The Importance of Being Alice

by Katie MacAlister

  The Japanese schoolgirls giggled. Even the teachers snickered.

  “Mr. Ainslie, much as I appreciate your comments on the history of the cathedral, I should point out that I have given this tour many times, and I am fully qualified to do so again today.” Tiffany held up a pamphlet that had been heavily highlighted and annotated.

  “Then I’m sure you’re ready for a break,” Deidre said smoothly, actually batting her eyelashes at Elliott. Thankfully, he was looking at Tiffany, and didn’t see such a shameless act of hussitude.

  “I’m so sorry about this,” Laura said softly next to me. “I tried to talk to her, but for some reason, she has set her sights on him, and refuses to admit that her actions are not at all reasonable.”

  “Not to mention the fact that Elliott here has a much bigger guidebook,” Deidre cooed, putting her hand over his to hold up the (admittedly quite thick) guidebook that Elliott had picked up in the gift shop. “It’s even in German. That has to be more authentic than an English abridged version, don’t you think?”

  “Oh, dear,” Laura said, glancing worriedly over at me.

  I smiled, fully committed to hanging on to my temper. Just because Elliott and I had become a bit more than mere roomies didn’t mean I had to act like Jealous McJealouson. Deidre could maul poor Elliott all she wanted—within reason, of course—and I wasn’t going to so much as bat an eyelash. “It’s fine, don’t worry about it. Elliott and I are both aware that she’s got the hots for him, so it’s not like she’s going to have any effect. Or at least, not the one she desires.”

  “I can assure you that there is nothing the least lacking in the tours that we provide,” Tiffany meanwhile said huffily, and went into an explanation of all the research she’d done on the cathedral to make her qualified to talk about it.

  “I have to admit,” I said sotto voce to Laura, who was standing with me at the back of our little group, “I’m kind of with Anthony on this. I’d rather just wander around and see the cathedral without all the facts and lengths and widths and discussion of architectural types used.”

  “To be honest, I’m with you,” Laura said with a little smile. “I’d much rather just soak in places like this. I mean, does knowing how and when the cathedral was built make you appreciate it any more?” She waved a hand at the high vaulted ceiling, which was indescribably gorgeous. “Not that I mean any insult to Elliott, of course. He’s obviously one of those people who values structured learning.”

  “You should see how he folds his socks and underwear,” I told her as Deidre and Tiffany squared off. Elliott, I noticed, was reading a text message. “The man’s downright anal when it comes to those things. I suppose it’s that attention to detail that makes him a very good writer.”

  “I suppose so.” Laura gave me a conspiratorial nudge of the elbow. “I bet that’s an excellent cover for a spy.”

  Elliott suddenly announced, “My apologies, ladies. I have a call I must take. Tiffany, I’m sure you will do very well guiding everyone. If you will excuse me . . .” He hurried past us with an abstracted look on his face that had me wondering what was up.

  “I wonder if that was his mother?” I asked absently.

  “Is she ill?”

  “No, just . . . kind of funny, actually.” I shook away the need to rush after Elliott and make sure everything was OK in his world. I wasn’t really his girlfriend, and didn’t have the right—or desire—to push myself into his life.

  “You know,” Laura said, the group moving off to look at a famous painting. We trailed behind, our steps lagging. I half hoped Tiffany would forget about us and just let us wander around. “You know, if I was a spy, I’d use a busy place like the cathedral here to meet up with my contacts.”

  “Yeah, I suppose it would be a good cover.” I looked around. There were hundreds of tourists all over the place, some in guided tours, others viewing various nooks and crannies, and still others sitting with blissful looks of relief on their faces. Guess we weren’t the only tourists who got tired feet. “With all these people, who’d notice if two of them came together for a few minutes?” Laura was silent for a few seconds. I caught her eye, and asked, “You’re not thinking what I’m thinking, are you?”

  “I wager I am.” An impish look came into her eye. “Are you game?”

  I thought for a moment or two. “I shouldn’t. I mean, it’s kind of . . . underhanded.”

