"Who knows?" Laura said, dropping her purse into a chair. "He wasn't there."
"Wasn't-? But- Miss Holt, he promised."
"Well, it looks like he broke his promise," Laura told her, taking the file folder from Mildred's hands. "Who's in Mr. St- Who's in the office?" she admended at the last minute. Might as well get used to not calling it HIS office anymore.
"Mrs. Burns," Mildred told her. "You're not going to try and find him?"
"He's obviously made his choice, Mildred," she said, moving toward the office door. "Let's go see what we can do for Mrs. Burns."
Mildred hesitated, glancing at the telephone. "I'll be right there," she said.
Laura stopped in her tracks, turning around. "NOW, Mildred. We've got work to do. Let's not keep the client waiting, shall we?"
Laura hung up the telephone with an irritated scowl on her face. Greg was tied up in a meeting and wouldn't be available all day. When he'd asked her to dinner this evening last week, she'd told him no, that she was going to be busy. Busy? Hah! Busy thinking up ways to get even with that lying, conniving snake, maybe.
How DARE he do this to her? After all they'd gone through, evidently none of if could hold a candle to his life back in Europe. He was probably living it up over there. Champagne, caviar, blondes. The telephone rang, and Laura sighed deeply, remembering that Mildred had gone to the post office. She picked it up. "Remington Steele Investigations."
"Laura? I didn't think you'd be in the office this afternoon," Frances said. "How did it go?"
"It didn't," she replied.
"Want to talk about it?"
"I don't think there's anything TO talk about, Frances," she said. "I just have to get on with my life, accept that he prefers to be wherever he is instead of here with me."
"I don't believe that, Laura Holt, and I don't think you believe it either. That man loves you, Laura. It obvious every time he looks at you."
"Really? Then way wasn't he at Griffith Park this afternoon as we agreed?"
"Maybe something came up," Frances suggested. "And now he's afraid to face you because he knows you'll be angry. Maybe he'd just letting you cool down so you don't take his head off when he walks in the door."
"Now THERE'S an image I can live with," Laura muttered.
"Just calm down. I'm sure there's a reasonable explanation for all this," Frances said.
"I KNOW the explanation, Frances. He's over in Europe with his friend Daniel Chalmers, running a con, or planning a heist. He probably hasn't thought about me since he left."
"That does it. What are you planning to do for dinner tonight?"
"I WAS going to ask Greg to go out, but he's busy. I'll probably just have a salad and do some paperwork," Laura told her.
"No, you're not. You're going to come out here for dinner- and tell Mildred that you'll be late tomorrow- or that you might not be in at all. You and I can make a day of it. I think you should spend the night here. I don't like the idea of your being alone after all this."
"I'm not going to do anything drastic, Frances," Laura insisted. Unless I see Mr. Steele, that is, she thought to herself. "And I don't think I'll be very good company."
"Nonsense. We're family, Laura. And right now, you need your family. Be here at seven- or I'll send Donald to get you. Bring an overnight case."
"Frances, I can't just take a day off. My business isn't something you can just put off that way."
"Can't Mildred handle some of it?"
"Some of it, yes. But-."
"There? You see? Problem solved."
"I'll come for dinner, Frances, and I'll stay the night. But I have to be at work tomorrow."
"It's a deal. See you later. And don't worry. Things will work out, Laura. They always do for you, somehow."
Laura murmured an agreement before hanging up. If nothing else, these last few months had brought she and her sister closer together. The telephone rang again, and Laura picked it up quickly, still thinking about Frances. "Remington Steele Investigations."
Silence. No, not silence, soft breathing.
"Hello? Can I help you?"
Click!
Laura frowned at the telephone, then shrugged. Must have been a wrong number, she told herself as Mildred came to the door of the office. "Any calls?" she asked.
"Just Frances. And a wrong number. I'm going out to Frances and Donald's for dinner, Mildred. And she wants me to stay the night."
"Good. I don't think you should be alone right now. Miss Holt, please let me call-?"
"No, Mildred. I'm not going to chase after him," Laura said, rising to return a folder to the file cabinet. "If this is what he wants, then I'll just have to learn to live with it."
Someone entered the reception area, and Laura found herself grateful for the client's arrival. At least concentrating on someone else's problem would keep her from thinking about her own for awhile.
Laura's mood deepened as the evening stretched out. Seeing her sister's happy family, she realized that she was probably never going to have one of her own. Of course, she'd never really WANTED one, had she? At least, not until a pair of killer blue eyes and a smile that was equally as devastating had made her start thinking about such things. Well, that dream was gone, now, she told herself as she got ready for bed in the guest room of Frances' house.
There was a soft tap on the door, and Frances' face appeared. "Can I come in?"
