'Yes, Great-Granny?'
'Please. Accept this graciously.'
Dorothy-Anne took the envelope and switched on the reading lamp on her side of the Rolls. She looked down at the envelope, frowning in puzzlement as she stroked a stray lock of hair out of her eyes. The left-hand corner of the envelope was embossed with a blue return address:
Shatzkin, Morris, Bernstein and Bidgood, P.C.
666 Fifth Avenue
New York, N. Y. 10036
Slowly, she tore the envelope open. She unfolded a sheaf of legal papers, held them up to the light, and then turned to Elizabeth-Anne. 'But . . . but it's a deed,' she murmured in surprise.
'Don't you think I know that?' Elizabeth-Anne said with mock crossness.
'But-'
Elizabeth-Anne held up a hand, gloved palm facing outward, as if to ward off an attack. 'No 'buts,' dear. We've waited a long time for this day.'
'What do you mean?'
'Don't tell me you've forgotten!' Elizabeth-Anne eyed her great-granddaughter shrewdly. 'Dorothy-Anne, darling, it's your eighteenth birthday. Don't you remember? Today, the Hale Palace Hotel, which has been held in trust for you since your ninth birthday, is officially yours.'
'Oh, Great-Granny, I had forgotten. But . . . I thought that maybe - '
'Maybe what?'
'Well. . .'
'When I give someone something, I give it to them for keeps.' Elizabeth-Anne smiled faintly.
Dorothy-Anne threw her arms around her great-grand- mother just as, in the distance, far beyond the Silver Lady hood ornament, they could already see the distant, winking skyline of Manhattan pushing up over the industrial buildings and factories of Long Island City.
A flash of lightning lit the little room like a strobe and the scene became a frozen tableau. The past merged with the present, and Dorothy-Anne returned to the Hale Tourist Court outside Quebeck, Texas. She looked up at Freddie. Her eyes were solemn and her face was pale.
'More pains?' he asked.
She shook her head and breathed deeply. 'Freddie? I don't want you to go out into that storm.'
'It'll be all right, hon.'
'You'll be careful?'
He grinned and held up a hand, palm out. 'Scout's honor.'
'You were never a scout,' she said weakly. He smiled, but she was still worried. 'Freddie?'
'Hmmmm?'
'I'm afraid.'
'Don't be.' He smiled down at her. 'All I'm going to do is to get a doctor. Remember what you used to tell me? As a child, whenever you heard a siren wailing, and you were frightened, what did your great-grandmother tell you?'
'That it doesn't mean that something bad has happened,' she whispered. 'It means that help is on the way.'
'That's right. Just keep that in mind.' He paused and flashed her his most enigmatic smile. 'Who loves ya, baby?'
This was an old game between them. She smiled faintly. 'Kojak,' she whispered.
He kissed her forehead. 'Atta girl.'
And he was gone.
Dorothy-Anne had drifted into a restless sleep, and woke easily when she heard Mrs. Ramirez come back into the room. She struggled to sit up. 'How long has he been gone now?' she asked anxiously.
Mrs. Ramirez checked her watch. 'It hasn't been that long,' she lied softly. She turned away and busied herself blowing out one of the candles that had nearly burned itself out. She stuck a new taper into the candlestick, then lit it before setting it back down on the dresser.
Dorothy-Anne stared up at the ceiling and listened to the drumming of the rain. It seemed to be coming down even harder now. 'The storm's not letting up,' she said tremulously.
'No, not yet,' Mrs. Ramirez said. 'But soon.'
'It seems to begetting worse.'
Mrs. Ramirez cocked her head and listened. She nodded. 'Sometimes it is at its worst right before it ends,' she said reassuringly. She reached behind Dorothy-Anne and fluffed the pillow. 'You just rest. And stay covered.' Mrs. Ramirez leaned over her and patted her hand. 'You will need all your strength.' Then she smiled and lowered herself onto the chair she had pulled up alongside the bed. 'Do not worry,' she said gently. 'I will not leave you alone.'
Dorothy-Anne nodded gratefully. Then she sighed and let her head drop back down on the pillow. She shut her eyes and listened to the violent drumming of the rain. It was coming down heavily, as it had been on the day of her fifth birthday.
It had been raining cats and dogs then, too.
That had been in 1970. Outside the thunderstorm had raged and flashed. Inside the sitting room of the big house in Tarrytown, it was warm and cozy. A fire crackled in both of the two big fireplaces.
