ie picked up her phone and dialed Karen's office number downtown. "How're things in the newspaper business?" she asked when Karen's secretary had put her through.
"Fine, Katie. How about you? How are things in the busy personnel office of mighty Technical Dynamics?" she teased.
"Awful! I practically told an applicant that he didn't have a prayer of getting a job with us in any capacity."
"What's wrong with that?"
Sighing, Katie said, "Personnel people are supposed to have more finesse than that. Normally we say we don't have anything available commensurate with their background and experience. It means the same thing but it sounds better, and it doesn't hurt anyone's feelings." Katie ran her hand around the nape of her neck, massaging her tense muscles. "Listen, the reason I was calling was because I wondered what you're doing tonight. I don't feel like spending the evening alone." And thinking about Ramon, Katie silently added.
"A few of us are going to the Purple Bottle," Karen said. "Why don't you meet us there? I might as well warn you, though, it's strictly singles. But they've got a good singer and the music isn't bad."
Katie's efficiency, if not her enthusiasm, improved after that. She spent her day solving the usual problems and settling the usual disputes. She listened to a supervisor complain loudly and at tedious length about a file clerk; then she listened to the file clerk's tearful complaints about the supervisor. At the conclusion, Katie ignored the supervisor's demands that the file clerk be terminated, and instead, transferred the clerk to another department. After looking through the applications for employment she chose a file clerk who had impressed her during the interview as being extremely assertive and self-confident, and arranged for her to come in for an interview with the supervisor.
She calmed an irate accountant who was threatening to file a discrimination claim against the company because she had been passed over for promotion. She finished a survey on the company's compliance with governmental safety requirements.
Between all that and interviewing applicants, Katie's day flew by. At the end of it, she leaned back in her chair and somberly contemplated an entire life of days spent just like this one. This was "having a career." Virginia Johnson had devoted all her energy, her whole life, to "having a career." To this.
That restless, empty feeling that had been haunting her these past few months came over her again. Katie tried to ignore it and leaned forward to lock her desk.
Katie had the worst time of her life at the Purple Bottle. She stood around pretending to listen to the music, watching the men and women making their approaches. She was uncomfortably aware of three men who were sitting at a table directly on her right and looking her over—judging her assets, measuring her possible bed-worthiness against the effort required to approach her. Privately, Katie thought that all women who were considering divorcing their husbands should first be required to spend one night in a singles' bar. After that degrading and demoralizing experience, many of them would run flying back to their husbands.
She left at nine-thirty, one hour after she had arrived, and drove back to her apartment. In the car thoughts of Ramon haunted her. She had a life to live here and he couldn't be part of it, while his life was too alien, too far away for her to even consider sharing it.
Katie went to bed at ten-thirty and after several hours, finally fell into a deep exhausted sleep.
CHAPTER EIGHT
She slept so deeply that she didn't hear the alarm go off, had to dress in frantic haste, and still she was fifteen minutes late for work.
Thursday, June 3, hex calendar boldly proclaimed as she unlocked her desk and reached for the cup of coffee Donna had brought her. Thursday.
The last day she would ever be able to reach Ramon. How late would he be at that phone number? Until he finished working at five or six o'clock? Or would he be working late tonight? What difference did it make? If she called him she would have to be ready to leave and marry him. And that she just couldn't do. June 3.
Katie smiled sadly as she sipped her steaming coffee. At the lightning speed with which Ramon swept her along, she probably would have been a June bride. Again.
Katie gave her head a hard shake and employed what was for her, a special talent she discovered she possessed during her divorce: By instantly forcing herself to think of something different the moment an unwanted subject entered her mind, she could totally repress the subject.
She was a positive whirlwind of productive activity all day. Not only did she handle all her scheduled interviews, she took three more applicants who had arrived without the required appointment.
She gave most of the clerical tests herself, repeating the instructions for how to type the sample copy as if it were the most interesting speech she'd ever made. She stared at the timer while they typed as if it were an absorbing masterpiece of complicated technology that utterly fascinated her.
She breezed into Virginia's office, thanked her profoundly for the marvelous raise and the wonderful advice, and then she slowly closed her office door and reluctantly went home.
