A Matter of Principal Read online

  “Do you get two hours for lunch as well?”

  “Is it going to take two hours?”

  “Probably not. But my lunch on Mondays consists of sitting in the gym while Susan and eleven other little girls practice cartwheels, somersaults, and giggles.”

  “You wouldn’t consider missing one class, to get your mortgage straightened out?”

  She stopped beside her car. “Believe me, Patrick, if I’d skipped the class and gone into his office, you would be sorry.”

  “All right, we can talk about it while we wait for Susan.” He slid into the passenger seat.

  “Does this come under the heading of personal banking services?” Camryn didn’t wait for an answer. “One of our youngest depositors,” she muttered as she negotiated the few blocks to the gym. “Have you been checking up on me, Patrick? If you’ve gotten it into your head to think it would help if I cashed in Susan’s savings account...” She sighed. “Well, it probably would. All ninety-three dollars of it.”

  He whistled. “Things are that bad, hmm? I thought you said the doctor was going to help you out.”

  She didn’t answer until she had parked the car. “I’ll take Susan in and be right back.”

  He wasn’t there when she returned to the car. She looked around irritably and saw him crossing the street from a fast-food restaurant, carrying a paper bag. “I thought the discussion might go better over some food,” he said, and pointed to a park bench in a tiny patch of grass nearby. “Would you care to join me in a cheeseburger and a Coke? It’s the best I could do. The wine steward and the continental chef are taking the day off, I’m afraid.”

  She pulled her feet up on the edge of the bench and hugged her knees while he unpacked the bag. It was a perfect summer day, with a gentle breeze balancing the heat of the sun pouring down on the concrete.

  He handed her a sandwich. She took a bite out of it and said, “You’re very nice, you know.”

  “I’m just softening you up. What happened, Camryn? The doctor obviously wasn’t helpful, after all.”

  She pushed a lock of hair out of her eyes, where the breeze had blown it. “Oh, he was willing to be helpful. He stopped by this morning, and listened to my problem, and volunteered to guarantee my loan. And all I had to do was make sure I was available on the nights when he could get away from his wife.” She picked up her sandwich and looked at it without interest. “He made it very plain what he expected.”

  Patrick’s jaw tightened. “How charming of him.”

  “He seemed to think I’d planned it,” she said drearily. “As if I’ve been dreaming of him for the whole year since he stayed at the Stone House, and trying to find a way to get him back.”

  “So you told him to get lost.”

  “Of course I did.” She turned on him in fury. “I suppose you think I should have agreed to it! Dammit, Patrick, it was disgusting, and nauseating, and...” she was almost in tears “—and I felt dirty, just listening to his sleazy suggestion that I sleep with him.”

  He put his hand on her shoulder; she shrugged it off. “Camryn, must you always assume that I’m the bad guy? Of course you were insulted. If you hadn’t told him off, I was going to go wipe the floor with him myself.”

  She bit her lip. She had jumped to conclusions, that was certainly true. But she couldn’t quite bring herself to apologize, either. “You couldn’t do it,” said, finally. “He’s six feet four and he lifts weights.”

  Patrick smothered a grin. “All right. So I’d have tampered with the computer at his bank. Having his balance wiped out would probably hurt him more than a bloody nose would, anyway.”

  She giggled. She couldn’t help it.

  His fingertips brushed against her hair, tentatively, as if he wouldn’t be surprised if she slapped him. She sat very still instead, and eventually his hand came to rest on her shoulder and began to rub gently at the base of her neck, where the muscles were still tense.

  Finally, reluctantly, she said, “Susan’s class will be over.”

  “And she needs her lunch.” He pulled her to her feet. “Is she a cheeseburger sort, too?”

  Camryn shook her head. “I’ll take her home. It’s easier.”

  “But not nearly so much fun.” He came in with her, and Susan came flying across the gym to meet them. Patrick picked her up and swung her around until she collapsed in dizzy giggles.

  “So what’s next?” Camryn asked on the way back to the bank. “Surely not talking to Mr. Stanford this afternoon?”

