A Fashionable Affair by Joan Wolf Read Free Book Online Page A

pathetic.”
    “They’re a pain in the ass,” Doug said rudely. “And Mark is right, darling, you are nice. I hope you last for ten more years.”
    “Hah,” Patsy said. “In two years I’ll be thirty. I’ve already lasted longer than most.” She smiled. “But it’s been fun. See you, guys.” She walked out of the studio, knowing they were watching her. What she didn’t know was that the emotion reflected in their eyes was one of pure affection.
    * * * *
    It had been a long, tiring day, and Patsy was stretched out on the sofa with her feet propped up when the phone rang. She went into the bedroom and picked it up.
    “Hello, Miss Clark?” inquired an unknown voice.
    “Yes.” Patsy’s number was unlisted and she didn’t often get calls from people she didn’t know. She frowned now, afraid she was once again hearing from the IRS.
    “I’m Bob Hellman, Miss Clark, a friend of Fred Zimmerman’s. Fred asked me to take over for him when he had his heart attack.”
    “Oh,” Patsy said. This must be the man whose name Fred had wanted to give her. “Well, it’s very good of you to call,” she said kindly, “but I’ve already gotten someone to look after my financial matters.”
    There was a moment of curiously charged silence on the other end of the line. Bob Hellman’s voice, when he spoke, sounded pleasant, however. “Oh, have you? That’s too bad. I was looking forward to working for you. And Fred filled me in on a few of the things he was doing. Would it be at all possible for me to discuss my credentials with you?”
    “I’m really sorry, Mr. Hellman, but I have defi nitely engaged someone else.”
    “Well, so be it,” he said genially. “Would you mind telling me who beat me out?”
    One of the things Patsy had learned in the course of a very public career was to volunteer as little information about her private life as possible. “Yes,” she said. “I would mind. It was kind of Fred to be concerned about me, and kind of you to call, Mr. Hellman. Have a pleasant evening.”
    Patsy hung up and thought no more about Bob Hellman. In fact, her mind seemed to be running rather disconcertingly on quite another accountant, but her thoughts were not finance-oriented. Michael hadn’t even suggested that she stay when they had returned to his house from the beach yes terday. In fact, she had gotten the impression that he was anxious to get rid of her. She had assumed, with a gloom that was unusual for her, that he probably had a date.
    Patsy had ended up spending Sunday evening with Don. It was one thing to say Don had to go, but quite another, it seemed, to convince him of that fact. She couldn’t blame him, really. They had been going together for over a year, and at one time Patsy had fancied herself quite in love with him. He was a successful news reporter, clever, intense, and a bit of a rebel. Things had been terrific for the first six months: they liked the same things, they were good in bed, they had the same kind of humor. Then he wanted them to move in together. Patsy had had a few serious boyfriends in the years since she had moved to New York, but she had never formally lived with anyone. She loved her parents too much to cause them that kind of upset.
    She told him she wouldn’t live with him, and then, when he began to pressure her to marry him, she knew she didn’t really love him, after all. She had known that for quite some time, actually, but had been trying to hide the knowledge from her self. It depressed her unutterably, the way she always seemed to fall out of love.
    She thought about that gloomy fact now as she fixed herself an omelette and salad for dinner. “I’m just a shallow, fickle person, I suppose,” she said out loud. She sat at the kitchen table to eat, her mouth drooping tragically. Halfway through the omelette she began to feel better; she’d had scarcely a thing to eat all day. She was cleaning up the kitchen when the phone rang again.
    It was Sally.