Until she realized he was about to fall over.
“Please, you’ve got to get off your feet.” She helped him to the couch.
He laughed and pulled her down with him, kissing her again. And again. His kisses were sweet, warm heaven. She knew she could lose herself in them forever. But when he finally drew back, his eyes were fierce and scary.
“Is it really over between you and Smith?” he said. “You’re not just using me again to get his attention?”
“Again? But I’ve never used you!”
“Sure you have. You used me. You used Jack Daniels, too. But tonight you seem pretty sober. You might not pass out on me this time. But I’d like to know if this is going to mean anything to you.”
“What do you mean—pass out on you?” She had to know. “You mean we didn’t—do anything that night?
“If we’d ‘done anything’, I’d like to think you’d remember, Camilla.”
She felt the coolness of his damp skin through the thin fabric of the nightgown. Now she knew why passion was so often described in terms of fire. Her wanting him had turned to pure heat.
“I never used you to get to Plantagenet. It’s always been you I wanted, just you.” Her lips sought his as she wrapped her arms around him.
“Don’t lie,” he said. He cupped her chin in his hand and fixed her with his steel-blue gaze. “Just tell me that tomorrow morning, when he waltzes in here with a florist shop under his arm, you’re not going to start ‘Mr. Kahn’-ing me again.”
She didn’t want to argue with him.
“It’s already tomorrow morning.” She pointed to the window, where the first light grayed the sky. She kissed him again, trying to erase his false suspicions and silly accusations. She felt his hands on her body, under the nightgown, cool and burning all at once…
Loud noises erupted in the hallway outside.
Camilla jumped to her feet, smoothing the nightgown as she heard the sound of a key in the lock.
The door opened and in walked a smiling Violet, looking remarkably stylish in a well-cut, plum-colored suit and matching hat, and a rumpled Plantagenet, in a damp tuxedo, carrying two leather suitcases and a purple tote bag.
“Darling! Thank God!” Plantagenet set down the luggage to give Camilla a quick hug. “Are you all right?”
Plant. Here. It made no sense.
“Of course she’s all right,” Violet said with a snort. “I told you she would be. Besides, she’s got Genghis here to take care of her, doesn’t she?”
Plantagenet gave Jonathan a look of cold fury.
“You don’t waste a minute, do you, Kahn?”
Jonathan stood slowly, wrapping the quilt carefully around his unclothed body.
“Hello, Smith,” he said. “Sorry I couldn’t make it to the party.”
Plantagenet didn’t move.
“Why here, Kahn? This little museum of kitsch doesn’t strike me as the ideal spot for a seduction. Or maybe you just wanted to get away from your phone? I’ve been calling your place half the night.”
“Don’t be a nincompoop, Planty,” Violet said as she removed her hat. “There’s no hanky-panky going on here. If you’d pay attention, you’d see that Camellia was sleeping on the bed, which is all mussed up, and Genghis was over there on the sofa. Besides, just look at her. She’s not exactly dressed for making whoopee, would you say? Camellia, where did you find that god-awful nightie? It looks like something from my rag bag.”
Camilla’s attention was on Plantagenet. How had he known she was here?
“Planty, I don’t know why you are so worried about Camellia,” Violet continued. “Where else would she go, now that those police people have come to their senses? That’s just what I told her mother. This is where Camellia lives. She didn’t know that Mrs. R. refused to cash my checks and decided to rent the apartment to that toothless old drunk. Camellia probably wanted to get settled so she’ll be ready for work on Monday. Genghis here hates when she’s late for work.”
“You’ve talked to Mother?” Camilla managed to say. “I didn’t know you’d ever met my mother.”
“Sure I did. At the jail. And I’ve been writing her for months. Got the address off that letter you left here. I didn’t want her to worry about you. Don’t forget I was a mother myself.” She turned to Jonathan. “Genghis, I never saw a man look so silly. Where are your clothes?”
Camilla tried to explain. “They were soaked, so I hung them in the bathroom.”
