Her first layoff had taught her that.
The trouble with working through the noon hour was that she never got anything done. It was too good a time for thinking.
She was sitting with her folders spread out on the desk when Stan came in alone. "Betsy has some shopping to do."
"So have I."
She walked up and down the aisles of the biggest department store, looking at furs, suede shoes, woolen dresses. The thought of winter clothes made her feel itchy and scratchy. She walked briskly up-street to a small hotel dining room where the roast beef was good and the coffee strong.
There was only one thing wrong. The chair facing her was empty, and the back half of the double bed in her apartment was empty. She felt a little empty herself.
CHAPTER 5
An office, like a home, has a climate of its own. It's dominated by the emotional content of the people who spend their time there. So far as Jo was concerned, the office on the sixteenth floor of the Harrington Building had been a good place to work, busy yet relaxed, housing a small group of people who liked the work they were doing and the people with whom they were thrown into contact. She even felt herself the center of things there, thanks to her own secret, repressed yet honest recognition of Stan's weakness and his constant need of reassurance.
Within a week after Betsy joined the payroll, things were different. It was Stan who came down early now, and not the same Stan who had been bringing his layouts for her admiration and his problems for her sympathy. This one was more self-assured, and in some way she couldn't analyze, more consciously male. She recognized the quickening because she had felt it in her own body, the heightened perception, the sharpening of colors and outlines, the feeling of pleasurable suspense. But to find it in Stan disturbed her.
"All that little chick has to do is sit at her desk and look helpless," she told Richard, "and he stands around for hours, talking to her. About nothing. I'm getting the book out single-handed."
"So what's bothering you?" Richard handed her a menu. "I'm having the swiss steak, what are you having?”
"I don't care. Swiss steak, I guess." She considered, her head bowed. "It's raising hell with the magazine. I'm the only one that's doing any work. Little Miss Hot Pants at the desk is just waiting for the day when the priest says it's legal and she can climb into bed with her guy. I don't expect anything better from her, but Stan isn't getting anything done either."
Richard stirred his coffee. "All this indignation is for the magazine, Jo?"
"No."
He chuckled. "If I didn't know better I'd say you were jealous of Stan. It would be a triangle, two women both after the boss. Right? It's still a triangle, but who would believe it if you put it in a book?"
"Don't think I haven't thought of that! Only it can't be, Rich, she's straight."
"Darling, don't try so hard to be logical. There's nothing logical about love."
"Well, the job enters into it just the same. It may not pay a hell of a lot, but it beats typing invoices all day long. That's what I did in my last office. Only now I'm doing three people's work for one lousy paycheck."
"You still think this girl looks like Karen?"
"A little, yes."
"Because it makes a difference, Michael reminds me sometimes of the boy that brought me out. In military school. Somebody ought to tell these parents about military schools."
She put her hand on his wrist. "I wish you'd been my little boy," she said softly.
"Me too, ma." Richard smiled. "Why don't you move in on her? Don't just give up, let her know you're available."
"Would you, if it was a man in your office?"
"Not if I was sure he was straight," Richard admitted. "There's a long cold winter coming, and I'm going to stay employed if I can."
"Oh hell, Jo, it's easier for girls. You know it is. They're always hugging each other and all that jazz. Nobody thinks anything about it if two girls share an apartment, they're doing it to
The trouble with working through the noon hour was that she never got anything done. It was too good a time for thinking.
She was sitting with her folders spread out on the desk when Stan came in alone. "Betsy has some shopping to do."
"So have I."
She walked up and down the aisles of the biggest department store, looking at furs, suede shoes, woolen dresses. The thought of winter clothes made her feel itchy and scratchy. She walked briskly up-street to a small hotel dining room where the roast beef was good and the coffee strong.
There was only one thing wrong. The chair facing her was empty, and the back half of the double bed in her apartment was empty. She felt a little empty herself.
CHAPTER 5
An office, like a home, has a climate of its own. It's dominated by the emotional content of the people who spend their time there. So far as Jo was concerned, the office on the sixteenth floor of the Harrington Building had been a good place to work, busy yet relaxed, housing a small group of people who liked the work they were doing and the people with whom they were thrown into contact. She even felt herself the center of things there, thanks to her own secret, repressed yet honest recognition of Stan's weakness and his constant need of reassurance.
Within a week after Betsy joined the payroll, things were different. It was Stan who came down early now, and not the same Stan who had been bringing his layouts for her admiration and his problems for her sympathy. This one was more self-assured, and in some way she couldn't analyze, more consciously male. She recognized the quickening because she had felt it in her own body, the heightened perception, the sharpening of colors and outlines, the feeling of pleasurable suspense. But to find it in Stan disturbed her.
"All that little chick has to do is sit at her desk and look helpless," she told Richard, "and he stands around for hours, talking to her. About nothing. I'm getting the book out single-handed."
"So what's bothering you?" Richard handed her a menu. "I'm having the swiss steak, what are you having?”
"I don't care. Swiss steak, I guess." She considered, her head bowed. "It's raising hell with the magazine. I'm the only one that's doing any work. Little Miss Hot Pants at the desk is just waiting for the day when the priest says it's legal and she can climb into bed with her guy. I don't expect anything better from her, but Stan isn't getting anything done either."
Richard stirred his coffee. "All this indignation is for the magazine, Jo?"
"No."
He chuckled. "If I didn't know better I'd say you were jealous of Stan. It would be a triangle, two women both after the boss. Right? It's still a triangle, but who would believe it if you put it in a book?"
"Don't think I haven't thought of that! Only it can't be, Rich, she's straight."
"Darling, don't try so hard to be logical. There's nothing logical about love."
"Well, the job enters into it just the same. It may not pay a hell of a lot, but it beats typing invoices all day long. That's what I did in my last office. Only now I'm doing three people's work for one lousy paycheck."
"You still think this girl looks like Karen?"
"A little, yes."
"Because it makes a difference, Michael reminds me sometimes of the boy that brought me out. In military school. Somebody ought to tell these parents about military schools."
She put her hand on his wrist. "I wish you'd been my little boy," she said softly.
"Me too, ma." Richard smiled. "Why don't you move in on her? Don't just give up, let her know you're available."
"Would you, if it was a man in your office?"
"Not if I was sure he was straight," Richard admitted. "There's a long cold winter coming, and I'm going to stay employed if I can."
"Oh hell, Jo, it's easier for girls. You know it is. They're always hugging each other and all that jazz. Nobody thinks anything about it if two girls share an apartment, they're doing it to
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