Chapter 3

"Welcome, welcome, welcome, my dear!"

Randy Buck exclaims, his expression a benign smile, avuncular as he takes both her hands in his.

And Daisy looks at this suntanned bull of a man, with his iron grey crew cut, clad only in a short terrycloth robe, tied loosely at the waist, and rubber sandals.

"You'll pardon my appearance, I hope.

"We're very informal here and I was just sunbathing in the back yard.

"Where," he continues, retaining her hands in his but looking now at Cranston, "I understand we're soon to have a vegetable garden under your expert care and keeping."

"Well, I'm no expert or anything like that," Daisy replies, modestly, but I do have somewhat of a green thumb."

"Then the midwest's loss is my gain," Buck says, affably, releasing her hands.

"I can only hope and pray the nation's agriculture will survive the absence of your services."

"Pardon?"

"Bit of a joke. Never mind.

"Cranston will show you to your quarters.

"And once again, welcome aboard."

"Thank you... oh."

"Something else?"

"Could I call my folks an tell 'em I got here okay an all?

"I kin reverse the charges, if—"

"That won't be necessary, my dear.

"Help yourself to the phone in your bedroom, anytime you wish.

"Anything else you may require, I can have Eric run you over to the nearest town.

"Run along now.

"I leave you in Cranston's able hands." And Buck leaves them in the grand entrance hall, at the foot of the marble staircase, disappearing into his den to the left.

Daisy looks all around herself, even up at the high, vaulted, ornately coffered ceiling as they ascend the stairs.

"Never been in no palace b'fore."

"Mansion," Cranston corrects.

"Only the nobility live in palaces, and there are none here.

"Even though Randy is the monarch of all he surveys."

"Like a king, right?"

"Exactly."

"And other women live here?"

"Not, not at the moment.

"For now, you are the mistress of the house."

"Mistress?"

"Certainly. The reigning female, if only by default."

"Oh. Fer a minute there, I thought you meant— something else."

"Such as?

"Oh, here we are. Your room."

"Wow! Place like this, I could be a mistress, just like in them romance novels!"

"A veritable paperback princess, eh?" Cranston chuckles.

"Girls down home used ta read them things all the time.

"Pass 'em around I school 'til they plumb fell apart.

"An this, this place is just like one of them great houses we were always readin' about."

"And did they... inspire you?"

"I don't think I could ever do what some of them girls in them books did."

"Oh? Too shy? Too modest?"

"No. Leastways, I don't think so.

"Ain't that s'much as 'tis the things that drove 'em, which I just don't understand.

"Blindin' ambition, urgent desire an suchlike."

"I hope you'll not be offended, uh, Daisy, but may I ask if you've ever been... with a man."

"Oh now, don't choo fret none about that, Cranston!

"Cain't hardly be raised on no farm the way I was 'thout some knowledge of the birds an the bees rubbin' off."

"Ah, yes.

"But the question is, what did you do about it? After all, as you say, urgent desire as a concept eludes you."

She smiles knowingly.

"Desire, yes; curiosity, well, that there's a horse of a different color, ain't it now?"

"Indeed.

"And I am delighted to hear you say that."

"Why is that?"

"May I speak frankly?"

"Go 'haid. Aft'all, you got me this, this—"

"Position."

"Right. I was just gonna say that."

"Randy is still single and not getting any younger, Daisy."

"An he's not, uh, seem anybody at the moment?"

"Exactly.

"Listen. What you said before about ambition, do you really not understand it?"

"Well now, it's not lack of understandin' so much as it is—was—the way it just didn't apply back then."

"I thought as much.

"But here, now, looking around you, wouldn't you like to be more than just the gardener?

"Don't you see an opportunity here?"

She looks at him a long moment.

"Should I?" she asks.

"That depends. How far would you be willing to go to become mistress of the Estate in more than the mere default sense?

"And before you answer, think about Randy, about this place, and how you'd feel if, say, another woman were to appear, a woman closer to Randy in wealth, in age, in social status?

"Oh, you need not say anything to me.

"But think that over.

"Think about how... unnecessary such a development would be.

"Especially if you've got what it takes and you know how to use it.

"As the song goes, the birds and the bees do it, and for a lot less by way of reward than you could, if you play your cards right."

"And, uh, you'll help me?"

"Certainly."

"Why?"

He shrugs.

"Self interest, ultimately, I suppose.

