by Lucy Hepburn
“Don’t you have something you need to tell me?” the girl had dropped her voice to a whisper.
Christy loved this part. With a wink, she drew out her business card, leaned forward, and whispered in the girl’s ear: “Johnny Depp adores jumping in jodhpurs.”
The girl relaxed the instant the password had been transferred. “You’re late.”
“I’m sorry.”
“A moment, please,” she sighed, before turning and yelling at the nearly naked model who may or may not have been Amber Valletta. “Okay, cupcake, give it up now!”
“No way!” The model’s hands flew to the tiara on her head. “I hoped she’d forget about it! Hasn’t her family got, like, one hundred more?”
“Nice try.” The clipboard girl walked to a trestle table by the side wall and picked up a large, domed blue velvet box that resembled a huge halved Easter egg. Then she walked toward the model and gently eased the tiara from her reluctant grip. “This is a family heirloom—probably worth about the same as their entire hotel chain!” Reverentially, she opened the box and eased the glittering tiara into the snug, purple satin interior. “Used to belong to European royalty!”
The model sniffed. “Well, I’d wear it with jeans,” she muttered. “Give it some edge!”
The girl didn’t look convinced.
“I could definitely pull it off,” the model grumbled as she put the tiara in the egg-shaped box and waved it goodbye like a parting lover.
“Thank you,” Christy said a moment later, signing the piece of paper the girl offered her and making for the door, the tiara tucked safely under her arm. “Goodbye!”
“Hope you’ve got, like, ten security guards out there!” the girl called after her. “You’ve got to get that thing back to her apartment within the hour or else she presses some nuclear button or something!”
Christy wondered whether to confide that all she had was a tiny, yappy dog, not unlike one of Ms. H’s own collection of purse-friendly canines, but decided against it. There wasn’t a second to spare. Instead she fished out her phone and dialed Will.
“Hey, how’s it going?” he asked.
Despite the tension and time pressure, Christy felt an involuntary smile spreading across her face at the sound of his voice. “Not bad, thanks,” she began, “but, well…”
“You need some help?” His voice was so damned sexy she could listen to it all day.
“I do,” she admitted, feeling color whooshing into her cheeks. “Do you have a moment?”
“Shoot.”
“Right, well, you know that item I had to collect?”
“For Ms. H?”
“That’s the one! Well, she’s kind of famous.”
“Is she, now? Ms. H, you called her?”
“Yup.”
“Okay, well, let me think. Audrey Hepburn’s dead…so is Jean Harlow…say, what’s Madonna’s surname?”
Christy giggled. “Think hotel chains, Will. And European capital cities.”
A pause. “Okay, hotel chains, European cities…so, let me think…you’ve picked up an item belonging to a Miss Helsinki Holiday Inn, am I warm?”
“Ha ha,” she deadpanned. “Not exactly…”
“I know who you mean, Christy,” Will said teasingly. “And I’m impressed. You’ve got quite a client list!”
Christy had reached Mrs. Ledger’s car and was unlocking it and trying to calm the frantic Bouvier. “Yeah, impressive she may be, but she’s also the hardest work, Will. Listen, it’s a tiara—that’s the item I’ve got to get back to her, and I’m in real danger of not making it on time. Could you check out her Twitter for me?”
“Excuse me?” Will sounded aghast. “Check out her what? Is it on the cover of the National Enquirer again?”
Christy bit her lip, trying not to roar with laughter. “Will, I mean her Twitter account! You must have heard of Twitter? The online microblogging site?”
“Okay, even I have heard of Twitter. Just testing. Do you tweet, Christy?”
Bouvier was in a frenzy. Christy stroked and cajoled her, frantically trying to soothe her. “Me? Oh, to have the time! But Ms. H does—she’s become an addict all of a sudden—it’s her new craze, and that’s what makes her dangerous today. She’s got, like, millions of followers. These days she doesn’t do a single thing—and I mean a single thing—without tweeting about it.”
“Or her people do it for her?” Will suggested.
