“About what?”
“You.”
“Me? I wasn’t even there!”
“She overheard our phone conversation and thought Matt and AJ were our kids.”
Stephanie started laughing so hard she almost ran a red light. “Our kids? Matt and AJ? Oh, that’s great! Wait until I tell Matt about that one.”
“Yeah, well she didn’t think it was all that funny.”
“Did I ruin things for you?” All trace of bubbly, smiling Stephanie was gone.
“No. We were patching things up, I thought, but then she had to take care of some emergency and just left. No phone number, no phone call, nothing. I have no way of contacting her and no idea where to look. I have a first and last name but no idea where she lives.”
“A regular Cinderella story.”
“Does Matt really let AJ watch princess movies?”
“No, but I watch them.”
It didn’t surprise Tyler in the least that Stephanie, a mature, educated woman, still watched children’s movies for her own pleasure. “Well, I’m not the prince and she’s not an impoverished, abused, girl.”
“Stop being so literal. She’s a mystery woman. What you have amounts to a glass slipper. Now you’ll have to go out there and find her.”
“Maybe she doesn’t want to be found.” He looked back out the window.
“That’s called giving up before you start. Tyler, you have to find her, at least so you can give her the chance to explain, and the chance to actually turn you down.”
“If I don’t find her then she can’t turn me down.”
“If you don’t find her you’ll regret it the rest of your life.”
He hated that she was right.
***
Miss Maizy Daisy sat in her dressing room staring at the mirror, not really seeing. She heard the door open and reached for the make-up removal pads on the dressing table and started wiping off the white face paint.
“Those were some good shoots,” Bernie said, already flipping through the pages on her clip board. “I think that was the last of them, and not a moment too soon. Will you be ready to fly out tomorrow morning?”
“Yeah, I’ll be packed and at the airport on time.”
“Sweetie, don’t listen to Allen’s threats, he’s just an old bear. There’s no way Miss Maizy Daisy is being cancelled over a little mix up like this. So you were a day late for …”
“I know Bernie. I’m not worried about the show.” She removed the wig and started pulling out hair pins.
“Well then, get over yourself. You have a tour to do. This cookbook is ambitious for a children’s star. Most of them put out picture books or toys.”
“Bernie, if you had any doubts of the book’s success you would never have let me go through with writing it.”
“Next you’ll be wanting to put out a craft book,” Bernie muttered.
“It’s a good idea, actually. But let’s get through one tour before we start on the next project.”
Bernie raised one hand, palm up. “Praise whatever god looks out for overworked production people. I thought for a moment that you might actually be stupid enough to start something new, thank-you for proving me wrong.”
“Bernie, tell me again why we’re friends?”
“Because we need each other. Now listen closely, and no letting your mind wander, this is crucial stuff.”
Megan took the stack of papers from Bernie and said, “What is all this?”
“It’s your itinerary: where and when you need to be for every flight, which hotels you’re staying in, check in and check out times, the locations, times, and durations of each of your appearances …”
“My lunch and bathroom breaks?”
“You’re getting the idea. I’ll go over it with you. Follow along, all right?”
Megan sighed. “All right Bernie, go ahead.”
An hour later Megan’s head was spinning, but at least she’d managed to get the last of her stage make-up off and change into her street clothes while Bernie talked.
“Bernie, stop it, you’re making my head hurt,” Megan begged.
“This is important!”
Megan muttered, “If you say that one more time I’ll …”
Bernie cleared her throat. “You’re not muttering quietly enough to be making threats.”
She grabbed her purse. “What about bribes? If I take you out for dinner will you please stop talking about schedules? You’re going to be with me the entire way and you’re going to tell me everything on this list a hundred more times anyways.”
“I don’t know why I bother. The ingratitude of some people.” But Bernie was already tucking her clipboard away in the minivan she called a purse. “Where to?”
They walked over to a little pizza joint where they often ate after a rough shooting schedule and ordered their usual double pepperoni thin crust. It was a little early for supper and the place was empty so Megan was doubly happy for Bernie’s company.
“Now, we have to work on your smile. Maybe the camera can’t tell when you’re faking it, but I can. And you’d better believe that those kids will notice it too.”
Or maybe she wasn’t going to be happy with Bernie’s company after all. “Don’t worry, it’s just the stress of the reshoot. I’ll go to bed early tonight and tomorrow I’ll be fine.”
“Try that again without all the lying.”
Megan shook her head. “Why do I bother?”
“You forget that I didn’t get us ahead in this business by being naïve. I can spot a lie a mile away. Spill it.”
