Vicky Banning (9 page)

“Not here,” Vicky said. “My room.”

“Why your room?”

Vicky, smiling still, said, “I have something you simply must see, dear. Come along now, it won’t take but just a minute.” She led the way along the halls, circled the stairwell and opened the door to her room. “Please come in,” she said, thinking of the spider and the fly. She stood back as Sarah entered, nearly laughing out loud as Sarah gaped at Mark Spitz across the room. The prize ribbons with the gold medals had been strategically pinned to his swimsuit.

Sarah turned to her, tight-lipped with annoyance. “Well?”

“Please,” Vicky said, closing the door. “Make yourself comfortable.”

“I won’t be staying that long,” Sarah spat back. She crossed her arms across her chest, sternly upright in the center of the room.

Vicky was growing impatient. “It may take longer than you think.”

Sarah faltered, unused no doubt to being spoken to in such a manner. She moved rigidly to sit on a striped chair, her back arched like a strung bow. She glared up at Vicky. “What do you want to show me?”

“Oh, yes,” Vicky said lightly, as if she’d forgotten the reason for the visit. She slipped a long, rolled tube from the upper shelf of her closet and moved to stand before Sarah. Holding the ends of the roll, she said, “Unroll this.”

Sarah reached out, clasped the roll with both hands and held it as Vicky backed away—her eyes widening with horror as, inch-by-inch, the poster was revealed.

The blow-up was grainy, but unmistakably a photo of Sarah. It showed her seated, peering intently at the extended centerfold of one of Vicky’s old
Playgirl
magazines, holding it upright before the light from above the medicine chest. The photo of the male nude centerfold that she was ogling was hidden from the camera, but
Playgirl
’s cover was clearly visible. From the look on Sarah’s face, it was obvious that her awe did not stem from the aesthetic placement of the staples.

“
No!”
Sarah cried.

Vicky stood quietly aside, watching Sarah’s face as she struggled, fingers curled to gnarled fists, wrinkling the poster before wrenching it apart, tearing it in two with a dry, zipping sound.

“That’s all right, dear,” Vicky said softly. “I have other copies. I had them flown in from
New York
just for the occasion.”

Sarah threw her hands outward, tears of anger and frustration pushing forth, unable to speak. Her face flushed beneath her powder, lips twitching as if struggling to open, but unable to spew out the words that were beginning to strangle her. “
Why?
” she finally cried. She brought her fists to her knees, pressing downward “Why are you
doing
this to me? I’ve never harmed you. Why do you hate me so?” Tears gushed forth, and she lowered her face to her hands, shoulders shaking in spasms.

Vicky looked away, ashamed more of herself than for Sarah. Then, again, anger at Sarah surged up in her. “I don’t hate you,” she said firmly. “None of this should have been necessary. Do you think I’m proud of this? You forced me into this, meddling in my affairs. You, and your damned petition! Where do you…”

“
My
petition?” Sarah cried. Her head snapped up to glare at Vicky with eyes red and pained. “It’s not my
petition! I didn’t write it, I didn’t even
sign
it! I don’t sneak around people’s backs!” I told you what I thought of your
Blueboy
to your face!” Her words came out in a torrent, unplanned. She was telling the truth
.
Vicky was speechless. It had never occurred to her that someone else might have started the petition. “But you said you’d find a way to make me leave,” she said, finally.

“Of course,” Sarah spat. “I was angry. Have you never made angry threats?”

On occasion,
Vicky thought wearily. She sank into the chair opposite Sarah’s, slowly, her thoughts in a muddle. She’d been so wrong. All Sarah had done was to repeat a story she’d thought was true and spoken out against something of which she disapproved—which Vicky has done many, many times. Guilt at having put Sarah through such humiliation drained her of all energy, making her feel so much older than her considerable years.

“I’m sorry,” she said, sincerely humble. “Truly. I was convinced that you had done it. I just don’t know of anyone else who dislikes me enough to want me thrown out of the Sanctuary.”

A cynical smile hardened Sarah’s face. “One person,” she said, staring at Vicky with vindictive satisfaction. “The person who so charmed you when you first arrived, who convinced you that you were the new bright light in the Sanctuary. He’s also the person who starts most of the destructive rumors around here and claims that they’re mine.”

