City Girl (3 page)

Crystal's face fell, and the reaction was not lost on Mr. Groman. He, too, was sensing things he had no way of knowing, things that were not as they should be.

He rubbed the shiny dome of his head with a puffy hand and hurried on. "It's not like you are destitute, with no means of support."

A cold knot in the pit of Crystal's stomach tightened, and instantly she knew what he was getting at. She was stunned, even before the words left his mouth in uneasy, strangled little jolts.

"It's just that… the medical bills were so high… and the house was mortgaged when you started college… and inflation… and taxes…" A hard sigh passed through the little pucker of a mouth, and his narrow, rounded shoulders drooped perceptibly. "I am afraid there is just nothing left, my dear. In fact, there is not even enough to cover expenses." He said it softly, but the impact was still similar to that of a lightning bolt.

Crystal sat statue-still, bolted by horror and panic to her seat.

"Nothing?" Her voice was a tinny whisper, and because she could not quite believe it, she repeated the shocked question. "Nothing?"

"Honestly, child, I stretched it as far as I could," he offered apologetically. "It is a miracle the money lasted to see you through high school. I haven't even taken my own fees since you started college."

Tears stung Crystal's eyes, and a hard lump formed deep in her chest. He did not understand. He could not possibly know how desperately she needed that money. Everything, her very mental and emotional well-being, depended upon her getting away from Dallas, away from Jerry, away from the hurt and humiliation and memories.

She wanted at that moment to lash out, to cry that he had no right to tell her it was all gone, to make him feel and understand the pain and despair that surged through her every fiber. But one look at that naked, open, baby-pink face snuffed out that inane desire. He could not possibly know how serious her predicament was, and he obviously hated to give her this news. Indeed, he looked for a moment as if he would cry right along with her.

With a bravado she had not known she possessed, Crystal forced a tiny plastic smile on her lips and blinked furiously at the tears filling her eyes.

"It's all right, Hal," she whispered bravely, using his given name for the first time. "I know you did everything you could. You always have, and somehow, someday, I will find a way to repay you." Her chin quivered uncontrollably, and to her dismay, huge salty tears began to flow down her cheeks.

"I never thought you would take it like this!" Mr. Groman moaned. He was on his feet and pushing a blue plaid hankie at her. "Come, now. It isn't as bad as all that. You still have your job and that young man of yours. The two of you will make it just fine, you'll see."

Crystal shook her chocolate head slowly, blowing daintily into the gaudy handkerchief.

"You don't understand. It's not like that at all," she sniffed. "Not at all!" And for the next quarter of an hour she poured her heart out. The many things she had wanted to keep hidden, she now unveiled.

A stunned silence filled the office, seeming to draw in the walls and bear down upon them, until Crystal felt as if she might suffocate. The little lawyer was definitely taken aback by all this unhappy news, though he listened with a caring and sympathetic ear.

Having unloaded all this, Crystal began to feel just the least bit better. The initial shock was beginning to wear off.

"I would be glad to make you a loan…" he started at last, but Crystal cut him off with a firm shake of her head. She did have some pride left.

"No. Thanks, but I could not possibly take any money from you. You have done so much for me already, and there is no way of telling when I might be able to pay it back." Her fingers toyed with the soggy piece of blue plaid cloth, while her mind took a moment to wallow in self-pity.

"Then perhaps—just perhaps—I can arrange something else," he was saying, and Crystal looked up hopefully.

The old sparkle danced behind his eyeglasses. Pudgy fingers tweaked a pudgy chin. The wheels had started to roll in that quicksilver brain, and Crystal's heart began to spin right along. An idea had been born there, and she could almost see it flowering into full blossom.

"Yes. Yes. I do recall something being mentioned just today. Something that just might work out." He leaned forward earnestly, elbows knocking against black marble, eyes growing larger with each passing second. "How would you feel about working on a ranch?" he asked excitedly. "Teaching, I mean. And…yes, I'm almost sure of it—Spanish would be required. You can speak Spanish, can't you?" He waved away her reply. "Yes, of course you can." He leaned back, fully satisfied with himself, while Crystal waited with bated breath swelling her lungs.

"What do you say? You interested?"

"Interested! Why… yes! Definitely! I mean, where? For whom?"

He wagged a stalling finger. "Now, now, now. This is not definite, you understand, but maybe, just maybe…" He came rolling to his feet then, anxious to get to work on yet another problem which needed his special brand of attention. He helped Crystal out of her chair and Steered her toward the door. "I'll call you," he promised, "just as soon as I can. Tonight, maybe. Now, don't you worry. We will work this out together."

His hand reached for the brass doorknob. Crystal placed hers over it lightly. Large eyes met large eyes. Quite impulsively Crystal planted a kiss right in the middle of that naked baby-pink forehead. He blushed a violent crimson, then hustled her quickly out the door with a final admonition not to worry and a promise to call soon.

