Seven
“Have any luck?” Adam Johnson asked his daughter after she’d climbed into the back seat and he was starting the car.
Priss gave him a rueful smile. “I hope so. They’re being deprived of television.”
Adam shook his head. “It won’t work.”
“Stop disillusioning me,” Priss said, hitting his shoulder playfully.
“Did you see John?” Renée asked quietly.
Priss sat back. “Yes.”
“I don’t think he even noticed us,” Adam related dryly. “He got straight into his car and drove off in a cloud of dust.”
She stared out the window. “How odd,” she said tensely, but she didn’t say anything else and, after a quickly exchanged look, neither did her parents.
Betty Gaines was a petite woman with salt-and-pepper hair and a glowing personality. She made them all feel right at home, and Priss was delighted to find a few young people her age at the party.
“What fun this is,” Ronald George commented in her ear. “I can hardly wait to go to sleep.”
“Hush!” she scolded. “It’s a lovely party!”
“Your Aussie friend doesn’t seem to think so,” he returned, glancing toward John, who was standing alone in the corner with a cup of punch in one hand, glaring at them.
She peeked through her lashes, hoping that John was miserable. Hoping that she’d hurt him. “No, he doesn’t,” she said too sweetly. “Why don’t we go over and cheer him up, darling?” She laughed, and revenge glittered from her eyes. She caught his sleeve and half dragged him across the room.
“Why, hello, John,” Priss said with false warmth. “I don’t think you’ve ever met Ronald George, have you? Ronald, this is John Sterling, who owns the property adjoining ours.”
“So pleased to meet you, old chap,” Ronald said with his easy grin, and extended a hand.
John looked as if he were being offered a piece of moldy bacon. But after a slight hesitation, he shook the hand roughly and let it fall.
“I hear you’re in cattle,” Ronald nodded politely. “My father has a cow or two.” He grinned. “He owns a chain of steak restaurants. You might have heard of them—The George Steak Houses?”
“Sorry,” John said brusquely, staring down at the smaller man from his formidable height. He towered over everyone, Priss thought. He was powerfully built, right down to the huge hands whose gentleness she hated to remember.
“Ah, well, not to worry.” Ronald began to look uncomfortable. He cleared his throat. “Nice town, Providence.”
“My grandfather thought so,” John returned quietly. “He founded it.”
“Oh. Really?”
“Ronald doesn’t know much about Australian history,” Priss told John. “But he is quite an authority on financial matters.” She smiled vaguely. “He and his father have made a fortune in investments.”
John seemed to withdraw. His eyes were the only things alive in that searing face, and they cut into Priss’s face. “Have they?”
“We’ve had some small successes,” Ronald said, with a puzzled glance at Priss. He cleared his throat. “Uh, darling, wouldn’t you like some punch?” he asked hopefully.
But Priss was enjoying herself. Revenge had a sweet taste, and she was repaying all John’s taunts, all his cutting remarks as she played up to Ronald. “Yes, I would,” she agreed. “Would you bring me one?”
“Delighted!” Ronald said and hurried away.
“Isn’t Ronald a dream?” she sighed, viewing the teacher’s thin back with adoring eyes. “I do so admire his taste in clothes. And he has the most delightfully cultured background. He’s quite unique in these parts, don’t you think?”
“He’s a thoroughbred, all right,” John said with a cold smile. He gulped down the rest of his punch and put the empty glass on a nearby table before he lit a cigarette. “Why didn’t the two of you stay in Hawaii?”
“My family is here,” she replied. Her eyes wandered over his hard face, and she saw new lines in it. A twinge of
“Have any luck?” Adam Johnson asked his daughter after she’d climbed into the back seat and he was starting the car.
Priss gave him a rueful smile. “I hope so. They’re being deprived of television.”
Adam shook his head. “It won’t work.”
“Stop disillusioning me,” Priss said, hitting his shoulder playfully.
“Did you see John?” Renée asked quietly.
Priss sat back. “Yes.”
“I don’t think he even noticed us,” Adam related dryly. “He got straight into his car and drove off in a cloud of dust.”
She stared out the window. “How odd,” she said tensely, but she didn’t say anything else and, after a quickly exchanged look, neither did her parents.
Betty Gaines was a petite woman with salt-and-pepper hair and a glowing personality. She made them all feel right at home, and Priss was delighted to find a few young people her age at the party.
“What fun this is,” Ronald George commented in her ear. “I can hardly wait to go to sleep.”
“Hush!” she scolded. “It’s a lovely party!”
“Your Aussie friend doesn’t seem to think so,” he returned, glancing toward John, who was standing alone in the corner with a cup of punch in one hand, glaring at them.
She peeked through her lashes, hoping that John was miserable. Hoping that she’d hurt him. “No, he doesn’t,” she said too sweetly. “Why don’t we go over and cheer him up, darling?” She laughed, and revenge glittered from her eyes. She caught his sleeve and half dragged him across the room.
“Why, hello, John,” Priss said with false warmth. “I don’t think you’ve ever met Ronald George, have you? Ronald, this is John Sterling, who owns the property adjoining ours.”
“So pleased to meet you, old chap,” Ronald said with his easy grin, and extended a hand.
John looked as if he were being offered a piece of moldy bacon. But after a slight hesitation, he shook the hand roughly and let it fall.
“I hear you’re in cattle,” Ronald nodded politely. “My father has a cow or two.” He grinned. “He owns a chain of steak restaurants. You might have heard of them—The George Steak Houses?”
“Sorry,” John said brusquely, staring down at the smaller man from his formidable height. He towered over everyone, Priss thought. He was powerfully built, right down to the huge hands whose gentleness she hated to remember.
“Ah, well, not to worry.” Ronald began to look uncomfortable. He cleared his throat. “Nice town, Providence.”
“My grandfather thought so,” John returned quietly. “He founded it.”
“Oh. Really?”
“Ronald doesn’t know much about Australian history,” Priss told John. “But he is quite an authority on financial matters.” She smiled vaguely. “He and his father have made a fortune in investments.”
John seemed to withdraw. His eyes were the only things alive in that searing face, and they cut into Priss’s face. “Have they?”
“We’ve had some small successes,” Ronald said, with a puzzled glance at Priss. He cleared his throat. “Uh, darling, wouldn’t you like some punch?” he asked hopefully.
But Priss was enjoying herself. Revenge had a sweet taste, and she was repaying all John’s taunts, all his cutting remarks as she played up to Ronald. “Yes, I would,” she agreed. “Would you bring me one?”
“Delighted!” Ronald said and hurried away.
“Isn’t Ronald a dream?” she sighed, viewing the teacher’s thin back with adoring eyes. “I do so admire his taste in clothes. And he has the most delightfully cultured background. He’s quite unique in these parts, don’t you think?”
“He’s a thoroughbred, all right,” John said with a cold smile. He gulped down the rest of his punch and put the empty glass on a nearby table before he lit a cigarette. “Why didn’t the two of you stay in Hawaii?”
“My family is here,” she replied. Her eyes wandered over his hard face, and she saw new lines in it. A twinge of
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