Part 18 (2/2)

Her thoughts automatically settled on their s.e.x life. She was in love with Jim and wanted him physically, had normal desires and a healthy att.i.tude about s.e.x. But lately it was growing more and more apparent to her that Jim was abnormally driven. His marathons were becoming tiring, even tedious. There were other things in a marriage as well as s.e.x. He was insatiable, and endless, mindless s.e.x was not particularly fulfilling to her. Sometimes she found herself wis.h.i.+ng he had more finesse, a better understanding of a woman's body- her body, her needs. Loath though she was to admit it, she knew deep within herself that Jim was just as selfish in bed as he was out of it, always pleasing himself, never giving a thought to her. It was growing harder and harder for her to cope with his need to make love all the time. Her work was demanding, and she craved sleep, but he was seemingly tireless.

Sudden anger flared in Paula as she considered the way he used s.e.x as an antidote for their rows. Her resentment was increasing, because it was manipulative. It seemed incredible to her that he believed their problems evaporated into thin air once they were locked in a tight embrace. Of course that didn't happen; their difficulties were still there afterward. And naturally they remained unsolved.

Oh G.o.d, if only he would talk to me, Paula thought. He should communicate. Instead he retreats behind his charm and his jokes, and whenever I try to explain my feelings, he laughs me off. Yes, Jim had a childish tendency to pretend their differences did not exist. She could never get him to open up, try though she did. It occurred to her that she had reached an impa.s.se. She had come to a turning point in her marriage. And after only one year, she said to herself wonderingly. Had she made a terrible mistake? Was divorce the only solution?

Horror trickled through her at the mere idea of breaking up and was quickly replaced by a rush of panic. Beads of sweat broke out on her forehead, and she began to tremble inside. Slowing the car to a crawl, she pulled onto the first side road she saw and parked. Leaning forward, she rested her head on the steering wheel and closed her eyes. Divorce was unthinkable. She was stunned that it had even crossed her mind a moment ago. She loved him . . . truly, truly loved him. And in spite of their problems they were compatible in so many important ways. And there were the twins . . . Lome and Tessa needed a father, needed Jim as much as she needed him.

Instantly it struck her that she had been unfair to her husband, adding up his faults, mentally compiling lists of grudges against him when he was not present to defend himself. He was a nice man, a good man, and he had so many lovely qualities. She owed it to him to be scrupulously honest with herself about his manifold attributes.

Silently she began to tick them off in her head. He understood about her work. He appreciated her desire to be out there in the marketplace. Certainly he. never interfered with her career; he did not grumble about her preoccupation with the stores, the late hours she kept. At least he's an enlightened man in that respect, she acknowledged swiftly, and he allows me to be myself. He's not threatened by me either. Furthermore he was obviously cut out to be a marvelous father; that was already evident. There was no question that he adored her, was devoted to her. Jim would never be a philanderer who played around with other women. He was strictly a one-woman man and totally geared to his family and family life, and she was thankful of that.

Straightening up, Paula smoothed her hair into place. I've got to make a go of this relations.h.i.+p, she told herself. It's vitally important to me, and I know it's essential to Jim. She remembered something her grandmother had once said . . . that it was always the woman who made a marriage work. Paula believed this. Her grandmother was wise and experienced; she had lived it all, seen it all. No one knew better about marriage than Emma Harte.

Paula resolved to be' as understanding of Jim as she possibly could. She would put extra effort and time into their relations.h.i.+p. She would be loving and tolerant. It would be immature of her if she did not. After all, everybody had faults, and you didn't stop loving a man simply because he had a few imperfections. You loved him in spite of them.

Turning the ignition key, Paula started the car and backed out of the side road. Her mind began to revolve around her grandmother and Jim's resignation as she sped down the road heading in the direction of Alvvoodley. Convinced though she was that Jim had totally misjudged Emma's reaction to his decision, she nevertheless hoped that her grandmother was not angry with him. She did not want Grandy to think badly of Jim.

Less than half an hour later, Paula sat behind her desk in her office at the Harte store in Leeds, talking to her grandmother, whom she had reached at the flat in Belgrave Square. ” ”I'm sorry to wake you up,” Paula apologized, although she strongly suspected she had not done so.

Emma's warm and vibrant voice flowed over the wire and confirmed this as she said, ”I was having my morning tea and waiting for your call. You want to talk to me about Jim, his resignation, don't you?”

”Yes, Gran. I was a bit floored last night when he told me what he'd done and naturally rather upset. I feel he's let you down and at the worst time, when you're about to go away. I can't help thinking that you must be disappointed in him.”

”A little,” Emma said. ”However, I decided not to persuade Jim to retain the managing directors.h.i.+p . . . not under the circ.u.mstances. His heart's not in the job, Paula, and that's not good. It's better he steps down.”

