“That’s very refreshing.” Will rolled over on one elbow so that he was looking at her. “You worked yourself up at the restaurant, so you must like the job.”
“I love it. The people who work there are special.” She rethought that remark and added, “Most of them are, anyway. They’re like family.”
Will idly plucked a blade of grass. “Let’s see if I can figure out your background.” He chewed on the grass thoughtfully. “Large family. You’re the middle child. There was always a lot going on, and you miss all the activity.”
“That’s true, I do.”
“Really? Did I get it right?” he asked.
Kasey laughed. “Well, I do miss the activity, but it didn’t come from a big family.” Kasey smiled at him. “I’m an only child, born to middle-aged parents. Our house always seemed very lonely so I created my own excitement. My own extended family.”
At Will’s puzzled frown, she said, “No, I didn’t dream them up. Well, maybe some of the time,” she added. “I was the kind of kid who went all around the neighborhood, pushing myself into everyone’s life. My whole hometown was my family.”
He stroked his beard. “And they all loved you. Which is what you wanted.”
“Is there a charge for the psychotherapy, Doctor? Oh, I don’t mind,” she insisted when he started to apologize. “I admit that I do like to be liked, and I reach out to people, who usually respond. What’s wrong with that?”
“Nothing. Just so you know that everyone in the world isn’t a nice guy.”
“Of course I do. I’m friendly, not stupid.” She thought of Carl again, but quickly dismissed the image. “Most people respond positively if you give them a chance.”
“Interesting philosophy,” Will said.
“But you disagree.”
He shrugged.
“Another item added to in the list of things we don’t have in common.”
“Maybe. But here’s one we share—I’m also an only child.”
“Really? Did you hate it, too?”
Will grinned, his golden-brown eyes sparkling. “I thought it was great. All the attention, all the presents—just for me. Obviously I’m more selfish than you. Another difference between us,” he teased.
Kasey realized that he was totally relaxed, as relaxed as she had ever seen him. She’d love to linger there beside him all day, ticking off what they didn’t—or did—have in common.
“We better be heading back,” he said.
Well, so much for that idea, Kasey thought as she folded the tablecloth. She wasn’t sure why he needed to get back, but she refrained from asking any more questions.
Will got to his feet, stretched his arms high above his head and then held out his hand to her. “Thanks for the picnic. This has been a nice break for me.”
She took his hand, which was warm and firm, and she didn’t let go. What harm could there be in holding hands for a little while? “I enjoyed myself, too.” She laughed. “We have that in common. Maybe we can do it again.”
“Maybe.”
Hardly a resounding response, Kasey thought, still pleased that he held on to her hand as they climbed the stairs and crossed the deck.
“Want to walk back?” she asked.
“Nope, let’s grab a taxi.”
When they reached the street, Kasey noticed that a breeze had come up, bringing with it a flurry of activity. Kids sped by on inline skates and a group of late lunchers spilled from a taxi and headed for the restaurant.
Will flagged down a taxi, which pulled up at the curb beside them. As he reached for the door, Kasey heard someone call out. She looked toward the restaurant to see a man raise his hand in greeting. Kasey didn’t recognize him.
She tugged on Will’s arm. “Someone over there seems to know you.”
Will glanced around quickly and then hurried Kasey into the taxi. Before she could look again, Will was on the seat beside her, giving the driver their address.
“I think he called your name,” she said.
“Not me,” he replied brusquely. “I’ve never seen that guy in my life.”
4
THEIR TAXI TURNED onto Seventy-second Street and came to a dead stop.
“What’s going on?” Will asked.
“Problem up ahead. Looks like a fire truck in the street,” the cabbie replied casually.
“Oh, no,” Kasey cried. “Is it Bartow Tower?”
“You mean Bartow Horror?” The cabbie laughed. “From what I hear, putting a match to that place would be a good idea.” He leaned out the window. “Hey, wait a minute. There are a couple of cop cars up ahead.”