Dorothy-Anne had been seated on the tiny, Louis XVI children's chair, working the giant jigsaw puzzle Nanny had given her for her birthday. She kept frowning at the picture of the giant Mickey Mouse on the cover of the box, wondering how on earth to recreate it. Opposite her Nanny was seated very erect on the gold brocade sofa, watching her intently, but gave Dorothy-Anne no clue as to where the puzzle piece she held in her hand fit in. Dorothy-Anne knew better than to ask for help. Nanny was a great believer in letting one figure out problems by oneself.
Nanny seemed to sense rather than hear the bald, black butler come silently into the room. She turned around. 'The car has arrived,' he announced.
Nanny nodded. 'Thank you, Franklin.' She rose to her feet and smoothed her dress. 'It's time we left, Dorothy-Anne.'
Dorothy-Anne looked up at her, the puzzle piece still in her hand. She looked sorely disappointed. She didn't want to leave. 'I'm not done yet,' she said unhappily. 'Can't we wait?'
'I'm afraid not,' Nanny answered firmly.
Dorothy-Anne sighed and pushed herself to her feet. Nanny came toward her, knelt down on one knee, and adjusted the collar of Dorothy-Anne's party dress.
'I want you to look very nice,' Nanny told her. 'Your great-grandmother is a great believer in neatness. And so,' she added pointedly, 'am I.'
'Why isn't Great-Granny coming here?' Dorothy-Anne asked.
'She would have, I'm sure, but she called to say she's very busy today,' Nanny explained. She straightened and took Dorothy-Anne by the hand. 'Come child. It's time we left.' With her free hand Nanny scooped up Dorothy-Anne's shiny, red plastic raincoat.
Dorothy-Anne eyed the raincoat with disgust. She didn't like it. It made her feel hot and sticky. 'I don't want to go to the city!' she announced suddenly, withdrawing her hand from Nanny's. 'It's too noisy and there are so many people.' She shivered and rubbed her arms. 'It frightens me.'
'You have nothing to worry about,' Nanny assured her, giving her an affectionate squeeze.
Dorothy-Anne stared up at her.
'Besides, your Nanny will be there, won't she?' Nanny asked. 'And so will your great-grandmother. You want to see her, don't you?'
Dorothy-Anne nodded solemnly.
'I happen to know for a fact that your great-grandmother is going to take you to a very special place.'
Dorothy-Anne's eyes glimmered with anticipation. 'She is?'
Nanny nodded. 'She is. But I can't tell you any more. It's supposed to be a surprise.'
Dorothy-Anne's face broke into a grin. She tugged at Nanny's hand. 'Well?' she demanded.' Let's go.'
The rain didn't let up even after they reached the city. During the drive down, Nanny had explained that the average thunderstorm only lasted about twenty minutes, so there must be several thunderstorms piled up and passing over New York one after another. Dorothy-Anne listened in fascination, watching the rain bead up on the windows of her father's sleek black limousine. She snuggled further into the corner of the gray velour seat. With one hand, she wiped the foggy side-window clear. It felt cold and wet to the touch. The world outside was blurry and gray. Timidly, she glanced sideways at Nanny.
Nanny held out her arms. Quickly, Dorothy-Anne scrambled over to her. She let herself be enveloped in Nanny's protective warmth.
'We're almost there,' Nanny said as the car turne
d on to 72nd Street, then entered Central Park. Ten minutes later, they pulled up alongside the tall steel-and-glass office building on Park Avenue and Fifty-First Street. 'Here we are,' Nanny said. She handed Dorothy-Anne the raincoat. 'Put it on or you'll get soaked.'
Dorothy-Anne made a face.
'You'll have to wear it,' Nanny said firmly. 'Otherwise we'll drive right back to Tarrytown.'
Scowling, Dorothy-Anne shrugged into the coat. The chauffeur opened the passenger door and held an umbrella over them as they hurried through the driving rain to the big revolving glass doors.
Once inside, Dorothy-Anne looked around the cavernous marble lobby with awe. The ceiling was so high and there seemed to be marble everywhere. 'Is this one of Great-Granny's hotels?' she asked as Nanny held tightly to her hand. They were walking through the crowded lobby toward the elevators.
Nanny shook her head. 'No, this is not a hotel. It's an office building. Many people work here, including your great-grandmother. You see, her hotel business is so big that she has to have separate offices just to run everything. She owns hotels all over the world.'
