If I Had You

by Heather Hiestand

  Her threadbare dressing gown came off without her making a conscious choice to remove it. She bent over her bed to pull the blankets down, ready to crawl under them. A knock at the door stopped her.

  She whirled around. Richard? No, it had come from the door into the corridor. The chambermaid wouldn’t be trying to clean the room so early. She picked up her pocket watch and saw it was 8:10. Her heartbeat picked up speed. Ivan’s shift had just ended. Had he decided to join her in her room?

  She grabbed her dressing gown and pulled it on, still tying the belt as she opened the door a crack.

  “Good morning,” Ivan said. His eyes looked red, but otherwise she’d never have known he’d worked through the night.

  “Hello.” She checked her belt, forgetting she had just tied it, her heart pounding.

  He craned his neck and peered over her head. “It’s a very small room.”

  She glanced around him into the corridor. No one could see him here. “You’d better come in.”

  He nodded and stepped forward as she backed up, and then closed the door behind himself. “Thank you.”

  “Are you even allowed to be up here? Could you be sacked?” she asked breathlessly.

  “No. It’s fine.” He took off his watchman cap.

  “Really? I’m surprised.”

  “This is the Grand Russe, not some regular sort of hotel.” He winked.

  She chuckled. “Scandal is permitted?”

  “Something like that.”

  She lowered her voice. “Scandal is preferred?”

  “To a certain degree.” His lips curved. “But there are limits. May I kiss you?”

  She put her hand to her cheek. “I’m half asleep.”

  “A sleepy kiss is divine.” He bent forward and touched his lips to hers, sweetly, without touching her anywhere else.

  She caved first, wrapping her arms around him and intensifying his sweet offering. Her breasts felt full as they pressed against him, her nipples tightening into sharp points. The rest of her softened. If he leaned back it would be like they were doing that tango move Valentino had perfected.

  Ivan’s arms went around her waist. Her skin heated underneath her nightgown, everywhere his warm body touched.

  “You must be exhausted,” she murmured against his mouth. “I was thinking about going back to sleep myself.”

  “I’ll leave in a moment,” he said, after he broke this kiss. “I just wanted to tell you something.”

  She blinked. He didn’t want to make love to her? She looked at him again. He really did look tired, and he was only two days into his work week. “What?”

  “I traded my day off this week for tomorrow.” He squeezed her waist.

  “Oh?” Did he want to go on another date before they became lovers?

  “Yes, it’s Vera’s birthday. My sister? I’m having a small party.” He looked rueful. “You’ll only know Boris, but the food will be good and there will be dancing. Would you come?”

  “Tomorrow night?”

  “Yes, at my flat. I know it’s not a good neighborhood, but if you come by taxicab I’ll escort you in from the street, and back again. I’d tell you I’d come pick you up, but I’ll be over at Boris’s flat cooking all afternoon.”

  “You cook?” She couldn’t imagine those big hands finessing food.

  “No, he does. He’s very good. I’ll be doing whatever he tells me.”

  She squeezed his arms, enjoying the firm biceps under her fingers. “It sounds like fun. I’m sure I can come to the party, but I don’t think I could have the afternoon, too.”

  “It will be wonderful if you can come for the evening.” He released her and stepped back.

  She supposed he really was going home. If she asked him to stay, well, she courted disaster. No wonder she needed to be the one to take care of preventing pregnancy. Lovemaking opportunities came about when you least expected them. She tingled all over at the possibility. “Do you have enough records? I could borrow some of Sybil’s.”

  He nodded enthusiastically. “Oh, could you? We’ll be playing the same five records over and over again, otherwise.”

  “I’ll manage it. I can’t wait to try Russian food.”

  They smiled at each other, but the distance between them had grown to two feet. “Thank you. I hope to see you tonight.”

  “The usual place, and an entirely different one tomorrow.”

  “Yes. Oh.” He fumbled in his coat, then held out a scrap of paper. “My address. Do you have money for the taxicab?”

  “Yes, I haven’t spent a penny of my pay yet. Maybe I’ll have a new dress for tomorrow. I plan to shop for one.”