“I got caught in the rain,” Jonathan said. “I’m afraid the Edsel has given up the ghost. It just stopped dead. I’ll get someone to tow it tomorrow.”
“Maybe it’s just as well that I had to take a taxi from the airport,” Violet said. “I couldn’t figure out why you weren’t home when I called you to pick me up. Anyway, I’m sure Planty here will be happy to give you a ride home. You better get dressed first, though. You could get arrested.”
With an enigmatic look at Camilla, Jonathan disappeared into the bathroom.
Violet seemed to take no notice of the tension. “Planty, why don’t you take Genghis home, and Camellia can get dressed. Then you come back here and take her to breakfast. They do a bang-up brunch at the Del. I took Camellia there once. That’s where I’m going to have my eighty-fifth birthday party. I hope you’ll be there.”
Jonathan emerged from the bathroom wearing his damp clothes.
Camilla couldn’t let them leave like this.
“Mr. Kahn. I mean, Jon—Jonathan,” she said, trying to think of some way to connect. “Work. Do you want me to come in on Monday?”
“Yes. Mr. Kahn strongly recommends Dr. Lavinia shows up at work on Monday.” His voice was devoid of emotion. “There are thousands of letters stacked up.”
“What did you call him?” Violet said.
“Mr. Kahn? Jonathan?”
Violet walked peered at Jonathan. “That’s your name—Jonny?”
“Nobody’s called me that in a long time,” he said with a thin smile. “But I would prefer it to Genghis.”
“Oh, why?” Plantagenet said, holding the door. “Genghis suits you so well.”
Jonathan gave Camilla a dark look before he followed Plant into the hall. “Good-bye Ms. Randall,” he said. “See you on Monday.”
Chapter 35—Violet Rushes Forth
When Plant reappeared a few minutes later, he looked even more bedraggled. The sleeve of his tuxedo jacket was torn, his hair fell in his face, and a red patch under his right eye had begun to swell.
Camilla knew she didn’t look much better. She had dressed in clothes Violet insisted she borrow—a vivid purple polyester suit about a size and a half too small, with a nylon blouse of a pink that didn’t quite match her water-stained shoes.
She lightly touched Plant’s cheek. “What happened?”
“Kahn and I had a little—discussion.”
“He hit you?”
“Maybe I swung first.”
“Why?”
“Because he’s slime.”
So. He’d decided not to make sense. Time to change the subject.
“Well, in any case, I’m glad you’re here. How did you know I’d be at Violet’s?”
“I couldn’t think of any other place you could have gone. Franny called me at one A.M., frantic, saying you hadn’t come home. I tried phoning the landlady here, but got no answer, and Violet’s number isn’t listed. I even tried calling your mother, but all I got was some German woman.”
“That’s Helga, the night nurse,” Violet said as she emerged from the bathroom dressed in a robe and nightie. “She’s a real terror, that one. Straight out of those operas where they wear the brass bras and those hats—you know—with the horns sticking out? Joanie can’t stand her, but of course, she’s not the one who’s sick.”
Camilla sorted through these implausibilities. Violet. Her mother. Together.
I’m going to have to get a little shut eye,” Violet said. “Those night flights save money, but they sure don’t g
ive you a good night’s sleep. Why don’t you two go out and have that breakfast? Then you can come back here, Camellia. It’s nice to have you home.” She gave Camilla’s shoulder a pat and turned to Plant. “She had to get Genghis over here because he had the key to my place. You shouldn’t get yourself so worked up, Planty.”
Plant looked from Violet to Camilla.
“Is she right? You came here because it’s—home? I’ve been worried sick. You seemed so upset when you left the party, and when you took off in that car like a bat out of hell—frankly, I was afraid you might have smashed up somewhere. But the CHP didn’t have a report of a wrecked DeLorean, so I drove down here. I’m glad you’re all right.”
“Of course she’s all right,” Violet said. “Talking about bats—Camellia, you should have seen him out there before—screeching up behind my taxi in his fancy car and tearing up the stairs, not even offering to carry my valises. I had to give him a good talking-to.”
“Fancy car?” Camilla pictured Plantagenet’s unprepossessing rental.