Vicky was bewildered. “Who is that?”

Sarah just smiled at her, an unpleasant smile that continued to tease.

Vicky knew she had to wait until Sarah was ready to release the name, knew that she had to endure the suspense. After all, Vicky was the culprit in this scene. But the name would come, she knew, it was too good a piece of news to keep secret.

“Your knight in shining armor,” Sarah said when she had satisfied her need to spite. “Your oh-so-precious boyfriend…
Burton
.”

“That’s ridiculous!” Vicky said. “
Burton
wouldn’t do something that rotten…would he? And why?”

“I saw him typing the petition,” Sarah said, sneering maliciously with each word. “I didn’t know what it was at the time, but I was curious…
nosy
, you’d call it. I’d stopped by to see
Doris
in her office and found
Burton
using her typewriter. He uses it often for his personal mail, so I wouldn’t have paid any attention, except that he acted so secretive, hiding the sheet, practically throwing his body across the page. So, after he left, I returned to
Doris
’s office and lifted the carbon from the wastepaper basket. It was fresh, so every word showed clearly.” She was gloating, enjoying each verbal barb. “What’s the matter…
dear
? Don’t you feel well? You look quite green. Maybe you should lie down for a while…”

 
Vicky was stunned. As
Doris
had told her, Sarah didn’t have the imagination to make up a story like this one, it had to be true. But
Burton
had been so friendly since the night Sarah had made such a fool of herself. He’d even accepted her invitation to dinner! “Why would he do something like that? I thought he liked me.”

“Maybe he does,” Sarah said, her composure almost fully recovered, her haughtiness restored, “to a degree. He likes women to be docile, timid, if you like. You certainly don’t fit that mold, and neither do I. His wife was that sort, I gather, or seemed to be…until she divorced him for another man and took him for almost everything he had. He’s a one-man crusade against ‘liberated women,’ demeaning each of us when he can to bring us down to the level he feels we belong.” She paused, looking less sternly at Vicky. “You’re not the first woman he’s fooled. He has managed to make some women so miserable that they’ve left the Sanctuary, never knowing it was his doing all along. He’s extremely good at being a sneak, but he’s not going to push me out, and neither are you!”

 
Vicky studied her, a wry grin curving her lips. She was meeting a new Sarah, and she rather liked her. “I wouldn’t dream of trying,” she said. “Actually, we seem to have more in common than I would have imagined. I’ve caused you a great deal of anguish—and I’m sorry for that—and made myself miserable at the same time. If you’re willing, maybe we can call it a draw. Perhaps we can work together to put
Burton
in his place. One stipulation, though: I won’t stick my nose into your business if you won’t stick yours into mine. Deal?”

There was no question, judging from Sarah’s stiff pose that she was dubious. She stared intently at Vicky, as if churning the proposition over in her mind, then shook her head. “No, I don’t think so,” she said. “I was getting along quite well before you came. I don’t need anyone…”

“Did you really?” Vicky asked. “It seems to me that many of the residents avoided you, because of the stories they thought you’d spread about them and others, keeping their distance from what they thought was your evil mouth. Being a pariah doesn’t sound much like ‘getting along quite well’ to me.”

Sarah was silent for a moment, thoughtful. “You’re right,” she said. “They’re afraid of me, not without some reason, and there was no way that I could broach the subject to say that the nastiness was not my doing—and due to
Burton
! I’d suspected him of being a troublemaker through the years, but could never prove it. It was only when I discovered the carbon of the petition that I knew for sure.” Her lips compressed to a straight line, jaw set, as she thought for a few moments. “All right, Vicky. The hatchet’s buried. What do we do now?”

Vicky pressed a finger to the side of her nose in her best ‘sage’ look. “First,” she said, “I think we should invite
Burton
to join us for dinner. In fact, I think we should insist on it.”

* * * *

The buzz of conversation in the dining room came to an abrupt halt when Vicky and Sarah entered together, arm in arm, chattering away like doves on a sunny day. Pretending they hadn’t noticed, they stood beside the entrance waiting for
Burton
to arrive. His habit was to make an entrance promptly at seven each evening, accepting without acknowledgement the admiration of all the ladies present. Vicky had planned their arrival for just a few minutes before.