Dorothy-Anne nodded sagely as she digested this. 'And this whole building belongs to her?' she asked as they waited in front of an elevator door.
Nanny chuckled. 'Lord, no, child. But as far as I know, she rents two entire floors, which is a lot of office space, believe me.'
Dorothy-Anne looked up at her. 'Does Daddy work here too?'
A mask seemed to slide down over Nanny's face. 'I'm not really sure,' she said quickly. 'You'll have to ask your great-grandmother.'
Dorothy-Anne's face fell. 'Nobody ever tells me anything about him,' she said quietly. 'Every time I ask, I get told to ask someone else.'
Nanny looked at her with a sad sympathy Dorothy-Anne was too young to recognize. 'That's because it's good manners to mind your own business,' she said lamely.
'But what Daddy does is my business, isn't it?' she asked with the damning, incisive insight of the very young.
Nanny was saved from answering by the arrival of the elevator. After they stepped inside, Dorothy-Anne watched as Nanny pressed a button marked '32.' The moment Nanny's finger touched it, the number lit up. Dorothy-Anne's eyes grew big. Tentatively, Dorothy-Anne reached up and fingered one of the numbers. She squealed with delight as it lit up. She pressed another, then another.
Nanny slapped her hand lightly. 'Stop that,' she scolded. She looked apologetically at the other passengers, but no one returned her smile.
Stung by Nanny's slap, Dorothy-Anne tightened her lips. For a moment, she thought she would cry, and she tried very hard not to. And then the doors were sliding open and Dorothy-Anne found herself face-to-face with an entirely new world.
'Is this where Great-Granny works?' she asked as they got off.
Nanny nodded solemnly. 'It is.'
Dorothy-Anne took a deep breath as she felt a strange pride at the thought that all this belonged to her family. The reception area was lavishly furnished in a style that spoke of opulence, grand comfort, and a solid financial footing.
The walls were paneled in mahogany and the carpeting was a delicate, oh-so-pale pink. The sprawling sofas and chairs were masterpieces of the art deco artist Andre Groult, and worth a small fortune. The huge marble fireplace was artificial, but looked as if it belonged.
The only hint that this was not the lobby of a luxury hotel but instead the headquarters of a vast business empire, was a discreetly engraved gold plate facing the visitor from atop the receptionist's Persian desk. The plaque read merely, Hale Hotels, Inc.
The receptionist was young and blonde. She seemed startled to see a child, but she recovered her composure with a cool smile. 'May I help you?' she asked Nanny.
'We'd like to see Mrs. Hale,' Nanny answered.
'Do you have an appointment?'
Nanny sniffed. 'We do.'
'And whom may I say is here to see her?'
Nanny smiled down at Dorothy-Anne and gave her hand a squeeze. 'Miss Dorothy-Anne Hale,' she announced.
The name worked magic. The receptionist's professional smile thawed. 'If you'll have a seat for just a moment, someone will be right out,' she said with new warmth. She picked up an ivory telephone as Nanny led Dorothy-Anne over to a sofa. Before they had even settled down, the tall French doors leading down a long, pink- carpeted corridor opened, and an impeccably dressed woman with raven hair strode toward them.
'Miss Hale?' she asked, leaning down and smiling at Dorothy-Anne. 'I am Mrs. Goldstine, Mrs. Hale's secretary.'
'How do you do?' Dorothy-Anne asked solemnly as they shook hands, but inwardly she winced. Mrs. Goldstine's hand was cold and dry.
'I'm fine, thank you.' Mrs. Goldstine smiled, turned to Nanny, and shook her hand also. 'Please,' she said, gesturing elegantly. 'If you'll follow me?' She led the way through the tall doors, walking briskly so that Nanny as well as Dorothy-Anne had to hurry to keep up with her.
The hallway seemed impossibly long. They passed countless closed doors, then turned the corner and faced a wall of glass that looked onto a huge, windowless room, crowded with rows of desks.
'That's the typing pool,' Mrs. Goldstine explained.
'That's where I want to work when I grow up,' Dorothy-Anne announced. 'Because of the pool.' She craned her neck. 'But where is it?'
'It's only an expression. It's called a pool because it's where a lot of people work together in one spot.'
'Well, maybe I don't want to work there after all,' Dorothy-Anne mused thoughtfully.
'I think,' Mrs. Goldstine said, 'that when the time comes, your great-grandmother has bigger plans in store for you than the typing pool.'
