A Lonely Sky (20 page)

Sam tried to absorb this new information. How had he missed this little romance occurring right under his nose? Barnabas and Aunt Polly! But knowing she was loved to the last brought him comfort. He smiled at the elderly gentleman. “Barnabas, of course you can stay here. I’m sorry if I’m so wrapped up in my own problems that I never realized your feelings for Polly.”

“It wasn’t yours to see, Sam.” Barnabas smiled. “It was ours.” He rose. “I’ll get you that whiskey now, sir, but I need tell you one more thing.”

“Yes?” He hoped Barnabas might offer some advice regarding the finances.

“Polly worried about you ending up alone. It brightened her when Miss Julia was here.”

“It brightened me too, Barnabas.” Sam smiled. “I hope to bring her back here.” He glanced at the stack of bills and frowned. “But it may not be as soon as I planned.”

Barnabas looked at the desk. “I’m sorry sir. I had no idea that the finances were out of control. Not to pass blame, but I thought she handed everything to the accountant.”

“Not your worry, Barnabas. I may have a solution very soon however.”

“Very good then, sir.” Barnabas turned to leave.

“Barnabas?”

“Sir?”

“When you bring me back that whiskey, why don’t you bring one back for yourself and we’ll drink it down together?”

Barnabas smiled and winked. “Very good then, sir.”

The restaurant was busier than usual. Sam stood in the lobby and glanced at his watch. She would be fashionably late as usual, always needing to make an entrance. He checked the time again. He’d wait as long as it took, even if it caused him to be late for his shoot.

“Darling! There you are!” Her smooth-as-silk voice cascaded over the buzz of the lunch crowd. People stared as the well dressed, highly coiffed, tall blonde glided over to Sam, and offered her cheek to kiss. “I’m not late, am I?”

Sam managed a half-smile. “Not for you, Deirdre.”

The maitre d' motioned them to follow him to their table, a quiet booth for two, with a view of the River Thames.

“I’m delighted you called, Sam.” She ordered a white wine spritzer from a passing waiter. “Spencer just lost a bet.”

“What?”

“Oh nothing,” she said, with a coy smile. “I’m just delighted you called.”

Sam pulled out a cigarette. “Mind if I smoke?

“Yes, I do, darling. You know I detest your nasty little habit.”

Sam lit the cigarette. “Then I’ll blow the smoke towards the common folk.”

Deirdre laughed, but it seemed stilted and unnatural. “Please tell me you’ve asked me to lunch with a purpose other than to irritate me?”

“Of course.” Sam shifted in his seat, but before he could utter a word the waiter returned with Deirdre’s drink and offered to take their order. Sam wasn’t sure if he was relieved or irritated by the intrusion. What he had to say couldn’t wait, yet he dreaded having to tell it. He ordered a beer, and waited while Deirdre ordered a watercress salad with dressing on the side.

Deirdre took a sip of her drink as the waiter departed. “On a diet, Sam? You didn’t order lunch.”

“I’ve got to keep this short.” Sam glanced at his watch. “I’ve got to get out to the country for a shoot by three.”

“Oh.” Deirdre pouted. “And here I thought we’d have a leisurely little lunch, followed by a lazy afternoon. Perhaps we might stroll along the Thames?”

“I told you, my time is limited.” It took huge effort not to sound irritated. The last thing he needed was Deirdre suspecting his desperation. She could not know she was his last hope.

He forced a smile. He needed to stay in her good graces, at least through lunch. After that, he didn’t care.

“You asked me to lunch, Sammy.” Her blue eyes flashed, but her honeyed speech belied any malice. “You must have missed me while in Australia.”

Sam ignored her remark and bit the bullet. “I need money.”

A long silence followed, as Deirdre sat motionless, her hand molded to her wine glass.

“Did you hear me, Deirdre?”

Her eyes turned to stone. She spoke between clenched teeth. “I heard you. You need money.”

“Yes, and a rather lot of it, I’m afraid.”

Deirdre threw back head and laughed. “But of course you do. Don’t you always?”

