The Lonely Lady by Harold Robbins Read Free Book Online

But none of these facts ever appeared in the newspaper account of the death of Port Clare’s first war hero.
    John Randall remembered checking into the file following his death. For a man as erratic as he had been, Bob Gerraghty’s affairs were in remarkably good order. At the time, he thought that Mrs. Gerraghty was probably responsible. There was about eleven thousand dollars in the joint savings account, and seven hundred in checking. The records indicated that he owned more than two thousand dollars in war savings bonds at maturity value. The mortgage the bank held on their home for twenty-five thousand dollars was completely paid off by the insurance clause, as was another small personal loan of one thousand dollars that he had made just the month before. There was G.I. insurance for ten thousand dollars which had been converted to a civilian policy. He had heard there were several other small policies the amount of which he did not know. In addition the widow would be eligible for service and social security pensions for herself and the children. All of which meant that she fared far better than most people thought.
    John Randall had sent Veronica a note of condolence and received a polite reply thanking him. A few weeks after the funeral she came to the bank and he helped her rearrange the accounts under her own name. After that he had not seen her for almost two months, when she came to ask if there was a job for her. While there was no great pressure on her financially, she said she would feel better if she knew she was helping to provide for herself. He thought that she displayed a great deal of good sense. If only more women were like her, they would have fewer problems. Fortunately, a job had just opened up and she began work the following week as the teller at the savings account window.
    She had been there for a little more than three months when he asked her out.
    She hesitated. “I don’t know. It may be a little too soon. People might not like it.”
    He nodded in appreciation. He knew what she was thinking. Mr. Carson, the bank president, was a strict Presbyterian and had his own ideas of how his employees should act. He was continually railing about the erosive influence of modern thinking on the moralities of the country. “I’ll wait a little longer,” Randall promised.
    “Thank you,” she said.
    Another three months went by before they had their first date—a movie and dinner. She was home by eleven o’clock and he said good night to her at the front door. He nodded to himself as he went down the walk to his car. It was a lovely little house—neat, well kept and in a good neighborhood. She would make a very good wife for some man, even a future bank president.
    They went to Niagara Falls on their honeymoon. On the first night John stood at the window in his new pajamas and silk robe, the gift bottle of champagne the hotel gave each newlywed couple icing in the bucket near him. The literature had promised a view of the falls but had neglected to mention that only a tiny corner was visible between the two hotels facing them. As he squinted into the cloudy sky he heard Veronica come into the room behind him.
    She was wearing a silk chiffon nightgown with lace inset over her breasts under a transparent peignoir. There was an almost frightened look on her face.
    “Would you like some champagne?” he asked.
    She nodded.
    Awkwardly he opened the bottle. The cork popped and ricocheted from the ceiling. He laughed. “That’s the way a good champagne can be told from a bad one. If the cork pops.”
    She laughed.
    He filled the two glasses and handed one to her. “A toast,” he said. “To us.”
    They sipped the wine. “It is good,” she said.
    “Come here and look out the window,” he invited.
    She looked into his eyes for a moment, then shook her head. “I think I’ll go to bed. I’m a little bit tired from the long drive.”
    He watched her place her peignoir on a chair, get into bed and