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As Remington entered
the reception area behind Mildred, he saw Laura standing beside
the tall, dark headed woman, saying, "I was sorry to hear
about Ray, Bernice."
"It was a shock," Bernice agreed. "Everything happened
so suddenly. The police said he probably never even knew what
happened." She sighed. "And I'm still not able to talk
about him without . . ." Laura placed an understanding hand
on her friend's arm as Bernice glanced past her. "Mr. Steele.
Still hanging around, I see. Mildred tells me that you've turned
into a pretty good detective."
"Well, you'll have to ask Laura about that, Mrs. . ."
he paused, suddenly realizing that he couldn't recall her late
husband's last name.
Bernice smiled, sensing his discomfort. "Why don't you just
call me Bernice?" she suggested. "It might make things
a lot easier around here," she said as her dark eyes found
Laura. "That is-if Mildred was right about your needing help?"
"We DO," Laura assured her. "You know, Bernice,
all you had to do was call, or let me know you needed a job. .
." Laura frowned. "I thought Ray's insurance-?"
"Oh it's more than enough. But I realized that staying in
New Orleans was too painful, and decided to come home. I need
something to keep me occupied. Really, I wasn't even thinking
about a job. Not until I saw Mildred at the airport and heard
her mention the Agency. Then I remembered your telling me in your
last letter about her trying to get her PI license. We started
talking, and well-here I am."
"Laura," Remington said, making a last ditch effort
to avert certain disaster. "Could we talk? In my office?"
"I really don't have time right now," Laura said. "I've
got to finish those reports," she reminded him.
Mildred went into action. "I'll do the reports, Miss Holt,"
she offered, going into Laura's office to scoop up the papers
and carry them back out to the desk in the reception area. "Why
don't you two girls go in and catch up on things- discuss the
job?"
"Oh, I . . ." Laura began, but Bernice took her arm.
"That's a wonderful idea, Mildred," she agreed. Turning
the shorter woman toward the waiting office, she gave Remington
a knowing smile.
He stood watching the closed door for several moments before stuffing
his hands into his pockets, frustrated. Turning, he saw Mildred
quickly lower her head, suddenly interested in the reports. "Guess
I'd better get these done," she said.
"I'm disappointed, Mildred," he told her softly.
"About what, Mr. Steele?" Mildred asked, looking at
him again.
He sat down on the sofa near her desk. "I thought we were
friends. . ."
"We are, Chief," she insisted. "You're worried
about Bernice being back? I don't think you need to worry. She
knows that you expect your coffee and newspaper to be waiting
. . ."
"That never troubled her before, Mildred. Bernice-well, she
wasn't one of my biggest fans."
"Oh, you're wrong, Mr. Steele." He looked at her curiously
as she joined him. "I got the impression that she just didn't
want to see Miss Holt hurt. They're friends, too. And Miss Holt
needs a girlfriend. Someone who knows the truth. Someone she doesn't
have to put up a front around."
"She's got you."
"But I'm almost old enough to be her mother," Mildred
pointed out. "And I care too much about BOTH of you to choose
sides in whatever you call your relationship. She's not close
to her sister Frances . . ."
"No, she's not," he was forced to admit.
"And YOU'VE got Daniel Chalmers to talk to." When he
would have spoken, Mildred said, "Don't try to deny it. I
KNOW you called him last week after you and Miss Holt argued."
Remington shook his head. "Can't put much over on you, can
I, Mildred?"
"Not anymore. Give Bernice a chance, Mr. Steele. If it doesn't
work out, I'll talk to Miss Holt about it, tell her that I think
we need someone else in here to do the work."
He nodded. "All right. I'll give her a chance," he said.
"I'll be in my office," he said. "Finishing the
paper."
"You want a cup of coffee?"
"I'll get it," he told her, then stopped. "My cup's
still in Laura's office."
"Why don't you take the two of them some coffee and retrieve
it?" Finally he shook his head and turned toward his office.
