sake, stay there—” For a moment, the middle-aged woman’s voice sounded farther away as she spoke to someone else. “Yes, she’s here—I don’t think so—”
A moment later, Nathan was on the line, and the strange timbre of his voice frightened Mallory. “Mallory, listen to me. I want you to stay inside that office until I come for you. All right?”
Something shivered in the pit of Mallory’s stomach. “Nathan, what’s happening? There are reporters and—”
He broke in brusquely. “I’ll explain it all in a few minutes, Mallory— just don’t leave that office. ”
“But—”
“Mallory.”
“Nathan, you’ve got to tell me—”
“Do I have your promise or not?”
Even more alarmed, Mallory sighed in frustration. “All right, damn it, I promise.”
“Good,” Nathan snapped, and then the line went dead.
Just then, the office door burst open, and an avid-looking man was standing there, his small eyes raking over Mallory as though she were some curious museum piece, meant to be thoroughly examined. “Did you know about the girl, Mrs. McKendrick?” he blurted out, as an angry George lumbered toward him. “Has your husband admitted to an affair with her?”
Mallory could only stare at the man, and the office spun around her as George pushed the man out and quickly locked the door. The doorman was grumbling as he turned to face the woman he had so wanted to protect.
Apparently alarmed by the sight of her, he sputtered, “Now, Mrs. McKendrick—Ms. O’Connor—don’t pay any mind to that scum! He’s probably with one of those papers they sell in the supermarket—”
Mallory couldn’t answer; her head was full of echoes. Did you know about the girl, Mrs. McKendrick? Has your husband admitted to an affair with her?
George caught her arms, thrust her gently into the chair behind Marge’s desk and brought her a plastic cup brimming with hot, strong coffee. Five minutes passed, ten. Mallory managed the occasional sip of coffee, but only because George looked so worried. The stuff was like bile in her mouth.
Suddenly, she heard an unmistakable shout of annoyance in the area outside the office, followed by a terse invective that the reporters would probably choose not to print. George opened the door to admit a livid Nathan.
“Will you get rid of those creeps?” snapped Mallory’s husband, addressing the doorman.
“I’ll try,” George promised somewhat uncertainly, making a hasty exit.
Nathan swept Mallory’s trembling frame with dark, furious eyes, and then turned to lock the door again. Her hand shaking, she set aside what was left of her coffee and braced herself.
After a rather drawn-out battle with a very simple lock, Nathan turned to face his wife. “Are you all right?”
Mallory could manage nothing more than a nod. If he didn’t explain what was happening, and fast, she would explode in a fit of shrieking hysteria.
Pale beneath his tan, Nathan took a newspaper Mallory hadn’t noticed before from under his arm and thrust it at her. Despite what the reporter had said to her, cold, sickening shock turned her stomach as she read the headline. SINGER NATHAN McKENDRICK NAMED IN PATERNITY SUIT.
Mallory closed her eyes and swallowed the burning sickness that scalded in her throat. These things happen all the time, one part of her mind argued calmly. It’s gossip, it’s trash—
“Mallory.” Nathan’s voice broke through the fog of pain and betrayal that surrounded her. This is no cheap scandal sheet. It’s an important newspaper—
“Mallory!”
She felt the angry, frightened strength of Nathan’s hands as he grasped her shoulders, and opened her eyes to see the torment in his face. “Who is she?” she whispered.
Nathan flinched as though she’d struck him, and drew back. Head down, he thrust his hands into the pockets of his gray flannel slacks, and an awesome tension tightened the muscles in his shoulders. “I don’t know.”
“What do you mean you
A moment later, Nathan was on the line, and the strange timbre of his voice frightened Mallory. “Mallory, listen to me. I want you to stay inside that office until I come for you. All right?”
Something shivered in the pit of Mallory’s stomach. “Nathan, what’s happening? There are reporters and—”
He broke in brusquely. “I’ll explain it all in a few minutes, Mallory— just don’t leave that office. ”
“But—”
“Mallory.”
“Nathan, you’ve got to tell me—”
“Do I have your promise or not?”
Even more alarmed, Mallory sighed in frustration. “All right, damn it, I promise.”
“Good,” Nathan snapped, and then the line went dead.
Just then, the office door burst open, and an avid-looking man was standing there, his small eyes raking over Mallory as though she were some curious museum piece, meant to be thoroughly examined. “Did you know about the girl, Mrs. McKendrick?” he blurted out, as an angry George lumbered toward him. “Has your husband admitted to an affair with her?”
Mallory could only stare at the man, and the office spun around her as George pushed the man out and quickly locked the door. The doorman was grumbling as he turned to face the woman he had so wanted to protect.
Apparently alarmed by the sight of her, he sputtered, “Now, Mrs. McKendrick—Ms. O’Connor—don’t pay any mind to that scum! He’s probably with one of those papers they sell in the supermarket—”
Mallory couldn’t answer; her head was full of echoes. Did you know about the girl, Mrs. McKendrick? Has your husband admitted to an affair with her?
George caught her arms, thrust her gently into the chair behind Marge’s desk and brought her a plastic cup brimming with hot, strong coffee. Five minutes passed, ten. Mallory managed the occasional sip of coffee, but only because George looked so worried. The stuff was like bile in her mouth.
Suddenly, she heard an unmistakable shout of annoyance in the area outside the office, followed by a terse invective that the reporters would probably choose not to print. George opened the door to admit a livid Nathan.
“Will you get rid of those creeps?” snapped Mallory’s husband, addressing the doorman.
“I’ll try,” George promised somewhat uncertainly, making a hasty exit.
Nathan swept Mallory’s trembling frame with dark, furious eyes, and then turned to lock the door again. Her hand shaking, she set aside what was left of her coffee and braced herself.
After a rather drawn-out battle with a very simple lock, Nathan turned to face his wife. “Are you all right?”
Mallory could manage nothing more than a nod. If he didn’t explain what was happening, and fast, she would explode in a fit of shrieking hysteria.
Pale beneath his tan, Nathan took a newspaper Mallory hadn’t noticed before from under his arm and thrust it at her. Despite what the reporter had said to her, cold, sickening shock turned her stomach as she read the headline. SINGER NATHAN McKENDRICK NAMED IN PATERNITY SUIT.
Mallory closed her eyes and swallowed the burning sickness that scalded in her throat. These things happen all the time, one part of her mind argued calmly. It’s gossip, it’s trash—
“Mallory.” Nathan’s voice broke through the fog of pain and betrayal that surrounded her. This is no cheap scandal sheet. It’s an important newspaper—
“Mallory!”
She felt the angry, frightened strength of Nathan’s hands as he grasped her shoulders, and opened her eyes to see the torment in his face. “Who is she?” she whispered.
Nathan flinched as though she’d struck him, and drew back. Head down, he thrust his hands into the pockets of his gray flannel slacks, and an awesome tension tightened the muscles in his shoulders. “I don’t know.”
“What do you mean you
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