  Patrick shook his head. “No, I think we should let it rest a while. I’ll find an excuse to delay it.”

  “The trouble is I’ve got no idea what to do instead.”

  He was quiet for a couple of blocks. “The next thing is to let Warren get to know you personally,” he said finally.

  “What good will that do?”

  “Psychology. It’s much harder to turn people down when they’re a face and a family, not just a name on a piece of paper. Come to the picnic on Friday and be your most charming self.”

  Camryn smiled ruefully. “I’m amazed that you can say that with a straight face.”

  Susan’s head popped up over the seat. “Picnic?” Her hands rested confidently on Patrick’s shoulder.

  Camryn shuddered. “She’s ruining your suit. And she had chocolate this morning, too.”

  “No harm done.” He didn’t even check for damage.

  “You’re good with kids, you know.”

  “I had to be. It was a matter of survival. I’m the oldest of five.”

  “Five? I heard your father say last night that he kept running into kids, but I thought...”

  “That I was enough trouble all alone, right?”

  “Something like that.”

  Patrick grinned. She stopped the car in front of the bank, and he brushed a casual hand across her cheek. “Don’t fret, Camryn—I’m not out of ideas yet. See you Friday.”

  “At the picnic.” She sighed. “All right, if you insist.”

  But, she realized as she drove home, he hadn’t said anything about taking her to the picnic—just that he would see her there.

  What did you expect? she asked herself. The lovely Dianna will be there. And with her around, you’ll be lucky if Patrick sees you at all.

  She didn’t stop to wonder if lucky was quite what she meant.

  *****

  She certainly didn’t see anything of him all week. Not that she had much time to think about it; the Stone House was busy, with several days when all four guest rooms were in use.

  Camryn had her hands full, and Sherry wasn’t much help; she carried trays and changed beds when asked, but it was in a vague sort of way. Sherry’s saintly behavior of the weekend had obviously been too good to last, Camryn told herself on Friday morning as she readied the two back bedrooms for the guests who would arrive late that afternoon.

  Then she went down to the breakfast room and plunged into the pile of paperwork that always seemed to be hanging over her head. She had half an hour before picking Susan up at nursery school, which was just enough time to take care of the bills.

  The couple who had reserved the master suite for the weekend had requested afternoon tea upon their arrival; it was a service Camryn was happy to provide, because it was easy to do, and people would pay the earth for it without complaining. But today she would much rather take Susan to the park, and soak up some much-needed sunshine, and restore her energy level before going to that damned picnic tonight.

  The invitation was pinned up to the bulletin board above her desk. “It’s the first picnic I ever got a printed invitation to,” Camryn muttered, staring at it. It was a good quality printing job, too, on heavy paper. But of course the bank would do something of the kind; taking out an advertisement in the Lakemont Chronicle wouldn’t be quite the thing. Besides, it was apparent that not every one of the bank’s customers was invited. Camryn’s invitation had obviously been an afterthought.

  It had come in Wednesday’s ma
il. “I should be flattered that it was so prompt,” Camryn said under her breath. “Two whole days’ notice!” And as for the personal note written at the bottom by Dianna Stanford herself— “Patrick has told me how disappointed he will be if you don’t come,” it said.

  Camryn took the invitation down from the bulletin board and stared at it. “Patrick has told me,” she mused. “I see he must have gone to dinner that night after all.”

  And Dianna was making no effort to hide the fact that if it hadn’t been for Patrick, Camryn Hastings would not have been invited. “It would be my pleasure to refuse,” Camryn informed the invitation, and then put it back on the board with a vicious stab of a thumb tack. “If only I could.”

  The telephone rang at her elbow. If it was a friend wanting to chat, Camryn decided, she would have to be ruthless. There was just too much work yet to be done.

  Instead, it was the young woman who had reserved the master suite for the weekend. “I’m sorry about calling so late,” she said, and sounded it. “But our baby has come down with a cold, and we just can’t leave him. Perhaps you have a vacancy later in the summer?”

