Still, the attention was nice. It was rather like the day in high school when the star quarterback had sat down next to her in the student center. They both knew he’d only sat down to wait for his girlfriend, the school’s popular homecoming queen, to finish with her cheer practice. But Sylvia had enjoyed talking to him anyway. They’d laughed about a funny incident in class and discussed an upcoming assignment. She knew nothing would come of their encounter, but for a little while, it had made her feel special.
She felt the same way talking to Etienne.
When they reached the island, Deanna herded everyone to the "taxicab" stand. Since vehicles weren’t permitted on the island, a line of colorful horse-drawn carriages, with drivers in top hats and full livery, waited to take them to the Grand Hotel. Their luggage would follow later in a draft cart.
Etienne took Sylvia’s hand and led her to the lead carriage. Before she realized what he was about, he put his hands on her waist and swung her up to the middle seat. However, she could hardly protest his actions since he turned and lifted several other women into the vehicle, too, before finally taking a seat beside her.
The ride to the beautiful hotel, where the movie Somewhere in Time had been filmed, was a wonderful mini-tour in itself. Their driver took them past old Fort Mackinac, beautiful Arch Rock, and to a spot where they could see the replica of the Statue of Liberty that had been donated to the island by the Boy Scouts of America. When they finally arrived at the main entrance, footmen helped them from their horse-drawn taxies and directed them to the reception desk to check in.
The minute she walked through the doorway, Sylvia felt like she’d been transported into another era. The 125-year-old hotel offered guests a taste of how the wealthy had lived during Victorian times. Everywhere she looked, her eyes feasted on beautiful antiques and artwork. The hotel had 385 rooms with no two being alike. Sylvia had opted for one of the less expensive, interior rooms when she’d signed up for the tour, but her accommodations were nothing short of sumptuous, from the thick pile carpeting to the luxurious furnishings. But there was too much to do to waste any more time indoors. She quickly freshened her make-up, changed into a warm sweatshirt, then hurried down to rejoin the others.
The group had no formal agenda on the island. Everyone was free to explore, shop, or just relax on the hotel’s famous front porch. Deanna gave each of them an information packet about the island and said they could choose between walking, bicycling, or riding in a carriage to get around the island. Then they were on their own until dinner in the Main Dining Room that evening. A few in the group headed into the hotel’s various gift shops, but Etienne, Sylvia, and most of the others rode a horse-drawn taxi to the picturesque town down the hill from the hotel.
"So," Etienne asked as the cart bumped its way down the cobbled street, the horses’ hooves clopping against the road. "Do you prefer to shop? Or to see the island?"
"Of course, I want to shop for souvenirs. I couldn’t possibly go home without buying some fudge. However, I'm more interested in seeing the island first. But I have to warn you. I'm not much of a cyclist. The walking tour appeals to me a lot more."
"I rode a bicycle in my younger days, but now, I too prefer to — how do you say eet — take eet the easy way?" The way he spoke reminded Sylvia of the charming black-and-white movies her mother used to watch in the afternoons. Back then she’d thought the suave men with the foreign accents were pretty hokey, but now, she could appreciate their continental charm.
The afternoon sped by as they walked around the charming island, visiting Fort Mackinac, the Mission Church, and the Indian Dormitory museum. They even caught a boat over to nearby Round Island to visit the famous lighthouse there. Sylvia took so many pictures she thought she’d never remember half of what they were. Etienne insisted on taking her picture by the Fort Mackinac sign and in front of several of the sites they visited so she’d have them for souvenirs. At the end of the day, they hurried into one of the fudge shops and bought several varieties of the confection.
Etienne hired a two-person carriage to drive them directly back to the Grand Hotel as the sun began to set. Sylvia enjoyed seeing the lights of the hotel crowning the hill as they approached the entrance.
"This has been a wonderful day," she enthused then smothered a yawn.
Etienne laughed. "Do not fall asleep yet. You do not want to miss dinner in the Main Dining Room at seven. I hear the desserts are magnifique."
