A Winter Wonderland

by Fern Michaels

  “I just know we’re going to get along like a house afire,” Layla told her, plunking her tiny little bottom in one of the gilt chairs next to Elizabeth’s desk. Up close, Elizabeth could see that Layla wasn’t quite as young as she first appeared; long lines ran from her nose to either side of her mouth, and the skin around her eyes was creepy. Nevertheless, she was a bundle of energy and gave a youthful impression, tossing her long blond hair extensions this way and that and dashing about on impossibly high, needle-thin stiletto heels. “So, first let’s see what the hotel can offer in the way of activities. These folks are going to be here for four days and we need to provide lots of fun things for them to do.”

  “We offer lots of options for our guests,” Elizabeth said, trying to put Chris out of her mind so she could concentrate on the task at hand. “There’s a fitness center, of course, and we’re right on the beach. There’s boating, golf, tennis, all right here. And I can arrange for horseback riding, helicopter rides, pretty much anything anyone wants.”

  Layla was shaking her head. “That’s all well and good, but these are very special people, the crème de la crème, and they will want unique entertainments, things that ordinary people can’t do.”

  Elizabeth was stumped, painfully aware that she was an ordinary person and didn’t have a clue what the extraordinary people did. “What do you have in mind?”

  “Well, say a special performance at a theater, or perhaps a private showing in an art museum, things like that. Danny Simpson, the tennis star, is one of the guests. Maybe we could have an exhibition match with Sharapova. That would be fun, wouldn’t it? Boy versus girl?”

  Elizabeth had a sinking feeling; she knew she was out of her depth here. “I’ll do my best,” she began.

  “Oh, don’t worry—I’ll help. I’ll give you names and numbers. We’ll plan four days that they’ll never forget.” Layla turned her head, giving her wavy extensions yet another toss, and studied the holiday decorations in the lobby, which Elizabeth considered a tasteful assortment of seasonal flowering plants and wreaths, with a few twinkly lights here and there. “You know, these decorations are rather restrained, wouldn’t you say?”

  “That’s intentional,” Elizabeth said. “We cater to a wide variety of guests here—Jewish people and Muslims and quite a few Asians and Indians—and they don’t celebrate Christmas. It’s supposed to be seasonal, not particularly Christmas.”

  “Well, we’ll have to change that,” Layla declared. “We need a lot more sparkle, a lot more bling. It’s the Blingle Bells Ball!”

  When Layla finally left, leaving Elizabeth with several single-spaced pages listing all the things she wanted her to do, Elizabeth tried to return Chris’s call. She dialed his cell but only got voice mail, so she left a quick message saying she was sorry they hadn’t had time to talk but she’d been busy at work. She half expected him to return her call immediately; she’d called his cell phone, after all, and knew he always carried it. When he didn’t call back, she reluctantly concluded it was because he’d decided to ignore her call and blow her off, just like Toni had predicted. She found that thought terribly depressing and threw herself into her work.

  It wasn’t until she was headed home in her used Corolla, three hours later than usual due to the extra work for the Gruber party, that her cell phone finally rang.

  “Hi!” he said, “I missed you. Want to go for a beer or something?”

  Elizabeth’s heart leaped—he missed her! But she was dead tired. Layla had run her off her feet, trimming dozens of fake white Christmas trees, making calls, packing elaborate gift baskets for Gruber’s guests, and fending off reporters who’d gotten wind of the exclusive gala and wanted information. And then there’d been a stressful one-on-one session with Dan Wrayburn, the security director, who had warned her about data breaches and computer viruses and worms. “A beer would be great,” she finally said, deciding she didn’t want to put him off and risk the chance of letting his ardor cool.

  “Great,” he said. “Do you want to meet me somewhere? Say Charley’s Crab?”

  Elizabeth agreed, thinking she was glad she’d worn her Lilly dress to work that morning, instead of her usual workout clothes, just in case Chris called.

  He was waiting for her in front of the casually elegant restaurant, dressed in khakis and a pale blue polo shirt, with boat shoes and no socks. She smiled, aware that she was a sucker for the preppy look.

  “What are you smiling about?” he asked, when they were seated at a table in a cozy corner of the bar.