”Yes,” Paula agreed quietly. ”What about Winston? Is he frightfully annoyed?”

”Well, he was at first, and I thought for a moment he was going to explode when I told him he would have to take on the job. But he agreed almost at once. There's no one else, as you well know.”

”I feel awful about this situation, Grandy. There's not much I can say except that I'm sorry. Jim shouldn't have done this in my opinion. I think it was irresponsible. He doesn't agree with me, of course.” There was a fractional pause, and then Paula added, ”I'm not trying to make excuses for him, Gran, but I've come to realize that Jim isn't like us, you know, as far as duty is concerned. We've all done jobs we haven't really liked during the years we've all worked for you. Those jobs never killed us, and we learned a lot from the experience. I know I shouldn't make comparisons, but last night when Jim was talking I kept thinking of little Emily- her example. She's been a brick, the way she's gone into Genret and with the best will in the world.”

”That's true,” Emma agreed, then added swiftly in a kinder tone, ”You mustn't be too hard on Jim, Paula dear. People do have their limitations, and remember, he wasn't brought up in the same way as you and your cousins. Anyway, let's be grateful for his talent as a managing editor. He's brilliant, the best, in the business, and that's why I gave him the job years ago. Now, if he'd resigned from that position, we would have a major tragedy on our hands.”

”I realize that. He does love the newspaper business, and that's why he's so successful as a journalist.” Paula was beginning to feel easier in her mind, and she went on, ”I have to defend Jim in one respect. . . he's been honest with you, and we must give him credit for that. He's as straight as a die, Grandy.”

”You don't have to tell me, Paula. Jim's not duplicitous, far from it, and I told him yesterday morning that I appreciated his truthfulness. Half-hearted, unenthusiastic executives spell disaster to me.”

”Then you're not too angry with him?” Paula asked, clutching the phone tensely, holding her breath.

'That was only a pa.s.sing reeling yesterday. It quickly dissipated,” Emma said. ”We can't let emotions take charge of us in business, we must always deal from intelligence; but then I've told you that all of your life. Sorry to keep repeating myself.”

”That's all right, and I must admit I'm relieved you're taking this so well, Grandma. He'd never intentionally do anything to hurt or upset you.”

Brus.h.i.+ng this remark aside, considering it unimportant, Emma said, ”I want you to relax, Paula. This is not really your problem. Anyway, we do have everything under control. Actually, when I was talking to Winston after Jim had left, it occurred to me-and rather forcefully-that things are not going to be much different at Consolidated. Winston was sitting there, grousing away, going on and on ad inftnitum about being overworked, listing his present duties, demanding to know how I expected him to 'cope with everything. And as he talked his head off, I began to realize that he's actually been carrying the administrative and business load at Consolidated for-the longest time. He's been functioning as managing director without knowing it. I told him so, told him he was now getting the t.i.tle to go with his tremendous responsibilities, plus a large raise in salary. You know Winston lias a great sense of humor, and he began to laugh. He said, 'd.a.m.n it, Aunt Emma, we both think we're so smart, so why haven't we realized before today how brilliant I am.' So, darling, you don't have to be concerned about me, Consolidated, or Winston either.”

”I'm glad to hear that, Grandy. Look, can I ask you something? It's about the shares in Consolidated. Why are you changing your will and leaving your interest to the twins?”

”What a funny question. I thought I'd made it clear, thought that you'd understood me. Surely it's obvious-I'm leaving my shares in the newspaper company to the twins because they are your children, Paula. What other reason could there be?” Emma murmured, sounding extremely perplexed.

”None-I just wondered, that's all,” Paula answered. ”However, it struck me the other day that your decision might have something to do with Jim. You know, because he's a Fairley. I mean, if his grandfather had hung on to the Gazette, it would have been his today, wouldn't it?”

Emma burst into peals of laughter. ”I very much doubt that,” she gasped. Immediately recovering herself, she said, ”Edwin Fairley would have lost the paper eventually, as I've told you before. Besides, the Fairleys owned only the Yorks.h.i.+re Morning Gazette, none of the other papers in the Consolidated chain. You know I acquired those myself and with the help of my brothers.” Her incredulous laughter reverberated down the wire again. ”You can't possibly think that I feel guilty about the Fairleys,” she spluttered,' obviously highly entertained by this idea.

”Of course I don't,” Paula exclaimed heatedly, wis.h.i.+ng she had never brought the subject up, realizing that she had been right and Jim wrong all along.

”I should hope not, my darling girl,” Emma said, stifling her merriment. ”I've always admitted that I gave the Fairleys a few nudges and very sharp ones at that, as they waltzed down the path to folly which they had chosen for themselves. But I can a.s.sure you that I never once lost a wink of sleep about any of my actions. I was delighted 1 was able to turn the tables on them, come out the big winner. So don't think for one minute that I'm troubled by any guilty feelings about a lot of dead Fairleys or Jim for that matter. And if he has suggested such a thing to you, you can tell him from me that he's wrong, quite wrong.”

