It has been a long, cold night.
But now it is morning.
* * * *
She packed in the silence of the sun-washed bedroom. Dust motes climbed the shaft of sunshine, limning her figure as she methodically filled the bag. Liz Bellew watched her, sipping at a cup of coffee, curled up on the chaise longue alongside the bed.
“I haven’t been up this early since the morning Alpha Beta Tau staged a panty raid,” Liz said.
“I remember,” Diane answered.
“Flaming youth, where have you gone? Alpha Beta Tau raided panties, and all Harold raids is the icebox.”
“We all have to grow up sometime, Liz,” Diane said. She opened one of the dresser drawers, removed a pile of slips from it and brought them to the bed.
“Do we?” Liz asked. “And when do you grow up, honey? This seems like a pretty childish thing to me.”
“Does it?”
“Yes, it does. Unless you happen to have a suicidal urge.” Liz pulled a face and sipped at her coffee. “But I always had you pegged as a pretty levelheaded girl. So now you’re asking Doug to ruin himself and you besides. That doesn’t make sense.”
“Doesn’t it?”
“No.” Liz frowned. “I wish you’d stop picking up the tail ends of my sentences and turning them into questions. It sounds a bit like imitation Hemingway.”
“I’m sorry.” Diane smoothed out a slip, folded it and put it into the bag. “Suppose it were one of your children out there, Liz?”
“I’d cut off my arm to save him,” Liz answered unhesitatingly.
“And suppose it were my boy—Bobby—and they asked you for the money?”
Liz took a long pull at the coffee. It was still early morning, and she wore no make-up, but she was beautiful even without it, and her eyes were clear. “Darling,” she said, “I love you like a sister. Always have, and this isn’t just a college-days-remembrance bit. But I’m not sure I’d part with five hundred thousand bucks to save your son. I’m just not sure, Diane. And if that makes me a bitch, so be it.”
“I’m surprised,” Diane said.
“Why? Because I’m a mother? I’m only a mother to the three little monsters who cavort through the house on the hill. I’m not a mother to all humanity, thank God.” Liz paused. “Three pregnancies were enough.”
They were silent for a while. Liz finished her coffee and put down the empty cup. Diane continued packing.
“It was good of you to offer me a place, Liz,” she said.
“The least,” Liz said breezily. “But if Doug asks me what I think about all this, I’ll tell him quite frankly that you are nuts.”
“You needn’t bother. He thinks so already.”
“Are you sure this kidnaping business is behind your leave-taking?” Liz asked. “There’s not something else? This is Aunt Lizzie, darling, so don’t be afraid to—” She stopped suddenly. “He’s still good in bed, isn’t he?”
“Yes, he’s fine.”
“Then what the hell’s wrong with you? Unpack that bag and go down and kiss him, for God’s sake.”
“Liz,” Diane said calmly, “he’s out of bed sixteen hours a day.”
“Darling, we mustn’t be greedy,” Liz said, lifting one eyebrow.
“Don’t joke, Liz, please. This isn’t fun for me.”
“I’m sorry.”
“He knocked on the door three times during the night,” Diane said. “The last time, he sounded as if he was crying. Can you imagine Doug crying?” She paused. “I wouldn’t open the door for him. He’s got to know I’m serious. He’s got to know I’m leaving unless he pays that ransom.”
“Why don’t you simply ask him to shoot himself in the head?” Liz said.
“I’m only asking him to do what any other human being would do.”
“Don’t talk about human beings when you talk about tycoons,” Liz answered. “They’re a breed apart.”
“Then I want no part of the tycoon. If money and power are all that matter in life…”
“That’s only a small part of it,” Liz said. “Tycoonery is a disease. We laymen call it ants in the pants. Men like Doug and Harold couldn’t sit still if you nailed them to the chair. They’ve got to be moving, they’ve got to be doing something. Render them inactive, and you’re draining their life’s blood.”
“And does ‘tycoonery’ include the loss of all pity and compassion for your fellow man?” Diane asked. “Does it include all that, Liz?”
A knock sounded on the bedroom door.
“Who is it?” Diane asked.
“Me. Pete.”
“Would you get that, Liz?”
Liz Bellew uncurled herself from the lounge and went to the door. Opening it, she said, “Good morning,” and Cameron looked at her in surprise.
“Liz,” he said. “Didn’t expect you here. Didn’t even know you got up so early in the morning.”
“I always wake up early,” Liz answered. “And always refreshed. How’d you sleep, Mr. Cameron?”
“Fine, Mrs. Bellew. Considering.”
“Then you haven’t reached tycoon status yet. When you do, you’ll begin scheming at night, too.”
Cameron smiled. “I do all my scheming during the day, Liz.”
“Mmm, I’ll bet you do,” she answered. “And all your best work at night.” Their eyes locked. Diane, packing the bag, did not seem to notice. “What brings you to the lady’s boudoir?” Liz asked.
“A problem. I’ve got Doug’s check in my pocket, Diane. What do I do? Go up to Boston with it? Or tear it up?”
“You’ll have to ask him.”
“I ought to tear it up,” Cameron said. “He’s going to pay that ransom. I’m sure of it.”
“What makes you so sure?”
“He has to, don’t you see?”
“No, I’m afraid I don’t.”
“Well, look, let’s say I go to Boston to close this deal, right? Douglas King then gets control of Granger Shoe. But the newspapers’ll smear him from here to China and back. Douglas King, they’ll say, the man who now controls Granger Shoe, the man who refused to save a little boy’s life. Hell, the publicity will ruin him. Do you think anybody would buy a pair of Granger shoes after that?”
“No, I don’t suppose so. I hadn’t thought of it that way.”
“Sure,” Cameron said. “And you can bet Doug is considering that angle of it right now. That’s why I’m certain he’ll pay.”
“If that were his only reason for paying—” Diane started.
“What time did they say they’d call?” Liz interrupted.
“The kidnapers? They didn’t say.”
Liz shook her head. “And when they call, they ask the big question. I think the television quiz shows are more humane, don’t you? At least they give you a week to decide.”