  Camryn said everything that was appropriate, and booked the room for a weekend in August. Then she put the telephone down and swore.

  Cancellations were a part of the business; she had always known that, and she planned around it. Still, it didn’t happen often, and when it did it was an unpleasant shock; losing three nights’ lodging in her most expensive room, and the afternoon tea as well, would put a nasty hole in her profits for the weekend. It wasn’t likely that she’d get another call for the room on such short notice.

  She glared across the kitchen at the rich chocolate cake that stood on the center island, waiting to be iced with whipped cream and topped with cherries and nuts. She’d stayed up last night to bake it for this afternoon’s tea because the young woman had told her that chocolate was her husband’s favorite. Another wasted effort, she thought.

  “Think positive,” she told herself. “You can take Susan to the park for a while after all.”

  And there was another bright spot as well, she realized. At least Patrick hadn’t happened to be sitting in her kitchen this morning. He would no doubt have had a few choice things to say about the problems she would have if she counted on every reservation bringing in money. As it was, she thought, what Patrick didn’t know couldn’t hurt him.

  *****

  After a quick romp in the park, Susan curled up with Ipswich and Freddy Bear on the solarium floor and fell asleep. Camryn covered her with a soft blanket and started to work on the light, puffy sweet rolls that would be the highlight of tomorrow’s breakfast menu. They weren’t hard to make, but they took time, and the afternoon crept towards evening while she worked. Susan was still asleep, and Sherry hadn’t come home yet.

  Darn the girl, Camryn thought. I told her quite clearly that she must be here tonight because people will be checking in. What’s happened to her this week, anyway? I’ve never seen such irresponsible behavior from her.

  She heard a car pull up under the porte-cochere just as she took the last pan from the oven, and she heaved a sigh of relief. When the back doorbell rang, she was startled. Sherry must have her arms full, she thought, and hurried to help. Then she saw the masculine silhouette on the etched glass panel, and flung the door wide.

  “Patrick!” she said, with a sort of squeak, as delight surged through her in a wave. She quickly smothered the feeling. Of course I’m happy to see him, she thought. I hated the idea of going to this affair completely on my own, not knowing anyone.

  He was looking her over carefully, from her hair, tied back with a paisley scarf, to her favorite old worn jeans, half-concealed by a pristine white apron. “Surely that isn’t what you’re planning to wear to the picnic, Camryn?”

  “Not the apron, no,” she flashed. “What do you think I’d be likely to wear, Patrick?” Then she paused and inspected him through narrowed eyes. He was wearing a gray-beige linen sports jacket and dark trousers.

  Camryn stepped back from the door and motioned him inside. Silently, she walked around him, studying the way his shoes gleamed, and how his carefully knotted Chinese-blue tie lay smoothly under the collar of his pale blue shirt.

  It was a lot more casual than what he wore at the bank, but it was not the usual garb for a picnic—at least, not the sort Camryn was used to. And somehow she didn’t think Patrick would be the one who was out of place.

  She closed her eyes in pain. I might have known, she thought wildly. With my luck, this couldn’t possibly be an ordinary picnic.

  CHAPTER SIX

  “You could at least have warned me that this picnic isn’t the kind that involves hot dogs and ants,” she said bitterly.

  “Didn’t I?”

  “Don’t look innocent. I could have arrived in my tennis shorts and sandals and been—”

  “A real hit?” he offered helpfully. His gaze dropped slowly down the length of her body. “But not as much as if you were wearing a swimsuit.”

  “Are you trying to sabotage me, McKenna?”

  “Of course not. I’m here, aren’t I?”

  She swallowed the lump in her throat. It was hard to concentrate when the man was staring at her as if he was trying to remember the curves that her apron disguised.

  Finally, almost reluctantly, he said, “We really don’t have time to argue about it, Camryn.”

  “All right, I’ll go change my clothes. You might as well come up.”

  He bounded up the first flight of stairs after her. “And help?”