Plant shrugged. “I had to borrow Angela’s Rolls. My car was parked in, and she didn’t need it. She’d given the chauffeur the rest of the weekend off. Family emergency.”
A family emergency called Franny, probably.
“You were still at Angela’s when Franny called you? I thought you’d be going home with Glen.”
There. She said it.
Plantagenet gave a pained look.
“Glen left right after you did. I was hoping you’d come back. Anyway, I had some business to do. There were some money people there at Angela’s…In fact, I think I’ve got the backing now to take Alexander! to New York.”
There was joy behind his fatigue.
“That’s fantastic news!” Camilla hugged him tightly, wet suit and all. “I’m so happy for you.”
Violet bubbled. “Everyone should take a trip to New York once in a while. Helps keep things in perspective. I hope you and your friend Alexander have a bang-up time in the Big Apple, Planty. I had a wonderful visit. Camellia’s mother is the perfect hostess.”
“You stayed with Mother—in her New York house?”
“Most of the time we spent in the house in Darien, but some of the time we went into the city to see how Mr. Snopes was doing. He stays there to be close to his doctors. But they can’t do much at this stage. He’s not long for this world. I can tell. I’ve buried enough of them myself. That’s why I was good company for your mother.”
“The house? In Darien? But we don’t have a house in Darien. She had to sell it.”
“Mr. Snopes bought it back for her as a wedding present. Wasn’t that nice? But now poor Joanie is working herself to a frazzle redecorating it from top to bottom. You should have seen all the arty-farty shops she dragged me to.” Violet interrupted herself with a noisy yawn. “Now you two skedaddle. I need my sleep.”
Plant looked from his torn jacket to Camilla’s hand-me-down polyester. “Darling, where can we go looking like this?”
Driving up to the MacDonald’s window in the Rolls Royce should have been fun, but the air was thick with tension. Camilla had no idea what was really going on with Glen and Plant—or with her and Plant, or with her and Jonathan.
As they sat silently eating Egg McMuffins, she decided to broach the subject. “You invited Jonathan to Angela’s party. Why did you do that if you think he’s slime?”
“It was Glen’s idea. He’s convinced Kahn’s in love with you. Glen thought if the two of you talked, something might be resolved. I guess I went along with it because I was hoping you’d see Kahn for what he really is.”
“And what is he, really?” She wasn’t sure she wanted to hear this.
“Not what I thought. After his nose started bleeding, we stopped swinging and talked a little. I thought he was a media jackal who was only interested in you for the story, but it turns out he and I have a lot in common. We’re just a couple of poor bastards who fell in love with the same woman.” Plant crumpled his napkin and stuffed it into the empty Styrofoam container. “No, not the same woman. He fell in love with a tough, savvy reporter, and I fell for a sweet, fragile girl. Which one of those is you?”
Camilla slurped the remains of her Diet Coke.
“Neither one, really. I’m just me. Maybe neither of you is in love with the person I really am.”
“Maybe I could be.” There was pain in his eyes, but she saw love, too.
“What about Glen?”
“I don’t know. Glen’s gay. And I’m—I don’t know what I am.”
“I think you should find out, Plantagenet.”
There was silence for a moment before he turned the key in the ignition.
“Where are we going? Are you coming back to L.A. with me?”
“No. I’m staying here. Violet says I can live with her until I find an apartment.”
“Are you staying because Kahn is here?”
“I’m staying because my work is here.”
“But you’re in love with Kahn?”
“Maybe.” She only realized the truth as it came out of her mouth. “Not the way I love you. You’re my best friend and—my family, sort of. What I feel for Jonathan is confusing and scary and weird.”
“I’ll see if I can get someone to bring your things down this week.” Plantagenet kept his eyes on the road. “You may be able to live in Violet’s apartment, but I don’t think you’ll be happy living in her clothes.” He took a sudden breath as he pulled up in front of the apartment building. “Good God, what’s that woman up to now?”
Violet stood on the steps of the building, wearing her hat and coat, flanked by her two suitcases, waving frantically.