  “Covert,” she corrected. “But of course, if it would make you uncomfortable, then I wouldn’t dream of going through with it.”

  I bit my lower lip. The truth was, I was fairly itching to know what was so important that it stopped Elliott in midstatistics. “Well . . . oh, what the hell. So long as he doesn’t see us, it won’t be an issue, right?”

  “Oh, this is so exciting!” Laura said as we both turned and hurried back toward the entrance. “I’ve always wanted to be a private detective, you know. I positively consume mystery books! I’ve watched ever so many American shows about that sort of thing, and I’m quite sure that we won’t be seen. Which way, do you think?”

  By that time we’d emerged into the sunshine. As we were coming from the dark into the brilliant light and buffeted by folks who were entering the cathedral, it took a moment to get oriented, but as soon as I had my bearings, I grabbed Laura’s arm and dragged her away to the left. “There!” I pointed to where I caught a glimpse of Elliott’s head bobbing above the crowds. “He’s going toward the river.”

  We looked at each other. “I thought he said he needed to take a call?” Laura asked.

  “So did I.” The mood changed from one of silly companionability to something much more adult . . . and serious. It was one thing for us to joke around that Elliott was involved in something secretive, and pretend to spy on him, and another thing when the man made an excuse to leave the group, only to go off on an unexplained journey.

  My curiosity ratcheted up several notches as we hurried after him, dodging people on the busy sidewalks, once losing sight of him entirely, but luckily, Laura found him again after a panicked search in which we split up to cover different streets. Outside the Ludwig Museum. Have him under observation, she texted me. I turned and retraced my steps until I came to the oddly shaped building that my map said held a noted collection of modern art.

  Am on west side. He’s in front, on steps. Meet me by coffee shop.

  “That must be one heck of a phone call,” I said, a little out of breath, when I found Laura. She was lurking behind a bus stop sign, periodically peering around it to check on Elliott.

  “I know! That’s exactly what I was thinking. He’s moved to the little garden area. You see it? There are some benches. He’s on the third one.”

  I peered with her. Sure enough, Elliott sat by himself on a bench, looking down at his lap, not around as if he was enjoying some private time away from everyone (the only reason I could think of why he ran off and left the group). “He’s looking at his phone. Probably texting someone.”

  “That’s what I thought.” She gave me a long look. “Alice . . . look, I know this sounds idiotic, but maybe we should go back to the cathedral. It’s obvious that Elliott is here for a reason, and . . . well, it seemed like a fun idea a few minutes ago, but now . . .”

  “Not so fun,” I finished for her, nodding. “I agree, but I also would like to know what he’s doing. Oh, not in a nosy sort of control-freak way. If something is wrong with his mom, or another member of his family, then maybe I could help in some way.”

  She didn’t say anything to that, taking it for granted that Elliott and I were so well established that I’d have a say in his life, but the truth was much more unforgiving. I did feel a bit like a stalker, but one who quite honestly wanted to help if he needed it. And if he didn’t need help, if he was behaving in this mysterious manner because something covert was going on . . . well, I couldn’t help but wonder what it was. “M
aybe I am being a nosey parker, but I’d dearly like to find out what he’s doing—”

  Laura grabbed my arm at that moment, her nails digging into my flesh when she yanked me back behind the bus shelter. “Did you see that?”

  “The guy who sat down on Elliott’s bench? Yeah. I wonder if we can get closer?”

  “I think so. Over there is a big cement planter. That screens the area behind the benches. You could probably slink around there without being seen, since Elliott’s back would be to you.”

  I looked at her.

  She made an apologetic face. “I just don’t feel right spying that much on him, if you know what I mean. It’s fine for you—you’re his girlfriend. But he might be upset if he found out I was eavesdropping.”

