The waiter brought the drinks and muffins, and Dennie smiled around him at Victoria, exuding honesty and charm as fast and as hard as she could so Victoria would be bowled over by her openness.
“You’re like Alec,” Victoria said when the waiter had gone, and Dennie thought for a minute that she might be still doing her vague act. “He charms the socks off people, too, and then they wonder why they trusted him. It’s because he does the fake openness so well. Everything about him says, ‘Trust me on this,’ and the whole time he has an agenda.”
“I just said I had an agenda,” Dennie protested.
Victoria picked up a muffin and split it with her knife. “Yes, but you said it with such charm, you knew I’d be disarmed.” She buttered it calmly and then took a bite. “I’m not. You’re up to something. What do you want?”
Dennie picked up a muffin to buy time. Blueberry, she noticed when she split it open. She hated blueberry. Bad omen. “I’m a reporter,” she said. Might as well get the bad news over with first.
“That’s a relief,” Victoria said. “Until you insulted Brian Bond at the dinner table last night, we thought you were a thief.” She polished off the first half of her muffin with a great deal of zest. “I’m fairly sure there are about three hundred fat grams in each of these. I plan on having at least one more.”
“You thought I was a thief?” Dennie said. “You thought I was working with Bondman?”
Victoria poked through the muffin basket. “There must be another blueberry in here.”
Dennie handed her plate over. “Alec thought I was a thief?”
“Thank you,” Victoria said, taking the plate. “He hated it. I’ve never seen him more reluctant to arrest anybody.”
“The son of a bitch,” Dennie said conversationally. “At one point, I actually considered sleeping with him.”
Victoria shoved the muffin basket at her. “Well, consider it again. He’s very sweet, and he seems quite taken with you.”
“You want me to sleep with somebody who’s going to put me in jail?” Dennie shook her head. “I don’t think so.”
“I’ll tell him not to now.” Victoria polished off the last of her first muffin and started on Dennie’s. “So you’re a reporter. What does that have to do with me?”
Dennie shoved Alec aside for the moment and went back to Plan Z, the one Victoria had forced on her, honesty. “I want you to get me an interview with Janice Meredith,” Dennie said, and Victoria said, “No,” without missing a beat.
“See, this is why I do the charming bit,” Dennie said, exasperated. “When I stick to charming, people say yes. If I tell the truth, people say no.”
Victoria frowned, obviously considering the situation, and Dennie went back to the muffin basket. Orange-coconut. Much better. She reached over and swiped Victoria’s empty plate and began to butter.
“Why should I?” Victoria said. “She’s my friend. She’s going through a terrible time. Why should I turn you loose on her?”
“Because she’s going to have to do an interview sooner or later,” Dennie said, trying to be reasonable. Victoria should be able to figure this stuff out for herself. “And I’m on her side. I admire her. I’m changing my whole life because of what she said in the restaurant. I really do want to help her.” Victoria looked unconvinced, so Dennie moved on to logic. “That fool Tallie Gamble will be talking to every rag in the country. All Janice needs to do is give one preemptive interview and she’ll spike Tallie’s guns good. If she’d talk to me right away, she could even be the one to announce the divorce. It just makes sense.”
“Not to somebody who’s supposed to be an expert on marriage.” Victoria stopped inhaling muffins and sipped her coffee, slower now, more thoughtful. “This is a large helping of crow, and you want her to serve it to herself?”
“She’s an expert on relationships,” Dennie said. “Sometimes those end. That’s one of the things I wanted to talk to her about. I found this wonderful quote from Margaret Mead. Somebody asked her how she explained the failure of her marriages, and she said, ‘What failure? I had three marriages and none of them were failures.’ Think what Janice could do with that.”
Victoria looked intrigued but not convinced so Dennie plowed on. “Besides, she’s the one going around talking about risking and then hiding behind the cops. If she really believes in risking, I’m her best bet. I believe in her.”
Victoria pushed her plate away. “What cops?”
