In Name Only (17 page)

He buttered a piece of bread with exaggerated care, as though to avoid confronting her directly. "I told you when we met in Chicago that my offer was one no woman could resist. You didn't resist for very long, did you? A cook is just one of the many perks, my dear."

"It's true," she admitted slowly. "I didn't resist for very long, did I?" He had never really understood why she had come. Perhaps he never would. Perhaps that was the wedge that would drive them ever apart, his not understanding. "Simon," she said patiently, "has it never occurred to you that money can buy more important things than domestic help?"

"I know everything there is about what money can buy," he said curtly, cutting off any further discussion.

"Maybe I want to do something with my life."

He turned his glittering eyes full upon her. "You're eminently suitable for the job you're doing now. Eat up. Your lunch is getting cold."

"Eat up. Of course." She laughed lightly. "You like your women plump." She thought of buxom Angela Branco and then tried to float the thought away. She picked up her fork, but couldn't touch her food. "I'm a little windup toy to you. A diamond studded windup toy masquerading as Mrs. Simon Todd." Mrs. Simon Todd
in name only
, she wanted to add but dared not.

"We made an agreement," he said, his tone cool and uncompromising.

She put her fork down, no longer hungry, although half the food was still left on her plate.

"What's wrong now?" Simon asked.

"I don't know. I feel as if we should go back to square one and start all over again." Maybe fall in love this time around. Love or hate, but only one at a time. It would be so much easier.

Simon reached out and patted her hand. "Too much is happening too soon. Just take it easy. Don't try to think too much. It'll all come right in the end."

"What will all come right? We'll live happily ever after, and watch our grandchildren grow?"

He smiled and shook his head. "That dimple in your chin reminds me of your uncle's. Reminds me of his stubbornness. Reminds me that he usually got what he wanted. What he wanted was to have us married. What he wanted was to keep Carteret-Todd intact. It is, and we're married, my pet, and we're going to leave it at that."

The touch of his hand, soft and sensual upon her face, still whipped her into fury, and she lashed out with the first thought that came to her. "Of course, he didn't know about Angela Branco, did he?"

He pulled his hand away, his face now rigid with suppressed anger. "What do you mean by that?"

Her answer could scarcely mask her misery. When would she learn to keep her thoughts to herself? "I don't know."

"Your obsession with someone you don't even know is beginning to irritate me."

"Your getting phone calls from her early in the morning irritates me no end." She drew in her breath sharply, embarrassed at the quiet in the restaurant. Even though they spoke English, it almost seemed as if every word they uttered had been overheard. Simon's lips, thin and near white with anger, moved in a whisper.

"You don't know what you're talking about."

Jill pushed her chair back and stood up, aware that she had goaded him, had driven the wedge deeper. It was clear, too, that Simon had no intention of discussing Angela Branco with her, and that the war between them had broken into the open.

At the bank they spoke in polite, cursory terms. When they parted at the door, the words between them were icily distant.

"That should satisfy you," Simon said. "You've your own money now. That's my part of the bargain."

"For which, I suppose I should thank you."

He turned and walked down the street without another 'word. Miserable, feeling more alone than ever before, Jill knew she had to hold on, to keep her wits about her. Spend some of the money, she told herself. Be extravagant. It seems to be what Simon expects. Mustn't disappoint him. She turned the corner at the end of the street and headed toward the shopping center in the old part of Manaus. Her first purchase, made long before she reached the shopping center, was an umbrella to ward off the afternoon sun. As a duty free port, there were actually more shops than could support the half million population of Manaus. The shopping center had an air of carnival about it, with streets crowded with vendors, and merchandise available from all over the world. Interiors of stores were piled high with electrical gadgets and clothing, exotic foods and furniture from as far away as Japan. Colorful jungle birds were for sale, and small mammals she had never seen before. She thought seriously of buying a toucan, and then was attracted to a vividly colored macaw, and then talked herself out of both of them.

Having control of her money, however, could not make Jill greedy. She had lived simply for so long that an orgy of spending did not interest her. She was about to hail a cab to return to Las Flores, without having purchased anything, when some beautifully printed blouses in a store window caught her eye. An unpretentious sign informed her that it was the Manaus Clothing Cooperative. The prints were of bright tropical flowers and birds splashed tastefully on solid colors, either as trim or borders. She hesitated before going into the store for a moment, but the idea of it being a cooperative interested her. Then, at last, she pushed the screen door to and walked in. The saleswoman, plump, her own age, with large black eyes and an eager smile, came toward her. "Come in, please, even if it's only to look around."

"I was just admiring the blouses in the window."

"Well, thank you. They're made right here in Manaus."

"Is that what the word cooperative means?"

"Just about. Local people silk-screen the fabrics, design them and sew them. And share the profits when we sell them."

Jill glanced around the attractive store. Its walls, painted a pale, cool blue, complemented the racks of bright clothes on display. Baskets of hanging plants were everywhere, some in flower; the few pieces of furniture on a floor of blue and white tile, were natural wicker.

"Is there anything you'd like to see especially?" The saleswoman gave her an anxious smile. Jill felt her depressed mood lift slightly. Simon was right. All she had to do was purchase something to make someone happy. The power of money. She walked over to a row of long gowns printed in bright colored cotton and pulled one out. "This is very pretty."

"Yes, it is, it's one of my favorites."

"Have you been in business long?" Jill asked.

"About three months." She frowned and fell silent. Jill, wondering what was wrong, turned back to the clothes.

Some were loose with slight shaping at the waist, others caftans, and still others, slim with belting. The colors seemed made of tropical fruits, mango, cherry, banana and orange. The prints were beautifully executed, and the sewing detailing exquisite.

"They're all so beautiful," Jill said cheerfully, "that I can't make up my mind."