"Coward," she accused with a soft laugh as the door
closed behind him.
*****
"Laura Holt, are you insane?" Bernice asked her friend
as they sat at Laura's desk. "You mean to tell me that you
and he still haven't-"
"I know, Bernice. I just - I don't know. I can't explain
it."
"You realize that you're taking a VERY big risk here, don't
you?"
"It's been a risk since the day he walked into this office,
Bernice. The chance that someone will find out . . ."
"I'm not talking about that risk. That's the kind of thing
you thrive on. I'm talking about your risking that someone else
is going to come along and steal him away from you and you'll
always wonder why you waited too long. Seems to me that I remember
his spending evenings with various airheaded bimbos, any of which
could . . ."
"He's not. Not recently, anyway."
"And I don't suppose that YOU have been seeing anyone else?"
"No. I know, it sounds silly, doesn't it? Committed to each
other, yet not committed to each other."
"You both NEED to be committed somewhere," Bernice muttered.
"A nice, padded cell. You're BOTH certifiable."
"Maybe."
"Is this the way you want to spend the rest of your life,
Laura?"
"Of course not, Bernice, it's just-How do I know that he'd
stay? That he wouldn't up and leave?"
"He's been here for four years. I think that proves something,
doesn't it? Laura, there AREN'T any guarantees, hon. Look at me.
I'd planned to spend the next fifty years with someone I loved.
But one drunk driver took that away from me. But I'm still alive,
and I don't intend to lock myself away from life. Ray wouldn't
have wanted that. Yes, it hurts. A lot. And there are still days
I don't want to get out of bed. But I do."
Laura looked down at her desk. "Maybe you're stronger than
I am," she suggested.
"Or maybe I'm just better at seeing things more clearly,"
Bernice said. "I told you four years ago to go for it, and
you haven't moved an INCH in all that time! If I'd been in your
shoes, Laura, I'd have roped and branded that man a LONG time
ago," she said with a smile.
Laura couldn't help but respond at the mental picture that Bernice
painted as there was a tap on the door. "Come in."
"Sorry to interrupt, Miss Holt, but those reports are ready
for your signature. And if they're going to get into the morning
mail . . ."
Laura picked up her pen as Mildred placed the neatly typed pages
before her. "I guess we're going to have to clean out Murphy's
old office for you, Mildred," she said as she glanced over
the reports before signing them, noticing that Remington had already
placed his own signature above hers. "I mean, you and Bernice
can't very well share the desk out there, can you?"
"You mean, she's staying?" Mildred asked.
"I am," Bernice told the woman, rising gracefully. "And
I'd better get started," she said, picking up the two empty
coffee cups on the desk. "I have to learn how to use the
phones around here again. Wouldn't want to interrupt one of Mr.
Steele's personal calls accidentally, now, would I?"
All three women laughed as Bernice glided out of Laura's office.
Mildred slid the reports into the envelope she'd prepared. "There.
I think I'll take it down to the drop box, if you don't mind.
Just to make sure it gets out."
"Good idea, Mildred. And when you get back, we'll start on
your office."
Once Mildred left, Laura went to the door that connected her office
to the third office in the suite. It had been used for storage
since Murphy had left around the same time that Bernice had run
off and married Ray. Taking a deep breath, she pushed open the
door, then paused. There were times when she still missed knowing
that Murphy was in here, she thought. Having someone to talk to
about things. Of course, Murphy hadn't been at ALL sympathetic
regarding their ersatz Mr. Steele and Laura's growing feeling
for him.
It was nice having Bernice back, rather made her feel as if her
family was almost complete once more. Even if Bernice DID tend
to be a bit of a busybody, at least she was someone Laura could
talk honestly about Remington with. She couldn't with her sister.
She could just imagine Frances' shocked expression if Laura were
to tell her the truth, that Remington Steele wasn't REALLY Remington
Steele at all.