  Don’t take it personally, Camryn, she warned herself. He doesn’t mean anything. “That wasn’t what I had in mind, no. But you can sit in the solarium and be comfortable. It may take me a while to find something appropriate to wear.”

  “I was afraid you meant something boring like that.” He sounded disgruntled.

  On the solarium floor, Susan sat up and rubbed her eyes. “Is it time to go to the picnic?” she asked sleepily.

  Camryn smothered a sigh and went over to kneel beside her daughter to give her a hug. “I misunderstood, sweetheart,” she said. “It’s a different kind of picnic, and I’m afraid you can’t go after all.”

  The little face crinkled up, and Susan started to sob – noisy, wretched, miserable sounds that made it seem that her heart was breaking.

  Patrick looked less than impressed. He sat down in a comfortable chair near the door.

  Camryn was appalled. Of all the times to stage a scene, Susan, this isn’t it, she wanted to say, but it would have done no good. “She doesn’t normally react like this,” she said. She pulled Susan on to her lap. “It’s just that she’s still half-asleep.”

  “She doesn’t sound half-asleep to me. Camryn, we’re going to be late. Go get dressed and let me deal with Susan.”

  She eyed him warily, the sobbing child still in her arms. “Look, Patrick, if Sherry doesn’t get home I can’t go anywhere, anyway. She must have forgotten.”

  “Well, get dressed first, and we’ll see. If she doesn’t show up, we’ll worry about it then.”

  “I suppose you carry a list of babysitters in your wallet!”

  At that horrible word, Susan cried even harder. Patrick got up, lifted her bodily out of Camryn’s arms, and returned to his chair. He looked at Camryn and jerked a commanding thumb toward the stairs.

  She stood up and put her hands on her hips. “All right, if you’re going to be a dictator. But don’t you dare scold her for being upset. It’s my fault, not hers. And yours, as well. You could have made it clear from the beginning that it wasn’t a children’s event.”

  “Guilty as charged. So run along and let me do penance, all right?” He settled Susan more comfortably on his lap and stroked her hair. She turned her face into his shoulder, with a little hiccup, but for the moment she’d stopped wailing.

  Camryn stood there and stared at him for another couple of moments before she turned towards the stairs. She thought
she heard him murmur the words picnic and games and kids before she was out of hearing range.

  I wish him luck, she thought as she ran up the stairs. Susan didn’t throw tantrums very often, but when she did they were generally prize-winners. Patrick had no idea what he was getting into. She only hoped that this time Susan would be reasonable.

  Oh, why worry about it? she asked herself. What difference did it make whether he thought Susan was the most obnoxious brat ever born? It wouldn’t matter if he thought she was a perfect lady, either.

  The tap at her bedroom door a few minutes later startled her, and she almost stuck her mascara brush into her eye.

  Sherry poked her head around the door. “Patrick said I’d better come up and tell you I was home. Why? Did you think I’d forgotten?” She sounded irritated at the idea.

  I certainly did, Camryn thought. But Sherry was here now, and that was all that really mattered, so why make a fuss? “You’re not normally so late. I was afraid something might have happened to you.”

  “Not a chance,” Sherry muttered, and let the door drop shut behind her.

  Camryn sat there staring at the door for a moment. Of course, she thought. It was Friday night, and Sherry had probably had to turn down a date. But it was the first time since she moved into the Stone House that she’d ever made a fuss like that.

  She would have liked to tiptoe back down to the solarium, to overhear what was going on. But sneaking down the wide oak staircase at the Stone House was impossible; too many of the steps creaked. Susan met her in the doorway.

  “I get to go to a party tomorrow!” she crowed. “With Patrick! A big party, with lots of kids and games and prizes and—”

  Camryn shot a look at him. “Penance?” she quoted dryly.

  He studied the apricot-colored sun-dress that left her shoulders bare and nodded approvingly. “It’s my parents’ Fourth of July party. I’ve asked Susan to be my date.”

  “You shouldn’t promise what you can’t deliver.”