“Could be,” Christy agreed, “but whatever. If she gets back to her apartment before I make it there with her family tiara, not only might I lose a very well-paying client, but also, she could well tweet something that would negatively impact my business.”
“I understand. You want me to monitor her Twitter account?”
“Could you?”
“As long as you swear not to tell anyone? Kind of a hard thing to explain away, don’t you think?”
“Deal,” Christy smiled as Bouvier began another frenzy of yapping. “And please keep me posted. It would be just my luck if today’s the day when she’s right on time for everything she does—usually she keeps me waiting, sometimes for hours, but what do you bet today’s different?”
“Try not to worry…say, what are you doing to my favorite dog?”
Christy had clamped the phone against her shoulder and was back out in the bustling New York traffic, the tiara safely stowed in the car’s huge glove compartment. Bouvier was leaping all around the car as though she had lost all control of herself. “Dog’s fine, Will…oh! Bouvier, stop it! That hurt!” Bouvier had executed a giant leap and nipped Christy’s ear.
“Let me talk to her,” Will said. Christy could hear the smile in his voice. “Oh Booo-uvieeeerr! Come to Daddy!”
The transformation in the dog was like magic the moment Will called out to her. With a shake of her head, Christy realized that Bouvier had been trying to get closer to Will’s voice; that was why she was jumping up and nipping her ear. After that, it was easy to let her shoulders relax and allow the little dog to stand on her hind legs on Christy’s lap and listen in doggy rapture as Will crooned to her down the line.
She was so amused by the situation that it took a few moments to notice the blue flashing lights in her rearview mirror. And when she did, it took another few moments to realize they were flashing for her.
“Oh no, oh no! Please, not now!”
With a wail of frustration, she threw the phone onto the passenger seat and pulled over. Bouvier jumped from the backseat into the front and immediately settled, her head close to the tiny speakers, tail wagging furiously.
“Um, hello?” Christy ventured as the burly cop leaned in to talk to her.
“Talking on the phone while driving, Miss?” The cop looked angry. “A legislation banning cell phone use has been in place since 2001. Do you think the law doesn’t apply to you, Ma’am?”
Christy exhaled loudly before turning her best smile on the officer. “It looks bad, I know, but would you believe me if I told you that I wasn’t?”
The officer frowned skeptically. “So who is? You riding with the ghost of Elvis or something?”
“Er, no.” Christy made an attempt at her cutest smile. “It’s the dog. Would you believe my friend is talking to her to keep her calm.”
“Pardon me?” He clearly did not believe.
To Bouvier’s fury, Christy handed him the phone.
After a few moments, a slow smile crept across the officer’s face. He began to nod rhythmically. Christy bit her lip.
“It’s ‘Bella Notte’!” he chuckled.
“It’s Bouvier, actually,” Christy corrected, stroking the little dog’s head.
“No, the song your friend’s singing—it’s ‘Bella Notte’ from Lady and The Tramp! Only my favorite movie of all time!”
Laughing, he handed the phone back to Christy, who put it gingerly to her ear. Sure enough, Will was singing softly down the phone the romantic lyrics fr
om the doggy Disney movie. Clapping her hand over her mouth, Christy looked up at the officer.
“Off you go”, he said, straightening up and slapping the roof of the car. His eyes were moist with tears of laughter. “Next time, get the pooch a CD or something, all right?”
“Thank you!” Christy exclaimed, beaming up at him. “Thank you so much!”
She hung up the phone and made as though to move off. She was trembling with relief at her narrow escape, but time really was against her now.
“Say, have you seen Marley & Me?” The policeman went on, suddenly thoughtful. “Now there’s a dog movie and a half. See, you start off really angry with the guy and the gal for the way they let the dog run their lives, but after a while, you can’t help but get drawn in…”
“Um, may I go now, please, officer?” Christy asked hesitantly.
“Quite a dog, Marley,” the officer went on, staring into space. “He’s kind of the glue that holds their relationship together, even though he’s so destructive…and then at the end…” he tailed off, suddenly stricken. “Saddest thing I ever saw in my life.”
