Page 17 of Persuading Penny
“Don’t worry about me. Did you see all those cars out in the drive? Someone is bound to offer me a ride.”
I took her keys. “Thanks.”
I shot a quick glance over her shoulder where Cliff stood. His smile, meant for the young actress he was speaking to, faded as he glanced at me.
“I’ll see you tomorrow.” I turned and left, my stomach in knots.
*****
“Penny? Is that you?”Mum called from the kitchen as I walked in.
I had hoped to sneak into my room unnoticed.
“Yes.It’s me, Mum.”
“You’re back early. I thought you had your grand dinner with all those Hollywood types.”
“A change of plans,” I called to her as I made my way up the stairs.
“Penny,” she said as she came to me. “Where are you running off to? I’m speaking to you.”
“Sorry, Mum.”
“Now, dear. Does this mean you’ll be having dinner with us?”
I shook my head. “No, Mum. Don’t change your plans.”Make as if I’m not here at all.
“But, did you have any dinner?”
I nodded, immediately regretting the lie. “I grabbed a bite here and there.” I looked up the stairs, eager to escape her. “I’m really tired, though, Mum. I just want to rest and not look at another number for the rest of the day.”
“Is this Keely girl overworking you, dear?”
“No, Mum,” I said, taking another step up. “No. Don’t worry.She’s been wonderful.The numbers...it’s all part of the job. But there are a lot of numbers. I just need to clear my head.”
“If you say so, dear.”With a shrug, she walked back to the kitchen.
I took the last steps to reach the second floor and hurried to my room. With tears burning my eyes, I closed the door and leaned back against it. Only then did the tears freely flow.
“He hates me,” I muttered into the emptiness of my room.
It wasn’t evenmyroom. I was in a strange house, in a strange room, and sleeping in a strange bed. But I did have something that was mine, something that might bring me a bit of solace.
I pulled my suitcase out from under the bed. In the outer compartment, held closed by a zipper, I had long ago shoved dozens of letters from Cliff, wanting to have him with me wherever I went.
I sat on the floor, unzipped the compartment and pulled out a letter...any letter. Before pulling the letter out of the envelope, I could smell him...smell him on the paper...his favorite cologne.
Smiling, I pulled the folded letter out of the envelope and slowly unfolded it. His handwriting, without flourish or fancy, was clean and precise.
My sweetest Penelope,
I’ve been reading a lot lately, and it seems that every passage I read reminds me of you. Or is it simply that I cannot stop thinking about you, no matter what I do?
The sun is out today, beautiful and warm, so perfect for an afternoon walk in the shade of the large weeping willows.
I truly enjoyed your last letter. It made me laugh, especially the part about your accident with that cake.It’s easy to envision you, a cake on a platter in your hands, and your father, always so quick and brash with his movements. What I have a hard time imagining, however, is your father with all that cake on his head and shoulders. He must have been furious.
It feels good to laugh as I think about you. And, on that note, I came upon a poem, a Lord Byron poem, that made me think of you and I hope you might enjoy:
