After about ten minutes, the path led them along a lake’s edge, and a broad vista of sunlit water appeared before them. An enormous willow tree curtained one side of the view, a couple of rowboats moved lazily along the surface, and beyond, the towers of distant skyscrapers peeped hazily through the trees. To complete the scene, a rustic bench, fashioned of tree limbs and deep enough for them to make a table for their meal, had been set to face out toward the lake.
“This is where I wanted to bring you,” Bart said. “It’s always quiet here, and I wanted to be sure you got to see it.”
Annie smiled to herself. The setting was lovely and it didn’t take a genius to know why he brought her here. But they wouldn’t be totally alone—there were the occasional bike riders, the joggers, the arm-in-arm couples—and she was curious to see what would develop.
She settled back comfortably and let the beauty of the place record itself in her memory, something to add to the memories going back to Laramie with her.
Bart unwrapped her hot dog and handed it to her.
She took a bite—and a pungent blast of mustard and kraut and garlic and salt hit her palate and filled her sinuses. Probably unhealthy. Instantly she forgot the idyllic scene around her.
“Oh, wow! That is good!”
Bart grinned. “Yeah. Isn’t that something? I told you—the best in New York.”
She grabbed a napkin and dabbed at her mouth. “I’m impressed. You really know this city. You could write a guidebook. ”
“That’s because my dad and I spent a lot of time together. He took me all over, used to show it all to me.”
There it was again—another mention of his dad, along with that faraway look and a sudden quiet. If she really wanted to get to know Bart better—she knew she might be probing a difficult place—but she asked anyway.
“Tell me about your dad,” she said.
He didn’t answer right away. She watched him think it over. What was he struggling with? She saw the jaw muscles work, she wished she hadn’t asked, but it was too late to take it back.
“My dad was killed in the line.”
She saw it was an angry memory—not yet healed. She was about to say she was sorry she asked, but Bart stopped her.
“No, that’s okay,” he said. “It was five years ago.” Then he paused. He studied her face, looked deeply into her eyes, as though trying to answer some unasked question. Then he smiled, changing the subject. “I’ll tell you about it someday. Not now. Right now, we’re going to enjoy our dinner. Enjoy this great view.” He gestured out toward the lake. “And tomorrow, I’m going to take you somewhere more formal. Some place you’ll have to get dressed up for, maybe in one of those fancy outfits you picked out today. And if those handlers of yours let you out of their sight for the afternoon, I’m going to take you on a tour, show you some of this city—the real city.” He took a man-sized bite out of his hot dog. “And I’m going to get to know you better. Starting right now. So you tell me, Annie Cornell, tell me about yourself.”
Now what was it about this man? She felt perfectly comfortable and didn’t hesitate at all.
“I think you already know everything about me. You’ve been all through my handbag. You saw everything in my wallet. You saw me being a jerk the other day, getting caught in a mob scene. Losing my bag. Scared out of my wits.”
“Yeah. I saw that.”
How odd. He hadn’t made a move, but she felt as though he’d leaned closer to her. Funny about that.
“And I grew up on the family’s cattle ranch just north of Laramie. Been around cattle and horses all my life. Went to Wyoming U, got a master’s in library science, and I’ve been a librarian in the veterinary school at the university for the last three years.”
“Is there a boyfriend?”
“Not anymore.”
He didn’t even try to conceal a smile.
“And no, it’s not a tragic story. His name was David. We’d gone to high school together, everyone figured we were destined for each other. Only, the truth was, we really weren’t. And after a few years of being an item, we both realized it, and that was the end of that. No tears, no fuss. He’s married now, has a little girl, they moved to Grand Rapids and we send each other Christmas cards. I have a bunch of friends, done some dating, of course, but no serious man in my life. I’m afraid, even at a big university, I haven’t been much attracted to anyone.”
Funny. There was that feeling again. That he’d moved closer, when he really hadn’t.
“And what about you? Anyone special in your life?” She felt herself getting light-headed.
“No. No one at all.”
This time, he really did lean toward her, just a little, and he was not smiling. He was concentrating on her face, examining her eyes, her hair, her mouth.
A confusion of feelings was slithering all through her. She took another bite of her hot dog.
He was closer.
“You know I want to kiss you, don’t you?” he said.
“I’m all garlicky.”
“So am I.”
“You look so serious,” she said.
“You have the prettiest hair.” His eyes were locked on hers. His finger lifted a strand away from her forehead. “It’s the color of butterscotch.”
“That sounds sticky.”
“I know. But still . . .”
. . . and closer . . .
And then he did kiss her.
And she closed her eyes. And it was the motorcycle ride all over again.
When she opened her eyes, he had his arms around her and he was staring at her, as though he was stunned.
“I never felt anything like that,” he said. “Like yesterday—”
“I know,” she whispered. “On your bike.”
He looked as though he couldn’t breathe. And this time, he closed his eyes first. And he kissed her again, holding her close as though he wanted to drink her all into himself, and she felt his heart beating against her chest.
