Snoops in the City (A Romantic Comedy)

by Darlene Gardner

  "I'm Quincy Franklin, assistant to Mrs. Lazenby," he said in a nasal voice more irritating than chalk on a blackboard. "Aunt Margo has entrusted me to see you upstairs, but then she entrusts me with many things."

  He kept his skinny index finger pressed on the elevator button as Grady entered the car, surreptitiously checking his reflection in the mirrored paneling.

  The elevator had barely risen from the first floor when he presented first the right side of his profile and then the left. "What do you think?"

  Grady backed up a step. "Think of what?"

  "My makeup. I'm trying to convince Aunt Margo to market cosmetics specifically for men. We could either call the line Lazenby for Men or, better yet, Lamenby. Get it?"

  Grady made a noncommittal noise.

  "I told Aunt Margo more men wear makeup than she might think, either to hide blemishes or when they're having a bad-face day." He lowered his voice to a whisper. "I think she's weakening."

  The elevator stopped at the upper floor. It consisted of another reception counter and more photos of gorgeous women with stunning cheekbones and amazing eyes. If Quincy Franklin manned this station, Grady needed to revise his previous impression about Margo Lazenby's brilliance in surrounding herself with good people.

  "Be sure to mention to Aunt Margo that you'd buy the Lamenby products," he told Grady before he opened the door to the inner suite.

  Margo Lazenby waited for him off to the side of her desk in a leather sofa in a buttery lemon color. She'd changed from her black ensemble to a sapphire-blue dress that called attention to eyes as blue as his own.

  "Aunt Margo, Mr. Palmer is here," Quincy Franklin announced. "And he has something to tell you about Lamenby. He thinks it's a fantastic idea, which isn't surprising because—"

  "Thank you, Quincy," she interrupted as she put down her martini glass on a gleaming end table and stood. "You may go now."

  "But—"

  "I said that will be all, Quincy," she said without looking at him, those strangely familiar blue eyes fastened on Grady.

  The click of the door announced her assistant's departure, leaving Grady alone with the woman who claimed to be his grandmother.

  "I'm Margo Lazenby." She came across the room and took his hand, holding it while she examined his face. "And I hope like hell you don't really think men should wear makeup."

  Grady almost smiled. Almost, not quite. "I don't."

  "Thank the heavens." She released his hand and dramatically wiped a hand over her brow. "Would you like a martini? I don't usually drink before six, but your visit has come as quite a shock."

  "No, thank you," he said.

  She indicated a leather chair that matched her sofa. "Have a seat, then, and tell me what brings you here."

  She walked back to the sofa. He held his ground.

  "I want to know why you hired Tori Whitley to investigate me," he said, his voice snagging on Tori's name. How long, he wondered, would her deception hurt?

  Margo waited until she was settled and the martini glass was once again in her hand before saying, "You're assertive. I like that. Jane — that's what I like to call Tori — says you're also honest and trustworthy. I must say, though, I'm disappointed in her for telling you my name."

  "She didn't tell me," he said, compelled to protect Tori and angry at himself because of that. "I followed her and had your license plate run."

  "You're clever, too. You don't know how much that gladdens me. Quincy's a boob, which is why I'm glad you met him."

  "I don't see how that concerns me."

  "It will help you understand why I wanted to make contact with you."

  "I don't follow."

  "Sit down and I'll tell you."

  "I'd rather stand."

  "Very well.” She took a sip of her drink. "A few months ago, I had a heart-attack scare. It turned out to be heartburn, but it got me to thinking about my mortality. I can pass for sixty, but I'm seventy-one. If I died tomorrow, Quincy would inherit my company."

  "What does that have to do with me?"

  "Oh, come now. We've established that you're a bright man. Surely you know I'm your grandmother."

  Hearing her state their relationship aloud jolted him. Grady strived not to show it. "So you say."

  "So I know, and you do too. We look alike. Quincy's related to me by marriage. You're related by blood."

  "Where are you going with this?"

