Her Foreign Affair

by Shea Mcmaster

Court disconnected after Martin assured him Martha had all the information he needed. Maybe she could explain about Randi driving off with Doyle.

  “Court?” Larry squeezed his shoulder. “What’s up? Your mum?”

  “Fell. Broken hip. Larry, wasn’t that Randi climbing into the hotel car?” He surged forward into the crowd. “Where do you think Randi would go with Doyle?”

  “Randi? Doyle? Who’s Doyle, and what does it have to do with your mum? Or Randi for that matter?”

  Court flung out his arm in frustration, meaning to point after the disappearing car. His cell phone flew from his hand and landed in the street. Cursing, he started to follow, but a yellow cab, horn blaring, sped past him forcing him back onto the sidewalk where a horrible crunching noise reached his ears.

  “Dammit!”

  Larry echoed the curses streaming from his mouth and held up a hand to stop further traffic from rolling over Court. He quickly picked up the pieces he could, and for the first time in many years, a sense of doom settled over him.

  “I can’t believe you did that,” Larry said as he pulled Court back onto the sidewalk, completely ignoring the hand gestures aimed in their direction.

  Court could only stare down at the mashed and broken pieces in his hands. “Randi.”

  “What’s her number, mate? You can use my phone.” Larry whipped it out. “Come on, tell me. We’ll have her in a jiff, and you’ll see that wasn’t her.”

  From the ruined pieces of his phone, he tried to extract the SIM card, but it was cracked beyond repair. Of all the idiotic things to happen.

  “Number, old man?”

  “Don’t know it off the top of my head. That’s what phone memories are for.” Court flung the remains into the nearest trash bin and resumed pushing through the crowd to the hotel. “Martha will know. Fiske has her number as well. Gotta get back to the room. She’s probably there anyway.”

  Chapter 20

  He’d had to have Fiske call Martha’s room and drag her up to the penthouse while he used the butler’s phone to try and reach Randi. Unsuccessful—her phone rolled immediately to voicemail—he stared at his assistant as her lips pressed into a thin line and she glowered at him. In the bedroom, Fiske was taking care of the last of the packing, and Martha flipped through a stack of the necessary paperwork between frowns.

  “Court, we have one hour to get to the airport for check in. We’ll be ready to go in just a minute or two. My bags are already with the bellhops.” Martha tapped a blunt nail on her leather folder. Just one of the details he’d noticed over the last few days. Her hands lacked the grace of motion Randi had in spades. Although she was fifteen years younger than Randi, she seemed older, her youthful skin covered up with heavy cosmetics. She lacked Randi’s relaxed, West Coast, sun-kissed complexion. The curse of the English in winter, skin as pale as a whitefish belly. The long hours Martha worked to keep him organized were showing. At least she was well paid to put up with him, unlike Randi.

  “Martha, am I or am I not the Lord and Master of the company?”

  Since he’d never taken this position, this attitude, with her before, green eyes not nearly as pretty as Randi’s blinked back at him.

  “You are.”

  “Then I can damn well do as I please. I can get myself to the airport, so I want you to take the rest of the week off, and I’ll see you back in the office on Monday. Go home and relax or, better yet, stay on through the weekend if you like and put it on your expense sheet. Spend the rest of the afternoon in the spa, get your hair and nails done by a real New York beautician, whatever you want to treat yourself. Put it on the company card. A bonus for all the hard work you do.” He took her arm and guided her toward the elevator.

  “But, Court, I…I…” The stricken look in her eyes was there for only a moment, then a curtain of almost steely determination covered it. “Don’t you think you’ll need me this weekend?”

  “For what? I think I can handle the situation with my mother, and the office will have a new phone for me when I get back. So, what do you want just for you? Anything you want. A weekend in the Hamptons? Boston? Skiing in Vermont? A long weekend in Miami? Name it, it’s yours.” Especially if she could reach Randi so he could try to talk her into flying to London with him. “Where did you say Randi had gone?”

  “I didn’t. I merely told you she’d gone.”

