Read Vicky Banning for Free Online Page B

reached the entranceway. “Good morning,” she called.
    “Good morning,” Vicky responded with a wave. “Anything for me?”
    “Not so far,” Doris replied, continuing to sort. When she reached the last letter, she looked up and said, “Nothing today. Were you expecting something special?”
    “Not really,” Vicky answered. “Since it’s such a lovely morning, I’m going to try to convince this handsome young man to show me the area.” She glanced timidly up at Roger and added, “Unless you’re too busy, of course.”
    “Not at all,” Roger said. “We can talk about your tastes in furnishing styles and colors while we drive. Maybe we can stop by my place so I can show you my portfolio.”
    “Marvelous,” Vicky said, thinking: A nd maybe some of your etchings as well?
    Roger grinned and, turning to Doris , said, “Thank you for recommending me.”
    Doris smiled back at him, a warm, gentle smile, Vicky noticed. She wondered if there was something special between them. “I was only too happy to do so,” Doris said, then looked at Vicky. “May I speak to you for a moment?”
    “Of course,” Vicky replied. “Roger, I’ll meet you outside, okay?”
    Roger nodded. As he left, Doris set the mail on a low marble-top table beside the stairs, beneath a spray of yellow jonquils. She seemed hesitant, uneasy, quite unlike the take-charge woman Vicky knew her to be. When she turned back to Vicky, her face was drawn, apologetic. “Ms. Ban…”
    “Vicky, please.”
    “Vicky, then. I try to make it a firm rule never to interfere with any of our guests’ personal business,” she began. “But one of the women insisted on telling me all about what happened between you and Mrs. Carstairs last night.”
    Vicky laughed, but it sounded uncomfortable, forced, even to her. She didn’t want to have to review the whole evening again—at least not with Doris . She admired her, felt a friendship was possible, and hoped Doris wouldn’t turn into a didactic bore and ruin everything. “There was no harm done,” she said. “She just made up some wild…”
    “Vicky,” Doris interrupted with the firmness of a congenial but wise teacher. “I’ve known Sarah Carstairs for almost fifteen years. She doesn’t have anywhere near that creative an imagination.” Her lips compressed into a tight smile, as if she were trying to contain her mirth. “And she certainly hasn’t the sense of humor to invent an incredible story like that one.”
    Vicky grinned coyly up at her. “And you think I do?”
    Laughter trickled forth from Doris . “I think,” she said, “that with very little effort, you could make Scheherazade seem dull.” She was forcing control, her lips pursing tightly, but her eyes were aglitter, her rotund bosom bouncing beneath her striped tent-dress, as if she were being tickled from inside.
    “The story couldn’t have been too farfetched,” Vicky said with a shrug. “ Burton and many of the others seem to have swallowed it.”
    “Don’t you believe it,” Doris said with a shake of her head. “Your story was simply convenient for them. Burton and some of the others just used it as an excuse to get back at Sarah. She has told some…well, never mind about that. Just remember, they may be old but they’re no dummies. Believe me. And, despite what you may think, neither is Sarah.” Doris ’s amused look faded to seriousness. “She’s also not known as a forgiving person,” she said pointedly. “You may well have created quite a vindictive adversary for yourself.”
    “That’s a pity,” Vicky said, genuinely concerned. “It was all meant in fun, not to be vicious. Spite is such a waste of energy at our age. I’ll have to see how I can make all this up to her.” She took Doris ’s hand, felt the warm, soft pressure in her own. “Thank you for telling me. And I’m sorry if I’ve caused you any trouble. I mean that.”
    Doris raised an eyebrow. “Fore-warned is fore-armed, I’ve