  "I'll get to that in due time." She crossed one elegant leg over the other. "Your mother's name was Melanie. She was my only child, and I wanted the best of everything for her. She was smart but defiant and very beautiful. Lazenby was already a force in the cosmetics industry, and I was grooming her to eventually take over the company. Then she got pregnant with you."

  Grady stiffened, not sure he wanted to hear the rest of the story but unable to object.

  "Melanie was dating a man I disliked. I thought he had no ambition or drive. She said she loved him. She caved soon enough when I threatened to cut her off if she didn't give you up for adoption. I stipulated she couldn't tell her boyfriend about you." She stated the facts without emotion.

  Grady winced. "How could you do something like that?"

  "I thought it was for the best at the time. Now I see I preyed on Melanie's weakness." Margo sighed, and Grady saw that she wasn't as unemotional about the terrible thing she'd done as she appeared. "She was a child of privilege. She couldn't bear the thought of doing without."

  "What happened to her?"

  "That's the ironic thing. About five years after you were born, she was dating a wealthy Boca Raton entrepreneur I approved of without reservation. He was rich, handsome and ambitious. I didn't know he was also reckless until he crashed his private plane with my daughter as a passenger."

  A lump formed in Grady's throat. He walked to the armchair and sank into it, grieving the mother he’d never know. After a moment, he managed to ask, "Why look me up now? Why not then?"

  "I was still under the delusion that I'd done the right thing. And I still had my husband. Harry didn't have a head for business, but I loved him. And he loved me."

  Her eyes filled with tears, and she wiped moisture from under them with the pad of her thumb before gathering herself once again.

  "After Harry died two years ago, it occurred to me I was all alone. Harry and Melanie were gone, and I effectively sent you away before you were born. Except you were out there somewhere. All I needed to do was find you.

  "I got your name and address without much trouble. But I'm a cautious woman. Before I let you into my life, and possibly my will, I wanted to know what kind of man you were. That's why I hired Sassenbury Investigations."

  "I don't want your money."

  "I wouldn't give it to you if you did. There's plenty of time to talk about that later. For now, I'm wondering if you'd give me something else: Your company. And, maybe one day, your forgiveness."

  He considered her request. "After what you did, why should I agree to that?"

  "Because like it or not, you have Lazenby blood. It's not a connection you can sever that easily."

  "I'll have to think about it," Grady said, raising and turning to walk away. Margo's voice stopped him when he'd nearly reached the door.

  "Don't you want to know who your father is?"

  His blood seemed to freeze. He turned, trying to keep his expression neutral. "I figured you'd lost touch with him after all these years."

  "Oh, no. He's still in the area. In Seahaven, in fact. It turned out I was wrong about him not having the potential to make something of himself. He's very successful."

  "Who is he?" Grady asked.

  "You may have heard of him. He's running for mayor against Honoria Black. His name is Forest Richardson."

  CHAPT ER THIRTY-FOUR

  Wade looked both ways before crossing the street in front of City Hall, stuffing the red envelope deeper into his pocket so nobody else would see it.

  When he reached the sidewalk, he walked
as close to the buildings as he dared. Still, he felt conspicuous.

  The other people who had attended the City Council meeting spilled out of the building and into their cars. His destination was the Seahaven Hotel.

  That's where the bold, slanted writing on the scented pink paper inside the red envelope had directed him.

  Meet me, was all it had said, followed by Lorelei's signature and the red-lipstick imprint of her mouth.

  Something else had been inside the envelope, too: The key to room 233 of the Seahaven Hotel.

  "Hey, Morrison."

  Reluctantly he stopped and turned. Ned Weimer quickly closed in on him, patting his gelled hair, his small eyes darting right and left.

  "Remember that thing we talked about last week?" Ned asked, which could only be an oblique reference to his request that Wade significantly cut a businessman's tax bill in exchange for cash. "Do you think we could apply it to a couple other businesses?"

