Another Kind of Love Read Online Free Page B

God, I have to stop over at Saundra’s and pick up the glossies I left with her—she wondered briefly if Ginny would be there too—and I’ll probably have to grin politely again, and that’ll be a bore....
    I need to fall in love again; that’s what I need.
    No. No point in falling in love, she decided. Only means I neglect my work, and I never pick out a man who’s really marriage material. It’s too much of a risk, and I can’t afford to lose again. What I really need is a few friends so I won’t be so dependent upon Walter.
    Better find a new man to date, she advised herself again. But she knew it was more trouble than it was worth—the countless dates to weed out one or two men who didn’t really bore her. No. She was just as well off with Walter—it was safer. And friends—a couple of old maids like herself were the obvious solution. Maybe she could begin getting together with Helen, Walter’s secretary, after office hours . . . but she decided against it. Office friendships sometimes proved very awkward or unbearably tiresome.
    Her makeup completed, she gulped down a hasty cup of coffee and called the office to let Helen know she would be a little late because she had to stop off at Saundra’s.
    The huge Bel Air house was awesomely majestic even in the harsh daytime glare. She rang the bell impatiently. As she waited, the morning atmosphere reminded her of days when she was a little girl, especially those last few weeks of school before summer vacation. There was that moist, clean smell and the light breeze just barely touching her hair. She remembered the hush of the classroom while everyone studied and only the old wall clock broke the silence with its tired tick-tock. Somewhere in the room someone would shift his position, with the sound of feet shuffling on the worn wooden floor, and invariably someone would sneeze, warning them all of summer colds.
    Laura sighed in wistful reminiscence and turned her mind back to the present. She hoped today wouldn’t get too much warmer. She wished now she hadn’t brought her jacket.
    As if of its own accord—no one was in sight—the front door opened slowly. Then she recognized Ginny, half hidden behind the door, dressed in blue jeans and a bright green cashmere sweater.
    â€œHello, Ginny,” Laura said warmly. “Is Saundra home?” She took a step forward.
    The girl stood back and opened the door wider to let Laura pass. “No. But she left a package for you and said that the pictures she wanted are marked on the back.” Ginny walked ahead of Laura into the cool living room. “She also asked if you could possibly wait for her. . . . She should be home any minute.”
    There was an odd, cloying deference about the way Ginny asked her to stay. It was almost the you-great-big-wonderful-you type of phrasing so popular in Cinemaville. Laura didn’t like it . . . not at all. It smacked of that obsequiousness she had observed in so many shallow Hollywood hopefuls.
    But she tried to push it out of her mind and told herself that she was becoming a cynic and a self-righteous prude. What if Ginny was an opportunist . . . so what? Wasn’t everyone—in one way or another?
    Laura watched her leafing through the secretary desk, and the incongruity of Ginny in Saundra’s home still troubled her. Yet, the way she had said that Saundra would “be home” instead of “be back” had a note of authority—even possession—about it.
    â€œHere it is,” Ginny exclaimed finally, with a nervous laugh. She pushed her thick red hair back from her face. There was something in her manner that gave Laura the impression of flight, almost fear of being “caught.” At what? Laura was puzzled and watched the girl move a few objects on the desk as if she didn’t know what to do with herself or her hands. Suddenly, Ginny asked, “ Can you wait for