Sylvia glanced at her watch. "Then I’d better hurry so I won’t be late."
Chapter Fifteen
"Ah there you are. How beautiful you look, cherie."
Sylvia was glad she’d taken the time to put on make-up and curl her hair when she saw Etienne waiting for her in the foyer. His beautifully cut suit made her feel slightly underdressed in her simple black knit dress. But he bent over her hand with continental flair and flattered her profusely as he escorted her into the Grand Hotel’s Main Dining Room.
She was surprised and a bit uncomfortable when Etienne slipped the maître d’ a sizable tip and asked for a table away from the others. Before she could protest, they were seated in comfortable green-and-white striped satin chairs across the room, and Etienne had ordered a superb local wine for them. While the wine steward went to get the bottle, they rehashed the day’s adventure. A moment later, a slight commotion at the dining room entrance caught their attention as well as that of the other diners.
"Hello there!" Deanna called from the doorway, waving to get their attention. "Hello."
The tour leader headed across the elegant dining room directly toward their table, ignoring the protests of the maître d’ who followed in her wake. A strapless leather mini-dress that was barely wider than some of Sylvia’s belts hugged the young woman’s generous curves, and strappy stiletto heels accented her shapely legs.
"Etienne," she said, resting her hand on his shoulder, "would you please tell this poor man that it’s okay for me to join the two of you?" She turned toward Sylvia and smiled. "It is okay for me to join you, isn’t it?"
"But, of course," Etienne replied, rising to his feet and giving her a courtly bow. He motioned to the waiter, who brought another chair and table setting for her. "What would you like to drink, my dear?"
As he leaned closer to Deanna to discuss her drink options, Sylvia couldn’t help but feel like the homecoming queen had just reclaimed the high school quarterback. Irritated with herself for feeling that way, she forced herself to relax and enjoy the wonderful five-course meal. The three of them lingered over dessert and their after dinner drinks, laughing and talking. Suddenly, Sylvia glanced at her watch. How could it possibly have gotten so late?
"Would you two please excuse me?" she asked, standing up and putting her napkin on her plate. "I just noticed the time, and I still have a phone call I need to make."
As soon as she was out of sight of the dining room door, Sylvia bent to remove her high heels so she could hurry faster to her room. It was nearly midnight and she should have called Dave hours ago. How could she have so totally lost track of time? She nearly ran through the halls, grateful the thick carpeting muffled the sound of her footsteps. Juggling her shawl and purse, she paused at her room and fumbled for her door key.
"Allow me, s’il vous plait."
Startled by Etienne’s unexpected appearance, Sylvia jerked and her purse slipped from her grasp. Lipstick, cell phone, hotel key, everything dumped as her purse tumbled to the ground.
Etienne’s long arm shot out, and he quickly scooped up her fallen belongings. At the exact moment he rose upward to give them to her, she bent down to retrieve them.
Crack!
****
"Cherie, are you all right?"
Sylvia blinked open her eyes. Where was she? Why was everything so blurry? And why was there a two-headed man bending over her and babbling at her in a lovely accent?
A two-headed man?
She must really be losing it. She blinked her eyes again, and some of the
fog cleared. The shape still hovered over her, but now it had only one head. A very handsome one with long, dark hair and the most amazing gray eyes. She heard him speak again, but couldn’t decipher the smooth, silky words coming from his mouth.
Concentrate. Maybe if she tried harder, she’d be able to make some sense of what he was saying.
"Perhaps I should summon a doctor."
"Doctor? Is someone hurt?"
She sat up quickly then fell backward again as dizziness overcame her. She closed her eyes and felt herself lifted, floating upward and then landing on a cloud, a nice, soft, silk-covered cloud. It felt lovely to lay in the darkness and just float on the lovely softness. A cool cloth touched her forehead then settled on it. The baritone voice continued to rumble softly, murmuring to her with a French accent.
French? Yes, that was it. Now, if she could just make out the words.