  Well, that made me feel like a great big boil on the buttock of honor and dignity, but not enough so that I didn’t make my way over to the screened area behind Elliott and his mysterious visitor. Unfortunately—or, rather, fortunately for my smarting conscience—I wasn’t close enough that I could overhear them. But I could get a good look at the man who was chatting so intently with Elliott—he had straight, shoulder-length black hair, skin the color of milky coffee, a short-cropped beard, and hands that seemed to dance in the air when he spoke. One of those hands held a camera with an impressively large lens on it.

  The two men seemed almost to be arguing, although I couldn’t detect the sound of raised voices. After about three minutes of this, Elliott reached into his pocket and pulled out something. It looked like one of the leaflets from the cathedral, but I couldn’t see it well enough to be sure. He passed it on to the other man, who tucked it away in his coat. He rose, and playfully pretended to take Elliott’s picture. Elliott made a sharp gesture, and got to his feet. I didn’t wait around to see more—I hightailed it back to where Laura was waiting, her eyes big.

  “Did you see? He gave that man something. A secret message sort of something.”

  “We have to run if we want to beat Elliott back,” I said, shoving her forward. She didn’t argue. We dashed madly down the street back toward the cathedral, careening into both people and various other obstacles, scattering apologies indiscriminately to all.

  “You were in a better position than me; could you see what Elliott gave the other guy?” I asked when we raced up the steps of the cathedral. We didn’t stop to see how close Elliott was behind us—we ran through the doors and immediately took a sharp left, tucking ourselves away in front of an obscure plaque depicting some patron or other.

  “Not really.” Her brows were pulled together in a frown. We both were out of breath, panting from the jolt of adrenaline brought on by our flight, and the heat of the day. “All I could see is that he gave Tall, Dark, and Handsome something white and thin, like an envelope, but not one, if you know what I mean. You don’t know what it was?”

  “Tall, Dark, and . . . ?” For a moment, I was startled, thinking she was talking about Elliott. “Oh, you mean the other dude. No, I don’t know what Elliott gave him.” We both stiffened into attitudes of studied (and awkward) indifference when Elliott reentered the cathedral. Luckily, a small group of elderly women were right on his heels, and screened us from his view.

  “That really was strange. Alice . . .” She frowned at the floor for a few minutes. “I wasn’t quite serious before, when I said he was a spy and that we should follow him to see what he was doing. It was . . . kind of a fun little game, you know? But now . . . now I don’t know. You don’t think he really is a spy, do you?”

  “I don’t know,” I answered after a few seconds’ silence. Elliott’s head bobbed above the crowds as he strolled down the main aisle. “But I have to admit that I really, really want to find out the truth.”

  “That’s your right,” she said, giving my arm a pat before leading me down the left side to where our group was visible. “You have to live with the man, after all. Er . . . assuming you do live together, not that it’s any of my business. Oh, heavens, I really am putting my foot in my mouth today, aren’t I? I’m leaving now, before I say anything more embarrassing.” And with that, she wandered over to the other side of our group.

  My gaze remained on Elliott even though my conscience pricked me mightily. You don’t have the right to pry into his life, it reminded me. You may have gotten sweaty with him, but that doesn’t mean he has to tell you his private business.

  That’s all well and fine in theory, my brain argued, but real life is different. What if he is in some sort of trouble?

  If he was, you’d just make it worse, my conscience said with a self-righteous sniff.

  Haters gonna hate, I told it, then realized I was bickering with myself, and decided that sanity demanded I stop right that instant.

  “I’ll just keep my eye on him,” I said softly to myself, feeling that compromise was the best way to proceed. “If he’s in trouble somehow, I’ll offer my help. And if he’s not, then . . . well, we’ll see. After all, it means I have a good excuse to spend lots of time admiring those curls. And his chest. And dear lord above, his ass.”

  “It is a very nice ass,” a voice cooed beside me.

  Deidre! The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end.

  “Not that I’ve seen it in its natural state,” she said with a feline smile. “Yet.”

  “Really?” I asked. “That’s the best you’ve got? Oh, don’t give me that faux look of surprise. We both know what you’re doing. If you think a slinky walk and inappropriate touching of Elliott’s chest—yes, I saw you earlier pretending to be brushing a crumb off his shirt—if you think that’s going to cause any trouble, you had better think again.” I spoke with a bravado that I wasn’t quite feeling, but I felt it was important to make it absolutely clear to Deidre that I was on to her nefarious plans.