  “I’m just giddy with relief,” she said. “I’ve been dealing with this awful woman all day. She’s the party planner Gruber hired to organize this shindig and she’s a piece of work.”

  “Well, now you can relax,” he said. “What will you have?”

  “A glass of chardonnay,” she said.

  He nodded at the waitress and ordered the wine for her and a Sam Adams for himself. “You can take the boy out of Boston but you can’t take the Boston out of the boy,” he quipped.

  “My dad loves their Winter Lager,” Elizabeth said. “But you hardly need that down here.”

  “Sometimes the nights get chilly,” he said, with a mischievous grin.

  Elizabeth didn’t quite know how to take this, so she decided to make a joke. “I know—that’s why I wear flannel to bed, even here in Florida.”

  “I hope you’re teasing me,” he said, when their drinks arrived. He raised his beer and tapped her glass. “Here’s to Yankee girls, or one very special Yankee girl.”

  Elizabeth laughed. “I don’t comb my hair with codfish bones,” she said, referring to the silly rhyme she’d learned as a child.

  “I like short hair on girls,” he said, reaching across the table and smoothing a lock of her hair. “You don’t get all tangled up in it.”

  She took a swallow of wine. “I’ve got to get an early start tomorrow. I’ve got a seven o’clock meeting with the security director.”

  “What does he want with you?” Chris asked, in a casual tone.

  “I don’t know.” Elizabeth shook her head. “Something about the jewels, I think. You know, the whole point of this party is for Gruber to show off these jewels he bought for his wife for millions of dollars. The hotel doesn’t want responsibility for them until the last minute, but Layla, the party planner, told me that they’ve got to come sooner because of some photo shoot for Town & Country magazine.” She paused, thinking perhaps she was saying too much, and changed the subject from the jewels. “The photographer is only available on one day. His name is Sammie Wong. I never heard of him but Layla says he’s famous.”

  “I’ve heard of Sammie Wong. He had a show here at Four Arts,” said Chris. “It will be interesting to see what he does with the jewels. When are they supposed to arrive?”

  Elizabeth was tired and the wine wasn’t helping. “I don’t know, I guess I’ll find out tomorrow,” she said, stifling a yawn.

  “You’re beat,” he said, laughing. “What do you say we call it a night? I’ve got to catch an early flight to Seattle for a conference tomorrow. But save Saturday night for me?”

  “Okay.” Elizabeth kept her voice cool so as not to reveal her fluttering heart. “It’s a date.”

  But when Saturday finally rolled around, Layla insisted she needed Elizabeth to finalize the seating plan for the Blingle Bells Ball and she had to cancel her date. “I’m so sorry,” she told Chris, breaking the bad news on the phone, “but I have to work tonight.”

  “You’re working an awful lot,” Chris grumbled.

  “Tell me about it. It’s temporary, just until this Gruber event is over.”

  “So what all do you have to do? Fluff the pillows in the Presidential Suite?”

  “No, housekeeping does that. It’s mostly helping the party planner. She had me trimming awful fake white Christmas trees for days, and wrapping gift baskets and making plans for special events including a celebrity tennis match and a golf tournament and studio visit
s with artists. You know, I thought I knew how the other half lives, but this isn’t the other half, it’s the one percent!”

  “You must be getting some time off,” Chris said. “What about tomorrow? It’s Sunday.”

  “Actually, I am off tomorrow, but I’ve got to clean house and do laundry and buy some groceries. I’ve been working ten and eleven hours a day.”

  “Okay, we’ll grocery shop,” Chris said. “It’ll be fun. Let’s say I’ll pick you up at one, we’ll get a late brunch, and afterward we’ll go to Publix, and then I’ll cook dinner for you.”

  Elizabeth couldn’t stop smiling; this guy was too good to be true. “See you tomorrow,” she said.

  Later that afternoon Elizabeth was surprised when Chris paid her a visit at work. She was at her desk, arranging for limousines to pick up guests at the airport, when she looked up and saw Chris standing there.

  “I couldn’t wait until tomorrow,” he said. “How’s it going?”

  “Crazy, crazy. I know it’s hard to believe, but there’s a terrible shortage of limousines in Palm Beach.”