  Wanting to be rid of the other man, Wade said, "I don't see why not, but could we talk about it another time?"

  "Yes, of course. I'll be in touch.” He scurried off, not even asking where Wade was headed.

  Others must be curious, though. A young boy of about twelve, who Lorelei had probably found outside on the street, had burst into the meeting at about the time the City Council had awarded Palmer Construction the community-center contract.

  In a high, shrill voice, the boy asked somebody near the door to point out Wade Morrison. Then he'd blundered down the center of the room and asked the man in the aisle seat to pass the red envelope down to Wade.

  The cheeky kid had even winked.

  The last time Lorelei had been at City Hall, Wade had instructed her to be more discreet. Her method of delivering the envelope didn't qualify.

  The note didn't even make sense. It read like a come-on, but that couldn't be. Lorelei had offered to pick up the twins at preschool, which she should have done more than an hour ago.

  Mary Kate and Ashley had to be with her. Not only would nobody else in Seahaven consent to babysit them, Wade wouldn't trust the twins to a sitter he hadn't screened first.

  So why had Lorelei arranged to have him meet her and the girls in room 233 of the Seahaven Hotel?

  The hotel paid homage to days gone by, with an ornate crystal chandelier, wood-paneled walls and early twentieth-century furniture.

  Wade didn't stop to admire the surroundings, quickly striding through the lobby and taking the stairs to the second floor.

  He was slightly out of breath when he reached Room 233 and took out the key. He expected to open the door to the excited chatter of his children. Instead he heard music. Something young and modern.

  Lorelei stepped into view, wearing stiletto heels and a backless black dress that looked amazing on her. Her eyes danced while his darted around the room, searching for Ashley and Mary Kate.

  "Hey, there, handsome," she said. "I see you got my note."

  The mention of the note temporarily distracted him from the absence of his daughters.

  He removed the red envelope from his pocket.

  "I thought we talked about being discreet, Lorelei," he said. "Everybody at the meeting saw that boy give me this."

  "My bad.” She covered her mouth with slender fingers topped with decadent red nails. She didn’t sound the least bit repentant. "Once I pour you a glass of champagne, I know you'll forgive me."

  She wiggled over to a stand on which sat a bottle of champagne wedged in a bucket of ice. Wade recognized the label of an expensive brand as she popped the cork.

  "How can you afford that?" he asked.

  "The same way I afforded the room," she said, laughing. "My credit card."

  She poured two glasses and brought one over to him, holding it out like the temptress she was. She lowered her lashes and peered up at him through them, causing his body to pay attention.

  He didn't want the champagne. He wanted to sweep the glasses aside, tear off her clothes and make love to her until morning.

  By the teasing gleam in her eyes, she knew that. He knew she wouldn't stop him, that in fact it was what she wanted, too.

  But he couldn't surrender to temptation. One of them had to be the responsible party. Despite her insistence that she slip out of his house at dawn after making love in his bed, she'd proven time and again that it sure as heck wouldn't be her.

  "Where are the girls?" His voice sounded husky despite his best attempt to speak normally.

  She walked those long-nailed fingers up his chest until they reached his lips. Her eyes focused on his mouth. “They're at your house.”

  "With a sitter?"

  She nodded, silently giving him the green light to do what they both knew he wanted to do.

  That was the very thing he couldn't do.

  "Darn it, Lorelei.” He stepped out of her reach. "How could you have been so irresponsible?"

  She looked confused. "Exactly how was I irresponsible?"

  "For starters, you told me you'd pick up the girls."

  "I did pick them up," she said.

  He didn't give her time to expand on the statement. "You were supposed to look after them until I got home. Instead you passed them off to who knows who."

  "I know who if you'd shut up for a minute so I could tell you."

  "What does it matter? You shouldn't have left them. You have to check out babysitters carefully, Lorelei. You can't trust the girls to anybody who comes along just because you want to have a good time."

  "That's what you think I did?" Her eyes were steely. "Passed the girls off to somebody I didn't even know so I could have a good time?"

