The Promise - By Danielle Steel Page 0,67
“Immediately.”
She only laughed and smiled up at George. But this time her ally's face told her ha was worried, too. “Not a chance, darling. I'll be here till I drop. There's too much to do. Besides, I'd go crazy at home. What would I do all day? Watch soap operas and read movie magazines?”
“It sounds perfect for you.” They all laughed. “Or—” He looked at his mother and then at George. “You could both retire, get married, and go enjoy yourselves for a change.” It was the first time Michael had openly acknowledged George's attentions of the past twenty years, and George blushed crimson. But he did not look displeased.
“Michael!” His mother almost sounded like herself again. “You're embarrassing George.” But oddly enough, she too looked neither shocked nor appalled at the idea. “In any case, my retirement is out. I'm too young, sick or not. You're stuck with me, I'm afraid, for the duration.”
Michael already knew he had lost the battle. But he was going to give up by inches. “Then at least be sensible for God's sake, and stop traveling. You don't have to go to San Francisco. I can do all that myself. Don't be such a busybody. Stay home and take care of yourself.”
She only laughed at him and got up and walked to her desk. She looked rattled and tired and pale as she sank into her desk chair while they all watched her with terrible concern in their faces.
“I do wish you'd go away and stop looking so maudlin. All of you. I have work to do. Even if you apparently don't.”
“Mother, I'm taking you home. Today at least.” Michael looked belligerent as he watched her, but she only shook her head.
“I'm not going. Now go away, Michael, or I'll have George throw you out.” George only looked amused at the idea. “I may leave early, but I'm not leaving now. So thank you for your concern and ta ta. Ruth.” She pointed to the door, which her secretary obediently opened, and one by they helplessly filed out. She was stronger than all of them, and she knew it.
“Marion?” George stopped in the doorway with a worried look in his eyes.
“Yes?” Her face softened as she looked at him, and he smiled.
“Won't you go home now?”
“In a little while.”
He nodded. “I'll be back in half an hour.”
She smiled, but she could hardly wait for the door to close behind him. There was no doubt in her mind about what had caused the attack. She couldn't afford to get excited about anything anymore. It was really becoming a terrible nuisance. She looked at her watch as she dialed the number Ben had given her and listened to the phone ring three or four times. She didn't know why she was so certain, but she was. Had been from the moment Ben started to describe Marie Adamson. She would try to see the girl when she went to San Francisco; maybe then she'd know for sure. Or maybe not. Maybe the changes would be too great. She wondered if she'd realty know. And then, as she wondered, the girl answered the phone. Marion took a breath, closed her eyes, and spoke smoothly into the receiver. No one would have known she'd had an attack half an hour before. Marion Hillyard was, as ever, totally in control.
“Miss Adamson? This is Marion Hillyard, in New York.”
The conversation was brief, cold, and awkward, and Marion knew nothing more when she hung up than she had when she dialed But she would know. In exactly three weeks. They had an appointment at four o'clock on a Tuesday afternoon in three weeks. Marion marked it on her calendar, and then sat back and closed her eyes. The meeting might tell her nothing, and yet… there were some things she had to say. She only hoped she lived another three weeks.
Chapter 22
The clock seemed to tick interminably as she sat in the living room of her suite at the Fairmont. It offered an impressive view of the bay and Marin County beyond, but Marion Hillyard was not interested in the view. She was thinking about the girl. What had become of her? What did she look like? Had Gregson really wrought the wonders he had promised two years before? Ben Avery had seen a stranger when he met Marie Adamson. But what about Michael— would he still recognize her? And was she in love with someone else now, or, like Michael, had