by Brenda Bone
Her reluctant acceptance of their situation still didn’t stop her from thinking about him during the strangest times. At work, at home, even when she was among a crowd of people at a theater or shopping mall, visions of Brant flashed through her mind. The way he looked—confident and enthusiastic—when they first met and Desi informed her that she’d share her job with Brant. The picture of ultimate masculinity that Brant made when she saw him in his bathing trunks at the pool party where they were emcees. The charged atmosphere when they were forced to spend one night in the same hotel room. All of these memories returned to stick needles in her heart as she struggled to adjust to her new lifestyle without Brant in it.
“This came for you in today’s mail,” Dawn announced one morning at the radio station. She dropped an ivory envelope with a gold seal on Lindsay’s desk.
Slitting one end of the envelope and pulling out the contents, Lindsay gasped. “I can hardly believe this! It’s a note from Derek Eden. He also sent an invitation to a party two weeks from Saturday. It’s to be a fund-raiser for world hunger.”
Dawn’s mouth fell open. “You’re friendly with the great Derek Eden?”
“I don’t know him well, but I spent an enjoyable evening with him when he did a concert in Columbus last summer.”
“I’ll bet it was enjoyable!” Dawn snickered.
Lindsay made a face. “It wasn’t like what you must be thinking. We chatted and spent a few hours getting to know each other after he chose me out of the audience to come on stage with him during a song.”
“Lucky you! You plan on attending the party, don’t you?”
She shrugged. “I don’t care much for glittering social events, although it’s for a good cause.”
Surprise washed over Dawn’s face. “Most women dream of attending parties like this elegant fund-raiser. Why aren’t you excited?”
“Well--” she stalled, then after a few seconds decided to confide in Dawn. “I’m a little scared about going. What if I say or do the wrong thing in front of all the ‘beautiful people’ who’ll be there?”
“Don’t worry. Your confidence will return once you get to the party and start to become acquainted with the guests. They may be some of the most famous names in the world, but after all, they’re still ordinary people…simply human.”
“Maybe I’m silly to worry.”
“You’d be worse than silly if you turn down a date with Derek Eden; you’d be downright stupid.”
In the end, Lindsay decided to attend the fund-raiser. She knew she looked better than she ever did in her life as she wore a peach spaghetti-strap gown with a dainty ruffle above the bustline and a bodice which showed off her narrow waist. Another ruffle at the bottom of her long skirt flounced when she walked and she heard the rustle of silk that felt light and cool against her legs. Her ivory ankle-strap, open-toe high heels felt tight on her feet, but she barely noticed since anticipation descended over her like a pleasant dream.
She still couldn’t get over the surprise that Derek volunteered to pick her and escort her. Since he invited her, it was only polite, of course, but she would have understood if he’d been leery of letting the press and his fans catch a glimpse of him in public.
His bodyguard, Al, was with him when he arrived at her apartment. Lindsay absorbed everything about Derek—the beige tuxedo with satin lapels, a starched ivory shirt with a frill of ruffles at his wrists, and the beige velvet bow tie he wore, the way he moved like a graceful deer, his broad shoulders that squared in perfect posture.
What’s gotten into me? I never stared so boldly at a man in the past, she told herself, except for Brant.
“You look gorgeous,” Derek complimented her, letting his eyes roam over every inch of her so that he even noticed the mother-of-pearl bracelet she wore.
“Thank you. I was surprised when I received your invitation.”
“Why?”
“Frankly, I figured you probably forgot my name by now.”
“I listen to WCIT often, so it pleased me when I heard you on the air.”
Soon Lindsay and Derek arrived at the legendary large, yet intimate Waldorf-Astoria hotel where the party was held. When she entered the main lobby she walked across Rigal’s marble and mosaic medallion on the floor. A towering, gilded clock captured her attention.
Derek must have noticed her interest in the large art deco murals, which had music and dance themes. “The hotel recently underwent restoration of its art deco interior,” he said. “In the Grand Ballroom, where we’re going now since the affair is taking place there, you’ll see that it, too, experienced a major restoration.”
When she reached the room where over a million people attended functions in the first half of the century, the splendid surroundings were alive with people and big band music. “It’s magnificent.”
“They uncovered the grillwork, regilded the bas-relief on the balconies and treated the hunt scene above the opulent chandelier with twenty-two carat gold leaf,” Derek informed her.