“She’s threatened to have me arrested for stalking,” Dennie said. “That’s why I needed Alec to get to you, and you to get to her. So I wouldn’t be stalking her.”
“So you were using Alec to get Janice, while Alec was using you to get Bond.” Victoria grinned. “I like that. It’s tidy.”
“Victoria, concentrate,” Dennie said, and Victoria said, “Eat your muffin and listen to me.”
Dennie sighed, and prepared to be patient while she chewed.
“Janice has built her entire career on understanding how marriage works.” Victoria spoke carefully, as if she were arguing with herself, presenting points. “Charles isn’t just leaving her for a younger woman, he’s taking her career with him. Women like Janice and me have given up a great deal for our careers, and we don’t regret it.” She stopped, as if she were a little surprised. “I don’t, you know. I fulfilled any maternal needs I had taking care of Alec and Andy in the summers. I don’t regret one minute of my life.”
Dennie nodded, still chewing, not sure how Victoria’s summers had gotten into her interview, but too far in to back out now.
“But even without regrets, we aren’t willing to see that kind of power taken away from us.” Victoria straightened a little. “It’s taken us forty years to get where we are today. That’s something neither one of us is going to give up without a fight.”
“Why?” Dennie said.
Victoria blinked at her. “Did you hear anything I said?”
“Everything.” Dennie put the rest of her muffin down, the better to do battle. “Did you listen to yourself? You said the two of you have worked really hard to get where you are. Well, I know that. Everybody knows that. It’s documented. You’re published, people already know, you don’t have to prove it anymore. In fact, proving it is redundant.”
“That’s not the point—” Victoria began, and Dennie cut her off.
“That’s exactly the point. You’ve arrived. You’ve done that. What are you going to do now, just sit where you are and congratulate yourselves on having made the trip?” Dennie leaned closer, saying all the things to Victoria she meant to say later to Janice. “This is her chance to move on, to grow more instead of just resting where she is, digging herself in. She said it herself, if she’s not risking, she’s not growing.”
Victoria swallowed. “Easy to say.”
“I don’t see that she has any choice, really.” Dennie sat back. “She can try to pretend that nothing’s changed and live the rest of her life blind and alone, or she can realize she’s got a brand-new life ahead of her and embrace it no matter how rocky it is at first. And since she’s a smart, tough woman who’s come a long way in her life, I don’t see her choosing to be blind for long. I wouldn’t be surprised if she hadn’t been feeling uneasy long before this.”
“You’re right,” Victoria said, a faraway look in her eye. “I have been.”
Dennie blinked and kept going, sweeping Victoria along with her. “Stephen Sondheim said, ‘If you know where you’re going, you’ve gone. Move on.’ Seems to me Janice Meredith has known where she’s been going for too long. I bet her husband sensed it. I bet he bailed before she could.”
“What did you do, memorize Bartlett’s Familiar Quotations before breakfast?” Victoria asked a little more tartly than the conversation called for.
“I’ve been researching for this interview like crazy,” Dennie said. “I am prepared to get the greatest interview of all time. This is going to make my career, and it’s not entirely selfish. This could be a
great thing for Janice. This could make her not look like a loser, this could help her recover her balance. If she moves first, she’s not the victim here, she’s the smart one, the classy one. You know the psychologist Erich Fromm? He gave a lecture once, and a student held up his hand and said, ‘But Professor Fromm, ten years ago you said A and now you’re saying B.’ And Fromm said, ‘Are you sure I said A?’ and the student nodded, and Fromm said, ‘Well, I was wrong.’ Isn’t that the classiest thing you’ve ever heard? Don’t you respect Fromm even more for coming out and saying it?” Dennie realized she was leaning over the table, almost flattening Victoria with her intensity, so she sat back. “I’m just giving Janice Meredith the chance to be a class act. She doesn’t even have to say, ‘I was wrong.’ She just has to say, ‘There’s more to learn.’ ”
Victoria sat there frozen, and just when Dennie was going to ask if she was all right, she realized that Victoria’s eyes were full of tears. Dennie sat dumbfounded for a moment before she moved to the chair beside her and handed her one of the damask napkins. “What did I say? I’m sorry.”
