They Won't Believe Me Page #3

I tried to make excuses.

You could've taken a nail off. Called

away on business. Or had an accident.

Anything.

When the magazine transferred

me to the West Coast,

I still hoped you'd explain it.

Last month I saw Greta.

She said she never even

considered breaking up.

It was a pretty shoddy lie of yours,

wasn't it?

I don't suppose you feel quite

as cheap about it is I do.

Who was that?

The girl I used to know in New York.

She's pretty.

An old flame of yours?

Hardly.

For the next week or so,

I got home later each night.

Or maybe I should say each morning.

Until one particular morning.

A rectangle of light

from the library door caught my eye.

That must be an interesting book.

I wanted to check with you

before you went to bed.

Sorry. I got mixed up

with some customers.

Sit down, Larry.

Why so serious?

I just couldn't get them to go home.

Larry, do you remember Janice?

Why, sure.

- I saw her a couple of weeks ago.

- So did I.

Do you realize how much she hates you?

Well, I have a faint idea.

You must've had a cozy talk with her.

How come?

I was silly enough to think

that you'd taken up with her again.

Janice?

Of course that was before

I found out about Verna.

What are you talking about?

In away, I could understand

about Janice.

She's a nice girl. Attractive. Smart.

But, Larry. A little tramp.

Who's been giving you all this dope?

Trenton?

What difference does that make?

Not any, I guess.

What do you intend to do?

I bought a ranch near Owens Lake.

Up in the mountains.

Away from everything.

I'm going to live there for a while.

With or without me?

It's up to you.

You sort of run in a pattern, don't you?

One quick move after another.

Tell me something.

When you found what Janice...

Did you already have this

house and train reservations?

No, Larry. I didn't.

Oh, I will say one thing.

When you do move, you move fast.

Not fast enough to break the pattern.

I must've lost my self-respect

the day I married you.

I can make all the moves

but the one that has any reason.

I can't walk out, Larry.

You'll have to do the walking.

You can come to the ranch with me.

Or you can start off

on your own with your girlfriend.

I'll have to know tomorrow.

- Hi, darling.

- Hello, baby.

I missed you this morning.

Where were you?

At home.

Too lazy to come to work?

No work to come to.

I'm no longer the Ballantine

of the celebrated brokerage house

of Trenton and Ballantine.

You've quit?

You might put it that way.

Tell me about it. What happened?

Greta.

She sold my interest back to Trenton.

Why?

She found out about us.

That certainly takes

a load off my mind.

Let's have another round to celebrate.

Celebrate what? My being out of a job?

No.

That we don't have

to hide things any more.

Oh, that.

Don't worry, Larry. We'll make out.

Maybe you haven't heard.

The dough goes with Greta.

I've heard. Trenton thought

about a long time ago.

That's why I think we ought to go slow.

What do you mean? Go slow?

Well, I want to be sure

the job is right.

No bitters this time, George.

I don't get this.

I don't get where you'd be living while

you're looking for this right job.

Well, that's what I'm trying to explain.

You know I love you, Verna.

But we've got to figure this carefully.

Larry, I'm asking you a question.

Which one of those are you

going to be seeing? Her or me?

Well I guess her for now, Verna. But...

Know what, Larry?

You've just witnessed

a memorable occasion.

The one time in my life

when I was on the level.

It didn't last long, did it?

That drink is yours, George.

The rat on my left will pay.

He's got a rich wife.

I don't remember much

about the drive to the ranch.

I was in kind of an emotional blackout.

Numb.

I'd sold out again.

But what I felt was the feeling

of a prisoner towards his jailer.

In a way, she was a jailer.

For both of us.

He wanted us to be alone. To

wall off the outside world.

Lot just behind a door

marked " Do Not Disturb. "

She'd found a place all right.

In the center of the rise of foothills.

Hidden from everything but sky.

A cold clear stream with trout in it.

Quail and dove in the fields.

A snug Mexican ranch house

with adobe and stone.

Set in a grove of fine old trees

for summer shade.

Built 100 years ago by a Miguel Domecq.

On land given him by the king of Spain.

A San Francisco banker had

made it into a summer home.

Had put in electricity and hot water.

Fireplaces and a walk-in refrigerator.

Comfortable furniture.

All we had to do was move in.

What do you think of it, Larry?

I'll have to buy a sombrero.

And some spurs.

- How many peons go with the place?

- None.

Who's gonna take care of things?

Just the two of us.

That'll be cozy.

What about the mail? Groceries?

Telephone?

There's a general store

about 3 miles down the road.

They leave the mail on

a box on the highway.

And the telephone?

I had the telephone taken out, Larry.

In the days that followed,

Greta seemed happy.

She found a friend.

A Palomino stallion with

a weakness for sugar.

And she found a brand-new world

over the shoulder of rock

that cut the ranch off

from the mountains beyond.

Trails that hadn't

changed since the Indians

used them to raid the

settlers along the coast.

Quartz formations

with fool's gold glittering in the sun.

Desert plants with spines

that tore our riding boots.

All kinds of wildflowers.

But her happiest discovery was a

few hundred yards from the ranch.

A hidden valley at the

base of the waterfall.

Sometimes we'd go there together.

Down a path so steep and rocky

the Palomino couldn't follow.

He'd stand above,

waiting patiently for Greta's return.

There was a pool in the valley,

dark and mysterious.

Constantly in motion.

She liked it there.

I can't tell you why.

Maybe something told her the pool had

a solution for everything for her.

And for me too.

But all the time,

unrest was growing inside me.

I had to get to Los Angeles.

I tried to think how

without arousing suspicion.

But I couldn't.

And then, one afternoon,

the solution came.

Supplied by Greta.

Larry, I just had a wonderful idea.

What?

What do you think about

building a guesthouse?

I thought you passed a law about guests.

Oh. Not a permanent law.

And besides, you could hardly

call Aunt Martha a guest.

- Aunt Martha?

- Yes, She is thinking of coming out.

And it would be fun to build anyway.

You could drop the specifications.

I don't know the first thing

about specifications.

Then will get an architect.

- Where?

- In Los Angeles of course.

We can get the name of one.

I know one named Harwell.

Good. What you run up to the store and

called for an interview right now.

- Hmm?

- Okay.

And will you make an appointment

for me at the salon?

My hair needs doing.

And we need groceries too.

You want me to go with you?

No, that's all right.

I'll be right back.

I called Harwell.

And made a date for Thursday.

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