Will pulled some bills out of his wallet and shoved them toward the driver. “We’ll walk the rest of the way,” he said as Kasey opened the door and got out.
“I don’t see any smoke,” she told Will.
“Probably just another computer failure.”
“I hope that’s all it is,” Kasey said, rushing along the sidewalk beside Will.
“It’s not a fire,” he assured her.
Then Kasey saw the television van. “Something terrible must have happened!” She moved ahead of him. “There’s Marge Durant—from the tenants’ association.”
Marge, stocky, red-faced and flustered, rushed up to them. “Kasey, we tried to call you earlier to help us get the pickets organized.”
“What happened?”
“Two kids got stuck in an elevator. They shouldn’t have been in there alone, if you ask me. They’re not even old enough to go to school yet. Oh, hi,” she said to Will, holding out her freckled hand. “I’m Marge.”
Will shook her hand without introducing himself, which didn’t stop Marge from babbling on. “Can you believe this? They call Bartow a luxury high rise. It’s less than two years old, complete with a high-tech computer, which is the problem, if you ask me—”
“Marge,” Kasey interrupted. “Finish explaining what happened.”
“Oh, the kids’ parents panicked and called the fire department. They got them out, but the whole thing took nearly an hour, and the parents were hysterical. Meanwhile, the police came—and now this!” She gestured toward the commotion that included the fire truck, two police cars and a news van.
“Television cameras—for a stuck elevator?” Kasey was incredulous.
“Must be a slow news day,” Marge responded. “But it’s great for us. They’re interviewing everyone who has a horror story about the building.” Her round face was glowing with perspiration and excitement. “This is just the kind of exposure we need to get the story out about Bartow.”
“It’s already out,” Kasey said. “Our driver knew the Bartow Horror nickname. Remember, Will?”
She turned around, toward where Will had been standing.
“Looking for that tall, dark and handsome hunk, if someone my age can use such an expression?” Marge asked.
“Will Eastman. He’s subletting on my floor.”
“And he’s vanished in a puff of smoke.”
“That’s so weird,” Kasey said, trying not to feel hurt.
“You two got something going?” Marge asked bluntly.
“Good Lord, no, Marge. We met in a stuck elevator,” she said lightly. “But he was really livid about it. You’d think he would be concerned that it’s happened again so soon. You’d think he would want to—”
“Maybe he’s publicity-shy. He beat it out of here as soon as the TV cameras pointed this way.”
“Oh, Marge, I’m sure that didn’t have anything to do with his leaving. Still...” Her voice trailed off.
“Well, whatever. You have a story, so let’s get it out.” She yelled toward the television news van. “Yoo-hoo, over here, Kasey Halliday has firsthand experience with the Bartow Horror elevators!”
* * *
KASEY SAT at her desk at the restaurant, deliberately ignoring the stack of invoices piled up before her. In the small, windowless room, her thoughts seemed to bounce off the walls and back to her in boomerang fashi
on. And all of them were about the same subject. Will Eastman.
Two days had passed since their afternoon together. They’d got to know each other a little, casually. Well, more than casually, Kasey admitted. She’d revealed a lot about herself, and he’d done the same, although somewhat reluctantly.
His vanishing act a little later had thrown her off-balance completely. One moment he was there beside her, the next he was gone.
Several times since then, she’d thought about knocking on his door and asking him for an explanation, but she hadn’t. Pride held her back. Besides, it wasn’t really any of her business. Will was free to come and go as he pleased. And if his comings and goings included disappearing during a date of sorts, that was his prerogative.
She closed her eyes, cleared her head, then opened her eyes and attacked the invoices again, giving special attention to one from the fish market, a whopper that would put them well over budget before the end of the month. She set it aside and made a note to talk to the chef about it. What was Albert trying to do, start his own lobster farm? Gritting her teeth, Kasey picked up the next invoice.
“So how’s the TV star this morning?” Judy stood in the doorway.
