in New York, her favorite books, the hours she had spent in Cal Hendy's bookshop. She was still careful, she still had to stop herself sometimes in mid-sentence, but by th&end of their first week together the best time of her day was with Owen. It was a time when she could almost relax and forget everything outside his quiet rooms.
The only thing she couldn't forget, as hard as she tried, was Clay's admiring voice when she had told him about her part-time job. '*God, you're clever, Laura. Who else could have wormed her way into the family and made the old guy trust you in less than two months?"
Owen met her in the kitchen just after lunch and took her to meet the family. They went from house to house along paths lined with old-fashioned gas lamps and rhododendron bushes, and Laura was reminded of books she had read about an earlier century, when people made calls in the afternoon,
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