by Norma Lehr
Behind the counter, a bright-eyed young woman in a navy blazer with the hotel’s gold emblem on her breast pocket welcomed her. “Your chalet is ready, Ms. Rollins. Number four on the California side.” Her voice dropped to one of confidence. “Formerly occupied many times by Jack and Bobby. The Kennedy Clan.” She lifted a brow. “This was once their stomping ground.”
Her voice returned to cheery. “There’s a Ms. Renee Colstack waiting for you in our historic Indian Room.” She leaned across the counter and pointed right: “Through those open glass doors. You may leave your bags here if you wish, and I’ll arrange for them to be delivered to your chalet.” She handed Abby a key and blinked shyly. “Everyone here at the Cal Neva is looking forward to having the Toppettes as guests. My mother’s driving up from San Francisco to see the show Friday night.” She glanced down at the guest entry. “She wondered if you would mind signing an old New York program she’s kept from the seventies. Your name’s printed on page three. She swears you were the best on the line.”
Good Lord. Abby hadn’t figured on old fans traveling here for this review, but why not? Some would still remember. She glanced at her reflection in the mirror behind the desk. Her chin-length blond hair was blown in disarray from the two hour drive. Her makeup needed repair, and someone from the past remembered her because she had been the best on the line. Time to go to her room and tidy herself. “Of course.” She nodded. “I’ll be honored. Remind me when your mother gets here. Just page me.” She left her bag at the desk and went to find Renee.
The famous Indian Room, a vast high-ceilinged hall filled with lounge chairs, leather sofas, and multi-colored woven scatter rugs, proved to be most impressive. The varnished, knotty pine walls were mounted with a variety of wild animal heads and matted skins. To the side of the massive fireplace that dominated the room, a stuffed cougar menacingly crouched on a boulder, its sharp teeth bared, ready to pounce. If the taxidermist had planned to startle the viewer, he’d accomplished his mission. She shuddered and quickened her step.
She spotted Renee across the room, dressed in sweat pants and a sleeveless red shirt. She was dozing, curled up in an overstuffed brown chair big enough for two. Her head rested against the cushy back pillow, and a lock of brown hair covered one eye. Her running shoes lay on the planked floor next to the chair, and her stocking feet were tucked beneath her. An open People magazine was spread across her lap. As Abby got closer, she could hear a light snore. She gently nudged her friend.
Renee’s eyes popped open, and she looked around, dazed.
“Hey, gal. It’s me. Wake up. We’ve got places to go and things to do.”
Renee jumped up and gave Abby a hug. “What took you so long? Where have you been?” She stepped back and stretched. “I thought maybe you’d taken off some place with that cutie security guy.” Grabbing her shoes from the floor, she dropped the magazine to the chair and slid her arm though Abby’s. “Come on, let’s go outside. I’ll show you our chalet.” She checked her watch. “It’s already two. Bet you’re hungry.” She frowned. “I should be. Only had a blender drink this morning. Right now I don’t think I could keep down anything solid.” She grabbed Abby’s forearm with both hands. “My appetite’s been ruined by some very distressing news.”
Chapter 2
“Wait a minute. You forgot to put your shoes on. Tell me the news right here.”
Renee sat. “Yeah.” She glanced around at the two couples studying historical pictures on the wall behind her. “Barefoot might not work in here.” She slipped on one running shoe and pulled her foot up to tie the lace. “I got the low-down while I was at my mother’s place in Reno.”
Abby nodded. “Okay. So, tell me. What is it?”
“Melanie Mars won the California Lottery. You know how my mother faithfully plays and follows that stuff. Well, she wanted to know who was coming to dance at this reunion. When I showed her the list they sent, she gasped and ran to her bedroom. Seems Melanie’s name had rung a bell. When she came back, she had a list of her own that included winners for the last five years.” Renee narrowed her eyes. “Can you believe it? Melanie Mars? Obviously she still goes by her maiden name.” She gave an angry flip of her wrist. “Or was Mars her stage name? Always sounded more like a candy wrapper to me.”
Abby sat next to her. “I don’t know, but wow! When? Was it a big win?”
