Radio and television mirror (July-Dec 1951)

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We'd sit in one another's office and go to hamburger stands together for quick lunches and he'd come home and let my Aunt Dorrie cook dinner for him, as we used to ... I was glad he had been the one to back out of the lunch date, though, for I had been on the point of saying that I had a lunch date for the following day . . . with Anton. I suppose it was the measure of the division that had grown up between us that I couldn't have made a joke about it any more. I would have had to say it, flatly, or lie about it. Lie about it! My brow wrinkled as I turned to my work. We had come far indeed if I could consider that! Quite unexpectedly, at that luncheon date, Anton got his wish and met Kay Clements. Elegant in brown velvet and pale mink, she stopped at our table on the way to her own, and I introduced them. I felt an unworthy, purely female stab of satisfaction when I saw how impressed she was with Anton's distinguished good looks, and I kept her talking for a moment so that she would learn that he was witty as well as attractive. When she went, she said lightly, "Oh, by the way, Wendy, I've given Don back to you and to his career. The lawyers are all gone, and everything's settled. I won't interrupt your tete-a-tete any longer now — see you later!" I was annoyed. "Tete-a-tete — what a stupid expression!" I said crossly. Anton raised an eyebrow. "Stupid, perhaps. But she has given it some thought before using it, believe me." I believed him. I was pretty certain by now that Kay Clements did very few things without having given them careful thought. But just how much thought she had given this trivial incident I didn't learn until I got back to the office that afternoon. I couldn't get down to work. I was waiting for Don to call. Hadn't Kay said he was back at work — that all the details were finally straightened out? Why didn't he call, let me know what had been going on, call me in for a gossip about it . . . Twice I started to call him, but pushed the phone away. Finally it came — a sharp rap and Don's head at the door, grinning happily. "It's over, it's over!" He swung himself jubilantly to a perch on my desk, and laughed down at me. "I thought I'd never see daylight! Gosh, I've missed you, Warren. You look beautiful. Listen — let's have a party. A celebration." I reached over and squeezed his hand. "We need one. But don't you think you ought to do a little work instead? It's been weeks since your secretary's se< you." "I've been plugging away like a dog all morning. No, this is for Saturday night — at my house." He went on rapidly to outline a few plans, mostly things he wanted me to get and do, naturally, and then gave me his brief guest list. "Small but select. Aunt Dorrie if she'll come, Mary McKenna if she's back North by then, Rusty if he's around, and get that irresistible continental-type charmer of yours, that Kamp guy." I raised my eyebrows at Rusty's name, for there had been times when Don had shown resentment even at having him around. Rusty Doyle was — unfortunately from Don's point of view — another old schoolmate of Mark's and mine. He was a brilliant private investigator now who did special assignments for the Gazette when we needed confidential work. Basically, I knew Don had enormous respect for Rusty, and somehow having Rusty at the party seemed to be a sort of declaration from Don that things between him and me were right again. We could stop having these two separate, unfriendly lives we'd been leading of late. We could tease each other and joke about my burdensome collection of old friends and Don's half-assumed jealousy of them. I even risked asking Don why on earth he wanted Anton . . . "Since as you know he always gives you an inferiority complex," I said, laughing up at him. "For Clements, for Clements," he explained, as though I were a backward child. "Look here, there's you and there's me. If Rusty comes, Mary sort of balances him off. Now how can you ask a woman like Kay to a party and not have a man around to hang her on?" It was the nicest thing he could have said, and since he obviously meant it my spirits took a final upward leap. I felt fine again. Don was back. Kay Clements was part of the picture now, certainly, but she was way back there in her rightful place, the background. I was too happy to work. There were only a couple of hours until the end of the day anyway, so I spent them on the phone, alerting Aunt Dorrie and leaving my messages of invitation around town for the others Don wanted. Dorrie was delighted. She said she had three new recipes for canape spreads she'd been dying to try out, and I was •to leave all the kitchen arangements to her. She also made me promise to get myself something new to wear to the party. "Something that sort of floats," she said wistfully. "Please, Wendy — all your things are so tailored." ^ g/JQ7© FIGHT HEART DISEASE Feb. 11-18 is AMERICAN HEART WEEK