"You're an American, aren't you?" the saleslady asked. "I can tell by your accent."

"Yes. But I've moved here permanently."

"You speak Portuguese very well."

Jill was pleased at the pretty compliment, and she thrust her hand out. "I'm Jill Todd."

They shook hands, as the saleslady, smiling, introduced herself. "I'm Edna Pinheiro."

"Do you design the clothes? They're very chic."

Edna shook her head. "My partner is the clever one. Actually we run the cooperative as a sideline. We both support ourselves with other jobs. I'm a schoolteacher and I have the afternoon shift. My partner is a designer, but she sells her things free-lance, so she comes in during the morning and early afternoon."

Jill looked at her a little enviously. It seemed a wonderful thing to have two jobs, when you don't know at all what to do with your life.

Edna sighed. "It's a little complicated. You see we started the co-op because I found many of my students came from poor families with mothers who couldn't go out to work. We got help in the beginning from some charitable businessmen, but it's tough going. At first wealthy women came to us, but when the novelty of a co-op wore off, they were back buying French and American clothes."

Jill picked out a few garments. "I'd like to try these on," she said, looking around for a dressing room.

Later, as she was paying for her selection, Jill realized that no one else had come into the store, although she had been there for almost an hour.

"I guess you're busier on weekends," she suggested.

"A new line is always hard to introduce," Edna said in an apologetic tone.

Jill paid the bill with fresh new banknotes. "I suppose you're right." She hesitated asking the question. "You seem a little worried. I hope you're not in financial difficulties."

Edna smiled reassuringly. "No, no, not at all. Perhaps you'll send your friends around. We just need a lot of publicity among the sort of people who like fresh, original things."

Jill smiled. "I'm afraid I'm so new in Manaus that I haven't made any friends yet. You can count on me though."

Edna carefully wrapped her package for her. "We've lots of pretty things coming in soon."

Jill was reluctant to leave. She knew she had found a friend in this soft, pretty woman, and for a while she wanted simply to sit and talk. But it wouldn't do. Simon might disapprove. She was a customer and that was that.

"I'll be back soon," she sang gaily. "I didn't bring enough summer things with me. When it's cold in Chicago, you can't guess at how hot hot can be."

"Well, we'll be here, I hope. At least until the end of next month."

Once outside the shop, Jill turned back before hailing a cab. Edna Pinheiro stood at the window watching her, without the trace of a smile on her lips.

Jill worried all the way back to Las Flores. She had thought it wonderful that a co-op had been formed to use native talent. She wanted to learn more about it. There must be plenty to do in Manaus in the way of charity, she thought. People with problems, people needing help. As the wife of a successful businessman, it was probably expected of her to become involved with some charity. It would keep her occupied. She would have to find something to do soon. But what, she asked herself.

Simon. For a while, in the store, she had been able to forget their problems. Now they came back at her full-blown. A marriage of convenience. Picking out clothes she had felt like any young bride on a fresh, adventurous voyage, in love and loved. As the cab made its way through the crowded, noisy streets, she wondered what could stop her from running away now that she had money of her own? But the truth was, she did not want to run away, although she wondered whether, when Simon gave her access to her inheritance, he did not mean for her to leave. She felt sick with longing for him, and angry over her stupidity at mentioning Angela Branco.

When she arrived back at Las Flores, tired and hot, the housekeeper met her with a message.

"Senhor Todd has been calling wondering where you are. He's going out to the mining camp. He asked me to pack a bag for him. Claudio will bring it to the office. He said he'd call you when he got there."

"Where's there?" Jill had trouble suppressing her anger, even though he had warned her that he spent a lot of his time traveling.

"Camp Esmeralda on the Rio Tapajós. That's near Santarem."

"Senhora Cordero, have Claudio wait. I'm going with Simon. It'll just take me a few minutes to change."

The housekeeper shook her head. "It's the jungle, senhora. No place for a woman. Senhor Todd would object."

"Never mind," Jill insisted. "Just have Claudio wait. And please, I don't want either of you telling Senhor Todd ahead of time. I'm going with him, and that's that."

She bathed and changed into a T-shirt and jeans within twenty minutes. She packed a small bag with some light clothing and grabbing her raincoat and handbag, presented herself to the chauffeur who was waiting with a clearly upset Senhora Cordero.

Simon, however, had indeed been warned by the housekeeper, and Jill couldn't blame her in the least. He climbed in next to her when the limousine stopped in front of his office, and exploded at once. "Are you out of your mind? Esmeralda is no place for you. We're taking you home at once. Have you any idea what a mining camp is like?"

"It's no picnic, I'm sure of that. It doesn't matter. If you go without me, I won't be here when you return."

He shook his head at her, his eyes hard and angry. "Is that a threat?"

She returned his look boldly. She really had nothing to lose. "Yes, it is."

"Any reason why you feel you have to follow me around?"

"Perhaps I'd like to know that you're going where you say you're going."

He reached out and grabbed her arms, holding them in a tight grip. "You don't own me, do you understand?"

"I don't own you," she said in quiet, even tones, although her heart was pounding. "Equally, I'm a free agent. At the moment, I choose to visit Camp Esmeralda."

His grip on her arms tightened, as if by mere concentration, he could break her will. Jill struggled to get free.

"You're hurting me," she said in a fierce whisper. Claudio, in the front seat, could not hear them through the glass partition, yet he sat rigidly at attention, clearly aware of the battle going on.

Simon released his grip and tapped on the glass, motioning to the chauffeur to get going. He leaned back in his seat. "What the devil's gotten into you?" he asked. "Are you trying to muscle in on a man's game when you know nothing about it?"

She sat very still and stared straight ahead. "I'm going with you." She had no idea where her strength came from. If this were love, she told herself, heaven help her.