  “Dear, sweet Alice,” she said, patting my cheek. “You really think you stand a chance against me, don’t you? The truth is that I haven’t yet decided whether or not I should take Elliott away from you. I’m mulling it over.” Her eyes were hooded as she gazed at the subject of our discussion. “He’s certainly not hard to look at, and I’m sure he’s divine in bed, but I’m just not sure if he’s sufficiently interesting to make him worth the effort.”

  “He’s very interesting,” I said, outraged on Elliott’s behalf before I realized what I was doing. I crossed my arms over my chest. “He’s also mind-numbingly fabulous in bed, so you can just suck on that.”

  She pursed her lips.

  “Yes, all right, that was a poor choice of phrase, but you can just take the gist of the comment, because I don’t really give a damn what you decide to do about Elliott. If you want to make a fool of yourself fawning over a man who isn’t interested in you, then by all means knock yourself out. Literally or metaphorically—the choice is yours.”

  She tossed her head, her mane of black hair flicking back dramatically. “Thank you, dear heart. You just helped me make up my mind. You’ve annoyed me enough that I think I will have Elliott.” Her smile was filled with acid. “Enjoy the rest of your trip.”

  “Oh, it’s on now,” I said under my breath when she sauntered off. So she wanted Elliott? Well, I might not be sure I wanted him in my life on a permanent basis, or even one lasting longer than the cruise, but I certainly didn’t intend on handing him over to her on a plate.

  He was a nice man, and deserved better than that sort of predatory she-devil. He deserved someone who was nice, too. Someone who appreciated his dry, rather quirky sense of humor. Someone who didn’t care that he lived in a castle, or might be a spy, or even that he gave the best pity kisses in the world.

  He deserved me.

  You don’t want him, my annoying inner self pointed out. You are devastated, and betrayed, and all that other crap that you keep going on and on about. You’re not looking for a man, any man, especially not one like Elliott, who, despite what his mother said about that woman on Page
Three, probably takes relationships seriously.

  I sighed, and slowly moved toward the group. The problem was, I was beginning to think that maybe I had a lucky escape with Patrick, especially if it meant I got to meet the delightfully mysterious Elliott.

  A little smile curled my lips as I came up behind him. Oh, yes, I was going to enjoy unraveling the puzzle that was Elliott. I was going to enjoy it more than I’d enjoyed anything in a very long while.

  Chapter 7

  Expense Account

  Item one: forty-two euros

  Remarks: entrance to club

  Item two: eighty euros

  Remarks: room rental, plus one nipple-abusing parrot

  Elliott was aware of Alice the second her delightful scent tickled his nose. He didn’t have to turn around to know she was behind him—he could detect her nearness even over the sounds and scents of thousands of visitors to the great Dom. It was almost a prickling sensation along his skin, one that made him very aware that he was a man, and she was a woman, and they had fit together extremely well earlier that morning.

  There was the fact that he probably shouldn’t have given in to those urges that seemed to overwhelm him whenever she was near, but she seemed quite honest in her statement that she wasn’t using him to make herself feel better about the breakup with Patrick.

  “Did Tiffany run you off?” he asked without turning his head, knowing by the tightening of the skin on his back that she was very close.

  “Uh . . . not so much. Laura and I were talking about how we’d rather look around on our own than be guided through.” She moved up to stand beside him, giving him a look he had a hard time putting a name to.

  “Ah. I’m sorry I had to run out for a few minutes. There was a slight family issue I had to take care of.”

  “Nothing wrong with your mother, I hope?” she asked.

  “Not in the sense you mean, no. She is quite hale and hearty. A little too hearty for my comfort, but there is little I can do about that short of moving her to the dower house, and that’s unfit for habitation at the moment. Once the work is completed on the castle, however, that is next on my list for repair.”