“Just like I was yesterday—totally unknown.”
“Ha! No way,” Judy said as she dropped into the chair beside Kasey’s desk. “Mom called last night and said Aunt Irene from New Jersey caught you on the eleven o’clock news Sunday night and the early show Monday morning.”
Kasey was nonplussed.
“Irene watches TV at least eighteen hours a day. But she didn’t record it for me. Neither did Mom. Let’s face it. They don’t have a clue about working a VCR.”
“I should have recorded it,” Kasey said. “I guess. But I never thought...” Her words drifted off. “I suppose there were other things on my mind.”
“Other things? That sounds interesting. And mysterious. Who? What?”
Kasey chewed indecisively on her lower lip. She wanted to talk to Judy about Will, but she knew what her friend’s reaction would be: more warnings, more I-told-you-so’s. But she still needed someone else’s perspective.
“Kasey, I know something’s going on in that head of yours. So tell me.”
Kasey took a deep breath and launched into her story, beginning with the pastries and ending with the TV cameras.
“So he vanished into thin air?”
“Seemed like it to me. One moment he was there, the next, poof!”
“And you haven’t heard from him? No phone call telling you how much he enjoyed the day?”
Kasey shook her head.
“No bouquet of flowers apologizing for his behavior?”
Kasey laughed. “Well, I didn’t expect flowers, but I did expect some kind of explanation, especially since we had such a good time. I can’t figure out what happened.”
“I can.” Judy leaned forward, her voice low and conspiratorial. “Think about it, Kasey. When did he disappear? I’ll tell you when,” she responded to her own question. “He left as soon as he saw the cameras turned in his direction. And do you know why?”
“No, but I’m sure you’ll tell me,” Kasey answered with a sigh.
“I sure will. He’s hiding out.”
“What? Hiding out! Are you trying to say he’s a fugitive? Judy, that’s ridiculous. If you knew him—”
“Well, I don’t know him, but I doubt he’s hiding from the law. More likely, he’s hiding from his wife.” She sat back in her chair and folded her arms. “Case solved.”
Kasey shook her head. “Sorry to tell you this, but he’s divorced.”
“Okay. No problem. He’s hiding from his ex-wife. Probably owes back alimony.”
“Judy, you’ve got a great imagination,” Kasey said with a laugh.
“Not imagination. Logic. I’m being logical, and you’re being—I might as well say it—gullible. Especially if you believe everything told to you by this married man with a crazy wife.”
“Oh, now he’s married again. And with a crazy wife! You’re too much, Judy.”
“Maybe. But at least I’m not hung up on a total stranger.”
“He lives next door,” Kasey reminded her friend. “Besides, he’s the most interesting man I’ve ever met—”
“Up until now,” Judy said, finishing for her. “That’s gonna change because Danny and I are having a party. And if anyone has interesting friends, it’s my boyfriend.”
“A party? When?” Kasey asked.
“Well, soon. It’ll be soon. Next week.”
Kasey shook her head in wonder. “You just came up with the idea to have a party now, didn’t you?”
“Maybe.” Judy laughed. “But it’s a good idea. I’ll give you all the details as soon as I know them,” she said with a giggle. “After I talk to Danny.” Judy stood up, glancing at her watch. “Time for me to get back. Some of us have to work around here even if management goofs off, lost in secret fantasies about the man next door.”
Kasey threw up her hands in defeat. “Okay, no more fantasies. He’s totally out of my mind, and that’s where he’ll stay.”
“Sure. And if you keep telling stories like that, your nose will grow, Pinocchio.”
Kasey made a face at her friend’s retreating back. Judy knew her all too well.
* * *
KASEY WAS PLEASED with the way the evening was going. She was having a hell of a lot of fun and gaining more and more confidence in her position as acting manager. She felt as if the restaurant were hers, and it was a damned good feeling.
