“I do!”
“And I say the wrong things. And you go to pieces, like last night.”
“No.”
“Or else you run away. You go sleep with Jack.”
“Marcie!”
“I know you were with Jack again last night. He didn’t have to lie to me about it.”
“But he didn’t. I wasn’t!”
“Now don’t you lie to me!”
Laura stared at her, unable to speak.
“Help me, Laura,” Marcie said, leaning toward her. “I want to change. I’m sick of myself. I’m sick of Burr.”
The strangest craziest feeling started up in Laura; just an echo, faraway in herself. She wants me to help her, to be with her. She admires me. Dear God, I’m afraid to wonder how much. A very small smile curved the corners of her mouth.
“I have to start somewhere,” Marcie said. “I want to talk to you like an intelligent human being, not an ignoramus.”
Laura smiled at her. Almost without her realizing it, her hand had stolen back to Marcie’s yellow hair. “Do you, Marcie?” she said. It was a simple question, but it asked a thousand others.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Oh, I’m fed up with myself. I never realized, till I lived day-in-day-out with you, how much I’d been missing. Give me a book to read, Laur.”
“In the morning.” Laura smiled at her and got up, edging away from her bed.
“Now.”
“It’s too late, Marcie. You won’t read anything now.”
“I want to tell Burr I read a book.”
“I’ll give you something later,” Laura said. It sounded strangely insinuating, the way she said it. She scared herself. She ducked into her bed as into a safe harbor, and hid her body under the blankets.
With a sigh Marcie turned the light out. After a moment’s silence she whispered, “Laur? Will you talk to me after this? Really talk to me? Tell me things?”
“I’ll try,” Laura murmured, frowning in the dark. She lay in bed daydreaming for hours, seeing the first signs in Marcie of an influence she had been unaware of. Where would it lead? What doors would it open? Would it lead them both to bitterness? Or mutual ecstasy?
In the morning Laura was very matter-of-fact. She almost ignored Marcie. She made her work for her attention and it delighted her that Marcie was willing to work for it. Instinctively Laura knew she had to play hard to get, and she liked to play that way for once.
At breakfast, after a few false starts, Marcie blurted, “I’ll be late tonight.” She put her paper down and faced Laura.
Laura looked up slowly. “Date with Burr?” she said.
“No. Mr. Marquardt is having some out-of-town guests for dinner downtown. He asked some of us to go. I told him I would.”
“Have fun,” Laura said, and looked back at the front page.
“Ha! Some drunken idiot of a reporter’ll probably pester me to death.”
“A reporter?” Laura looked up again suddenly.
“Oh, I don’t know.” Marcie saw Laura’s interest and it sparked her own. “A journalist, or something. It’s a convention—professional fraternity, I guess.”
“What fraternity? What’s it called?”
“Ummm.” Marcie bit her lip and concentrated. “It’s Greek. Let’s see. Something the matter?”
“No. Is it Chi Delta—”
“—Sigma. That’s it, I remember. How did you know? Now something is the matter, Laura!”
Laura had gone very pale. She swallowed convulsively.
“I just remembered, I was supposed to run an errand for Dr. Hollingsworth. I’d better get going.” She got up suddenly and went into the bedroom for her jacket.
Marcie stood up and followed her. “You didn’t finish your breakfast, Laur,” she said, concerned, a line of worry in her forehead.
“I’m not hungry. I’ll see you tonight,” she said, and turned quickly to almost run out.
Marcie came after her, bewildered. “Laura, you don’t make sense,” she said. “What’s the matter with you?”
But Laura was running down the stairs to the elevator. Marcie turned and went back into the kitchen and drank her coffee standing, gazing perplexed at Laura’s plate.
Chapter Ten
Merrill Landon. Merrill Landon. My father. My father is coming to New York. He never misses these damn things, he goes every year. Oh, God, help me. Laura rode down to work on the subway, her fists clenched in her lap, her face set like a mask to cover the torment inside.
He doesn’t know I’m here, that’s one good thing. He’ll never find me, either. How long will he be here? It must be in the papers. I missed it at breakfast.
She picked up the Times on the corner where she left the subway. She took it up to the office with her, impatient to look at it. Sarah was already there.
“Hi, gorgeous,” she said.
Laura looked up, startled. “Hi,” she said. “Who’s gorgeous?”
“You are. You must be, you’ve got a man.”
Laura stared at her blankly, her mind full of the threat of her father’s presence in the city. Finally it came to her. “Oh, you mean Jack,” she said.
“Did you talk to him?”
“Oh, yes. Yes.” Now what the hell does she mean? Why would I—Oh! I promised her a date. Laura felt suddenly sunk. All those reports to do that should have been done before. Lies to tell, at nine in the morning. Merrill Landon somewhere in New York. It was too much. The day stretched away in front of her like an endless obstacle course.
“What’d he say?” Sarah said eagerly.
“He’s working on it. Maybe this weekend.”
“Gee, that sounds great.”
Laura had to look at the paper; she had to. It gnawed at her, as she sat at her desk, sneaking through it between reports and unable to find anything. Her father’s name ran through her mind like a robot tune from a TV commercial.
It was a rushed day. Sarah didn’t take a break on days when they were behind, but nothing could have stopped Laura. She got up and almost ran to the washroom at eleven, the paper in hand. She felt herself trembling, going over the pages again and again, until she suddenly found it at the bottom of page 12. “Chi Delta Sigma, national journalism fraternity, opens its convention today at the McAlton Hotel. The convention will last until next