“I should have called him. I completely lost track of what day of the week it was, with all this crazy reshoot nonsense, and by the time I even thought to call him it was too late, he’d checked out, and I have no way of reaching him.”
“Your friend Alicia, wouldn’t she have the number of the hotel chain he works for?”
Megan shrugged. “How many men named Tyler do you think work for that same hotel chain? I don’t have a last name.”
“Get the last name from the hotel in Kingsbridge,” Bernie said with a shrug.
“That’s illegal, Bernie. The hotel can’t give out that information.”
“Maybe he left you a message at the hotel, or with Alicia.”
A light went on in Megan’s eyes. “Alicia, of course. He convinced his employer to buy all her paintings, he’d have access to her number. Hold on.” She fished her cellphone out of her purse and dialed. After an agonizing wait the machine kicked in. She resisted swearing. “Alicia, this is Megan. Give me a call when you get this, I want to ask you something. Thanks.”
The waitress slid the large pizza onto the table and handed them each a plate. “Can I get you ladies anything else?”
Bernie shook her glass, making the ice clink. “A refill on the water would be great.”
“I’ll bring a pitcher,” the waitress replied and disappeared.
Bernie turned back to Megan. “Are you going to be okay with this mystery guy remaining a mystery?”
“I’ll have to be, Bernie. This tour will break my career if I mess up, or if there’s any bad press.” She took a bite of the pizza and closed her eyes, savouring the cheesy, spicy goodness. “I needed this.”
“I’m blowing my diet for you,” Bernie said, but she said that every time they split and pizza and Megan only rolled her eyes.
“That’s why you’re sticking with water, remember?”
“So very true. Bon Appetite!”
After dinner Megan resigned herself to going straight back to her apartment. The blessing of a heavy on-set schedule was that it left very little time for thinking and most nights Megan had simply collapsed on the couch and slept in her clothes when she’d gotten home.
Tonight she had things to do, like unpacking from her vacation, and packing for her tour. The studio would make sure that her costume and make-up kit made it to every location on time so all she needed was some street clothes and her bag of shower stuff, p
lus maybe a book or two to read on the plane rides. It wouldn’t take long which meant it wouldn’t keep her mind occupied for long.
Once packed, Megan checked and double checked her itinerary, set and triple checked her alarm, had a large glass of water and a low-fat yogurt cup as penance for the pizza, and went to bed.
She’d been honest with Bernie when she’d said she planned to turn in early, but there was no way she was getting to sleep anytime soon.
It was Tyler, of course, who crowded her thoughts and wouldn’t let her sleep. She knew full well it was her own damn fault she’d missed her chance with him. First she’d let her history with Bryce make her insecure. She’d let those insecurities lead to a fight that had made her look like a complete and utter moron. The fight had cost them half a day together. And then she’d been so caught up in her own emergency and saving her career that she hadn’t even thought of calling him. Not until too late, anyways.
She’d told herself a dozen times already that it was all for the best and that it was better if a casual fling stayed just that. Never mind the nagging in her mind or the aching in her heart. This was for the best.
She rolled over and closed her eyes, fully intent on getting a good night’s sleep, when that damned voice in her head said, He loves you, Megan, and you walked out on him just when you might have been falling in love with him too. Is it really for the best that you left? Or is it just easier than having to admit how you feel?
“Shut up,” she whispered but the tears were already starting and she cried herself to sleep.
Tyler signed the last document, closed the client folder, and set it in the ‘complete’ basket which was already full to the top, a testament to his focus and work ethic. Of course the two piles of folders, reports, and papers in his ‘do this’ basket were testament to why he didn’t get very many vacations. The fact that it was only two piles and not four or five was because Stephanie was the world’s greatest secretary and Tyler planned to buy her something very shiny and very expensive for her birthday next month to show his appreciation.
Or maybe dinner reservations and tickets to a show, he thought. I can watch AJ for them so they can have a romantic evening with no toddler, and no cost.
He was patting himself on the back for being so clever and considerate when an alert popped up on his computer screen. Just before starting that last folder he’d set up a phone number search and the results were in.
“Four hundred thirty seven listings for McCollum, M.?” he muttered. “So much for that idea.”
The phone rang and he scooped it up. “Yes?”
“Tyler, I just got a memo that you should take a look at. One of those celebrity check-ins.”
“Fine, bring it in.”
Stephanie crossed the length of the office, dropped the thin pile of papers on his desk, and collected his pile of completed work. “I’ll need an answer within the hour,” she said.
“An answer to what?”
“Will you be checking the celebrity in personally? It is tradition, after all, but you’ve been so mopey lately that maybe it’s a good idea not to.”
He glanced down at the papers. A clown face stared back at him. “A children’s entertainer?”
