I 've Heard That Song Before

60

Pat Jennings was spending more and more of her time at the Walker Gallery on the telephone because she had absolutely nothing else to do. In the several weeks since the row with his mother in the office, Richard had been around very little. He told Pat that he was selling his apartment and buying a smaller one, and that he was looking for less expensive space for the gallery. “I think the great romance with Gina Black is over,” Pat confided to her friend Trish during one of their frequent phone conversations. “She’s been leaving messages for him, but Richard told me to tell her he’s out of town.”

“How about the other one, Alexandra Lloyd?”

“I guess she’s given up. She hasn’t called for a couple of weeks.”

“Has his mother been in again?”

“No, not once. But I think she lost something. This morning Richard came in and, boy, was he having a fit! He went right to the phone and called his mother. I heard him tell her that he hadn’t slept for one minute after what she’d told him last night because he was so upset. He never seems to understand that when he raises his voice, I hear every word.”

“When was that?” Trish asked.

“About an hour ago.”

“What else did he say?”

“Something about the utter stupidity of leaving it in the house, and why didn’t she just run it up the flagpole for everyone to see? Anyhow, he hung up on her, and she called back ten minutes later. I could tell she was crying. She said she didn’t want to talk to Richard. Instead she told me to tell her son that it was all his fault that she had to pull it out now, and his fault that she had it in the house in the first place, and that he should go to hell.

“She told you that?” Trish said breathlessly. “Did you give him that message?”

“I had to, didn’t I? He just slammed out of here saying he wouldn’t be back today.”

“How about that?” Trish exclaimed. “You have the most interesting job, Pat. It’s so fascinating to be around people like the Carringtons. What do you think Elaine lost?”

“Oh, jewelry, I guess,” Pat surmised. “Unless it’s a ticket to the Carrington money. Richard could sure use that.”

“Maybe it’s the ‘wild card,’ whatever that is,” Trish suggested.

They both laughed heartily.

“Keep me posted!” Trish admonished as she hung up.