  “Okay, so get her on the phone and tell her to get back here. Hope she isn’t too deep into shopping.” Surely she’d just been heading out to another department store and had bumped into Doyle by accident? He turned away and headed for the stairs. Damned if he needed a butler to pack his suitcase.

  “She’s gone, as in she’s on her way to the airport if not already there.”

  Court stopped midstride and turned to look at his assistant. “What do you mean she’s gone to the airport? Going where?”

  “Home. She grew tired of waiting around.” Martha shrugged and stepped close, resting a hand on his arm.

  “Home? Didn’t you tell her you were making reservations for The Russian Tearoom? Didn’t you tell her we’d be wrapped up this afternoon and both you and Larry had orders to leave us alone?”

  “I did, but it didn’t make any difference.” Martha spoke in a voice that sent chills down his spine. She’d never used such a soft seductive voice before, and he had a moment of panic. No, surely she didn’t feel…

  The hand moved to his chest as she dropped her leather folio. “What will it take for you to forget all the others? When will you realize I’m the one who’s always there for you? We’re meant to be together.”

  “What?” Court stepped back. “Impossible, Martha.” He laughed uncomfortably.

  “She’s gone,” Martha said and stepped closer. “Just like all the others walk away from you. Only I stick by you. I’m the only one who’s always there for you, Court.”

  Something very close to sheer terror gripped his guts. “Martha, don’t even joke about something like that.” Randi had been patient with business this week. Had Martha not delivered the message properly? Randi wouldn’t have walked away from such an evening. His heart clenched so hard, for a second, he wondered if he were having a heart attack. With a deep breath of air tainted by some awful perfume, he sidestepped Martha and took the stairs two at a time.

  He reached the bedroom and found it empty. The bed as neat as it was each day after housekeeping came through. On the luggage rack, his suitcase sat open but fully packed. The room looked oddly barren. Fiske came from the bathroom with Court’s shaving kit in hand. Court peered around him and into the tiled room and found it likewise empty, with an abandoned feel to it. A second glance showed Randi’s toiletry case missing, the contents no longer strewn across the marble counter.

  Maybe she’d moved her things to the guest room. He’d just turned to head that way when a white envelope propped up on the dresser caught his eye. On the surface, written in Randi’s flowing script, he read his name. Hand shaking, his secretary and the butler looking on, Court reached for it, taking only a second to make note of the small wrapped package it’d been hiding, and ripped it open. A single sheet of writing paper unfolded in his hand, and the credit cards he’d given her fell to the floor.

  Court,

  Thank you for the very lovely time in New York. I’ve never been so indulged. I’m sorry to leave early, but maybe in the end it’s for the best. You have your continuing issues this week, and I need to see Birdie. She isn’t answering her e-mails or signing onto Facebook, and I’m worried. This will also give you the ability to better focus on business without me hanging around, waiting for you to be free. I hate that I’ve been such a drag on your time and energy.

  Thank you. From the bottom of my heart. Drop me an e-mail, and we’ll see if we can arrange for Birdie to fly over and spend some time with you. I’m glad she knows the truth at last, and I’m thankful she has a chance to get to know the rest of her family.

  In case you see
this before I leave for the airport, I’ll be at the café across the street. The car is picking me up at 3:45. If you don’t show, don’t worry. I really do understand that sometimes that’s just the way things are.

  Give my best to Larry. He really is a character.

  I thought of you when I found the tea. I hope you enjoy it as I’ve enjoyed my time with you.

  Love,

  Randi

  P.S. I don’t know much about tipping butlers, but Fiske deserves a large one.

  He glanced at his watch. Four o’clock straight up. Too late. For the second time in his life, Randi had left him. Leaving behind an even larger, more painful hole in his heart this time that he immediately tried to close with rationalization. There had to be a misunderstanding; there usually was in cases like this. Wasn’t there? At least he knew exactly where to find her this time.

  “Court?” Martha’s hand touched his arm again.

  Upon glancing up, he noticed the butler and his suitcase were gone from the room.

