Paradise Read online

  Behind her, shoppers were searching through the racks of silk peignoirs. On the balcony across the store from where she stood, the men’s lounge wear department was doing a brisk business in bathrobes. She heard the voices, and the music, and the constant hum of computerized cash registers churning out sales tickets, but she felt nothing. Overhead, the store’s paging system began to chime—two short bells, a pause, then one more; it was her paging code, but she didn’t react. Not until someone actually spoke directly to her did she manage to move. “Do you work here?” an impatient shopper demanded.

  Did she work here? With an effort Meredith dragged her mind into focus. “I mean,” the woman continued as she thrust a peignoir at Meredith, “since you aren’t wearing a coat, I assume you do.”

  “Yes,” Meredith replied. For today, she worked here.

  “Then where will I find the sale peignoirs in your ad? This one is $425.00 and the ad in Sunday’s Tribune said you had them for $89.95.”

  “Those are on the fifth floor,” Meredith explained.

  Her paging code sounded again, and still she stood there—not certain whether she was saying good-bye to the store, her dreams, or merely tormenting herself.

  The third time the page sounded, Meredith reluctantly walked over to the counter near the bathrobes and dialed the number for the store’s main operator. “This is Meredith Bancroft,” she said. “You paged me?”

  “Yes, Miss Bancroft. Your secretary says it’s urgent that you call your office.”

  When she hung up, Meredith glanced at her watch. She had two more meetings scheduled for that afternoon—assuming she could make it through them as if everything were normal. And even if she could, what was the point of putting herself to the trouble of doing it? Reluctantly Meredith called Phyllis’s extension. “It’s me,” she said. “You had me paged?”

  “Yes, I’m sorry to bother you, Meredith,” Phyllis began, and from her sad, uneasy tone Meredith assumed that the meeting her father had called to announce his temporary successor was over, and the news was already out. “It’s Mr. Reynolds,” Phyllis continued. “He’s called twice in the last half hour. He says he has to talk to you. He sounds awfully upset.”

  Meredith realized Parker had apparently heard the news too. “If he calls again, please tell him I’ll get back to him later.” She couldn’t bear his sympathy right now without breaking down. And if he tried to tell her this was somehow for the best . . . she couldn’t bear that either.

  “All right,” Phyllis said. “You have a meeting with the director of advertising in a half hour. Do you want me to cancel it?”

  Again Meredith hesitated, her gaze roving almost lovingly over the frenetic activity all around her. She couldn’t bear to just walk out—not with the Houston deal still up in the air and several other projects still needing her attention. If she worked hard for the next two weeks, she could complete much of her work and get the rest of it ready to be turned over to her successor. To leave things in a mess—to leave without taking care of some of her projects—was not in the best interest of her store. Her store. Hurting Bancroft’s was like hurting herself. No matter where she went or what she did, this place would always be a part of her and she of it. “No, don’t cancel anything. I’ll be up there in a little while.”

  “Meredith?” Phyllis said hesitantly. “If it’s any consolation, as far as most of us are concerned, you should have been given the president’s job.”

  Meredith’s laugh was short and choked. “Thanks,” she said, and hung up the phone. Phyllis’s words of support were sweet, but just now they didn’t do much to lift her heavy spirits.

  30

  Parker glanced at the ringing telephone in Meredith’s living room, and then at her. She was standing at the window, looking pale and withdrawn. “That’s probably your father again.”

  “Let the answering machine take it,” Meredith replied with a shrug. She’d left the office at five o’clock, and by then she’d already refused to take two calls from her father and several more from reporters who were eager to ask how she felt about being passed over for the presidency today.

  Her father’s voice crackled with fury as soon as her recorded message was finished: “Meredith, I know you’re there, dammit. Answer this phone! I want to talk to you.”

  Sliding his arm around her waist from behind, Parker drew her against him. “I know you don’t want to talk to him,” he said with sympathetic logic, “but he’s already called four times in the past hour. Why not talk to him and get it over with?”

  Parker had insisted on seeing Meredith to lend her moral support, but all she wanted was to be alone. “I don’t want to talk to anyone right now, especially him. Please try to understand. I’d really like to be . . . by myself.”

  “I know,” he said with a sigh, but he remained where he was, offering silent sympathy while Meredith stared listlessly out the window into the darkness. “Come over to the sofa,” he whispered, his lips brushing her temple. “I’ll fix you a drink.” She shook her head, declining the drink, but she walked over to the sofa and sat in the circle of his arms. “Are you certain you’ll be all right if I leave?” he asked an hour later. “I have some things I have to do if I’m going to leave tomorrow, but I hate to go when you’re in a mood like this. Tomorrow’s Thanksgiving and you’re not going to want to spend it with your father as you’d planned. Look,” he said abruptly, coming to a decision, “I’ll cancel my flight to Geneva. Someone else can give the address to the banking conference. Hell, they won’t notice—”

  “No!” Meredith burst out, forcing herself to display an energy she didn’t feel as she stood up. In all the pathos of the moment, she’d forgotten Parker was supposed to leave tomorrow for three weeks of meetings with his European counterparts and to give the keynote address at the World Banking Conference. “I’m not going to throw myself out of a window,” she promised with a wry smile, sliding her hand around his neck and giving him a gentle kiss good-bye. “I’ll have Thanksgiving dinner with Lisa’s family instead. By the time you come back, I’ll have made new career plans, and I’ll have my life back in order. I’ll finalize the arrangements for our wedding.”

  “What do you intend to do about Farrell?”

  Closing her eyes, Meredith wondered briefly how anyone was supposed to deal with so many complications, setbacks, and disappointments. In the face of today’s crushing revelations, she’d actually forgotten that she was still married to that loathsome, impossible—“My father will have to agree to stop blocking Matt’s rezoning request. He owes me that much,” she added bitterly. “When he does, I’ll have a lawyer contact Matt and offer him that as a peace offering.”

  “Do you think you can handle the wedding arrangements when you’re feeling like this?” he asked gently.

  “I can and I will,” she promised, forcing enthusiasm into her voice. “We’ll be married in February—on schedule!”

  “There’s one more thing—” he added, cupping her cheek in his palm. “Promise me you won’t commit yourself to a new job until I get back.”

  “Why not?”

  Drawing a long breath, he said very carefully, “I’ve always understood why you’ve insisted on working at Bancroft’s, but since you can’t anymore, I’d like you to at least give some thought to making a career out of being my wife. You’d have plenty to do. In addition to running our home and entertaining, there’s civic and charitable work—”

  Overwhelmed by a despair beyond anything she’d known in years, Meredith started to protest, and then gave up. “Have a safe trip,” she whispered as she pressed a kiss on his cheek.

  They were partway to the door when someone began determinedly pressing the buzzer from the lobby in a jaunty, familiar rhythm. “That’s Lisa,” Meredith said, filled with guilt at having forgotten their dinner date and frustration because she wasn’t going to be permitted the solitude she desperately needed. She pressed the button that unlocked the security door on the bottom floor, and a minute later