  His gaze raked her body. “How exciting. I can’t wait to see it.” He yawned.

  She held out her hand to the door and picked up his cap. When he nodded and took it, she opened the door a crack and peeked into the corridor. “Out you go.”

  He kissed her cheek as he passed by her, then he was gone. She closed the door and turned to stare at her bed. Now she was awake, and fidgety. Maybe she’d go to the Coffee Room and look at newspapers.

  Downstairs half an hour later, she found a C&A advert illustrating the various outfits a woman might wear over the course of the day. She liked the satiny pink dress the model wore for evening, though of course, it was just a line drawing. The pleated skirt floated at the knee. She couldn’t discern the shape of the top because a matching cardigan was worn over it, but it was probably loose and sleeveless.

  “Here’s my best darling,” Sybil cooed, appearing in the doorway of the Coffee Room in a dropped-waist satin dress most women would wear in the evening. She’d topped it with a voluminous brown fur coat, no hat.

  Alecia smiled at her. “Coming in? Going out?”

  “Oh, I couldn’t stay in the suite this morning. Stuffy upstairs today, isn’t it, darling?” Sybil opened her purse and found her cigarette holder, then opened her cigarette case.

  Alecia took the offered lighter and held the flame to Sybil’s cigarette. “It’s not stuffy down here, but chilly.”

  “Yes. You need a fur coat, darling.” Sybil blew smoke from the side of her mouth.

  What could she say to that? “Shall I fetch you some coffee?”

  “Black, darling, and a naked little piece of toast.”

  Alecia hurried to do as she was bid. It didn’t take long. She placed the items in front of her employer, then reseated herself.

  Sybil touched the advert with the tip of a perfectly groomed nail. “Planning a shopping trip?”

  “I’ve been invited to a birthday party tomorrow night, if you don’t need me.”

  “You can go if I can take you shopping. That’s some appalling viscose number judging from the price, darling. It will never last the season, with London’s damp.”

  “I can afford it, though.” Alecia frowned at the newspaper.

  “We must not be paying you enough,” Sybil mused.

  “It’s not every secretary who can stay at the Grand Russe,” Alecia said.

  “Yes, but it’s taken out of your wage, really.” Sybil took an antlike bite of her toast. “You must have a silk dress. Are you set on pink?”

  “It suits my coloring.”

  Sybil nodded. “Not mine. I must have red for evening, if I’m trying to be sexy. Is this party for your Russian?”

  “He’s the host.”

  “We could try you in red. Save your money and wear something of mine.”

  “Won’t I look too fancy for a party that is probably full of Russian refugees?”

  “It’s never wrong to be the best-dressed girl at the party. Especially when you are connected with the theater. No, let’s buy you an evening coat and save your dress money. We’ll try that new dress shop by my manicurist. The girl who owns it is the daughter of a baronet and knows nothing about business. She’ll be so star struck by me that you’ll have it for a song.”

  She hoped Sybil was right. “I could use a new coat.”

  Sybil nod
ded. “Let’s have our nails done, then to the dress shop we’ll go.”

  “What about Richard?”

  “We’ll stop at the front desk and leave him a note. I have to spend all afternoon with him rehearsing anyway. Such a bore.” She rolled her eyes. “As if I don’t know my part perfectly. I’ve played Lady Macbeth dozens of times.”

  “Can I help?”

  “Oh yes, you should be in the room with us. Script prompts, if anyone needs them. I don’t know who Richard has hired for the other roles. Poor darling, so much for him to do. I much prefer to act than tend to all the business he does.”

  “He’s been very busy,” she said cautiously.

  “As have I,” Sybil said. “Now run along and retrieve that ratty old coat of yours. I’ll meet you at the reception desk in a few minutes.”

  * * *

  Alecia couldn’t wait to take off her tired old coat and dance in the silk and velvet dress she’d borrowed from Sybil. They had considered, at length, a beaded silk dress, but Sybil was just a little taller than Alecia, so the beautiful red dress seemed matronly on her. The sleeveless dress with the high-low hem that she wore now had a pink silk lining that showed behind her legs, and embroidered flowers across the waistline. The top part was stark black, perfect for a rope of pearls, if she’d had one. Her mother had owned beautiful pearls, but they’d gone down in the Lusitania with her.