“What’s so blasted funny?” Sam stubbed his barely smoked cigarette and leaned towards her. “I hardly think my financial problem warrants a laugh. This isn’t easy for me, you know.”

Deirdre touched her napkin to her lips and wiped the smile off her face. “Well, silly me, Sam. I should have known. Here I thought we were on a
date
, but all you want is money.”

“It’s not for me. As you know, Polly died.”

“Oh yes,” Deirdre said, but her eyes remained void of sympathy.

“I need to pay off Polly’s debts or the McTeel name will be disgraced and the manor will go to auction.” Sam folded his hands in front of him, his elbows resting on the table. “I need to borrow money right away, Deirdre. And you’re the only one-”

“No.”

“No?” He stared in disbelief. “Just like that? No?”

“You heard me.” Her face remained expressionless. “No money for you, Sammy boy.”

Sam clenched his teeth as he felt his blood boil at her mocking tone. He would not let her get to him. He took a deep breath and steadied his voice. “How can you deny me this?”

“Simple. I say no.” Deirdre’s composure remained as rigid as Sam’s jaw set.

“You know that money should be mine.”

“But, it’s not.” Deirdre offered a triumphant little smile. “It’s mine as documented in black and white in my dearly departed Daddy’s will.”

It took all his mental and physical strength not to reach across the table and strangle her. Instead, he reminded himself he could trap this fly with a sweeter brand of honey. He forced himself to relax and smile. “Now darling Deirdre, you can’t sport an old friend even the teensiest loan?”

She shot him a smile as fake as his own. “No loan.”

He remained pleasant with every fiber of his being. “Why not? Have I ever asked anything of you?  Have I ever mentioned this money before?  Have I ever contested that the money should be mine because my father, in a fit of anger, rewrote his will?  No. I’ve never bothered you, never asked anything of you.”

“Yes, and that’s just it, isn’t it, Sam?” Deirdre’s eyes bore into his as she spoke in a clipped whisper. “You never needed or wanted anything from me until now. You left me standing alone at our engagement party. I don’t owe you one red cent. If anything, you owe me.”

Sam sat silent and stunned. Why had he thought this might actually be easy? The waiter arrived with Sam’s draft and Deirdre’s salad.

Sam waited for the waiter to leave before speaking. “Deirdre, you and I don’t mix. We’d never work. We’re too different. I’m sorry about everything before, but honestly, it’s for the best.”

She lifted her fork and picked at her salad. “And nothing will change your mind?”

“What do you mean?”

Deirdre looked up from her plate. “I was just thinking that one way for you to get a hold of money quickly might be to marry into it.”

He held back a nervous laugh. “Oh, really now. And let me guess who you might suggest?”

She finished chewing a small bite of salad. “One of the most sought after, exquisitely rich, and may I say, most stunning women in all society.”

“I have no bloody idea who you could be thinking of.” Sam smirked, sat back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest. Two could play this game.

“Then order yourself a stiff one, darling, because you’re buying her lunch.”

Sam laughed quietly. “I see, I see.”

Deirdre put down her fork. “You were going to marry me before. What changed?”

Julia’s blue eyes and bright smile flashed before his eyes. He pushed away the image and tried to concentrate on the matter at hand.

“I just am not ready to marry.” No sense adding insult to injury by telling her the truth, that he was only marrying her for the money the first time. He never loved her. He never said he did, but yet, she just assumed everyone did.

“But Sammy, if we marry you’d get the money, no questions asked.” Her tone had changed. She nearly sounded like a little girl. This new vulnerability unnerved him.

“And what would you get?  What makes you think I wouldn’t take the money and leave you?” The possibility crossed his mind. He brushed it away. Could he ever be that lousy of a rake?

“You won’t.”

“You’re so sure about that?”

Deirdre reached for her wine. “It’s a chance I’m willing to take.”

“Why?” He found the idea preposterous. “I don’t understand what you want out of this.”