You’re a New York cop, how can you say that? Christy thought but dared not say it. Instead she tried another tack. Pulling out a tissue from her bag, she made her mouth quiver, and pretended to wipe tears from her eyes. The officer looked at her kindly.
“Off you go, Miss. Sorry to upset you, there. Dogs, huh?”
“Dogs,” Christy repeated, pretending to blow her nose. Then she indicated into the traffic and shot off as fast as she legally could, barely breathing until she arrived at the door of Bouvier’s palatial Upper East Side home.
“Well, Bouvier Lassie Stormcloud de Montfort Kramer, you’ve had quite a day, haven’t you? And you made a new friend, too, didn’t you?” She smiled, thinking of Will, then reached for the phone to call him. Not because she needed anything, just to hear his voice. She thought she might ask him if he wanted to say goodbye to the dog, or something…
Realizing how pathetic she was being, she threw it down again as though it was on fire. “What’s gotten into me?” she said aloud. “Come on, Bouvier, beddies for you.”
Mrs. Kramer bustled down from her first-floor salon, all ostrich feathers and fur slippers. She was thrilled with Bouvier’s pink rhinestone manicure and not remotely put out that Christy had returned her a lot later than promised. Christy, ignoring the strong scent of gin that was emanating from the older woman, excused herself as speedily as she politely could, ruffled Bouvier’s ears, and raced back to Mrs. Ledger’s car.
She had a text from Will:
Ms. H at Louis Vuitton
“Great,” she breathed. “Precious time!” And Ms. H had a reputation for shopping trips that last longer than a Lord of the Rings marathon, so Christy had quite a bit of time.
Right, if she drove like the wind and nothing else went wrong, she could drop off Mrs. Dallaglio’s rug on the way back for Mrs. Ledger and Toni. Perfect!
Quickly she leaned into the back of the car to straighten out what was left of the rug’s covering and then froze in horror.
Bouvier had been sick. The little multicolored Gummy Bear sweets she’d used as bribes had reappeared, making a direct hit on a patch of rug that had been exposed when the flimsy covering had been partially shredded by the wind.
Christy’s heart sank. But immediately she knew what had to be done—there was no alternative. She knew a specialist cleaning job when she saw one. The day-glo dye of the sweets had seeped into the precious silk fibers of the handwoven rug and had practically dried already—she’d need to get it to a specialist cleaner without delay.
“What’s up with the world today?” she called out to the thin air of the car.
Today was a rollercoaster unlike any she’d been on: just as she caught a break, she was delivered another blow. Everything was ruined, almost as badly as Mrs. Dallaglio’s rug.
Chapter Fifteen
CHRISTY
4:15 p.m.
4:00 p.m. Drop off Mr. O’Neill’s plane tickets –DONE. (phew!)
Take Mrs. Ledger home.
Drop off Mrs. Dallaglio’s rug – without Mrs. Ledger noticing.
Clean Mrs. Dallaglio’s rug – without Mrs. Ledger noticing.
Drop off Ms. H’s item with Ms. H.
“Will?”
He was the first person she thought of calling. She had to hear his voice.
“Problems?”
“You have no idea. Bouvier threw up on the rug. It’ll need to be cleaned again, and there’s no time. I’m doomed, Will.”
“She did what? Seriously? Well, I have to admit, I’m disappointed. She’s not the classy dame I thought she was.”
“It’s my fault. I tried to keep her quiet with candy, but it disagreed with her. It disagreed with her all over the rug when I was collecting the tiara from the photoshoot.”
“Won’t it scrub off?”
Christy forced herself to glance back at the stain. “No way. Gummy Bear dye is a job for professionals.”
“Okay, if you say so. Don’t worry, we’ll think of something.”
Christy smiled ruefully. “That’s good of you, Will, but it’s my problem, not yours. I’ve troubled you enough today.” So why was she calling him, she wondered to herself. “It’s just that I’m all out of ideas, and I guess I wanted to hear a friendly voice.”
