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Page 281
a born organizer and administrator. I think I might go into garbage disposal or . . ."
Peter was staring at her with a kind of glaze over his eyes, and Linda poked him gently in the ribs.
"Or maybe TV," she said provocatively. "I wonder how I'd do on the production side. I guess I'd have a crack in the door to sneak in, since I have a relative involved."
"Donald!" Peter snarled, snapping back to life. "I forgot about him. What the hell were you two up to on the beach?"
"We were congratulating each other," Linda said blandly. "Donald told me he wants to marry a girl called Diane, and I told him I wanted to marry you."
"He was using you," Peter said angrily.
Linda laughed. "No more than I was using him. Even-Steven, Peter."
He still looked angry when he opened his mouth, but what came out was not another furious tirade, but a hearty laugh. Then, shocked by the sound, he sobered. "You certainly are a born administrator," he remarked. "You've administered a good dose of sense to me. It's all right, darling. You don't have to make any more horrid confessions. Aunt Em's dead, and I've accepted it."
"She isn't dead, Peter," Linda said softly, "only the bad part. All the good of her is alive in your memory and the general's and Mrs. Sotheby'seven in mine. I knew her just enough to want to know more."

 
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