Free 79 Park Avenue by Harold Robbins Page B

got," he said. "Only insults. That what she learns bumming around to all hours of the night?"
    "Respect for my parents I have," Marja said swiftly. "Not for you."
    "Marja! Stop!" her mother spoke sharply.
    "Tell him to stop pickin' on me," she answered sullenly, picking up her spoon. She tasted the oatmeal. It was dull and flat.

    "Your father is right," Katti continued. "You should speak to him nicer. He's only thinking of you—"
    "Crap!" Marja exploded, throwing down her spoon. "The only one he ever thinks about is himself!" She got to her feet. "If he was half a man, he wouldn't let you be out working all night while he sat around the house in his B.V.D.'s He's nothin' but a leech!"
    Katti moved quickly, her hand a blur against the gray-white walls. The slap echoed resoundingly in the suddenly quiet kitchen.
    Marja's hand was against her cheek, the red flush spreading quickly around the white fingermarks. There was a strange look of wonder in her eyes. "You hit me," she said to her mother, a tone of horror in her voice.
    Katti looked at her. She could feel a lump coming into her throat. She realized that this was the first time she had ever slapped her daughter. "To teach you respect for your parents," she said in a suddenly shaking voice.
    Marja's eyes seemed to fill, and for a moment Katti thought that her daughter was about to cry. But no tears fell. Instead, a coldness came into them, an icy, chilling calm that told her Marja had grown up and gone away from her.
    "Marja!" she said in an appealing voice and took a step toward her.
    Marja stepped back. "I'm sorry, Mother," she said softly. It was almost as if she were apologizing for striking her mother. "I'm terribly sorry."
    She turned and went quiedy out the kitchen door.
    Katti turned to Peter. She could hear Marja's steps hurrying down the stairway. She began to cry. ''What have I done, Peter? What have I done to my baby?"

    He didn't move toward her. There was a distant echo of triumph in his voice. "What you should have done long ago, Katti. You did right."
    She looked at him. "You really think so, Peter?" she asked, lapsing into Polish.
    He nodded his head, a satisfaction deep in his eyes. "Yes."
    She stared at him. The baby in her arms began to cry. Automatically she began to soothe him. She wanted to believe her husband. She wanted to feel she had been right. But no matter how much she wanted to believe, somewhere deep inside her lurked a preying doubt.

    Chapter 8
    THE TELEPHONE began to ring just as Marja came in the door. "Fll get it, Mr. Rannis," she called. "It's for me."
    She pulled the door of the booth closed and picked up the receiver. "Hello."
    "Marja?" Ross's voice was thin through the receiver,
    "Yeah," she answered.
    "Ross," he said.
    "I know," she answered.
    ^'What are you doin'?" he asked.
    "Nothin'," she answered. "It's too hot."
    "Want to go for a ride?" he asked. "We'll go up Riverside Drive. It's cool there."
    "Okay," she said.
    "I'll pick you right up," he said quickly. "Wait there for me."
    "No—" She hesitated. "I gotta go home first an' change. My dress is soakin'. I'll meet yuh someplace."

    "At the garage," he said. "Eighty-third between Park an' Lex. WiU you be long?"
    "Half-hour," she said. "So long."
    "So long," he answered.
    She heard the click of his phone before she replaced the receiver. She came out of the booth.
    Mr. Rannis was standing there. He looked at her suspiciously. "Who was that?"
    "A friend," she answered noncommittally. She started toward the door.
    He put out a hand and stopped her. "How about a Milky Way?"
    She shook her head. "No, thanks." She started to move again, but his hand tightened on her arm.
    "I'm not askin' for money," he said.
    She smiled. "Wouldn't do you no good. I'm flat." She pulled her arm free. "Besides, I gotta go. My mother is expectin' me."
    Reluctantly he watched her go to the door. "Don't forget, Marja," he called. " 'f you want anything, all you gotta do is ask me."
    "Thanks, Mr. Rannis,"