"Sure," she said, taking one of the glasses of wine that her sister was carrying. "Thank you."
"I thought we could talk- if you want to, that is."
Laura sat down on the edge of the bed, looking down into the red wine. "Not much to say. He didn't come back."
"He will."
"I wish I could be as certain of that as you are, Frances," Laura said, going to the window and looking out at the back yard with its swings and lawn furniture, all the trappings of a happy family. "What's wrong with me, Frances?"
Frances put down her glass and came over to her. "Nothing."
"There must be something. I mean, every man I care about leaves. Daddy. Wilson. Mr. Steele."
"Daddy didn't leave you, Laura. He left Mother. Maybe he thought he was doing the best thing for all of us by not pulling us between the two of them. Especially you. As for Wilson, well, I never thought he was right for you, anyway."
Laura looked surprised. "You didn't? I thought you and Mother had all but picked out the china patterns for us."
"Mother, maybe. But I saw the changes that you went through while you were with him. Your attempt to be less the Laura that I remembered, the Laura who liked shocking people, who liked living on the edge, and more the Laura that Wilson expected you to be. Quiet, reserved,- boring."
Laura laughed softly. "Maybe he was right. I mean, if I hadn't taken his advice, I wouldn't have gotten nearly as far in my career."
"Your career. It always comes back to that, doesn't it?"
"Why not? It's the one thing no one can take away from me. It's mine."
"But is it worth it, Laura? Is it worth going home to an empty apartment every night? To knowing that you're going to be alone at the times when you really should be with someone else that you care about and that cares about you? Someone to share the good times and the bad?"
"What do you suggest I do, Frances? Chase after him? Run him down to Europe or wherever he is?"
"Of course not. But give him some more time. I'm SURE there's a good reason for his not being there today." She gave Laura a hug. "Just don't write him off yet. Good night."
"Night, Frances." Once her sister had gone, Laura laid down in the bed, punching her pillow several times before settling in. It was going to be a long night, she decided, finding it impossible to get comfortable. She'd had such plans for this evening. Dinner at Che Rive- or better yet, one of Mr. Steele's gourmet feasts, followed by an evening in front of the fireplace drinking champagne, and then . . .
But all that had come crashing down around her ears when he hadn't shown up at the park. Where could he be? She wondered. What if he had joined his friend Chalmers on a con and got caught? The thought leapt unbidden into her mind. No, someone would have knocked on HER door, asking why Remington Steele, famous detective, had been involved in something illegal.
"Stop it, Laura," she said aloud. "Stop torturing yourself. He simply didn't come back because he didn't want to." Frances had suggested she give him a few more days. She'd give him one. If he hadn't called or shown his face in the office by tomorrow evening, Laura would put him behind her and move on with her own life. She'd done it before, started over from square one. She could do it again.
Punching the pillows yet again, she stared at the ceiling. "Self deception WAS always your strong suit, wasn't it, Laura?" she whispered to the empty room.
Laura felt like hell the next morning as she entered the office. Seeing Mildred, she realized that the "other woman" in Mr. Steele's life probably hadn't slept any better than she had. "Good morning, Mildred," she said, trying to hide her broken heart behind a bright smile.
"What's good about it, Miss Holt?" Mildred asked. "I didn't sleep a wink, worrying about why Mr. Steele didn't come home."
"Maybe because he doesn't really consider this as his home," Laura suggested. "I'm sure he and Daniel Chalmers or one of his other friends from the old days are probably sitting in a casino, somewhere, sipping champagne and playing baccarat."
Mildred shook her head. "I think something happened to him," she insisted. "It's the only way he wouldn't have been there. He promised us both that he'd be back in three months. I just can't believe that he'd -."
"Well, he's not here, is he?" Laura asked, growing tired of talking about it. "Who's our first client this morning?"
"Mr. Douglas is due at nine for a final report on his case."
Glancing at her watch, Laura noted the time. "He should be here soon, then. I'll get his file from my office."
Mildred held it up. "It's right here. Miss Holt, I'm going to give him today- and if he doesn't show up, I'm calling the number he gave me first thing tomorrow. *I* want to know what's going on, even if you don't."
Laura looked at the woman. "I can't stop you, Mildred," she admitted. "But when you find out that I'm right, you won't mind if I say `I told you so', will you?"
The glass doors opened, and Mr. Douglas entered the office. "Miss Holt. Good morning."
"Mr. Douglas," Laura said, smiling warmly. "Why don't you step right in here? I'll be right behind you." She waited until the client was out of earshot before whispering to Mildred, "And if you DO find him, tell him he'd better be flat on his back in a hospital. Because that's the only excuse I'll accept for his standing me up." With that, she turned and followed Mr. Douglas into Mr. Steele's office.
To Be Continued . . .