Everyone’s eyes were on them, every ear keyed to their conversation—many with the help of hearing aids—which they purposely kept at a low level. Only their outbursts of girlish laughter rang clearly through the dining room.

“Congratulations!” Sarah shouted as
Burton
stepped through the doorway.

Burton
stopped, looked around, and stared at her, surprised and wary. He then turned to Vicky, eyebrows raised.

Vicky winked at him, quickly, so no one else could see, then smiled and spoke so everyone could hear. “I told Sarah that she could make the announcement. We’ve kept our little secret long enough, don’t you think?” She squeezed his arm conspiratorially.

Burton
’s mouth opened into a silent “Oh,” and he grinned at her. He’d play along, as Vicky expected. He’d think that this was another of Vicky’s jabs at Sarah. “Yes,” he said loudly, with a broad sweep of his arm. “By all means. Let Sarah make the announcement.”

“Go ahead, my dear,” Vicky said to Sarah, who was trying not to smile.
And doing very well
, she thought,
for a novice
. She’d make an actress out of her yet.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Sarah projected to all in the dining room. “I have some wonderful news. I just overheard our own Ms. Vicky Banning consent to become…Mrs. Burton Williams! We’re going to have a
wedding
!”

As the
oohs
and ahs, and squeals of delight rose from the diners, along with the gasps of disbelief and shock, the color drained from
Burton
’s face. He gaped at Vicky as if he’d never seen her before, his eyes as round as his bifocals.

“What…?” he blurted.

Vicky looked askance at him with prim embarrassment, squeezed his arm again and, standing on tiptoe, kissed his cheek. “Come, darling,” she said, leading him by the hand toward the farthest table. “Sarah is joining us for dinner.”

Burton
shuffled along between the two women as if in a daze. After they’d been seated, and he appeared more composed, he asked, “What’s going on here?”

“It’s quite simple,” answered Vicky with a delicate shrug, after sipping her wine. “You and I are now engaged. I am your fiancée. Isn’t it lovely?”

“You are
not
my fiancée,”
Burton
said, speaking forcefully, but looking confused.

“No?” Vicky asked. “Then why did you agree to Sarah making the announcement? You insisted on it, really, and everyone heard you.”

“I didn’t know what she was going to announce,”
Burton
said, “and you knew it.” He was growing agitated.

Vicky’s smile was a near smirk. “That’s silly,” she said. “Why would you insist on something that you didn’t know anything about?”

Burton
’s hand balled into a fist. “This has gone far enough. I don’t know what you’re up to, but I’m going to put a stop to it right now. I’ll make my own announcement and tell everyone that this was all a joke.”

“If you do,” Vicky said with prim innocence, “then I’ll to tell everyone about the money…and I’ll have to cry. I cry very well, you know…when I have to. Would you like to see me cry now?”

“Cry about what?”
Burton
demanded. “And, money…What money?”

Vicky’s eyes narrowed and turned cold. “I’d have to cry because you are breaking our engagement, and my heart, because I refused to sign over all my money to you. Everyone knows that your wife left you with almost nothing, so you decided to pick on a helpless, lonely woman to marry and support you. A somewhat…elderly one at that.”

“What are you
talking
about?”
Burton
yelped, alarm forcing his voice higher. “I’m not going to marry you!”

“You bet your sweet goatee you’re not,” Vicky said sharply. She leaned over the table, speaking directly into his face. “I’m talking about that vicious petition you started against me, and the trouble you’ve caused for Sarah with your lying. I’m saying that if you don’t destroy that vicious sheet of paper and stop spreading stories, then I’m going to tell everyone you broke our engagement because you’re a male chauvinist pig who preys on desperate women who believe your phony façade. That should put you in good standing with everyone in the Sanctuary, shouldn’t it?”

Burton
was aghast. He sat immobile, staring at her, the color rising from his collar to his infuse his face with a deep red. “It’s not true,” he managed to squeeze out. “They’d never believe it.”

“It
is
true, and of course they’ll believe it,” Vicky said, leaning back in her chair. “I have a witness, remember?”

“What witness?”

“Why my good friend Sarah, here,” Vicky said, turning to her and smiling. “You were absolutely shocked when you heard
Burton
ask me for money, weren’t you, dear?”