It was not nearly as easy to practice her technique in the solitude of her apartment, particularly when the radio kept reminding her what time it was— "This is KMOX Radio and the time is six-forty," the announcer said.
And Ramon won't be at that number much longer, if he still is, the announcer in her mind added.
Angrily, Katie snapped off the radio and turned on the television, prowling around her apartment, unable to sit down. If she called Ramon, there could be no half-measures; she would have to tell him the truth. Even if she did, he might not want to marry her any longer. He had been furious to learn she'd been married before. Maybe the church wasn't the issue at all. Maybe he didn't want 'secondhand' goods. But if he wanted to be finished with her, why had he left her a number where she could call him?
The television screen flared to life. "It's seventy-eight degrees in St. Louis at six forty-five," the announcer intruded into her thoughts.
She couldn't call Ramon unless she was prepared to resign her job with one day's notice. That was all that was left. She would have to walk into Virginia Johnson's office and say to a woman who had been wonderful to her, "Sorry to be leaving you in the lurch, but that's the way it is."
And she hadn't even considered the problem of her parents. They would be angry, alarmed, heartbroken. They would miss her terribly if she went to Puerto Rico. Katie dialed her parents' number and was informed by their maid that Mr. and Mrs. Connelly had gone to the country club for dinner. Damn it! Katie thought. Why were they gone when she needed them? They should be at home, missing their little Katie, whom they only saw every few weeks. Would they miss her so much if they only saw her every few months?
Katie leaped to her feet, and in desperation to be doing something, changed into a bikini—the yellow bikini! Sitting at the dressing table in her spacious bedroom, she briskly brushed her hair.
How could she be thinking of giving all this up in exchange for the sort of home and life Ramon could offer her? She must be insane! Her own life was a modern American woman's dream. She had a rewarding career, a beautiful apartment, expensive clothes and no financial worries. She was young, attractive and independent. She had everything. Absolutely everything. That thought caused Katie's brush strokes to slow as she stared soberly into the mirror. Dear God, was this really everything? Her eyes darkened with despair as she again contemplated a future just like her present. There had to be more to life than this. Surely this wasn't everything. It just couldn't be.
Trying to shake off her dismal thoughts, Katie snatched up a towel and marched down to the pool. There were about thirty people swimming or relaxing at the umbrella tables. Don and Brad were with some other men drinking beer. Katie waved to them when they called to her to come and join them, but she shook her head no. Putting her towel down on the most isolated lounger she could find, Katie turned and walked over to the pool. She swam twenty laps then climbed ou
t and flopped down on the chair. Someone had a portable radio on. "It's seven-fifteen in St. Louis, the temperature a balmy seventy-eight degrees."
Katie closed her eyes trying to shut her mind off, and suddenly she could almost feel Ramon's warm firm lips moving with gentle coaxing over hers, then deepening his kiss until it was wildly erotic and she was joyously surrendering to the searching hunger of his mouth and hands. His deep voice spoke quietly to her heart: "I will live my life for you… I will make love to you until you cry out for me to stop... I will fill your days with gladness."
Katie felt as if she were slowly suffocating. "We belong together," he had said, his voice thick with desire. "Tell me that you know it. Say it." She had said it. She had even known it—as surely as she knew they couldn’t be together.
He was so handsome, so masculine with his beautiful black hair and dazzling white smile. Katie thought of the slight cleft in his chin and the way his eyes—"Ouch!" Yelping with surprise she jack-knifed into a sitting position as icy water ran down her thigh.
"Wake up, sleeping beauty," Don grinned, sitting down on the lounge. Katie squeezed over to make more room for him, watching him warily. His eyes were glassy, his face slightly flushed; he looked as though he'd been drinking all afternoon. "Katie," he said, his eyes delving into her deep cleavage exposed by the skimpy bikini top. "You really turn me on, do you know that?"
"I don't think that's very hard to do," Katie replied with a fixed smile, pushing his hand away when his fingers started to trace the trickle of water across her left thigh.
He laughed. "Be nice to me, Katie. I could be very nice to you."
"I'm not an old lady, and you're not a boy scout," Katie quipped, hiding her uneasiness behind flippancy.
"You have a clever little tongue, redhead. But there are better things to do with it than sniping at me. Let me show you an example." His mouth started descending toward hers and Katie pulled back averting her head.