And then, something happened. She felt a change in him and she pulled away a little. His eyes were opened and he was looking puzzled. He was looking past her and he’d moved back a little. A tiny lift of his head, like an animal testing the wind.
“What is it?” she said.
He didn’t answer. His attention was focused out beyond her. Into the trees.
Lindy was fidgeting. Pawing lightly, ears erect, nervous.
“I don’t know,” he said. “I don’t see anything.”
He stood up. “It’s time to leave.” He crumpled up their dinner detritus and tossed it into a trash bin. “Let’s get you out of here.”
“Trouble?”
He didn’t answer. He had Lindy’s reins in his hand. He flipped them up over Lindy’s head, had his foot in the stirrup and was up in the saddle, all in one gesture. “I want you up here behind me. Hop on. We’re going to ride out together.”
He reached a hand toward her. She asked no questions. He cleared his foot out of the stirrup, she took his hand, put her foot into the empty stirrup, and he had her up behind him onto the saddle pad, all in one smooth motion. A few minutes and they’d passed silently through the Ramble, with Bart scanning the forest right and left as they rode.
Once out onto the busy roadway, Annie slipped down quickly.
Bart said, “I’m going to leave you now. Walk straight out to Fifth Avenue,” he indicated the direction, “and get into a cab. I’ll be in touch tomorrow.” He was all business now and she knew he must have seen something in the woods. And would be going back to investigate.
There was no flourish. He merely turned Lindy back toward the Ramble and disappeared into the trees.
They’re right about this city. It certainly is a show a minute.
And I’ve had enough entertainment for one day.
Ten minutes and she was back at the hotel. Liz was curled up in the corner of the sofa, glued to a reality show on the TV.
“Have fun?”
If she told Liz abo
ut her evening, she’d have to answer a million questions—maybe get a scolding for who knows what?
“Yes. It was a nice evening. But this day has been too much for me. I’ve got to get some rest. And Lady Fair needs me early tomorrow. Want to come?”
“No. You don’t need me along, and I decided to be brave.” She barely took her eyes off the TV. “I might sign up for one of those bus tours around the city, so I’ll just go off on my own, if you don’t mind.”
“No, but are you sure? You’ve been kind of neglected. I want this trip to be fun for you, too.”
“Are you kidding? First of all, this trip is your treat and I’m just along for the ride. Second, I’ve already got enough memories to fill a big suitcase. And third, I’m beginning to feel a little less skittish about getting around here. The city’s not really so scary, the way I thought it was. I’ll be fine. You go. Have a good time. And I’ll get lots of pictures to take home.”
Liz’s attention was already back on the TV.
“That’s good,” Annie said. She was in the bedroom by now. She called back to the living room, “You do that. Take your phone and I’ll keep in touch.” She yawned, she tossed her bag onto her bed, she sat down in the deep armchair in the corner and kicked off her sandals. “I’m so tired, I may fall asleep right here.”
What a day this has been.
The ribbon-cutting, with all those cameras, her little speech, the spree though the store. And then Bart and Lindy and their stroll through the Ramble. His arms around her, the extraordinary physical connection between them. And oh, that kiss. She’d have let it go on forever. The memory took her breath away.
What made him stop? Just at that moment.
She went into the bathroom and brushed her teeth. She washed her face. She left a wake-up call for seven thirty. The night was warm. She tossed her PJ’s onto the chair and chose to sleep naked.
In twenty minutes, Annie was in bed, totally worn out by her most extraordinary day.
Bart, however, was not in bed. By the time Annie reached her hotel, Bart had turned Lindy back into the Ramble and loped quickly to the spot he and Annie had just left. He dismounted and led Lindy into the woods that rimmed the cleared space where they’d been sitting. He tethered Lindy to a tree off to one side so hoofprints wouldn’t compromise any useful evidence. But evidence of what? His instincts told him it wasn’t just a random peeping Tom who’d been watching them, some weirdo park denizen or curious bird watcher. Maybe teenagers, out for an evening of adventure. No, his gut feeling, reinforced by years of experience and good training, told him to check this out carefully. He examined tree branches, up close and up high, and scanned the ground closely. And found what he was looking for.
Back at troop headquarters, he made his report and forwarded to forensics a plastic evidence bag that held a small cluster of red-and-white feathers, stitched together. A couple of trailing black threads suggested it had come loose from whatever it had been sewn onto. A black cap, perhaps? With an embroidered design of bright colors? He hadn’t forgotten that weird note and he’d not written it off as a prank or empty threat. The cluster of feathers convinced him this Buljornia bunch was following him. He decided they needed to be taken seriously, and he included that analysis in his report.