After a moment that might have been either a minute or an hour, she blinked open her eyes again. This time, they focused a little better. She smiled at Etienne, sitting beside her on the bed holding a cloth to her forehead.
"You look much nicer with only one head," she commented.
He arched his brow, a confused look on his face. "One head?"
Sylvia waved a hand dismissively. "Never mind. It’s nothing. I’m still a bit dazed, I think. What happened?"
"You dropped your purse, cherie, and everything fell out. I am so sorry. I hit your beautiful face with my head when I retrieved your keys—"
"Don’t apologize. It’s not your fault. It’s me. I’m accident prone."
She tried again to sit up, but he pushed her back with a firm but gentle hand.
"Please do not rise. Let me ring the concierge. The hotel must have le docteur on call."
"Doctor? No, no. I don’t need a doctor, Etienne. I’m fine, really."
"But, cherie, you were — how do you say eet? — knocked up?"
"Knocked out," Sylvia corrected. She smiled and explained about getting knocked out by a softball just a few weekends earlier. "I’m sure that’s why our little head butt did me in tonight. I’ll call my own doctor as soon as I get back home and have it checked out."
"Very good. But I would feel much better if you put ice on eet."
"Fine. I can do that," she said, struggling to get up again. "I’ll just get some ice and—"
"Non, you must rest!" Etienne insisted, pressing his hand against her shoulder to prevent her from sitting up. "I will get the ice for you. Yes?"
She nodded and closed her eyes. It really did feel much nicer to just stretch out on the bed with her eyes closed.
****
Etienne stepped into the hallway, ice bucket in hand, and quietly closed Sylvia’s door, As he turned to head down the hall for ice, he spotted a small blue rectangle laying against the molding a few feet away. Sylvia’s cell phone! It must have gone flying when she’d dumped her purse. He’d been so worried about getting her inside he hadn’t even noticed the cell phone when he’d picked her up to carry her into her room.
He smiled, remembering how light she’d felt in his arms when he’d lifted her. She was nearly as light as his wife Elise had been on their wedding day. He’d known a lot of women since then, beautiful women he’d wooed then discarded, but this one intrigued him. From the moment he’d laid eyes on Sylvia in that quaint café this morning, he’d known he wanted to get to know her better. He’d made a quick deal with the bus driver for Sylvia’s tour group — money spoke a universal language — then he’d instructed Henri to drive back to Mackinac City and drop him off at the ferry dock. His chauffeur had been completely perplexed but knew better than to question his boss’s instructions.
It had been a wonderful day touring the island with the lovely American and he had planned to spend more time with her this evening. A nice dinner, some drinks, a little walk along the beach. Unfortunately, their little accident had disrupted his plans. But he wasn’t about to let it end this way. He needed to stay in touch with her. He’d be back in Michigan in a few weeks. Maybe they could pick up where they’d left off.
Quickly, he retrieved the cell phone from the floor then checked it for damage. The display lit up and the touchscreen looked fine. He slid the control bar to unlock the phone, relieved when he saw Sylvia hadn’t password-protected the device. With a smile, he tapped in a few digits then waited until he felt the vibration of the smart phone in his suit jacket’s inside pocket. He slid out his phone and checked the readout for recent calls: Sylvia Miller. Below her name appeared a phone number with a 616 area code. Smiling, Etienne saved the data to his phone’s contacts, pocketed it, then went off in search of ice.
Chapter Sixteen
"Welcome home!" Dave called. He swung his wife from the step of the burgundy tour bus and tipped her face toward his for a kiss.
"What in the Sam Hill?"
In the pool of light thrown by the bus’s headlights, he studied Sylvia’s face. An ugly purplish bruise covered most of her left cheek, and the swelling from it had puffed her eye almost shut. She grimaced and looked away, making him regret his loud outburst.
This certainly wasn’t the warm welcome he’d planned as he’d driven to the high school to meet her bus. He had a nice dinner in the oven and bottle of wine cooling in the refrigerator. But seeing her bruises had driven those plans from his head. He tried again in a carefully controlled tone.