  “I could offer my services,” he said with a grin.

  “I don’t think a motorcycle will cut it, not with these folks.”

  He seated himself, propping one ankle on the other knee. “So when is this party starting?”

  “The guests are arriving on the sixteenth—that’s next Friday—but Jonah and Noelle are coming earlier, to get ready.” She sighed. “And then there’s those darn jewels.”

  “Oh, yeah?” Chris’s voice was studiedly casual. “What’s that got to do with you?” he asked, gazing into her eyes.

  “Well, I’ve got to schedule the delivery and make sure hotel security has the details,” Elizabeth said, thinking perhaps she was saying too much. “This thing is turning into a nightmare.”

  Chris looked concerned. “What do you mean? Problems with Brinks?”

  Elizabeth decided she wasn’t going to say anything more about the jewels. “It’s just all so over the top. Layla—she’s the party planner—well, the way she acts you’d think this was life and death and it’s really just a rich guy showing off. There are people who are really in terrible situations—dreadful flooding in Indonesia and in Africa they’re starving and getting raped and killed by rogue militias. But Layla seems to think the world will end if the vichyssoise isn’t chilled correctly or the roses are the wrong color.”

  Chris looked amused. “So you’re a closet revolutionary?”

  Elizabeth gave him a crooked grin. “This thing is turning me into one, that’s for sure.”

  “A revolutionary with access to all that supersecret, confidential information about the masters of the universe. You could be dangerous.”

  Remembering Wrayburn’s warnings, Elizabeth grew wary. What did Chris know about the database? And why was he even mentioning it? “Oh, I’m far too insignificant to see much of anything except whether the guests prefer plain or sparkling mineral water.”

  Chris laughed. “Well, I guess I better let you get back to work.” He stood up, then leaned down and whispered in her ear, “See you tomorrow.”

  His warm lips brushed her ear and she wished for a moment that she could lean against him, like she had on the motorcycle, feeling his body against hers. Then she remembered where she was and gave him a businesslike smile. “See you then,” she said.

  The moment he was gone, Toni dashed across the lobby. “What was that all about?” she demanded.

  “He just stopped by to say hi,” Elizabeth said. She knew she was blushing and it was making her furious; she didn’t want Toni to know how much she liked Chris.

  “He’s awfully cute,” Toni said, “but I don’t think he’s really a member of the Kennedy clan. Did you hear about that guy in Boston who was pretending to be a Rockefeller?”

  “I did,” Elizabeth said. It was all over the news, you really couldn’t miss it. But Chris wasn’t like that, at least she didn’t think he was. For one thing, he’d never actually said he was a member of the Kennedy clan.

  “The funny thing is, that guy never claimed to be a rich Rockefeller. He just sort of let people assume it,” Toni continued, as if reading her mind.

  “Well, I don’t care if he’s JFK’s great-nephew or not,” Elizabeth said. “I’m just getting to know him.”

  “I’m only saying this ’cause I think he might be as fake as that Rolex he wears.”

  “It’s fake? How can you tell?”

  “I can tell,” Toni said. “And those polo shirts he wears—they’re from Target.”

  “So he’s careful with his money. That’s not a crime,” Elizabeth insisted. But as she said the words, she remembered how uncomfortable she’d felt when Chris mentioned the database. Maybe Toni was on to something and he didn’t really like her but was only trying to use her for some purpose of his own.

  “I just think you’d better be careful, that’s all,” Toni said, hurrying back to the reception desk.

  Elizabeth went back to her list of limo companies but her thoughts were miles away. Toni had upset her and she figured that was her intention. She was probably just jealous because Elizabeth had a boyfriend. Or did she? They’d only had two dates, actually one and a half, and here she was falling head over heels, struggling to keep her mind on her work when all she wanted to think about was that kiss. That one kiss.

  She was being ridiculous, she told herself. It was never good to let a guy know you really liked him. If she kept this up she’d scare him off. It was better to play hard to get, that’s what everybody said. She decided she was simply going to put Chris Kennedy completely out of her mind. She’d throw herself into her work and wouldn’t give him a single thought until one o’clock tomorrow.