A little further on, they passed another, almost identically glassed-in room.
'Another pool?' Dorothy-Anne asked brightly.
'That is the accounting department,' Mrs. Goldstine explained. 'The people you see in there take care of all the money your great-grandmother's hotels bring in from all around the world.'
Dorothy-Anne nodded. 'But don't you ever get lost here?' she asked as they continued walking.
Mrs. Goldstine laughed. 'I was a little confused in the beginning,' she confessed, 'but you get used to it very quickly.' They turned another corner. 'Here we are.'
The first office was Mrs. Goldstine's. It had a big Renaissance desk and the chairs were upholstered in genuine brocade. The office beyond was Elizabeth-Anne Hale's. They faced two huge, tall French doors with beveled glass windows and opaque blue curtains. Mrs. Goldstine knocked, and then swung one of the doors open. Dorothy-Anne stood in the doorway, Nanny's hands on her shoulders and gazed across the room at her great-grandmother.
Elizabeth-Anne Hale was standing beside a sofa, speaking on the telephone. The moment she glanced toward the door, she quickly said something and hung up.
Ever since she could remember, Dorothy-Anne had been immensely impressed by her great-grandmother. Elizabeth-Anne always looked so imposing and in command, with never a spun-silver hair out of place. She stood tall and slender, and looked much younger than her seventy-two years in her classically styled peach-colored woolen suit. A single strand of matchless South Seas pearls encircled her neck.
'Great-Granny!' Dorothy Anne cried, and she dashed headlong toward Elizabeth-Anne's outstretched arms.
'Mrs. Goldstine,' Elizabeth-Anne called over Dorothy-Anne's head as she embraced her, 'please hold all calls.'
Mrs. Goldstine nodded and smiled.
'I'll wait outside,' Nanny said discreetly, and then the French door closed soundlessly and Elizabeth-Anne and her great-granddaughter were alone in the room. For a moment they held their tight embrace. Then Elizabeth-Anne held Dorothy-Anne at arm's length and gazed deeply into her eyes.
'Is this office all yours, Great-Granny?' Dorothy-Anne asked in wonder.
'It is,' Elizabeth-Anne replied. 'Do you like it?'
Dorothy-Anne twisted around. The room was huge, with floor to ceiling windows looking out over Central Park, th
e huge apartment buildings lining the West Side, the wide silver breadth of the Hudson, and all the way into New Jersey. The rain swept view was gray, but no mere gloomy weather could dampen the plush comfort, and the office was at once warm and cozy. The furnishings were similar to those of the reception room, but dominated by rich peacock blues and warm wood. Elizabeth-Anne's desk was a large, ornately carved Italian piece facing two plush armchairs. Dorothy-Anne thought it beautiful, but felt comfortably at home at the same time.
Elizabeth-Anne's aquamarine eyes glanced toward the rain-streaked windows. 'It's still coming down,' she said, 'but that's all right. The car is waiting for us, so we won't get wet.'
'At least the thunder's stopped,' Dorothy-Anne said softly. 'It frightened me.'
'I can understand that. I was the same way when I was your age.'
'You were?'
'Of course I was.' Elizabeth-Anne strode toward the telephone and placed a call. She did not refer to the caller by name, nor did she have to identify herself. Her crisp, clear voice was unmistakable. 'I'm ready to go to lunch now,' she said. 'We'll meet here in my office.' She hung up the telephone and winked conspiratorially at Dorothy-Anne.
'Who was that?'
Elizabeth-Anne smiled secretly. 'You'll find out soon enough.'
'Nanny said we're going somewhere special,'
'And indeed, we are.' Elizabeth-Anne came forward, patted Dorothy-Anne's shoulder, and turned as she heard the door opening.
Dorothy-Anne turned around too. Her eyes bulged in disbelief. Seeing her father in the flesh was more than a minor miracle. Although she lived under the same roof as he, their paths rarely crossed. She was too young to realize that this was purposeful, that unlike her, most children saw their fathers daily, and that hers tried his best to avoid her. Dorothy-Anne could hardly know that, after hiring Nanny, her father had told the governess that her job was not so much to provide child care as to act as a guard. He had explained to her that he wanted to see as little of his daughter as humanly possible. Nanny had disapproved of this thoroughly, but upon seeing Dorothy-Anne's sweet elfin face, she had been unable to refuse the post. The child had clearly needed someone.
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