Another Kind of Love by Paula Christian Page B

evenly.
    â€œYeah,” Walter added enthusiastically. “ Fanfare on Madison Avenue. How do you like that for dreams coming true?”
    â€œSounds elegant,” Laura replied, feeling oddly disturbed by Madeline’s curious glances.
    â€œTell you what,” Walter continued as if in one breath, “I’ll call downstairs and have them register you and send your bags up.”
    Laura sat quietly while Walter called. She listened with detached interest as he made the arrangements. She didn’t want to look over at Madeline, and she felt strangely on guard.
    â€œIs it difficult to find an apartment?” she asked Madeline finally.
    Madeline laughed, and Laura decided that her laugh was not really loud or boisterous—just sincere, and full of a pleasant childlike gusto. There was no obvious attempt on Madeline’s part to play the urban sophisticate. Laura thought that her naturalness made Madeline all the more genuinely sophisticated.
    â€œA nice apartment is very hard to find,” she explained without snobbery, “even if price is no object.”
    The conversation glided effortlessly from general observations to specifics about Fanfare and the new job. It seemed to Laura that Madeline and Walter had her future very neatly in tow. It felt good not to have to decide anything. Good—and safe.
    At last the bellhop arrived with the key to Laura’s room and the registration card for her to sign. Her luggage had been placed in her room.
    â€œI don’t wish to seem rude,” Laura said after a short silence, “but I think I’ll turn in. It’s been a long day.”
    â€œCertainly, certainly,” Walter agreed. There was a touch of concern in his voice. “Anyway, you’ll be seeing a lot of Madeline these next few days. There’ll be a lot of things she can help you with in getting started—especially when Willy isn’t around.”
    â€œStop yakking, Walter, and let the girl go to bed,” Madeline smiled. She extended her hand to Laura casually. “I’m going to enjoy working with you, Laura, even if it is only for a few days. Do you want me to call you in the morning?”
    Laura wished everyone would leave her alone, but she knew that they were simply trying to be helpful. “No. No, thanks. I’ll leave a call at the desk. See you at the office around nine?” she asked with equal casualness.
    â€œYes.”
    â€œWell, good night, then.”
    Walter walked her to the door. “Good girl,” he whispered. “She likes you.”
    â€œDid you think she wouldn’t?” Laura asked wearily, but she didn’t wait for him to answer. “Good night, Walter. See you tomorrow.”
    She closed the door behind her. She was grateful to be alone—and yet afraid of it, too. The best-loved person in the world can feel lonely in a hotel . . . and if you’re already lonely . . .
    Her room was a room; it was a “nice” room. It had four walls, a clean bathroom, and only slightly faded curtains. It had a view—an office building on the opposite side of the street. Laura looked for a radio but found none. Just a free TV set. Her luggage had been piled neatly at the foot of the bed.
    She opened the suitcases and began hanging her clothes. The bureau drawer contained the usual card listing the hotel’s regulations, and the Gideon Bible. Strange how she only needed three drawers now. In her apartment there had never seemed to be enough room.
    Entering the bathroom, she let the water run for a hot bath. She stared for a moment at her reflection in the mirror. She wondered vaguely what other people thought when they looked in a mirror. . . . Did they think they were pretty or ugly? Did they try to hypnotise themselves by staring into their own eyes with noses pressed against the glass, or strike poses alien to their daily habits?
    â€œWhat difference does it make . . . as long as it