Tender Triumph

Ramon went over to the liquor cabinet and poured drinks for himself and Miguel. "It is not quite as lethal to Green as it sounds to you. My friend in Paris had already told me he'd decided against using Green's paint because it was too ex­pensive; I was the one who had put him in touch with Green nine years ago. The problem with the fading paint was because it was incorrectly applied by his factory personnel, but of course he has no in­tention of mentioning that to the press."

He carried the glasses over to Miguel and handed him his. "The farm-equipment manufacturer in Germany will wait one day after the Paris press an­nouncement before calling Green and threatening to cancel his order because of what he saw in the Paris press."

Ramon shoved his hands in his pockets and grinned at Miguel, a cigar clamped between his white teeth. "Unfortunately for Green, his paint is no longer superior; other American manufacturers have since produced an equally good product. My friend in Tokyo will respond to the Paris press an­nouncement by stating to the Tokyo press that they have never used Green's paint so they have no trou­ble with their automobiles' finish fading.

"On Thursday, Demetrios Vasiladis will call from Athens and cancel all orders for marine paint for all of his shipyards."

Ramon took a swallow of his drink, sat down behind his desk and began loading papers into his briefcase that he would go over tonight after he left Katie.

Intrigued, Miguel leaned forward on the edge of his chair. "And then what?"

Ramon glanced up as if the matter had lost its interest. "Then it is anyone's guess. I expect that the other American paint manufacturers who make an equally good product will take up the sword and do their best to demolish Green in the American press. Depending upon how effective they are, the adverse publicity will probably drive down the value of Green's stock on the stock exchange."

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Early Thursday morning, Miguel was going over the financial statement he had prepared with Ra­mon, when Elise entered Ramon's office without her customary knock.

"Excuse me," she said, her face pale and stony. "There is a man—a very rude man—on the tele­phone. I have told him twice that you cannot be interrupted, but as soon as I hang up the telephone he calls back and starts shouting at me again."

"What does he want?" Ramon said impatiently.

The secretary swallowed apprehensively. "He— he wants to talk to the dirty bastard who is trying to put some green paint down his drain. Do you—is that you?"

Ramon's lips twitched. "I believe so. Put him through."

Eagerly, Miguel leaned forward. Ramon flipped on the phone's external speaker, then relaxed back in his chair, picked up the financial statements he had been reading, and calmly continued to study them.

Sidney Green's voice exploded through the room. "Galverra, you bastard! You're wasting your time, do you hear me? No matter what you do, I'm not paying one dime of that three million. Have you got that? No matter what you do!" When there was no response, Green shouted, "Say something, damn you!"

"I admire your courage," Ramon drawled.

"Is that your way of telling me you plan more guerrilla tactics? Is it? Are you threatening me, Galverra?"

"I am certain I would never be so crude as to 'threaten' you, Sid," Ramon replied in a bland, pre­occupied voice.

"Damn you, you are threatening me! Who the hell do you think you are?"

"I think I am the bastard who is going to cost you twelve million dollars," Ramon said and, with that, he reached out a hand and disconnected the call.

Katie quickly signed her name to the charge slip for one-half the cost of the furniture she had just purchased, then paid for the rest with some of the money Ramon had left for her. The salesclerk gave her an odd look when she asked for two receipts, each for one-half the actual amount of the purchase. Katie firmly ignored it, but Gabriella blushed and looked away.

Outside, the temperature was deliciously warm, and tourists were strolling along the sun-drenched streets of Old San Juan. The car was parked at the curb; a battered but reliable old automobile that belonged to Gabriella's husband, and which he was allowing them to use for their shopping expeditions.

"We're doing great," Katie sighed, rolling down her window to let the breeze into the stuffy car. It was Thursday already, the fourth day of their frenetic, but successful shopping spree, and she was happily exhausted. "I wish I could get over this feeling that there's something I'm forgetting, though," she mused, glancing over her shoulder at the two lamps and an end table that were crammed into the back seat. "There is."