  “She’s walked out on you. I’ve never left you hanging. I’m there every time you turn to me. I’m the only woman who really knows and understands you. I’m younger and have more energy to keep up with your demanding schedule. I know you don’t like the food she’s ordered for you this week. I’ve never ignored your wishes in anything. You’re the center of my universe, and everything I do is for you.”

  He stared down at the woman he’d hired seven years ago. In that time, she’d been like an extension of himself, always there, always anticipating his needs in the office. Always sweeping up the left over debris, making sure he never forgot a birthday or anniversary, always there for the important events in Drew’s life. He’d told himself at the time her impressive credentials and efficient style made her so valuable. Loyalty. Steadfast focus on the job. Taking it beyond to make sure his household staff knew his comings and goings, making sure they were ready for whatever his schedule demanded. All perfect features to have in an assistant, and he valued them…. No, what struck him now was not how she handled her job. She looked like Randi.

  Like Randi would have looked as a young professional woman. Only harder. Overly polished and buffed. Not like Randi now. The softer Randi. A little rounded, a tiny bit wrinkled, but sweet and smiling, gentle and warm. Loving. Caring. Nurturing. The Randi he’d fallen in love with so long ago and had never stopped loving.

  Martha was a shell. She had the appearance, but not the heart and soul of the original Randi. She was a computer who tracked and organized. Yes, she kept his schedule smooth, but that wasn’t what he wanted in a lover. Fine for an employee, but not the woman he wanted to spend his life with.

  Randi had run from him once before because of Beatrice. Had she seen something in Martha’s behavior that made her think…no, God no. He’d never given Martha a moment’s encouragement…had he?

  Coming to his senses, he shook off her hand. “No. You need your own life. Go out and find it. Take two weeks. I’ll have payroll deposit a bonus in your account. Travel, find a boyfriend, deep sea dive, or ski the Rockies, but do something not involving work or me.” He took her by the shoulders and turned her toward the door. “I’m sorry if you think I’ve led you on, but there’s only one woman I love, and I need to find her.” Annoyingly, it would have to wait. Right now his mother needed him, dammit.

  “Court! Don’t do this,” she pleaded, her face crumpling. “You need me. I need you. We’re coffee and cream. We’re springtime and rain.”

  “Perhaps, but I don’t prefer those things. I prefer tea and milk, crumpets and jam. I prefer Randi. Roses pressed into sappy novels.”

  “She’s old! I’m young! I’m prettier.” Martha straightened her spine, then softened her face. “She’s gone. I’m here.”

  Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, he merely said the only thing he could at the moment. “You’re fired.” He urged her into the open elevator and pushed the button. “Leave your laptop and cell phone at the front desk; they’re company property. I’ll have a generous severance posted to your account no later than tomorrow. Your corporate card will be canceled once the transfer is confirmed.”

  Right now, he was needed in London, and he didn’t even have the means to reach Randi on her cell phone. Upon glancing around the room, his gaze found the laptop case still on the dresser. Yes, he could. He could send her an e-mail.

  Chapter 21

  “Birdie?”

  “Hi, Mom.” Her daughter sounded distracted, not unusual when Randi called, instead of waiting for Birdie to call. “Are you calling from New York?”

  “From the airport. Just wanted to let you know I’ll be home later tonight. Thought you might like to come home for the weekend. Just the two of us, and I can help with proofing your thesis if you like.”

  A long pause followed. “Didn’t work out?”

  Randi swallowed the lump in her throat. She sat in the departure lounge and didn’t feel like displaying tears for the entertainment of others. “Business sometimes gets in the way of fun. You’ve seen it before. I had a lovely time but, well, things came up.” Over the connection, she heard the bleep of e-mail arriving, followed by the click of a mouse on Birdie’s end.

  “Huh.”

  Randi waited for Birdie to elaborate, then prompted, “Do you need to get that?”

  “No, it can wait. I don’t recognize the e-mail. I get junk all the time.” Birdie’s voice faded out for a moment, then came back.

  “Not grandpa getting our e-mails mixed up again?” With the handles of fergieb and fergier, he often picked the first one that popped up, and all too often Randi’s e-mails went to Birdie. Sometimes she sent them back. Sometimes she just forwarded them.

