The Legacy Read Free Page A

drink?”
    â€œNo. I don’t want it.”
    She started away to avoid him if he returned and found herself facing Devron again. “I can’t take much more of this place,” he said. “Neither can you, from the look on your face. Let’s slip out. Have dinner with me, please.”
    â€œI can’t leave.”
    â€œOf course you can. I know you’re the guest of honor, but half the people here don’t know that, and the other half don’t care. Believe me — I’m an old hand at these stupid parties.”
    â€œThen why do you come, Mr. Devron?”
    â€œI came tonight to meet you, and now that I’ve met you, let’s leave, please.”
    And hardly knowing why she did it, Barbara allowed him to take her arm and lead her through the crowd and out of the house. He asked her whether she had a car, and she told him she had come by cab.
    â€œGood. We’ll go in my car. Cars are the nightmare of this place. By the way, why did you come with me?”
    â€œTo get out of there, I suppose.”
    â€œThen it’s not my goddamn good looks,” he said, but so ingenuously that it did not sound trite. “There are women who mistrust good-looking men on sight, and I sort of guessed that you are one of them. I’m not supposed to mention that, am I? But it’s like being crippled, believe me. You live with it, but you don’t get used to it.” Before she could comment on that, he said, “I’m thirty-six. You’re older than that. How old are you?”
    â€œGood heavens,” she said angrily, “what are you — some kind of rich boy idiot? It’s none of your damn business how old I am! I barely know you, and I’m not sure that I want to know you any better.”
    Now one of the red-jacketed parking attendants — hired by Goldberg for the evening — had brought his car around, a 1952 Buick convertible, and stood by the open door, waiting.
    â€œThey’ll call me a cab,” Barbara said. “I don’t think I want to have dinner with you.”
    Her statement demolished him. The face that stared at her uncomprehendingly was the face of a hurt small boy, and he pleaded with her, “What did I say? I’m so sorry. The last thing in the world I wanted is to offend you. Please forgive me.”
    For a long moment, she stared at him. Then she nodded, walked around the car, and got in. They started off, driving in silence for about five minutes before he said, “I say things the way I feel them. Can I explain what I mean by that?”
    â€œI’d rather you didn’t. Just forget I was angry. It’s not your fault. I’ve been here four days, and I’ve spent most of them regretting that I ever came. Tonight I felt put upon and degraded, and I don’t want to explain that either. It’s my fault. I’m not very nice.”
    â€œI think I understand how you feel.”
    â€œThen we’ll leave it that way. Where are you taking me?”
    â€œDowntown. Do you know downtown Los Angeles?”
    â€œNot very well.”
    â€œIt’s as different from Beverly Hills as night from day. I know a good Italian restaurant, near the paper. Do you like Italian food?”
    â€œVery much. I’m half Italian,” she said bluntly.
    â€œI know that. Look, I’ve been working on the paper for twelve years, and you and your father and your family have always been news. So I’d know a good deal about you and Dan Lavette and your family just in the course of things. As a matter of fact, when Dan Lavette faced down those two muggers at the Japanese Tea Garden, this past August, I did a special box on it for the sports page. My word, it was fantastic — for a man of sixty-nine to be that fit and to have that kind of reflexes. Part of me is an old jock, and I just had to tip my hat at the man.”
    He’s trying hard, Barbara thought, and said without