Deirdre looked out the window. Her face seemed to soften in the sunlight and for a moment, Sam thought her eyes misted over. But, as she turned back to Sam, her eyes turned as cold as before. “I have my reasons. That’s my offer, take it or leave it.”

“You’re telling me the only way you’ll help me out is if I marry you?”

Deirdre sighed, stood and picked up her purse. “Thank you for lunch, Sam. It was rather enlightening.” She opened her purse and placed some money down. “Don’t worry, I’ll pay.”

“Don’t be insulting.” Sam handed the bills back to her. “I can afford lunch.”

“How gallant.” She started to leave, but turned back. “Sam, I’m giving you a chance to get out of the hole you’ve dug yourself into. Think about it. Continue as you are, a struggling actor with an enormous debt to pay and no way to pay it, or think about what you could be, fabulously wealthy and in with the right social crowd. I know people who could further your career.”

“I don’t need you to get my career on track.” She had to be joking. Not only was he to marry her for money, but to help his career?  Who did she think she was?  He didn’t need her and he now would surely never ask her for money again.

“Yes, well Sam, just see how eager the studios are to hire you when you can’t arrive for your shoots on time because you’re too busy digging a demented lady’s name out of the red. See what they think of you when you explain that you let your senile aunt squander away her money while you worried only about yourself. Believe me Sam, I can whisper that little morsel of information to the press in no time.”

“You’re resorting to blackmail now?  Is that fair?”

“Life isn’t fair, Sammy. Get used to it.” Deirdre snapped her purse closed. “You know my number. If you don’t want things to get worse, accept my proposal. And soon.”

Deirdre left the restaurant. Sam contemplated hurling an ashtray after her. Instead he lit another cigarette.

“It’ll be a bloody cold day in hell before I marry that woman.”

An unseasonably cold rain fell on London’s streets as Sam hurried up the steps of the familiar brownstone. He rang the bell, and pounded on the door. “Spencer! Hurry up and let me out of this blasted rain!”

Sam assaulted the buzzer several more times before the door finally opened. Spencer stood there, half-awake, clad only in long-legged striped pajama bottoms, his blonde hair tousled from sleep. He could barely keep his eyes open as Sam pushed past him into the hallway.

“Do come in.” Spencer stifled a yawn as he shut the door against the pounding rain. “Bloody hell, Sam, what time is it?”

“Nearly two a.m.” Sam removed his jacket, and threw it over the banister. “Sorry about the time, old chap, but my shoot ran late and I really need to talk to you.”

Spencer scratched his head and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. “And this couldn’t wait for five or six more hours, when I might actually be awake?”

“No.” Sam headed down the hall into the kitchen. “Got any whiskey?  I’ve caught a chill.”

Spencer padded dutifully after his friend and opened a kitchen cabinet. He produced the requested bottle and a glass, and handed them to Sam. “Okay, shoot. Make it quick though, heh?  I like my sleep.”

Sam poured the drink and downed it. “Okay, here’s the situation,” he said, as he pulled up a chair to the counter. He reiterated Polly’s debts, his financial straits, and his conversation with Deirdre.

Spencer seemed ready to fall back asleep, until Sam mentioned Deirdre’s blackmail scheme and marriage proposal. He bolted upright from his tired stance against the refrigerator. His eyes opened wide.

“She still wants to bloody marry you?” Spencer shook his head. “After the engagement fiasco, I thought she might give that idea up.”

Sam poured himself another drink. “I walked right into her little blackmail scheme. I just asked to borrow money and the next thing I know she’s threatening to tell the press that Polly’s financial misfortune is my fault. Unless I marry her of course.”

Spencer shook his head. “Did you remind her that some of her money is your family’s fortune?  I can’t believe Deirdre can’t see it that way and just give you the money.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Ah, but you see, Deirdre gets nothing out of helping a friend for the sake of helping. Being nice doesn’t benefit her enough.” Sam slammed his hand on the counter. “But damn it Spencer! I never asked her for a morsel of the money, and the one time I really need it, she forces this ridiculous condition. Marry her! Why the hell would I do that when I love Julia?”