”Oh no, he didn't bring it up,” Paula lied smoothly, knowing such an admission would annoy her grandmother. ”It was merely a thought that flitted through my active brain.”

Emma chuckled under her breath at Paula's hurried response, uncertain of its veracity. She said, ”I hope you feel better now that we've cleared the air about Jim's resignation.”

”Yes, Gran, you always help me to get everything in its right perspective.”

Chapter Nineteen.

Ten days later Emma could not conceive how she had managed to do all that she had since she had been in London. But she had worked miracles, accomplished more in that brief span of time than in the last six months. Or so it seemed to her this afternoon as she glanced at her checklist on the yellow legal pad.

She had reviewed her various business enterprises to be certain that everything was in perfect order and to rea.s.sure herself that there would be no snags during her long absence. She had met with her solicitors several times and with her banker Henry Rossiter; she and Henry had even been able to spend a couple of pleasant social evenings tgether. There had been long sessions with Winston and Alexander respectively; she had conferred with Sarah, all the designs for the 1970 Spring Collection of Ludy Hamilton clothes, and had gone over the new advertising campaign with her. And as she had worked late at the store, rushed hither and yon, switching mental gears as she went from one meeting to the next, she had found time to pull together that all-important wardrobe for her round-the-world trip with Blackie.

Emma felt settled in her mind about everything-except Jonathan. He was her enemy. She did not know the reason why; nor could she prove it. Nonetheless Emma was filled with the growing conviction that he was the one grandchild she could not trust.

Opening the folder on her desk, her shrewd eyes scanned the report from private investigators she had engaged to check on Jonathan's activities in his business and personal life. They had turned up nothing untoward, but this did not convince her that he was innocent of any wrongdoing. The firm of Graves and Saunderson would have to dig deeper, look farther afield. She was positive there was something- somewhere.

All her life Emma Harte had been able to see through everyone, had the gift of second-guessing her family and friends and adversaries alike. It was almost as if she had a demon telling her things. She also possessed that highly sensitive built-in antenna which born survivors are usually blessed with, a sort of sixth sense that enabled her to pick up vibrations-both good and bad, but especially bad. And then of course there was her gut instinct which she had come to trust, to rely on without questioning it, knowing it would never mislead her. For some time now, all of her faculties of acute perception had combined to alert her to trouble brewing, yet so far she had not put her hand on anything concrete. Still it was there, as if hovering in the dark and just beyond her reach.

Her gaze now settled on the few brief paragraphs about Sebastian Cross. They were good friends, he and Jonathan, real intimates in fact, but that was the extent of it. When she had first learned of their close relations.h.i.+p, which dated back to their school days at Eton, she had wondered whether or not there was a h.o.m.os.e.xual involvement here, but apparently not-quite to the contrary, according to Mr. Graves. She closed the folder with a decisive slap. There was no point in reading it over and over again. That was a waste of time. Besides, she had gone through it with a small-tooth comb already, searching for one single clue, a small lead, and had come up empty-handed. Emma slipped the folder in the desk and locked the drawer, not wanting to dwell any longer on the possibility of treachery.

A dismal feeling trickled through her. It had been painful and sad for her to resort to these awful and chilling measures-to put detectives on one of her own kin. But she had not known what else to do. And she had only ever taken sucha dreadful step-spied on someone-once in her life before; and then, like now, it had been repugnant, had goneagainst her nature. Some forty years ago she had seen fit to have the activities of her second husband monitored ... toprotect herself and her children. She was suddenly struck by the bitter irony of the present situation. Her secondhusband, Arthur Ainsley, had been Jonathan's grandfather.

Sitting back in the chair, Emma wrestled with another pressing problem-whether or not to discuss her suspicionsabout Jonathan with Alexander and Paula. Maybe it would be wisest to confide in them. What if something happenedto her when she was abroad? What if she fell sick? Or dropped dead? She did not think there was much chance ofeither. She was in good health, arid she felt strong and vital, and certainly she was more energetic than ever. On theother hand she would be eighty years old in a couple of days. Perhaps, to be on the safe side, she ought to tell them.They were her chief heirs. Her empire would be under their control one day in the future ...

There was a knock on the door, and as she said, ”Come in,” Gaye Sloane's face appeared around it. ”Do you need anything else, Mrs. Harte?” her private secretary asked.

Emma shook her head. ”No, Gaye thanks very much. I'm waiting for Paula. We're going out to dinner. But there's noneed for you to hang around. You might as well get off.”

'Thanks, Mrs. Harte, I will. See you tomorrow, and good night.”

”Good night, Gaye dear.”

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