Home for Love by Ellen James Read Free Book Online

tonight. She had to get out. After all, she'd promised Paula that she would go over to Mrs. Cleeve's and discuss short tables. That was exactly what she'd do. Kate snatched up her briefcase and escaped.

CHAPTER FOUR

    The sun was shining bright and clear the next morning as Kate wandered morosely along a downtown street. She should have been in the best of spirits, for all her favorite circumstances were combined here. It was Saturday, the best day of the week. She was out in the fresh air, treated to a spectacular view on all sides-delicate pagodas holding their ground against towering office buildings, the Bay Bridge rising in the distance. And she was surrounded by a myriad of enticing shop windows. Yes, the day should have been perfect, but all Kate could think about was Steven and Gloria Nestor. That was ruining everything.
    It maddened Kate that she couldn't stop wondering how Steven had spent the evening. She longed to be as carefree, as independent of heart, as she'd always been before, no man disturbing her happiness. No unwanted emotions.
    Kate trudged on aimlessly. But then a brass coat stand gleamed at her from one of the shop windows. It would be perfect for the entryway in Steven's house. Perfect… Kate walked into the store with a sense of purpose. She was beginning to feel a little better.
    The coat stand was very expensive, but it was of excellent quality, the brass giving off a rich, mellow shine. And the house needed something exactly like this, even though it wasn't in Kate's original budget. She opened her checkbook to give its contents a hopeful perusal.
    Her optimism was ill-founded. She had written quite a few checks lately for Steven's house, and had jotted the figures down hastily without subtracting them from her bank balance. Now she did some mental calculations, wincing at the results. She stuffed the checkbook back into her briefcase and fished for a credit card instead.
    The sales clerk drifted away for a few minutes, then drifted back again.
    "Denied," he said in a pale, expressionless voice.
    Kate straightened up from her examination of an antique model ship. "Excuse me?" she said.
    "Credit card denied."
    "That's impossible!"
    "Nothing's impossible."
    "Good grief. Well…wait just a minute, please." She swung her briefcase up onto the counter and snapped it open in businesslike fashion. She started rummaging through her lipstick, lotion and spare packets of tissue. Oh, there was her travel sewing kit—the one she thought she'd lost.
    The sales clerk leaned over the counter to observe. Kate drew her eyebrows together. Angling the briefcase smartly to block his view, she went on hunting. She pushed aside some spare change and a few tea bags. There it was—her other credit card, although this one looked a bit battered. She handed it crisply to the sales clerk.
    This time she followed him. She hovered about as he passed her card through an obnoxious little machine.
    "Also denied." The card came shooting back at her. She glanced suspiciously at the machine.
    "There must be some mistake."
    "No," the clerk said. He was beginning to look quite alert. "Want to try another one?"
    "I think… I think that's enough, thank you." She turned and snapped her briefcase shut.
    "You know what they say," he remarked in a deadpan voice. "Third time lucky."
    Kate felt totally flustered. She gazed at the coat stand. This was awful, just awful. She could have sworn she was nowhere near her credit limit.
    The sales clerk was giving her a mild yet relentless stare. She retreated outside, and this time did not look in any shop windows as she hurried down the street. Steven's deposit money was gone, but she still had so much to do for the house. She'd already started the carpenters building more shelves, and they would be expecting payment soon. Things weren't going well with Mrs. Cleeve, either; last night's discussion about short tables had not been a success. Mrs. Cleeve had stared at Kate with a dour expression,