  She wouldn’t think about that tonight. While she hadn’t come home from her shopping excursion with a new coat, she had fixated on a pair of pale pink leather T-strap shoes with a rhinestone button that made them work for evening as well as day. With the purchase of them, she had just enough room in her budget for a dress pattern and some fabric. She’d make herself a new dress to wear with her shoes eventually, but tonight, she’d dance in borrowed finery.

  She paid the taxicab driver and stepped onto the cracked pavement, holding her bag of records. In this part of town, she might be safer wearing her old coat. It didn’t smell very nice here either. She hoped she didn’t ruin her new shoes.

  “Alecia!” A figure peeled itself from the wall of the residential building.

  She recognized Ivan’s voice and trotted to him, careful to watch where she stepped. “Hello! Did you finish your cooking?”

  “Yes, wonderful things. Potato dumplings, my sister’s favorite lemon dessert, pancakes, some beautifully spiced lamb from Boris’s secret recipe. A fish soup, too.” He stepped forward.

  “It sounds like a real feast,” she agreed.

  He picked up one of her hands and kissed the back of her glove. “A feast for all the senses, just like you.”

  She blushed, forgetting the night’s cold. “You are sweet.”

  He tucked her hand around his arm. “Now, we must go in so you can meet these crazy Russians. You may hear things you’d prefer not to, but hopefully, they will be speaking in Russian and not English.”

  “Are they trouble, your friends?”

  “My sister’s friends,” he corrected, sounding stern. “Let us go in.”

  Alecia wondered what she had landed herself in as she climbed the stairwell behind a greengrocer’s. The truth was she was simply happy to be spending time with Ivan. Since he had only one day off a week, they wouldn’t be able to have another date soon. She thought he might just be too tired after his shifts to pursue her in the morning hours, whatever he hoped.

  He ushered her in through the door at the top of the stairs. She saw an assortment of bushy-bearded men in the small room. It must be the fad among Russians. Most people looked to be about a decade older than she was. She recognized Boris Grinberg from the pawnshop, presiding over a tureen of soup. By the far window she saw the clerk who worked at the pawnshop. A woman with a wedding ring sat on an ancient sofa pushed against the wall. She hoped Ivan saved most of his money instead of paying it in rent. These damp walls scared her. No celebratory cheer was present.

  On the other hand, she’d never seen a gramophone like the one on the table in the center of the room. The sight of it instantly made her happy. The sound was good, however primitive the machine appeared to be. “Are we dancing already?”

  “No, but Vera loves music almost as much as you do.” He indicated her bag. “Did you bring records?”

  “I did.” She opened the bag and showed him.

  He clapped his hands with pleasure. “What’s in the wrapping?”

  “A gift for Vera. It’s a new recording by the Wolverine Orchestra.”

  He shook his head. “Oh, you didn’t need to bring a gift. I didn’t expect that.”

  “I wanted to. After all, she’s a music lover like me.” She wanted Ivan’s sister to like her. “There’s beautiful cornet work on it.”

  “I heard the Piano Suite on the seventh floor is empty tonight. Maybe we can go back to the hotel later and you can play for me?”

  She blinked. She had mentioned to him that she knew how to play the piano a little, but hadn’t expected the opportunity to do so. “My goodness. You can do that? The seventh floor?”

  “Yes, I can get the keys. I’m a watchman. I have to be able to respond to emergencies.”

  She noted the pride in his voice and liked it. Did she want to go to a hotel suite with him late at night, alone?

  In a word, yes. Whatever happened.

  Chapter Twelve

  After Ivan had made his suggestion and she’d agreed, the party became torture. Alecia’s first priority was making sure her borrowed recordings were played, so that she could take them with her when she left. Ivan found her a plate and Boris gave her a mouthwatering selection of his culinary specialties. Then, while Ivan talked to a thin man in his early thirties, introduced to her as Vera’s fiancé, she sat with the married lady on the sofa. Actually, the woman was a widow, the sister-in-law of a man named Anatoly, who she never heard speak to anyone during the hour and a half she stayed at the party.