“Planty, don’t leave! You’ve got to drive me back to the airport.”
Camilla jumped out and ran to her. “You left something at the airport?”
Violet shook her head. “Of course not. I’m going back to New York. Here’s my key. Take good care of the place. Planty, come carry my valises.” She scurried down the stairs and into the front seat.
Plantagenet silently loaded the luggage into the trunk while Camilla hovered. She didn’t know what to say.
“Good bye, Camilla.” Plant looked close to tears. “I hope I’ll always be your best friend—and your sort-of-family.” He gripped her in a hug that lasted too long.
“Come on, Planty,” Violet shouted from the car. “I’ve got a plane to catch.”
Chapter 36—The Triumph of Dr. Lavinia
Camilla had to wear Violet’s purple suit to work on Monday morning.
Julie wasn’t at her desk. Jonathan, talking on the phone in his glass cubicle, had his back to the room, and Bob, busy at his typewriter, didn’t even look up. She could have been arriving at work on any normal Monday morning except for one thing—another woman sat in her cubicle, typing away on her Selectric.
The woman had white hair set in stiff, lacquered curls and wore dark-rimmed glasses, attached to a gold chain around her neck. She wore a suit rather like Camilla’s, except hers was navy blue.
“How may I help you?” the woman said.
“This used to be Dr. Lavinia’s cubicle.”
“It still is,” the woman said. “How may I help you?”
“You’re Dr. Lavinia?” Had Jonathan replaced her?
“No. I’m her secretary. Dr. Lavinia sees no one. You’ll have to excuse me. We’re very busy here.” The woman returned her attention to a stack of letters on her desk.
“You don’t understand…”
She heard Julie’s voice behind her. “Randy? Is that you?” She wore a T-shirt that said “A woman needs a man like a fish needs a bicycle.” She welcomed Camilla with a warm hug.
“I didn’t know I had a secretary!”
“You have two. Gloria here handles the mail, and we have a girl answering the phones out on the floor. Gloria, meet Dr. Lavinia.”
“I’m so sorry,” Gloria said, jumping to her feet. “Mr. Kahn didn’t tell me you’d be coming in. I ha
ven’t talked to him this morning.”
“Just as well,” Julie said. “I haven’t seen him like this since the day he fired Stuart. He’s threatened to let three more people go, including me. And you know what?” Julie stepped further inside and whispered. “He’s got this big bruise on his face like he’s been in a fight.”
~
The morning went by quickly. Gloria turned out to be wonderfully efficient, and in spite of many interruptions as co-workers wandered by to welcome her back, Camilla had a column finished by the time Julie arrived and announced lunch time.
“So,” Julie said as they sat down to their plates of orange spaghetti at Frank’s. “How is your gorgeous fiancé? Is the wedding going to be soon?”
Camilla swallowed a bite.
“Actually, we’re not…really engaged. Not anymore.”
“Oops,” Julie said. “I thought I’d chosen a safe topic. Did you notice I didn’t say one thing about Jon-Don Parker? Or jail? Or your clothes? Do I get points for that?”
“Will you look who’s here, slumming with the riff-raff,” said Bernie McGee as she made her way through the crowd. “Camel,” she said pulling up a chair. “I hope you know you’re not the only celebrity here. Julie is becoming a star. Did she tell you?”
“Oh, it’s nothing,” Julie said.
“Nothing! You’re just the female lead,” said Bernie. “Twelve Picassos and a Green Rug by David Patrick Columbia. She’s so sweet and sincere. What an acting job!”
Julie’s sheepish grin changed to an expression of puzzlement as she caught sight of something behind them.
“Gloria!” she said, “Is something wrong?”
Camilla turned to see her secretary, red-faced and out of breath, trying to push through the crowd to their table.
“Miss Randall,” Gloria said when she’d caught her breath. “They need you back to the office. Mr. Kahn said if I didn’t find you in fifteen minutes, I’d be fired.”
“Genghis Kahn strikes again,” said Bernie. “Hey, can I finish your spaghetti?”
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