“Last year. Thirty million!” Renee motioned toward the door with her chin. “Her Highness should be arriving here soon. I heard she and Dana are riding in from the airport together.”
“With that kind of money, I’m surprised she agreed to dance with us.”
Renee snickered and tied her other shoelace. “If she’s still the same old Melanie—and I bet she hasn’t changed a whit—why wouldn’t she? She’ll take great pleasure in trying to impress us. Mainly me.” Renee’s hostility distorted her pretty features. “I wonder if she’s still with Tommy?”
Abby sighed. “You promised that if I agreed to come here and perform, you wouldn’t open that old wound.”
Renee stood and straightened her shoulders. “I’ll try, but this lottery thing has me unhinged.” She turned abruptly and headed for the lobby. Abby caught up with her.
Renee whirled around. “He was mine! She took him away.”
“Hold it. No one belongs to anyone. Your therapist told you that.” Abby squinted and kind of nodded. “I know her methods were something less than ...”
“Methods?” Renee raised her voice. Two men gazing at Indian artifacts stopped their quiet discussion and turned around to stare. “She was downright devious.” Her brown eyes flared. “She didn’t love him like I did, but she had to have him because she figured he had connections in Hollywood.”
Abby wondered if she should change the subject. Maybe it would be better to let Renee vent her anger before all the dancers got together. “So, you don’t have any idea if they’re still together?”
Renee pursed her lips. “Nope. Don’t have a clue where they went after they left New York. According to the reunion list, she now lives in San Diego. I suppose he’s there with her.” She distractedly picked at the neck of her red shirt. For a moment, hope shone in her eyes. “Do you suppose he might show up for the weekend?” She frowned. “What am I saying? No. I couldn’t take seeing her with him. You know what he meant to me.”
Abby put her arm around her friend’s shoulder and tried to console her. “I do. I also know what you went through, but that rejection was twenty-five years ago. This is now, and you’ve come a long way. Don’t let Melanie’s millions do you in. You knew you’d come face to face with her. You said you could handle it, and here you are. So you didn’t plan on this money thing. Let it go. Show her what you’re made of.”
Renee sniffed. “You’re right, as usual. I did promise there’d be no problem if you committed to this gig. I owe you.” She lifted her chin. “Come on. Let’s get out of here. This room with all these stuffed animal heads is starting to get to me.”
Renee marched out, and Abby kept pace as they exited through the glass doors, passed the desk clerk on their left, and stepped outside under the heavy green canopy.
Before they made it to the first step, a gray stretch limo pulled up in front of them.
The back door swung open, and one spike-heeled strappy sandal touched the blacktop. “Lord, Dana, you didn’t have to chain smoke all the way here.” A woman’s disgruntled voice came from inside the limo. “I feel completely saturated from your addiction.” She forced a raspy cough to emphasize her discomfort. “Just hand me my purse so I can get out of this tomb.”
Renee nudged Abby. “Her Highness has arrived. I’d know that irritating rasp anywhere.”
Long shapely legs made their exit from the limousine, followed by a stately figure swathed in a pricey fur jacket. The woman adjusted her suede shoulder bag, swept back a lock of highlighted blond hair, and stepped away from the door, waving her hand in front of her nose as if to rid the environment of invisible smoke.
Abby squinted. “Are you sure that’s Melanie? I don’t recognize her.”
Renee drew closer and whispered behind her hand. “Looks like she’s had a lot of face work done.”
Abby nodded. “Is she trying to look like Kim Basinger?”
Renee snickered. “Maybe. Though I’ve got news for her. That nose job didn’t do it.”
The other passenger stepped out of the limo wearing a classic white shirt and hand-stitched jeans. A matching white sweater with navy cuffs loosely slung across her shoulders gave her an air of functional chic. “For God’s sake, Melanie, I’ve had two cigarettes the whole trip. One at the airport and one in the car. What’s your problem? The window was rolled down all the way, and I blew the smoke outside.”
“Hey, you two.” Abby reached for Renee and pulled her reluctant friend down the steps with her. “How are you?” She clasped Melanie’s hand and gave Dana a light hug. “It’s been ages since we’ve seen you.” The driver and a guy in uniform hurried to get the women’s bags.