Victoria took the napkin and dabbed at her eyes and then blew her nose on it. “You’re right. You’re absolutely right. Everything you said. There is more to learn. And I have known where I was going for too long. It’s just really frightening, giving it all up and starting over.”
“No kidding,” Dennie said. “My job’s on the line here, and I can’t afford to lose it. But I can’t stay where I’ve been either. That’s why I need this interview.”
“All right.” Victoria gave one final sniff and shoved the napkin down next to her plate. “You’re right. I’m seeing her this afternoon. I’ll talk to her then.”
Victoria stood, and Dennie felt a spurt of panic. “Listen, be careful, please. This woman is very serious about having me arrested.”
“Janice would never do that,” Victoria said.
“I think I may see a different side of her than you do,” Dennie said. “And I’m fairly sure it’s important to my career that I stay out of the slammer.”
“Risking is everything,” Victoria said, and headed for the door, and Dennie put her head down on the table and prayed that this was one risk that was going to pay off.
“I don’t know what’s holding up those checks I asked for,” Alec told Harry an hour later in his room. “I already know what the one on Dennie is going to say, but I’d be a lot happier if I knew the status of that land Bond’s selling.”
“Do you ever get tired of this?” Harry said.
“Hell, yes,” Alec said. “I was about finished on the road anyway when you grabbed me. Too damn many nights sitting alone in dumpy hotel rooms with a bottle of Jack Daniel’s in one hand, trying to remember who I was pretending to be. I just miss—” He stopped in time, remembering that telling his boss he missed being in charge might be taken as a hint he wanted Harry’s job. Which he did, but he didn’t want to lose Harry either. Seven years to retirement, Harry said, but nobody believed he’d retire then. Oh, well. If he had to work for somebody, he’d pick Harry every time.
Evidently Harry hadn’t noticed Alec’s hesitation. “I’ve done this all my life,” he said. “This is who I am.”
Alec scowled at him. “It is not. You are not a computer bureaucrat, and you know it. What’s gotten into you?”
Harry shrugged. “Nothing. Are you sure we’re set for Bond?”
“No,” Alec said. “I just told you. The last of the checks haven’t come in. Are you all right?”
Harry scowled at him, “It’s all this waiting around. I get too much time on my hands, and I start to think.”
“Well, there’s your problem,” Alec said. “You’re too old to start doing new things.”
Harry snarled and stomped out of the room.
“That was a joke, Harry,” Alec called after him, but Harry had already slammed the door.
By two-thirty that afternoon, Dennie was exhausted from a combination of no sleep the night before, worry about Victoria and Janice, and a steady loss of energy as she focused everything she had on Bond to convince him that she was really, really on his side after all. She’d explained her skepticism, offered her willingness to be convinced, listened to the story of his childhood, his dreams, his hopes, and slurped down two daiquiris in the hour and a half she’d been romancing the con. If nothing else, she’d have a great personal essay: “My Drunken Afternoon with a Land Shark.”
“So, tell me more about your work.” Dennie smiled shyly at him over the remains of her daiquiri. “It must be fascinating. Real estate, I mean.”
Bond looked wary. Dennie’s smile widened, and he looked less wary.
“Victoria is so excited about the investment, and you’re so honest, I just have to give up all my skepticism. I think the Prentice compound is just a darling idea, and it’s so clever of you to have thought of it.” Dennie gazed admiringly at him through her lashes. “Tell me all about it.”
Another daiquiri later, Dennie was ready to throw up, but she had her story, or at least a good start on it. She needed more information, but not this afternoon. She’d had all of Brian Bond, God’s gift to women, that she could stomach, not to mention all of the daiquiris one woman could drink without barfing in a bar, and now she needed to brush her teeth, type her notes before she forgot them, and get some sleep before dinner with Alec the Rat.