  “Nah, I know his e-mail address. So what happened? You want me to pick you up from the airport?”

  The unexpected proposal perked up her depressed ego. The friendly offer was a big improvement over the attitude of late, much more like the daughter she knew. “That would be wonderful. I was planning on a limo, but hey, I’d love to save a few bucks. I spent plenty on your Christmas present.” Birdie certainly ought to be pleased with the diamond earrings Randi actually planned to give her upon graduation. Nothing large or flashy, the earrings would be Birdie’s first bit of real jewelry, aside from the pieces Wyatt had given her.

  “Well, seein’ as how you went to all that trouble of buying me a gift and all…”

  Randi laughed. “You scamp. You don’t get it until Christmas.” Which should make it a bigger surprise when Birdie got the earrings for graduation.

  Birdie laughed as well. “All right, you spoil sport. Just tell me you didn’t get any Statue of Liberty tchotchkes.”

  “Nope, no tourist junk, I swear.” She crossed her fingers. One or two in the stockings didn’t count, right?

  “So, do you want me to invite Drew for the weekend?”

  The question was unexpected, though the thought had crossed her mind. Randi answered carefully. “Do you want to invite him?”

  “I don’t know.”

  The loud speaker crackled to attention, and the standard early boarding announcement blared out.

  “That’s me,” she said as soon as relative silence returned. “I’ve got a first class ticket.”

  “Really spoiled you, did he? Okay, well.” Birdie huffed. “I guess we can be just the two of us.”

  “Do you mind? I’m not sure where I stand with Court right now, and I’d hate to drag Drew into it.”

  “No problem. Call as soon as you hit the ground. I should be at the baggage claim drive through by the time you have your suitcase.”

  “Thanks. See you in a few hours.” For the first time in days, she felt hopeful Birdie might be over her upset. With luck, now they could talk things out and return to a somewhat normal life. Good advice all around, and advice she should follow herself.

  * * * *

  Court frowned at his computer screen. Birdie? He checked the e-mail addres
s Drew had sent him. Ah. That made sense, the addresses were different by one letter, the last one of course. Damn awkward balancing the laptop on his actual lap in the back of a taxi. He’d already sent an e-mail off to Martin to get him a new phone. This time, something with a tough case.

  So Birdie felt friendly enough to provide him with Randi’s proper information. It also gave him an opening. A chance to communicate with his daughter. There went that soft feeling in his heart again. He could go with this. With a click on the touchpad, he opened a new e-mail message and verified the address.

  Dear Birdie…

  Chapter 22

  “Excuse me, sir?”

  Court adjusted his focus from staring out the window at the frost covered Sussex landscape to his butler’s reflection in the glass. Draped in white from the surprise snow shower they’d had the day before, the South Downs sparkled under a weak winter sun. After three weeks of dealing with everyone’s problems but his own, he felt numb, as if encased in the icy crystals hanging on the trees.

  Three weeks of doctors, hospitals, and nursing homes for his mother who wouldn’t behave for anyone but him, and only then because he threatened to walk away. Mum’s recovery kept him from straying farther than an hour from hospital and home, which ruled out jumping on a plane to California. He’d also been tied down conducting interviews for Martha’s replacement, something he didn’t dare trust to personnel after they’d tried to send him another Martha. All alongside getting the house ready for bringing Mum home, rearranging the parlor, and updating the bathroom for an invalid. Followed by the Christmas preparations. Not to mention doing business without the help of a competent assistant.

  Still, with all those balls in the air, away from town like this, there was too much time left to think about Randi and far too few stolen moments to do anything about it. Small chunks of time, just long enough to seduce him into calling Randi only to say hello before someone else knocked on his door. Quick e-mails dashed off from his new phone saying nothing more than, I miss you, before an urgent message of one sort or another made it through. On the whole, he’d probably sent four messages total that contained more than three words, and not by much. Messages which prompted only terse answers, none explaining her abrupt departure. Three weeks of near silence from the one person he wanted to talk to more than anyone else in the world were about to drive him mad.