"Syl, honey, what happened to your face?"
His wife smiled ruefully. "I know this will come as a big shock to you, but your wife is a klutz."
Dave frowned at the flippant answer, started to reply, but snapped his jaw shut instead. Here I am, trying hard to be understanding, and she’s putting me off with lame jokes.
As if reading his mind, she put her hand on his arm and led him a distance away from the others. "Look, honey, it’s a long story."
"So give me the Readers’ Digest condensed version."
"It was an accident. Simple as that. My head was going down, and his was going up." She gestured to her eye. "And they met in the middle."
"Some guy hit you?"
"It’s not as bad as it sounds. I’ll tell you all about it on the way home."
"Fine" he muttered, thrusting his hands in his jeans pockets to stem his irritation. He didn’t realize he was jingling his car keys until he saw her wince again. He quickly stopped and mumbled an apology, but she seemed more interested in the luggage being unloaded than in him. No, this definitely wasn’t the happy homecoming he’d envisioned.
"Where did you park?" she asked.
He waved toward the entrance. He’d been surprised to see the school all lit up and the lot nearly full when he’d arrived. "I had to park way out by the entrance. Apparently, the school must be holding some sort of function tonight."
"No. It’s evening services. Covenant Ministries rents the building on Sundays."
"That explains all the cars," he said, nodding as if he’d known and just forgotten briefly, but the truth was he hadn’t had a clue. Sylvia had always been the one to keep track of things like that.
One of the bus passengers called goodbye to Sylvia. She returned the greeting then glanced at those still waiting for luggage. Dave followed her gaze, suddenly noticing what a diverse group the travelers were. Surprisingly, only a handful of them were what he considered seniors. The rest looked to be anywhere from mid-twenties upward. Several of them, including one stunning brunette, wore t-shirts emblazoned with the group’s name. Although women made up the majority, a few men waited for luggage, too. One of them looked over and waved. Dave shot a glance at Sylvia and saw her hand lift in acknowledgement.
"Who’s that?" he asked, striving for a nonchalant tone.
"Etienne. He’s one of the group..." She hesitated then continued. "He’s the person I ran into."
Dave frowned and sized up the stranger. Tall and lean with a headful of dark, wavy hair. He judged the man to be late forties, early fifties tops. He had the build of someone who played racque
tball every day to stay in shape. More the type to ride in a limo than a bus.
"It looks like they’re almost done unloading," Sylvia said, pointing toward the bus. "Why don’t you get the car, and I’ll go get my suitcase."
"I’ll come with you," he said. "You shouldn’t be lifting things with a head injury."
She shrugged as if she didn’t care one way or the other. But he did. He planned to make sure no other accidents happened to her. While he retrieved her overnight case, she went to say goodbye to the people mingling nearby. Dave’s jaw tensed when he saw her turn toward the guy who’d given her the shiner. He hoisted the bag in one hand and hurried over to join them.
"Eet was a wonderful trip. Tres magnifique."
"I enjoyed it, too. It was—"
"Are you ready?" Dave interrupted. He held out his free hand. "Hi. I’m Dave Miller, Sylvia’s husband."
"Etienne Dumas," the man replied. He cordially returned Dave’s handshake. "You are a lucky man. Sylvia is..." He paused and gave her a disturbingly intimate smile. "…a most charming companion."
Dave didn’t care for the man’s tone or the smoldering looks he gave Sylvia. Clamping his teeth together, he managed to hang on to his temper as he took her by the arm. "We should be going."
"And here is my driver as well," the other man replied as a glossy black Escalade drove up and parked a few feet away. "Eet has been a pleasure, Sylvia. ‘opefully, we can do eet again."
Dave had had enough of the phony Frenchman. "The car’s over this way," he said, leading her away before she could reply.
He expected her to chide him for being rude, but he didn’t care. The man was too smooth in Dave’s opinion. Surprisingly, Sylvia didn’t say anything as they walked to the car.
The Calico Heart Page 7