A Brush With Death by Joan Smith Read Free Book Online Page B

probably would have quit if they hadn't let me come to Montreal. That's the only reason I'm still working for them. I wanted to see you, and talk it over with you first."
    “Then it wasn't a woman?” I asked. I must really love him. My major feeling was relief, not disappointment, at his wanting to quit what I considered the ideal job.
    “Is that what you thought?” he asked, and looked as pleased as punch. “I hope you don't think I've been two-timing you. I don't go out with other women. What do you take me for?"
    I must have looked guilty. His smile faded, and he said, “You're not seeing other guys! Are you?"
    Before I was required either to lie or admit it, a porter came into the bar paging John.
    “That'll be Parelli!” he exclaimed, and beckoned for the phone. Before he answered it, he said, “We'll return to this subject very soon.” His face was purple. John has a low threshold of jealousy.
    It is odd that a fit of apprehension should have made me realize I was ravenously hungry. Gino Parelli would be eating with us, which did not fill me with delight, although his presence would obviate a discussion of my dates. Our romantic evening was definitely not proceeding as planned. With luck, Parelli wouldn't stay long. That was my futile hope. I should have known better. Parelli is a human burr. He sticks. In a few minutes John put down the phone and turned to me with a fierce eye. “Now, where were we?” he asked menacingly.

CHAPTER 5

    “I thought we were supposed to be engaged!” he howled, in a whisper loud enough to turn a few neighboring heads.
    “I thought so too. After the third week without hearing from you, I began to wonder, of course...” That was my sole excuse.
    “So you've been dating only the last three weeks?"
    “That depends on what you call dating."
    “I call going out with another guy dating."
    “I just went to college functions. Concerts, lectures, out for coffee...” His tense face relaxed noticeably. In a small voice, I added, “Dances."
    “Dances!"
    “Dance—one dance."
    A foursome of college classmates chose that most inauspicious of moments to spot me and stop for a chat. “Oh, your dad's spending Christmas with you!” Tillie Jeffreys exclaimed, smiling politely at John, before I got around to introducing them. It was that slightly receding hairline that fooled her. Of course she's not hard to fool. I worked a few years before going to college, and I'm older than a lot of the students, but younger than John.
    Things went downhill from there. My friends reminded me of the Christmas formal, and bragged about how much they had drunk, and how late they got home. Tillie didn't get home till the next afternoon. “Are you visiting Chuck for Christmas?” Tillie asked me. I was only out with him twice!
    John refrigerated a smile at her and said, “I'd like to be alone with my daughter, if you don't mind."
    “I thought Cassie said you weren't her father."
    “She has a faulty memory."
    They left, in confusion, whispering among themselves and looking at us askance.
    “You didn't have to be so rude,” I snipped. It was one of those occasions when offense is the best defense.
    “I didn't have to be gullible and faithful either. Who's this Chuck?” He enunciated the name with disgust, as if it were excrement.
    “Just a quiet, scholarly little guy who helped me with my French."
    “How little?"
    “Six foot two—but thin. Well, thinnish. The Christmas formal is the first dance I went to. If you'd phoned, I would have asked you if you minded."
    “Oh sure, it's all my fault."
    “It's not a question of fault. We're civilized adults. When we're apart for so long, we can have a few dates without compromising our relationship."
    “I'm glad to hear it. I've been damned lonesome all these months."
    What future catastrophe was I creating here? “If you like, we'll both agree not to have dates,” I suggested hastily.
    “This is going to take some thinking."
    I never thought I'd