Doing what she did best and enjoyed the most, Kasey circulated, talking to customers, basking in compliments. The world seemed to like Windows. She didn’t blame them.
When Judy approached with a dark expression on her face, Kasey braced herself. It looked bad, but she could handle it.
The first words out of Judy’s mouth confirmed the bad part. “We got trouble, pal.”
“What is it?” Then she panicked. “Carl’s back!”
“No. Not Carl. Someone even more intimidating.”
Kasey looked blank. “I give up.”
Lowering her voice, Judy said, “I’m about to speak two words that will put the fear of God in you. If not, you’re made of steel.”
“Enough teasing,” Kasey scolded.
“Mattison Monroe.”
For a moment, Kasey didn’t move. Then she felt her legs go wobbly.
“Don’t faint, for God’s sake,” Judy cried.
“I’m not going to faint. At least I don’t think so. Where is he?”
“Section three. By the side windows. He’s with a woman, his wife, probably. I’ve never seen a picture of her, but she’s just about as huge as Mattison. A definite eater.”
Kasey knew that every restaurant’s greatest hope—and greatest fear—was for the top food critic in town to walk through the door. Kasey, holding on to Judy’s hand, strolled around the restaurant, until she was directly across the room from Mattison Monroe. Not looking in his direction, she asked, “What did he order?”
“That’s the problem, Kasey. He wants that new lobster dish that Albert’s been working on.”
“How did he find out about that? It’s n-not even on the menu yet,” Kasey stammered.
“Word gets out.”
“Probably because of Albert’s gargantuan lobster order. The bill is staggering.”
“I hear he’s gone through most of it coming up with the new dish. Lobster Albert, he calls it, of course.”
Kasey headed for the kitchen with Judy in tow, pushed through the door and found Albert at his cutting board, expertly taking apart a whole chicken in a few quick motions.
“Albert—”
“No problem, Kasey,” the round little Frenchman said, stopping long enough to wipe his hands on his splattered apron. “The lobster, she is on ‘is plate, heading for ‘is belly. Is no problem.”
“You haven’t even tried it on the staff yet, Albert. You can’t serve it to New York’s most power
ful food critic. You can’t, not yet!”
“The lobster, she—”
“Is on his plate,” Judy repeated with the chef as Kasey turned and walked out of the kitchen, mumbling to herself.
“And I’m going to stop it. Now.”
Judy caught up with her. “Maybe it’ll be okay, Kasey. After all, he’s been working on the recipe for days.”
“He should have refused. It’s not on the menu yet.”
Judy opened the door and grabbed Kasey’s arm. “It’s also not on the table yet. Look, Kasey, you can stop it. The waiter hasn’t served him. It’s your call now.”
They rushed to the waiter’s station, right to the plate that held the questionable lobster. “Good Lord, Kasey. Check out that presentation. Get a whiff of that sauce.”
Kasey leaned over and let the aroma envelop her. Then she stood up straight and waved the waiter on. “Go ahead, serve this masterpiece to the great man. I trust Albert, and if it tastes as good as it smells, we’re home free.”
She’d made the decision. There was nothing to do now but wait.
Kasey and Judy went through the paces of their jobs for the next hour, sneaking occasional glances at Mattison as he and his wife finished their meals, ordered coffee and brandy and lingered until nearly closing time. After the critic and his wife had left the restaurant, the two women heaved collective sighs, and exchanged hopeful hugs.
“I’m outta here,” Judy said. “Date with Danny. Besides, I can’t take any more tension.”
“Oh, great. You’re leaving the rest to me.”
“You’re the boss, Boss,” Judy said as she headed for the door.
Kasey turned back, determined to finish the evening calmly. She stopped by the kitchen to give a thumbs-up to Albert, who was confidence personified. On her way back, the bartender stepped out of the lounge and waved to her. “You got a call in here. It’s the boss.”
“Fred,” Kasey said to herself. Could news possibly travel that fast?
Stranger in My Arms Page 5