Melanie smiled benignly at her former dance mates before turning her back on them to give the men orders about her valuable luggage. Dana grabbed her own bags, tipped the driver, and smiled, revealing even white teeth. “I hoped you both would be here,” she said with genuine pleasure. “You look great, Abby. You haven’t changed. I’d know you anywhere.”
Abby flushed. “After more than twenty years?” She peered into Dana’s eyes and smiled. “That’s sweet.”
Dana let go of one bag when Renee insisted on helping. “Super hair job, Renee. You look sexy as a brunette. Like the highlights.”
Renee beamed at the compliment, finger-combed her hair, and looked over to see if Melanie had overheard. “I was a blond when you knew me. Now I’m au naturelle, touching up the gray strands as needed.”
Melanie counted her five pieces of luggage before she let the bellboy touch them. “You can’t trust anyone with your valuables.” The driver rolled his eyes and tipped his hat before he pulled away.
“I’ve reserved the Marilyn Monroe Chalet,” she directed the man in uniform. “Take my bags there.” She called to Dana and followed her as she made her way to the front door with Abby and Renee. “I reserved Sinatra’s old chalet for you.” For the first time since she arrived she focused her attention on the others. “I suppose you girls have rooms somewhere in the hotel.”
Renee turned and faced Melanie head on, causing her to stop short on her stilettos. “We’re sharing the Kennedy Chalet. Number four. Abby and I will be right between you in Monroe’s Chalet, Number five, and Dana in Sinatra’s Number three.”
Melanie gave a bored sigh. “Oh, cozy. It’ll be like one big slumber party now, won’t it?”
The lodge door automatically opened. Melanie adjusted her fur and swept past them to the desk. “We are the Manhattan Toppettes.” Her chin lifted, and she looked down her nose. “We have a photo session at four. Let whoever’s in charge know I can’t possibly make it until five.” She turned and looked at the others. “You three go on ahead. I’ll be there later. I must rest before the shoot.” She pulled her cell phone from her purse and punched in a number. When the party answered, she took off toward the bar.
“Did she say shoot?” Renee winced. “Who does she think she is, a model?”
Dana snickered. “She’s been impossible to deal with since she won all that money. I suppose you know about the lottery.”
“Yeah. We heard,” Renee said. “Have you two been in touch? The invitation indicated both of you as living in San Diego.”
“Are we in touch? You might say that. We’ve been in business together for over ten years. We’re partners in a dance academy.”
Abby jumped into the conversation, suspecting Renee’s next question might be about Tommy. “A dance academy, huh?” She gently nudged her friend and tried to catch her eye. Renee totally ignored her while she focused on Dana.
“Is she still with Tom Moran?”
Dana shook her head. “Tom Moran? She left him years ago. She’s been with two other jerks since him, and both of those guys went down the tubes.”
A momentary look of satisfaction settled over Renee’s face before her eyes turned to ice. “Do you know whatever happened to him?”
Dana tapped her chin. “Oh, right. You had a thing for him when we were in New York, didn’t you.”
Renee scoffed. “Oh, maybe a little crush. That was a long time ago.”
Dana stopped for a moment and studied Renee. “I always figured you loved that guy. Don’t know why. You were way above him in every way.” She nodded slowly and looked away. “Like you say, that was ages ago.”
Abby turned and checked out the rear section of the lobby, taking in the Circle Bar with its grand, glittering chandelier and large picture windows overlooking the lake. Melanie, still wrapped in her pricey coat and with her phone pressed to her ear, sat perched on a stool, directly under the flattering lights from the chandelier, sipping her drink through a straw. The long side slit in her black skirt showed off her leggy figure and drew attention from every male within viewing distance. Well, Abby mused. She is one of the tallest of the group and she still has those great long legs.
A younger woman, early twenties with trendy spiked hair and clad in a cropped top covering a buffed body encased in sealskin black tights, strode swiftly across the lobby. She smiled broadly when she reached the three women gathered at the desk and held out her hand. “You’ve got to be former Toppettes. She scanned them from head to toe. “You’re lookin’ good.” Her big brown eyes revealed her pleasure. “Has everyone arrived safely?”
