Page 53 of Live a Little!

As Cynthia watched, Agnes’s face transformed. She turned red, then white, and put a trembling hand to her mousy hair before assuming her usual placid, apologetic expression. She turned and said, “Hello, George. We weren’t expecting you until nextweek.”

“Had to make sure you hadn’t run off with a sailor while I was gone,” the hearty voiceboomed.

Agnes smiled her sad smile. “Really,George.”

So this was Neville’s stepfather. Cynthia liked the look of the man. He reminded her of a character actor on the British stage, with his snow-white hair and military mustache, the piercing blue eyes—a much deeper blue than those of his stepson—and his weather-beaten countenance. His dress was dapper, his manner jocular. He was as full of personality and verve as Agnes was lacking. And unless Cynthia was very much mistaken, the poor woman harbored a gigantic crush on the olderman.

“And who’sthis?”

Agnes edged back into Cynthia’s office as Mr. Percivald senior came through the door, his hand held out ingreeting.

“I’m Cynthia Baxter,” she said, taking his hand automatically and receiving a firm shake. “The newaccountant.”

“Hmm? Where’sHarrison?”

“I believe he’s in Hong Kong. I got the job after he left, so I never methim.”

“Hong Kong. What on earth for? Met a woman, I expect,” he said, answering his own question. “Well, he was a good man, but you’re much easier on my old eyes.” He twinkled at her and she found herself grinning back. He might be years older, but she liked him better than his blandstepson.

“And where’s Percivald theyounger?”

Since Agnes was gazing at him and seemed to be in her own world, Cynthia answered. “Neville? I think he’s in ameeting.”

“Ah. Well. I’ll just wait for him in his office, then. Agnes, my dear, might you take pity on a lonely old man and have dinner with me Saturdaynight?”

“Hmm? Oh, yes. Thankyou.”

“Right-o. I’moff.”

Cynthia could barely contain her excitement until Mr. Percivald senior had moved out of earshot. “Agnes! You’ve been keepingsecrets.”

“I don’t have any secrets. I wish Idid.”

“But that silver fox just asked you for adate!”

“What? Oh, no.” She sighed—a long, heartbroken sound that stirred all Cynthia’s sympathies. “He usually asks me for dinner when he’s in Seattle. I keep him up to date with Oceanic, and—” her voice became brittle “—he usually asks my advice about his current ladyfriend.”

“Currentlady friend? How many have therebeen?”

Agnes smiled thinly. “I’ve lostcount.”

“But that’s so wrong! You’re in love with him. Any fool can seethat.”

Pink blotches mottled Agnes’s skin. “In love with him? That’s ridicul—” She flopped into Cynthia’s single visitor’s chair and burst intotears.

Cynthia shut the door and dug out a pack oftissues.

“He doesn’t even see me. All these y-years I’ve been the one he trusts, discusses things with. I h-helped him pull himself together when his wife d-died. And I waited. I hoped at last…” A sob shook her. “I might as well be a piece of officefurniture.”

The poor woman was so desperately unhappy, and once again Cynthia had the uncomfortable feeling this could have been her, had her life not taken an unexpected turn. Maybe it was too late for Agnes, but then again, maybe it wasn’t. “Agnes, it’s time you let Mr. Percivald know how you feel abouthim.”

“He’d just think I was pathetic.” She sniffed. “And Iam.”

“Desperate times call for desperatemeasures.”

Agneshiccuped.

“We’re pulling out the bigguns.”

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