Stephanie nodded. “I’m taking AJ to her book signing. He watches her on TV every week.”
“I’ll be there to check her in; you can let the manager know. When is this?”
“Right after lunch. I’ll have your car brought around front at noon.”
“Thanks Stephanie.”
When she was gone again he took another look at the colour photo in front of him. The woman in the picture was smiling and holding a wooden spoon which was appropriate since she was standing in a kitchen with a bowl full of something chocolate on the counter in front of her. The title on the image read “Cooking for Kids – By Miss Maizy Daisy”. Tyler kept staring. There was no way to know what this woman would look like under the clown make up and the wig, but there was something in her eyes that reminded him of Megan.
He gave his head a shake. “You’ve been seeing Megan everywhere,” he muttered. He sighed and grabbed another folder off the pile. “Well, one more and then a quick lunch before you go meet Miss Maizy Daisy.”
***
The hotel was one of the largest that Tyler owned, since it was also one of the first that his father had built and it had undergone extensive renovations and expansions twice. The lobby was decorated in reds and brass, like something out of the 1930s, but with a modern edge that kept it attractive to the business crowd.
Tyler hovered behind the front desk with the branch manager and the head of customer service. They had all the papers and keycards ready and two staff members on standby to help with bags. Of course Miss Maizy Daisy was running late, but from what the manager had told him of past celebrity visits that was quite normal.
When two women carrying four bags between them came in, Tyler’s heart stopped. The one was short, slightly heavy set, with a square face that had a no-nonsense air to it. The other was the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on, and had feared he’d never see again.
Megan followed Bernie into the lobby and up to the front desk where a trim, well-dressed, balding man came easing around to shake their hands.
“I’m Samuel Brisbane,” he said. “I’m the manager here. This Mr. Copper, our head of Customer Service, and Mr. Mathers, the owner of the hotel.”
Megan had to refrain from rolling her eyes and made a mental note to ask Bernie if they’d have to deal with this sickening heap of over-sweet attention everywhere they went. And then Mr. Brisbane released her hand and stepped back and Megan came face-to-face with Mr. Mathers.
“Ms. McCollum,” he said. “It’s wonderful to meet you in person. My secretary says you are her son’s favourite star.”
“I’m flattered. Usually the kids like Mickey Mouse first, and then me.”
Bernie elbowed her in the ribs and shouldered her way through to shake hands with the men. “Bernie Stein,” she said. “I’ll be dealing with the paperwork and such.”
“Right this way then,” Mr. Brisbane said and ushered Bernie over to the desk.
“I’m not sure what your schedule allows for,” Tyler said to Megan, still keeping to the charade of meeting her for the first time, “But maybe you’d join me for a meal before you leave?”
“I’ve never had dinner with the owner of a hotel before,” she said with a short laugh. “Why not? I’m very interested in how someone as young as you managed to get a hold of so many fancy hotels.”
“Dinner it is. I’ll meet you here in the restaurant.” He nodded and smiled at her then waved over two young men to take the bags. “I’ll let you get settled and I’ll get back to work running my fancy hotels.”
“What time?” she said.
“Oh, would seven work for you?”
“Yes, seven works. I’ll see you then.” She kept her face as neutral as possible and let Bernie lead her to the elevators.
Chapter 7
At seven Megan went down to the restaurant after a half hour argument with Bernie over whether or not she was going alone. Finally, out of sheer desperation, she had said, “Do you remember that mystery man from my holidays? Well you’ve just met him. Now I plan to go down there, alone, and find out why he didn’t think it important to tell me that he didn’t just work for the hotels, he owned them!”
That had shut Bernie up.
The restaurant was pretty standard for a hotel, lots of round tables with white table clothes and white table settings. Of course it was the subtle details that set this hotel a step above the one in Kingsbridge, like the chandelier style light fixtures, and the expensive looking uniforms that the waiters wore, and the way they poured the wine as though they’d been trained for months on just that one movement.
She looked down at her dress, the only fancy thing she’d thought to bring along, and sighed. Well, at least there are half a dozen guests down here in blue jeans, she thought, pu
t on a smile that she hoped wouldn’t look forced, and walked up to the little podium with the ‘Please Wait to be Seated’ sign on it.
A waiter came over and started pulling a menu from a pile. “For one?” he asked.
“No, uh, my name is Megan McCollum, I’m meeting Mr. Mathers here for dinner.”
The menu slid smoothly back into the pile. “Of course, right this way.”
She wove through the tables to the back of the restaurant where the waiter opened a door with frosted glass windows. “Mr. Mathers requested the private dining room for your meal this evening. Please, enjoy.”
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