  But when Sunday dawned, she was in a state of high anticipation. She quickly tidied her little apartment, showered and dried her hair, and finally confronted the problem of what to wear. Shorts and a tank top? Would that be too revealing? What about a skirt? No good on a motorcycle! Jeans again? Then the phone rang and she learned she didn’t have to decide what to wear after all.

  “I’m really sorry,” he said. “Something’s come up and I have to go out of town.”

  Elizabeth’s heart fell to the floor and landed with a thud. “Oh,” was all she could say.

  “I was really looking forward to being with you,” he said.

  “It’s too bad,” she said, determined not to let him know how disappointed she was. “But I really have a lot to do anyway.”

  “I’ll call you when I get back, okay?”

  “If you want,” she said, trying to sound as if it didn’t matter to her whether he called or not.

  “Oh, I want,” he said, in a thick voice.

  “Have a good trip,” she said, hanging up and grabbing a handful of tissues as the tears started to flow. Finally wiping her eyes, she decided she didn’t know what was worse: Chris calling off their date or having to admit it to Toni on Monday morning.

  As she expected, Toni couldn’t wait to ask if she’d had a good time on her date with Chris when they met in the locker room.

  Elizabeth opened her locker, took out her makeup bag, and concentrated on applying a fresh coat of lip gloss. “Never happened,” she said with a shrug, waving the little wand.

  “Why not? What happened?”

  Elizabeth pressed her lips together, then examined the effect in the mirror on her locker door. “He had a business trip.”

  “Or he met somebody else,” Toni said.

  “Or he met somebody else,” Elizabeth repeated with a shrug. Honestly, she thought, she ought to get an Academy Award for acting.

  Toni’s eyebrows rose in astonishment. “Aren’t you upset?”

  “It was just a couple of dates,” Elizabeth said. “And frankly, I’m too busy to worry about it. You know, the jewels are coming today. It’s going to be a madhouse around here.”

  The arrival of the Imperial Parure was supposed to be a highly guarded secret. Jonah Grube
r had outbid an Arab sheik and a Japanese industrialist for the set, which included an emerald and ruby necklace with a removable pendant featuring the twenty-three-carat Star of Bethlehem diamond that could also be worn as a brooch, plus a tiara, two bracelets, and a ring. His winning bid was many millions above the presale estimate and security was naturally a top concern. Mr. Dimitri had stressed that fact at a special staff meeting, and Dan Wrayburn had bombarded employees with memos threatening immediate dismissal to anyone who leaked information about the jewels. Nevertheless, Elizabeth noticed a handful of reporters and photographers gathering outside the hotel doors shortly before the armored truck was due to arrive.

  “How did they find out?” she asked Layla, who was on hand for the delivery.

  “Probably Gruber tipped them off himself,” she replied.

  “Why would he do that?”

  “He paid a lot for those baubles and he wants to get his money’s worth in publicity. He’s got a deal with Town and Country magazine; Sammie Wong’s going to photograph Noelle wearing the jewels. She’s actually here and I need you to help out.”

  This was news to Elizabeth. “She’s here? Now?” Elizabeth asked.

  “Yup. We took advantage of the jewelry delivery to sneak her in through the hotel garage. She’s waiting up in the Royal Suite, but that’s top secret. Don’t you breathe a word of it to that crowd out there.”

  “I wouldn’t,” Elizabeth said.

  “Good.” Layla handed her a sheaf of papers. “This is a press release. You can distribute it once the jewels are secured. Then I want you to meet me upstairs in the Royal Suite.”

  The moment the elevator doors closed behind Layla the armored truck rolled up and the media gang went into action, snapping photos and yelling questions to the guards as they unloaded the metal-clad case containing the jewels. Extra doormen, actually security guards dressed as doormen, blocked access to the lobby, and Dan Wrayburn escorted the armored truck guards to Mr. Dimitri’s office, where the hotel safe was located. Once she was sure the recently reinforced office door was tightly closed and the jewels safe inside, Elizabeth stepped through the entrance, distributing the press releases to the crowd of reporters who were clamoring for information outside. They still peppered her with questions: “Did you see the jewels? Are they really worth forty-seven million? Is the hotel worried about jewel thieves?”