“This has been so fascinating.” Dennie slid off her stool, and her feet hit the ground with more impact than she’d been planning. Great. She’d had too much to drink. Time for a fast exit. “Maybe we could meet again. Tonight at dinner? I want to know everything about the Keys.”
Bond’s arm slid around her as he stood up. “How about tonight after dinner? Once Alec is in bed—”
“I’m sorry.” Dennie tried to slide away. “Alec gets so jealous. I can’t.”
Evidently emboldened by his own daiquiris, Bond swooped down on her and kissed her, sliding his tongue in her mouth before she could clamp her lips shut.
His tongue reminded her of a raw oyster, but she managed not to gag, staying with the kiss while thinking about how much she wanted this story. This was her backup if Janice Meredith failed her. A woman couldn’t have too many stories. Think of the stories.
When he and his tongue called it quits so he could breathe, she stepped back.
“Brian, you animal,” she said, and shook her finger at him, trying hard not to spit. “I can’t trust you at all.”
He smiled back, debonairly, and she felt like gagging again. No wonder she’d never gone for the tough interviews before. You had to have a stomach of steel to get them. She backed away, wiggling her fingers playfully at him, and then staggered out the door.
Alec was in the lobby, his arms folded in front of him, looking really unhappy with her.
This was the rat who had planned to arrest her even while he was kissing her on her own bed. No-good rat.
He looked really good for a no-good rat.
Dennie walked toward him, trying very carefully not to be unsteady. “Stop looking at me like that,” she told him when she reached him. “I know he’s awful. I’m just trying to find out about this swamp he’s trying to sell you. Although you’re such a rat, I should let him sell it to you.”
Alec perked up a little and took her arm to steady her. “You have no taste in men,” he said. “Also you’re drunk.”
“Right both times,” she said. “I think I’ll go back to my room and pass out.”
“I’ll come with you,” he said. “You need somebody to chaperone you back to your room in case you decide to pick up a bellboy.”
“And the chaperone is you?” Dennie shook her head. “I don’t think so.”
“You don’t think at all.” Alec steered her to the elevator bank and punched the button for her floor. “I can’t believe you actually touched that guy with your mouth.” He looked at her as if waiting for a reaction, and she stuck her tongue out at him. “You got any mouthwash?” he said.
“He has a tongue like a raw oyster.” Dennie’s mouth scrunched up at the memory.
The elevator doors opened, and Alec gave her a gentle shove. “That I did not need to know.”
“You can’t imagine how awful it was.”
“I don’t want to imagine. Could we change the subject?”
The elevator doors had closed, and they were leaning against the red velvet back wall when Dennie realized that she had only half the story, the Bond half. To get the whole nine yards, she needed Alec’s side too. She looked at him out of the corner of her eye. He looked relaxed. What the hell. After all, her technique had worked beautifully on Bond. She turned her head and looked deep into Alec’s eyes. “At least Bond told me what he does for a living. You’ve never done that. What do I have to do to get that out of you?”
“Oh, yeah, he told you what he does—” Alec began, and then she stretched up and kissed him.
Her neck felt boneless, partly because of the multiple daiquiris and partly because kissing Alec always made her feel boneless. And since kissing him was at the moment a professional obligation, she put her back into it, arching and sliding against him with a liquid grace that made him first clutch at her, and then slide his hands down to her rear and pull her close to him while his tongue stroked her mouth and she drowned in his kiss.
“God, you kiss beautifully,” she said, moments later, trying to remember why she was playing with fire. “Is that what you do for a living? Kiss?”
“No,” Alec said, dazed. “Although I’m considering it now. This is great.” He bent his head to her again, and she ducked gracefully away.
“So what do you do?” she asked, struggling to get her breathing under control.
“I—” Alec began, and then stopped, a grin breaking slowly across his face. “Please, God, let this be happening. Don’t let it be a lie.”