Crystal's knees almost gave way as the elevator started its descent, and her spirits went down again right along with it. All the way home on the bus, she kept telling herself that everything would be all right, that somehow Mr. Groman would be able to help her. But things were looking mighty dim by the time she trudged that last block home and fitted her worn key into the lock.

The door swung open easily beneath her hand, and Crystal entered the empty house with an overwhelming wave of nostalgia. Everything here seemed to cry out to be preserved, yet she knew that it would be impossible. If things were as bad as Mr. Groman had said—and she did not doubt for a minute that they were— everything would have to go.

With a heavy heart Crystal dropped her purse on a small three-legged table beside the door and wandered through this precious house, until finally her feet led her to Aunt Judith's bedroom. It looked just the same as it always had. Not a thing was out of place. The chenille bedspread was tucked neatly over the pillows in a smooth line. Boxes of half-used powders and treasured little whatnots stood in a neat row along the top of the dresser. Square smocked pillows in pastel shades lay in the seat of Aunt Judith's rocking chair, exactly as they had always lain. The chintz curtains parted over the single window, where a collection of houseplants basked in the early-afternoon sun.

"A woman alone in this world has to be tough, strong, hard," she heard Aunt Judith saying again. "She has to adjust, make do, fight for everything she gets. You'll find out one of these days, girl. You'll find out."

Crystal sighed and ran a hand over Aunt Judith's pillow. "I found out, Aunt Judith. You were right," she whispered to the image in her mind. And then, because she could not stand it any longer, she went out and closed the door.

Mr. Groman did not call that night, and Crystal went to bed early without any supper. Her appetite had disappeared, and she could not stand the idea of puttering around in Aunt Judith's kitchen just then. It was too poignant, too rich with memories that must soon be abandoned.

She slept soundly, almost in self-defense. In the morning, because there was no reason to get out of bed, she lingered beneath the covers, fighting off the dull pain of wakeful consciousness. At last the jangling telephone pulled her eyes open, and she was out of the bed like a shot, racing to the living room, where the only phone stood in its time-honored place upon a small writing desk in a corner.

But this was not the call for which she waited. On the other end of the line was a solicitor for a firm wanting to sell her some storm windows. With a curt no, she hung up on his fast spiel and padded laconically over to the worn sofa, where she collapsed in a sprawl of slender legs and baby-doll pajamas. She lifted her thick, heavy hair off of the back of her neck with both hands and frowned up at the ceiling.

How much time did she have? she wondered. The house would have to be sold, or possibly repossessed. She was not clear on that. Mr. Groman had not given her any of the details, but she was sure he would give her as much time as he could. Still, that might not be very long.

Even if she could go on living here for a while, she had hardly any money at all. She had not bothered to keep the kitchen stocked now that Aunt Judith was gone, and even if she took a job like waiting tables or secretarial work, it would be weeks before she could make enough money to get herself an apartment.

The situation was too bleak to even dwell upon, so she got up and started toward the kitchen. Her stomach made angry, empty sounds, and she thought now about finding something to eat. Then the phone rang.

Crystal turned and sprinted back to the desk, saying a silent prayer, then lifted the receiver to her ear cautiously. "Hello?"

"Crystal? Hal Groman here."

Her heart leaped into her throat, and her free hand followed it there. "Go ahead."

"Could you meet me at my office about lunchtime?"

"Yes. Certainly."

"Fine. We will see you then."

"We?"

"Your potential employer and I." Crystal pushed the air out of her lungs in a relieved rush. "See you then."

"Yes, about lunchtime," she reaffirmed happily, and he rang off with a cheery good-bye.

Crystal glanced at the pendulum clock on the living-room wall. Nine-thirty. She wanted to be there at twelve noon sharp. It would take about forty minutes to get across town on the bus. If she caught the eleven-fifteen, that would be just about right; so she had less than two hours to eat, bathe, wash and dry her hair, and get dressed.

She raced to the kitchen and began to prepare a hurried meal of coffee and toast, planning what she would wear. She wanted to look mature and competent, sophisticated, not doll-like and fragile. No matter what it took, she had to get this job.

She could only hope that the position would be what she needed. She wondered for the first time what kind of teaching she would be doing on a ranch, but it did not really matter as long as it was something for which she was qualified. Mr. Groman had said that it required Spanish, and her Spanish was very good, perhaps not as good as her French, but competent.

"Tough, hard, strong," she could hear Aunt Judith saying, "adjust, make do, fight for it." And that was just what she intended to do.

Crystal stepped into the empty elevator and punched the number fifteen button. The shiny metal doors closed silently and afforded her a somewhat distorted view of herself, though not a displeasing one.

She wore a crisp self-belted dress of black pinstriped beige beneath a tailored black blazer that lent a businesslike air to her outfit. Black-and-beige spectator shoes with tall wooden heels added height. Her hair, pulled back severely at each temple with wide enameled combs, shone like glossy chocolate. For accessories she had chosen a single gold chain and tiny gold ear hoops. A long black straw envelope bag was tucked neatly in the crook of one elbow.