Free Where Love Has Gone by Harold Robbins Page B

stretched out on the floor, listening to a record player. I began to read.

    The slim Miss Hayden, who looks more like a model than an artist, leaves no doubt in your mind where she stands in regard to her work.
    “Sculpture is the one true life form in art,” she maintains. “It is three-dimensional. You can walk around it, see it from any angle, touch it, feel it as you would any living thing. It has shape, form and reality and it exists in life all around you. You can see it in any stone, in the flowing
    grain of every piece of wood, in the tensile, yielding strength of every strip of metal.
    “It remains only for the artist to bring forth this buried vision from the raw material, to fuse it into shape, to breathe it into life …”

    I could hear her voice echoing in my ear.
    I turned back to the cover of the magazine and studied her picture. That did it. I dropped the magazine to the deck and got to my feet. So I changed my mind. What difference did it make if it was a year later?
    I stood in the cramped, narrow telephone booth at the foot of the dock, hearing the phone ring at the other end of the line in San Francisco. Her mother answered.
    “This is Luke Carey,” I said. “Remember me?”
    The old lady’s voice was clear and firm. “Of course I do, Colonel. How are you?” “I’m fine. Mrs. Hayden. And you?”
    “I have never been ill a day in my life,” she answered. “I read about you in the papers. That was a very brave thing you did.”
    “The newspapers made too much of it. I really had no choice. There was nothing else I could
    do.”

    “I’m sure there was more to it than that. But we can discuss that at another time.” I could hear
    her voice soften. “I’m sorry that Nora isn’t here. I know that she will be disappointed.” “Oh,” I said. “And I did so want to congratulate her on winning the Eliofheim Award.”
    “That’s why she went away. The poor child hasn’t had a moment’s rest since the announcement was made. I insisted that she go down to La Jolla to get away from it.”
    “Did you say La Jolla?”
    “Yes.” A sudden awareness came into her voice. “Where are you calling from?” “La Jolla. I’m spending my leave down here.”
    “Isn’t that a fortunate coincidence, Colonel? Of course, now I do remember seeing something in the papers about your being there. Nora’s at the Sand and Surf Club.”
    “I’ll call her,” I said.
    “If you can’t reach her, Colonel, get in touch with Sam Corwin. He’ll know where to find her.” “Sam Corwin?”
    “Yes,” she said. “You remember him. The newspaperman friend of Professor Bell’s. He’s taken over the management of my daughter’s affairs. The poor child has no head for business.”
    The old lady’s voice changed again. “I do hope we won’t have to wait another year to see you, Colonel. I still feel we have something to discuss. It seems to me that Hayden and Carruthers would be an excellent place for you to resume your career.”
    “Thank you for thinking of me, Mrs. Hayden. We’ll talk about it real soon.” “You’re welcome, young man. Goodbye.”
    The phone clicked and I hesitated a moment before putting in another nickel. This time Corwin answered.
    “Is Miss Hayden there?” I asked. “Who’s calling?”
    “Luke Carey.”
    It seemed to me that his voice grew friendlier. “Colonel Carey?” “Yes.”
    “Just a moment, please. I’ll see if I can find her.”
    I held onto the telephone a moment, then I heard her voice.
    “Colonel Carey. This is a surprise. How did you know where to reach me?” I laughed. “Your mother told me. I thought we might meet for a drink.”
    “Are you in La Jolla?”
    “About three miles from where you are,” I said. “How about it?”
    “I’d love to. But Aaron Scaasi, my agent, is due in from New York any minute now. We have a cocktail thing set up for the press at five o’clock.”
    I waited for her to suggest another time but she didn’t. Fair