"Things are going very well with Buck Enterprises.

"The last thing Randy needs is to have some scheming harridan appear on the scene and ruin his life, turning everything upside down."

"I wouldn't do that."

"I know you wouldn't. That's exactly why I think you'd be so good for him.

"Give him the things a man wants and needs from a woman and not ask to see the financial statements or the bank books, except, of course, for your own account, which you could certainly rely upon him to keep well stocked.

"Think you could do that?

"Think you could take such good care of Randy that he wouldn't be tempted to look elsewhere?"

"This is all comin' a mite fast at me.

"Never thought of anythin' like this 'fore this very instant."

"Tell you what.

"You get unpacked, get settled in, take a look out at the garden shed, the garden plot, see what's needed, and I'll have Eric run you over to the nursery to get whatever you need.

"I'll also give you an advance so you can get yourself some clothes and whatever else you personally require.

"Eric takes care of the laundry, we have a housekeeper for meals and ordinary housework, a landscaping service for the grounds.

"You can use the pool, the gym in the basement—all the facilities.

"And don't forget to call your folks."

"Gonna do that right now.

"And Cranston?"

"Yes?"

"Thanks. Thanks for ever'thang."

"Amazing," Cynthia muses.

"You see these aerial photographs?"

"Sure did," Nancy replies.

"And that cleared rectangle is either about to become a garden or it's one big case of overkill on the pretence."

"I agree. Can it be that Buck has turned over a new leaf?"

She looks at Nancy and Vanessa.

"Nah!" the three of them chorus. And laugh, briefly.

"And that's the girl, right?"

"Looks like. And right next to her is Cranston, pointing at something."

"Right. I'd know that bald spot anywhere."

"That was yesterday afternoon," Vanessa observes.

"And this one—" handing her another large photograph, "is from this morning."

And there is Daisy, laying out bags of fertilizer, hoe and spade and two kinds of rake laid out, ready.

And there, on a chaise, Buck himself, sitting there, watching her.

"Looks like he's gonna take it stow and easy with her," Cynthia says.

"I'd say so," Vanessa concurs.

"That, or he wants to actually get a garden put in before he moves on to fun and games.

"Check this afternoon's photo."

There are definite rows, regular furrows running this way and that, a kind of miniature landscape of a full-scale farm.

There are plants beside stakes over about a fourth of the plot, obviously an optimistic view of a tomato planting.

And there is Daisy, barefoot, wearing shorts and a halter as she uses a large sprinkling can.

The chaise, on the patio beside the plot, is empty.

"So far, so good," Cynthia says.

"All we can do is to wait for the other shoe to drop," Vanessa says.

"Wait and watch," Cynthia agrees.

"At least," Nancy says, "he's limiting his focus to a single victim, this time."

"Mmmm, I doubt that," Vanessa says.

"More likely, he's establishing a pattern.

"This girl and the situation he's putting her in could be a prototype.

"If it works, if it gives him the kicks he's looking for, we can look forward to a parade of others just like her, way I see it."

"Which," Cynthia appends, every inch the Baroness now, "is precisely what must not be allowed to happen.

"I'm half tempted to call Captain Reynolds over at the state police barracks right now."

"And tell him what, Cynthia?" Vanessa asks.

"That Randy Buck has went and hired himself a gardener?

"Granted, Reynolds is no friend of Buck's, not after pulling off that rescue mission of the three of us from the Estate, but really, just what do you think he can do about your suspicions?"

"Not a damned thing," Cynthia sighs.

And Nancy too sighs.

Thinking, Here we go. again.

Because it is only a matter of time before the three of them will once more have to go into action against Randy Buck.

Meaning, once again, that they will have to risk life and limb in order to undo his latest plot, as opposed to hitting at the obvious root of the problem.

Risking her life, all their lives, merely to treat a symptom, rather than curing the disease.

And there is nothing she can do about it.

Because Nancy is committed to Cynthia, no matter where that commitment leads her.

Which seems, invariably, to be into the utmost danger.

By the pool.

And Daisy looks fetching indeed, in her string bikini.

Randy Buck comes out to the pool as well, clad only in a terrycloth robe and sunglasses.

He watches her for a while, now swimming with strong, even strokes, now jack-knifing gracefully from the low board, which rattles as she leaves it, making a triangle of herself before straightening out and torpedoing smoothly into the water.