Renee gave Abby a confused stare before she grasped the stranger’s hand. “You are … who?”
“Oh, sorry. I’m Jan Withers. Teacher coach from the ‘Toppette Workshop’ in Manhattan. I’m here to be your coach for this event.”
Dana stepped forward. “Hi. I’m Dana Johanssen from The Dance Academy in San Diego. As you probably recall, we sent a few of our teen dancers to your master class. After the Workshop, including the mock auditions, they returned with stars in their eyes and brimming with self-confidence. They spoke highly of the working Toppettes, who scored and encouraged them.”
Jan looked pleased. “We love to work with young, ambitious women. Just keep sending them, and we’ll keep them strutting.”
“Good,” said Dana. “If you ever get weary of the East Coast and move anywhere near San Diego, get in touch. We’d hire you in an instant to teach at our academy.”
“I’m booked for another year at the Workshop. As far as moving to the West Coast, that’ll never happen. But thanks for the offer.”
Melanie strolled over from the bar in time to hear the tail end of the conversation. She gave the coach a sweeping look before she turned to her partner. “Hiring teachers now, are you?”
Dana turned a sardonic smile on Melanie. “I’d never do anything so utterly rash without consulting you first. We were just having a discussion with our dance coach. Jan, meet Melanie Mars.”
Melanie gave Jan another sweeping assessment. “What are your credentials? Are you a working Toppette? The invitation didn’t give your bio, but you insisted on having ours.”
“Stop interrogating.” Dana gave Jan a tiny wink. “We’ve already heard her bio. Jan’s more than qualified.”
Melanie lifted a shoulder and let one sleeve of her fur drop to her elbow. “Well, then, if that’s settled, let’s go get us settled.” She gestured with her cell phone at the casino. “All of these flashing lights are giving me a migraine. Come on, Dana. Let’s find Marilyn’s Chalet first.” Her high heels clicked across the polished wooden floor as she swished her way to the front entrance.
Dana kept two steps behind as she followed Melanie out.
Jan watched them go. “I hope Melanie doesn’t get too settled. We can’t afford to miss that appointment. A photographer will be waiting in the Celebrity Room to take a group picture.”
Abby gave a low whistle. “W
ell, you can count on Renee and me. We’ll be there at four, but we can’t be accountable for the rest.” She glanced around the casino. “We haven’t seen Gail or Blythe yet. Do you know if they’ve arrived?”
Jan nodded. “Yeah, they came in this morning. I’ve already spoken with them. Interesting women.” She smiled knowingly. “Great figures, too. They’ve really held it together.”
Renee sucked in her tummy.
“There they are now.” Jan motioned toward the gift shop and headed in that direction. Abby and Renee trailed after her and immediately recognized the other two dancers. Gail, dressed in black stretch jeans and a rust-colored poet’s blouse that was a near match for her auburn hair, pointed to an object in the store window and started to laugh. Blythe, decked out in a red, floppy felt hat and a long linen skirt over vintage-looking cowboy boots, looped her arm through Gail’s and joined in the laughter.
“That hallway behind them leads to the Tower elevators,” Jan pointed out. “Their rooms are on the eighth floor.”
Well, well. Time to get reacquainted, thought Abby. In the past, Gail and Blythe were forever squabbling over the slightest issue. Now they were laughing and chatting like old friends. In those days, at every rehearsal, Gail always competed on stage with Melanie Mars. Maybe time had mellowed them, because they looked very content. However, if Gail still had that competitive edge and Jan lined her up with Melanie center stage during rehearsal, things could heat up.
That evening all six dancers were scheduled for an early cocktail get-together at the Circle Bar. Rehearsal in the morning would begin at seven sharp in the Celebrity Room. If personalities clashed, she hoped their young coach would be tough enough to handle it. Oh well, she figured. Not my responsibility. Her gut feeling told her that whatever transpired during cocktails that evening and at the first rehearsal tomorrow would set the stage for what lay ahead.