“Hey, hey,” he cut in, “you’re not firing me, are you? Come on, job’s not done yet!”
“Yes, but—”
“Christy, this is your motivation coach here. You can do this! You just need to stay focused!”
Ah, focused. Now there was a word Christy used to be good at. She rubbed her forehead and tried to work out what had happened to the single-minded, efficient Christy Davies who’d got on that train only this morning.
“Christy?” His voice sounded anxious.
“Oh, sorry, yes, I’m here, Will. I haven’t thrown myself off the Empire State. I was just thinking stuff through. And you’re right. I just don’t know where my focus has gone today. I must have downloaded it onto my iPhone at some point and left it there. There’s just too much to do and no time to do it in.”
“Okay, Christy, think! Which is the most urgent?”
“Get Mrs. Ledger home before she calls the cops or drops dead on the sidewalk.”
“Okay. Drive. I’ll deal with the dry cleaner’s.”
Christy drove, as fast as she dared, back to the spot she’d prearranged with Toni to pick up him and Mrs. Ledger. With a huge sigh of relief, she spotted them immediately, walking arm in arm in the late afternoon sunshine, heads bent toward each other as though they’d been friends for years. She screeched to a halt on the curb beside them.
“Traffic, huh?” she made her voice as breezy and carefree as she could. “I am sorry for the delay. Jump in!”
“Say, young Christy,” Mrs. Ledger chuckled, “I’ve been trying to get this car to make that noise for months! Good job!”
Toni helped the old lady into the passenger seat as though she were made of finest crystal, then squeezed himself into the back beside the rug, giving Christy a smile and a thumbs-up. She smiled back, full of gratitude.
“I really must apologize again, Mrs. Ledger,” Christy said as she made to restart the engine.
“Oh, that’s not your fault, Christy,” Mrs. Ledger reassured her. “And I was in excellent hands with gorgeous Toni here. I was trying out my moves on him!”
“Hey, Toni, you’re a lucky guy!” Christy laughed as her phone rang again. “Excuse me one moment.”
She leapt back out of the car and took Will’s call.
“Okay, I’ve found the perfect dry cleaner’s,” he began without introduction. “It’s only eight blocks from Mrs. Ledger’s front door, and they’ve got a great reputation.”
“Eight blocks?” C
hristy echoed. “No way! There must be something closer.”
She stopped when she heard him sigh on the other end of the line.
“There are, Christy. I’ve looked them all up, and there are four or five. But the Lomax Dry Cleaner’s on Fifty-Sixth has the killer reputation, so if I were you, I’d make the extra journey to make sure of a decent job. They do urgent stuff, too. And they guarantee their work. I checked.”
“You called them?”
“I did.”
Christy was touched. But still, using a dry cleaner’s so far away would eat up even more time, especially given that they’d have to carry the rug there on foot—unless she detoured yet again before dropping off Mrs. Ledger’s car.
No. No way was she going to abuse Mrs. Ledger’s trust twice in one day. And Will had done her a real favor in bothering to hunt out a dry cleaner’s with a good reputation. She’d go with him on this one.
“Okay, I’ll do it. Thank you so much, Will.”
“Happy to help, Christy. Now get going!”
“Going!” She chirped and turned her attention, finally, to driving her client home.
When they arrived at Mrs. Ledger’s apartment block, Christy pulled over, leapt out, and ran around to help her out of the car, only to find that Toni had already completed the task. He was disappearing into the opulent marble lobby of the building, guiding the old lady every step of the way. Christy raced after them.
“Mrs. Ledger, I…” she began.
“You still here?” Mrs. Ledger turned her bandaged head in Christy’s direction. “Say, young lady, I’ve just managed to get this gentleman over my front door, now do you think you could return my car and leave me to have my wicked way with your assistant?”
She turned her sightless gaze back upon Toni, who beamed fondly down at her. “Ah, Lucretia Ledger, seeing is believing.”
“You better believe it! Phillip? You got my keys?” A young uniformed concierge snapped into action and rushed over with Mrs. Ledger’s keys.