She picked up a box of stationary from the desk. Might as well
get started . . .
*****
Remington stood at the window of his office, recalling his last
conversation with Daniel. He and Laura had argued- he couldn't
even recall now what the argument had been about- and each had
stalked into their own offices, slamming their doors in a childish
contest to see who could do it the loudest.
He'd come in here and called Daniel in London, luckily catching
his old friend at his flat there. After hearing him out, Daniel
had, as always, offered him a place there in London if he decided
he'd had enough of the "straight and narrow."
But Daniel's heart hadn't been in the offer, Remington had realized,
and had asked him about it. He'd been surprised when Daniel had
finally admitted that he was glad his old friend "Harry"
had found Laura Holt, and had become Remington Steele. He reminded
Remington that he had turned his life totally around, become an
upstanding, well respected person. And he advised "Harry"
to think long and hard before tossing all of that aside simply
because he and Laura had lost their tempers once again.
"Most of us only get one chance at true happiness, Harry,
my boy," Daniel had said. "Don't toss yours away."
Remington smiled now, recalling those words. He'd stayed. And
he would continue to stay. Because Laura was the one person he'd
discovered that he couldn't do without. If only he could find
a way around her doubts and fears . . .
The door to his office opened, and Bernice came in, carrying a
cup of coffee. "Thought you might like this, Mr. Steele,"
she said, placing the cup and saucer on his desk.
"Thank you. Guess this means you're staying on," he
said.
"Looks that way, doesn't it?" she said, turning back
toward her own office. "If you need anything, just buzz."
He watched her walk away, remembering the first time he'd seen
that particular view. His first time in this office, as Special
Agent Ben Pearson. Bernice had practically thrown herself at him
that day. It had only been later, when he'd been revealed as a
fake, that her attitude had changed. Of course, his insistence
on calling her "Miss Wolfe" hadn't helped matters overmuch.
But her reaction had always been so delightful- and it had served
the double purpose of keeping her from developing any further
romantic feelings about him. Wouldn't have done at all for Bernice
to be throwing herself at him when he was trying to convince Laura
of his sincerity, would it?
He chuckled, wondering what her reaction would be if she knew
that little truth. There was a tap on the connecting door to Laura's
office before she entered. "Could I get you to help me in
here, Mr. Steele?" she asked, then disappeared back into
her own office.
Remington followed her, surprised to find her office empty. He
saw the door to the office on the other side was open, and approached
it cautiously. "What are you doing?" he asked, watching
as she frowned over a file cabinet that was refusing to budge.
"Cleaning this office out for Mildred to use," she explained.
"Could you help me move this, please?"
"Where to?" he asked, assisting her in "walking"
the heavy cabinet across the carpeted floor.
"Against the wall beside the door."
Mildred returned a moment later, and the three of them spent at
least an hour setting up the office. It was Bernice who brought
Mildred's name plate in from the receptionist's desk. "I
think this belongs in here," she said, putting it on the
desk as Mildred sat down.
"Thank you, Bernice," Mildred said, smiling widely.
"Is anyone here?" a voice called from the reception
area, and Bernice grimaced. "Guess it's time to start earning
my pay," she said, turning toward the voice. "May I
help you?"
"It's pretty small, Mildred," Laura pointed out.
"It's fine, Miss Holt, really. And I'll only be using it
when Bernice is here," she pointed out as Bernice returned
carrying an armload of roses.
Laura stared. "What on earth?"
"They were just delivered," Bernice told her. "Aren't
they beautiful?"
"Who are they from?" Mildred asked.
"I've no idea," Bernice said. "The card's not addressed
to me."
Laura held out her arms, glancing at Remington. "Here,"
she said.
"Sorry, Laura," Bernice said. "They're not for
you, either. Or you, Mildred." She held them out to Remington.
"The card has your name on it, Mr. Steele."
To Be Continued . . .