Midge Gette - The more the sexier

One of these days, you're going to have someone to wait on you!" His dark eyes, so like her own, held angry hurt. "That's what I want most," he said fiercely. "To make up to you and Dad for all you've done-all you've gone without-for me."

"Go to bed," she said, near tears. "When you have a family of your own, dear, you'll understand. You've always been a blessing, son, never a burden."

His mouth twisted in a smile. "You're all the family I'll ever want or need," he said. "I'm going to be an old bachelor like Nate."

"Yes, yes," she said. "I've heard that before. Now off with you and no more talk. And tomorrow just have fun, for a change."

With that girl along? his mind questioned. Fat chance.

Sharon had difficulty in getting to sleep. It troubled her that she had been so quick to doubt the purity of motives in the Harrows tonight, to have suspected them of ulterior motives in their extension of friendship to her and her uncle. They were not that kind of people, she acknowledged now. No matter how great was their desire to further their son's ambitions, they would not stoop to subterfuge in their dealings with others.

As for their son, she supposed now that there was nothing wrong with his seeking support for his project, and certainly Uncle

Nate had given him every encouragement. It hurt a little to think that her uncle had known of the project even before John Harrow arrived and said nothing to her, although he had more or less apologized for this neglect when they reached home.

"I thought I'd just wait till we had a chance to see him for ourselves. I really had no doubts we would like him. I do, immensely, don't you?" Uncle Nate had said.

"He's all right, I guess," she had replied. "But, really, Uncle Nate, you're not doing what we agreed on at all. I hope you haven't made him any rash promises behind my back."

"Oh, no. It will be a shared decision, but I can think of no reason for objection. A wholly worthwhile project and a good investment. That last part bothers me, though. The idea isn't to make more money but to get rid of what we've got."

"Yes. But you can't just go around giving medical centers away to every young doctor with big ideas!"

"I thought we might make them a present of a well-equipped laboratory," he had said coaxingly.

She could not explain even to herself now, lying sleepless, why she had expressed er-self so strongly against such a gift. She felt miserably confused. It was one thing to talk about giving money away but quite another to do it, she reflected. And it frightened her that being so involved in her uncle's wealth might be changing her, too. It was just possible she was no more unaffected by it than her family, when it came right down to it.

She thrashed about, wishing once again that the Harrows had not had a son. The evening had ended up with him not liking her, which was nothing new in her experience but not very helpful in her present dilemma. She could, of course, just wash her hands of any interest in Uncle Nate's financial dealings. All she wanted was the new cottage and a nice, comfortable life with him, with no John Harrows or any greedy others to be always worrying about.

She still felt angry about the trouble she had gone to, to look her best. Had she started changing in that moment when she saw the dress downtown and let Uncle Nate buy it for her? It was beautiful and expensive. Sally had just raved about it and how she, Sharon, looked in it. All she'd wanted to do, she told herself, was to achieve a sense of well-being to offset the awkwardness that always attended any meeting of young men.

He had, she remembered, looked at her with interest at first. Almost as though he felt awkward-no, not awkward, but nervously aware of her. It had made her feel very adult, almost sophisticated. But not for long. The minute he started the talk about what he wanted, all the looks he had given her had been sharp and almost defiant-antagonistic. Well, she thought, if he had any sense he would not antagonize her! After all, if she were against the investment, young Dr. John might very well find himself out in the cold!

She rolled over on her stomach and buried her face in her arms, shocked at herself. Wave upon wave of sick shame burned through her. Oh, God, she pleaded, thoroughly frightened, don't let me be like that. Don't let the money change me into another Debbie. Let him have his old clinic-anything, just so I can stay free of this awful feeling.

There were unaccustomed tears on her cheeks when sleep claimed her at last, but she had survived her first battle with corrupting power, and was able to look herself in the eye when she awoke to the shrill summons of the alarm clock. For a moment she could not remember why she had set it for such an early hour, and then, remembering swiftly, lay wondering if she should redeem herself for her unworthy thoughts of the night before by letting John Harrow drive off in the wonderful new automobile.

She was repentant, but not that repentant, she decided. And Uncle Nate did need her along for-well, protection. She dressed carelessly to play down the care she had taken the previous night, and to prove to herself that impressing John Harrow was the last thing in her mind. The hair Sally had so beautifully arranged was tied back with a length of red ribbon, and the jeans she donned were old and faded, the shirttail flapping, one she had once swiped from Dwayne. Scuffed loafers completed her outfit. She went downstairs on the run, headed for the kitchen and food.

"Well, all ready, I see," Uncle Nate greeted her from the big kitchen range, where he had breakfast started. The electric percolator made a bright morning sound.

"How would you like your eggs?" he asked.

"Morning." She smiled. "Let me help."

"No, just sit, my dear. First real chance I've had to try out this range. It's a beauty. I told Mrs. Upstead last night we'd be going out early and not to bother Brownie, so we have the kitchen to ourselves."

"Gee, won't it be great when we have our own place?" She straddled a chair, watched his deft movements. "I can hardly wait," she sighed.

"Well, it won't be long. The workmen should start laying the foundation

tomorrow."

"Uncle Nate," she said, scowling, "are you mad at me?"

He swung around, spatula in midair. "Perish the thought! Should I be?"

"I was a pain in the neck last night," she told him. "All mixed up again. You go ahead and do what you want about the lab-about everything. The sooner we quit being rich the better I'll feel."

"Bothers you, does it?"

"Scares me. Power corrupts," she said darkly.

He choked on a bit of bacon he was sampling. "I suppose it does," he managed. He brought their breakfast plates to the table. "It's going to be another lovely day," he remarked. "And there's nothing like fishing to take our minds off material things, so eat up and let's be on our way."

She wished they were going alone, but refrained from saying so. "Whatever you do," she said, "don't forget your hat. You know how easily you burn. And it wouldn't hurt to take along a sweater. It won't really be a lovely day till the sun gets higher."

"A hat and sweater, I'll remember," he said obediently. "You're getting a nice tan already, my dear."

"Oh, I'll be brown as an Indian before summer's over. I always am."

Dr. Harrow took one look at Sharon and decided he must have been just tired the night before. Why, she was nothing but a kid, and a kind of cute one at that! He piled fishing gear and a huge picnic basket onto the back seat and climbed into the front beside Uncle Nate. "I haven't been fishing in years," he told them, and waved to his parents, who watched from the doorway.

"Have a good time," his mother called.