  "That's what I know you did."

  "Go on. I want to hear the rest. You said the girls were only for starters." She crossed her arms over her chest. Her lips thinned, her breasts heaved and her eyes glinted.

  He ignored the signs that she was getting good and irate. He was the only one with the right to be angry.

  "We've already talked about the red envelope so let's discuss this room." He indicated their luxurious surroundings. "If you had to put it on credit, you can't afford it."

  "You don't think a special occasion merits a special setting?"

  "What special occasion?"

  "I was going to tell you I loved you, you ass.” Lorelei strode over to the bucket and set down her glass of champagne.

  She loved him? Something that had been dormant inside Wade for a very long time flared to life, brightening the room. Only for a second, because Lorelei didn't look loving. Anger bubbled from her like boiling water.

  "Good thing I found out what you really think of me." She blinked eyes which had started to tear. "You don't give me enough credit. I'd never foist off M.K. and Ash the way you say I did."

  "Then where are they?"

  "With my mother," she said. "Remember how she and the girls hit it off at Grady's birthday dinner? She called me on my cell after I picked them up and wanted to know what the deal was between me and you. When I told her, she offered to watch the girls so we could have some time alone."

  A sick feeling gripped Grady when he recalled the unfair accusations he'd thrown at her. He massaged his forehead, which had begun to throb.

  "I'm sorry, Lorelei," he said. "I shouldn't have said those things."

  "You shouldn't have thought them," she said. "Maybe I haven't been the most responsible person in the world up to this point. That changed when I met you and M.K. and Ash. Haven't you been paying attention at all?"

  "I said I was sorry."

  "Sorry doesn't cut it, not when you insist on thinking of me as some irresponsible kid," she said. "I'm not a kid. I'm a woman."

  "I know.” He came forward and tried to take her into his arms.

  She shrugged him off. "I don't think we should see each other anymore.”

  "What?" Panic rose in him. "That's crazy. I apologized."

  "I don't believe you mean it. I think you look at me and see your ex-wife. But I'm not like her. I'd
never leave M.K. and Ash like she did. I didn't give birth to them but I already love them."

  "That's another reason you shouldn't break up with me," he said, desperate to make her change her mind.

  "What's the first?"

  "You love me," he said. "You said so."

  Her chin lifted. "Yeah, well, I changed my mind."

  "You can't change your mind about something like that!”

  "Watch me." She brushed by him and headed for the door. "Tell M.K. and Ash I'll stop by the preschool to visit. I still love them."

  She emphasized the last word, then banged out of the hotel room, leaving him alone with the champagne and absolutely nothing to celebrate.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  Lorelei sneaked into work late. Again. This time she did it by design.

  True to her word, she'd stopped by the preschool that morning to spend a few minutes with M.K. and Ash.

  Because she hadn't wanted to risk running into the jerk who had broken her heart and caused her to cry away half a night's sleep, she hadn't showed up at the preschool until ten.

  She'd stayed longer than she intended, first because she couldn't tear herself away from the twins and then because their teacher needed help cutting out paper dolls.

  To top all that off, Donna Trent, the director, ran a very interesting proposition by her. The proposal had intrigued Lorelei so much, in fact, that she'd said yes on the spot.

  No sooner had she gotten into her car than her cell phone rang. One of the clerks at City Hall, with whom she'd gotten friendly, had called to tell her the news spreading like wildfire through the city.

  It seemed the longtime rumors of corruption at City Hall were more than fiction.

  A federal Grand Jury had convened that morning and word was a good number of important City Hall types would soon be indicted. Her friend mentioned by name City Clerk Pete Aiken, Planning Director Larry Schlichter and Chief of Staff Ned Weimer.

  All the distractions added up to Lorelei arriving at the office seriously late. Another few minutes and it'd be lunch time.

  She planned to quietly creep to her desk, then act as though she'd been there for hours. Considering the commotion sure to accompany the imminent issuing of indictments, that shouldn't be difficult.