  Vera had come up to her after about twenty minutes. Her English wasn’t as good as Ivan’s, but they talked about music and Alecia felt like she’d done well, though she didn’t feel as if she’d made a friend. Vera seemed nervous and vague.

  Then, very soon, Vera had unwrapped her presents and settled into the business of serious dancing with Sergei, who probably stayed so thin by vigorous exercise. She’d never seen two people move their feet so fast when they danced. Boris asked her to dance once, but the Russians gave her a wide berth. Ivan was kept too busy pouring drinks to dance more than once with her either. When he signaled her, she put Sybil’s records back into the carrier bag and slipped out with him.

  “I have a taxicab waiting,” he said, as they went down the stairs.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you had left.”

  “The music had you swept away.” He grinned at her as they went out the door of the greengrocer’s shop.

  “I need my own record player.”

  “You’d never leave your room,” he teased.

  “I would.” She grinned. “To buy more records.”

  The taxi was at the corner and they scurried toward it. The temperature had dropped dramatically. Alecia could see her breath in the night air. Ivan kept his arm around her the entire way to the hotel, only letting her go when they walked into the Grand Russe.

  The temperature change upon entering made her teeth begin to chatter. “It will be quite warm in the basement,” he promised. “We’ll get the keys and then take the service lift up to the seventh floor.”

  “I can’t wait. What’s the Piano Suite like?”

  “Very musically oriented. It’s done in white and gold, with photographs of American musicians on the walls. Pure luxury.”

  She followed him through a door off a corridor by the Reading Room that she’d never noticed before, and through another door that he needed a key to unlock. Then they moved into an industrial part of the hotel, down a flight of plain wood steps, the walls painted white but marred by many scrapes and even a little dirt along the baseboards. A low hum from ele
ctrical equipment picked up volume as they stepped down. Ivan unlocked another door and they walked through.

  “You shouldn’t be here, so stay close,” he told her. They went into a long, rectangular room with rows of hooks, shelves above, for employee belongings. A corkboard dominated the wall alongside the door.

  “That’s where Mr. Eyre posts his memos every day,” Ivan said.

  Alecia glanced at the creamy sheet of fine paper, with “Peter Eyre” across the top in lettering that matched the hotel’s. “Greetings from Peter Eyre” was the first line typed underneath the letterhead.

  “That’s yesterday’s note. I don’t know when he posts them. I’ve never seen him down here.”

  She read the note. “You have a plumbing problem on the seventh floor.”

  “Or Miss Page is exceedingly dramatic,” Ivan said. “No one else complained, but the seventh floor must be perfect.”

  “Why aren’t Mr. Fortress and Miss Page in the Piano Suite?”

  “They are in the Sleeping Princess Suite. It’s the second nicest in the hotel.”

  “I see. It sounds marvelous, just from the name alone.” She waved her hand in front of her face. It was very hot down here. She unbuttoned her coat and unwound her muffler.

  Ivan nodded. “I’ll just get our key.” He unlocked a glass-fronted cabinet with duplicates of every key that was kept behind the desk, and chose the one he wanted.

  “You’re certain we won’t be in trouble?”

  “Absolutely.”

  He looked stern for a moment, but she had no idea why. “Tell me,” he asked. “What are the Marvins doing this evening?”

  “When I went to make myself ready, they were still rehearsing downstairs. All the actors came in today for the first time. I was the script supervisor during the afternoon, but a lot of them weren’t off-book yet, so I wasn’t much use. They weren’t expected to know their lines. Mr. Marvin didn’t mind me leaving and Sybil had already approved it.”

  He didn’t seem to be paying much attention. “Did my sister look familiar to you at all?”

  “You mean, did she look like you?” She considered this. “She’s tall and I think she has your build, but I saw a family photograph on your mantel and it seemed that you look like your father and she looks like your mother.”