Gabriella's pretty face was concerned as she turned the key in the ignition and shot Katie a rueful smile. "You are forgetting to tell Ramon the truth about how much this is costing." She pulled into the stream of downtown San Juan traffic. "Katie, he will be very angry with you when he dis­covers what you have done."

"He isn't going to discover it," Katie announced cheerfully. "I'm not going to tell him and you promised you wouldn't."

"Of course I will not!" Gabriella said with a hurt look. "But Padre Gregorio has spoken many times on Sundays about the need for truth between a hus­band and—"

"Oh, no!" Katie moaned aloud. "That's what I forgot." She leaned her head back and closed her eyes. "Today is Thursday, and at two o'clock this afternoon I was to meet with Padre Gregorio. Ra­mon made the arrangements on Tuesday and re­minded me this morning, but I completely forgot about it."

"Do you want to see the padre now?" Gabriella offered an hour later as their car rattled into the village. "It is only four o'clock. Padre Gregorio will not be having his evening meal yet."

Katie quickly shook her head. She had been think­ing all day about the picnic she and Ramon were going to have up at the cottage tonight. She was to bring the food up there where he was working with the other men. When the men left, Katie and Ramon were going to have a few hours alone—their first in the four days since she had arrived.

When they reached Gabriella's house, Katie slid behind the steering wheel, waved goodbye to Gabriella, and turned the dilapidated old car back toward the village where she could stop in the general store for food and a bottle of wine for the picnic.

These past four days had a strange, unreal quality for her. Ramon had been working at the farm in Mayaguez in the mornings, and at the cottage in the afternoons until it was dark, so she only saw him in the evenings. She spent her days shopping and plan­ning and choosing color schemes for Ramon's house with only her idea of Ramon's tastes to guide her. She felt as if she were on a vacation, earning her way by redecorating his house—rather than planning for her own home. Perhaps it was because he was so busy and she saw so little of him, and when they were together there were always other people near­by.

Rafael and his sons were also working up at the cottage with Ramon, and at dinner every night the four men were cheerful, but plainly worn-out. Al­though Ramon lavished her with his attention in the evening, keeping her near him while they sat in the friendly atmosphere of Rafael's living room with the rest of his family, the "time and place to share ourselves with each other" so far had not presented itself.

Each evening, Ramon walked her back to Gabri­ella's darkened house, led her

over to the sofa, and drew her down beside him.

By now, Katie could hardly pass that sofa in the daylight without feeling her face grow warm. For three nights in a row, Ramon had tenderly stripped her of most of her clothing, aroused her until she could hardly stand it, gently dressed her again, walked her back to the bedroom, and silently bade her good-night with a final, passionate kiss. And each night Katie crawled beneath the cool sheets of her temporary bed in a state of aching, unfulfilled desire, which she was beginning to think was pre­cisely what Ramon intended her to feel. Yet there was no doubt in her mind that he was always more aroused then even she was, so it made no sense for him to put them both through this torture.

Last night, in a welter of confusion and desire, Katie had taken matters into her own hands and volunteered to get the blanket from her bed so that they could go outdoors where there would be privacy and no fear of interruption.

Ramon had gazed down at her with eyes like fiery black coals, his face hard and dark with passion. But he had reluctantly shaken his head. "The rain will interrupt us, Katie. It has been threatening for the last hour." Even as he spoke a flash of heat lightning cast an eerie glow through the room. But it had not rained.

Tonight, no doubt, was the "time and place" he had been waiting for, Katie decided, and she was charged with anticipation. Katie pulled the car over in front of the general store and climbed out. Push­ing open the heavy door, she walked into the crowd­ed interior of the ancient building, blinking her eyes to adjust to the light.

Besides doubling as the village post office, the general store stocked everything from flour and canned goods to bathing suits to inexpensive pieces of furniture. Stacks of merchandise covered the wooden floors with only a narrow aisle between them for customers to walk through. The counters were heaped with goods, as were the shelves high along all the walls. Without the assistance of some­one who worked there, it would have taken Katie and Gabriella weeks to dig their way through every­thing.