What he didn’t include in his report was how mad he was. Mad that those creepy stalkers had shown up when they did. What was happening to him with Annie was a first-time-in-his-life experience. There’d been some magical connection. He’d sensed it from the first moment he’d seen her during that street demonstration, felt it when he’d grabbed her up from out of the crowd. Felt it as he watched her disappear up First Avenue, so unprotected and at risk. And felt it, for sure, on the motorcycle, with her body against his, a kind of sweet, gentle electricity. No, it was more mystical even than that. More like an angelic message, telling him, telling them both, “This is special. Pay attention.” And in the park, in the moments of their first kiss, he knew the magic messengers were right. Now, here at his desk at troop headquarters, he could still feel her in his arms. He could still feel her mouth against his, remembered how he’d felt his breath leaving him, felt time stopping. His heart had been racing and he’d needed to catch his breath and so he’d paused, and as he’d opened his eyes, he’d seen through the trees’ camouflage what seemed to be watching eyes, a couple of bodies, and he felt their menace. His immediate thought then was not to keep holding Annie in his arms, not to keep kissing her forever; he needed to get her out of there right away, and only then come back as soon as possible to investigate.
But now, with his report and the evidence forwarded on to forensics, he could put that aside and think about tomorrow.
He picked up the phone and dialed Max.
“Listen, buddy. How would you feel about swapping a day tomorrow? Something’s come up.”
“Yeah, I saw what came up. She’s a cutie. But remember—we have tickets for the three of us, you, me and Chloe. For that show at the Booth.”
“I remember, Max. But here’s what I was thinking. Your shift would end at three thirty. Annie’s sister has been pretty much left on her own with all that attention on Annie. I’d gladly give her my ticket if you’d be willing to offer to show her around for the afternoon, after your shift, and then have her join you and Chloe for dinner and the show. I bet she’d appreciate the chance to see a Broadway show and get a little attention for herself.”
“That show is the hottest ticket in town. You know how much trouble we had getting good seats.”
“I know, Max. I’ll see it another time. It would mean a lot to me—”
“This girl must be something really special.”
“Yeah. Something really special.”
Chapter Sixteen
The Fitting
Wednesday Morning
Annie was usually an early riser, but when the morning call came she was barely able to open one eye. A reluctant hand came out from under the sheets and fumbled for the phone.
A mechanical voice spoke.
“This is your call for seven thirty a.m.”
“Mmmmm.”
She fumbled some more, replacing the handset into the cradle.
The phone’s ring had interrupted her dream. She could still hear the rustle of breeze-stirred leaves, and she was riding through a dense forest, bareback on a beautiful palomino; the foliage parted and a big bay horse came toward her, and his rider was a man wrapped in a dark blue cape. The forest was dark, but a strong sunlight filtered through in random shafts and she was sure there was a woodsy scent wafting around her. It was a dense dream, with many levels, and she didn’t want to wake up.
But the other eye opened, and she was forced to realize it was Wednesday and a car was coming to take her to Lady Fair in an hour.
She shook off her dream, slipped out from the sheets, and into the shower.
Room service brought breakfast to them—a good, hearty breakfast. Sausages and eggs and hash browns, toast and jam, and plenty of coffee.
“So,” Liz said, “tell me about your date last night.”
“Oh, we walked. We talked. Nothing much to tell. He was on duty, so we just—rambled—a bit. He bought me a hot dog.” She paid attention to her sausages as though they were especially interesting. She concentrated on her eggs. She broke off a bit of toast and buttered it. With her head still lowered, she looked up at Liz, a little mischievously, with a tiny smile.
Liz examined her sister’s face with an experienced eye.
“Hmmm. So?”
“So?” Annie was all innocence.
“Oh, come on, Annie. You’re looking all sly. You had a good time with this policeman?”
“Yes, Liz. I had a good time. He’s still sort of officious, but there’s more to him than that. He has a nice, protective quality. I like that part. And he is kind of cute.”
“And he kissed you, didn’t he?”
“How could you tell?”
“Annie, how long have I known you? All
your life, right? So I can tell. He kissed you and you liked it.”
“Okay, Liz.” Annie’s smile was now totally open. “Yes. It was nice. Only—”
She paused, holding her toast halfway toward the next bite.
“Only?”
“Something happened right then. I think he saw something in the trees. And then he was all anxious to get me gone. Actually rode me right out of there—on his horse! And sent me home before I could even figure out what was happening.” She ate the toast. “Funny about that. One minute, it was all sweet and just the two of us. And then, suddenly, he was all business, like he had to get back to work.”
She took a last bite of breakfast, a last gulp of coffee, and got up from the table.
“But he said he’d call. And if he does, I’m definitely willing to see him again.”
They were waiting for her at Lady Fair. A team of elves with magic fingers, working the fabrics with pinches and stretches, a basting stitch here and a couple of pins there, a push and a poke and a “How about this—?” They worked with a focus and intensity that made her think of a roper tying down a calf for branding. No nonsense, no daydreaming. But here, she was the calf. And, instead of down in the dirt, they had her up on a pedestal—an actual pedestal!—and they moved around her murmuring to each other, slipping each item on, doing mysterious things with chalk and pins and quick consultations, then off with the garment, then on with the next, repeat, then off—
The leader of the elves was a slight, fortyish woman with dark hair in a messy chignon and great dark-rimmed glasses riding low on her nose. “I’m Dvorah,” she said, her voice raspy with years of cigarettes, “and oh, honey, you just don’t know how interesting it is to work on a body that’s not all bone. At least you have a little bit of natural, womanly body fat on you.”
Her Winning Ways Page 12