The fund-raiser promised to be a posh affair. Lindsay mingled with other guests, but remained reserved and uneasy as she tried to maintain an air of nonchalance.
Standing so close beside her that Derek’s breath felt warm against her ear, he whispered later, “You’re not having a good time, are you?”
“It’s a wonderful party.”
“Then why aren’t you enjoying it, Lindsay?”
“It seems as if everyone wants to outdo everyone else, whether it be a better role, bigger house or fancier car.”
“They’re not all braggarts. Sometimes I tell people about my interests and achievements in my singing career simply because after I ask them about their own, I don’t know what else to say.”
She considered this startling admission. It surprised her that Derek ever felt self-conscious and unsure of himself, especially after seeing how confident he appeared on stage.
Excitement bubbled inside her as Derek introduced her to the most popular people in the entertainment business. Soon she couldn’t help but feel more at ease at the party, and by the second hour of it, she wondered when the last time was she’d had so much fun. Less than a year ago she couldn’t have gotten close enough to these celebrities to even ask for an autograph.
This is only the beginning, she thought happily. Now that she learned how to set her goals, then work so they’d come true, she intended to turn more wonderful dreams into reality in the future.
Derek behaved as a perfect gentleman, a considerate date, for the rest of the evening, and after he kissed her goodnight on the cheek, he issued another invitation. “I’m having a small party at my place on Saturday night. I’d like for you to come.”
The night of his party Lindsay wore a pink floral dress with a soft watercolor print and a full skirt that flowed naturally from a V-yoke waist. From the top of her upswept coiffure entwined with fresh baby’s breath down to her high-heeled bone shoes, she reflected a fine example of womanhood at its best. A few dabs of Chanel No. 5, which she used only on special occasions, completed the finishing touches of her toilette.
A myriad of twinkling lights surrounding Manhattan looked like a glittering fairyland as she drove to the address Derek gave her. It was that of a classy apartment building on Fifth Avenue where an elevator carried her to the thirty-ninth floor of the high-rise. A bell chimed and she stepped onto a gray marble hallway. She pressed the tiny button beneath the number that read 39B. The door opened almost immediately.
“Hello, Lindsay. I’m glad you came,” Derek said cordially after his butler ushered her inside. Derek was garbed in an elegant brown dinner jacket and pants with an oyster-colored shirt adorned by a hint of ruffles at the neck and sleeves.
The sophisticated contemporary apartment decorated in muted earth tones was already brimming with prestigious people. Derek leaned toward her and whispered, “You look sensational. They’ll love you.”
“Who?” she muttered curiously, but he ignored her question.
> “Would you like something to drink?” a short man wearing a white uniform asked her.
She nodded. “A glass of white wine would be fine.”
As he opened a bottle, she heard the liquid dribble into a sparkling goblet as he poured her drink. When her fingertips touched the glass he handed her, she instantly recognized the unmistakable ring of French lead crystal.
Derek glanced toward the door. “Ah! More guests are arriving. Come with me while I greet them.”
She took a sip from her glass, then set it down on a small table before she crossed the room with Derek. Murmuring a “hello” to familiar faces and politely acknowledging new acquaintances, Lindsay stood quietly. The room became an ever-changing kaleidoscope of color and motion before a waiter brought out a buffet laden with a tempting array of food—a variety of canapés, colorful salad, hearty main dishes such as glazed ham and Cornish hens with cranberry sauce, and desserts dripping with calories.
Lindsay wandered over to the long glass window that reached from the ceiling to the plush brown carpet and covered the entire length of a wall. She enjoyed the spectacular view of Manhattan’s famous skyline when she heard an argument break out. Turning, she saw that Derek’s mouth was twisted out of shape and tiny wrinkles tugged at the corners of his eyes as he spoke with a pushy reporter in his mid-thirties.
“Many of the reporters and photographers came tonight because we expected Marco Moore to be here. Isn’t he coming?”
“You’ve got a lot of nerve, punk, coming here and then asking me that, especially after that piece of trash you wrote about me in your last column,” Derek snapped. “I suggest you leave now before I have you thrown out.”
Lindsay spotted the determined look on the reporter’s face and she expected him to try to further interrogate Derek, but he must have realized he was on thin ice because he left peacefully. She wanted to ask Derek what their exchange had been about, but she didn’t pry. “You look upset,” she said, approaching Derek. “Anything I can do?”
His frown curled into a smile again. “Yes, my dear, there is. Just stay near me for the rest of the party.”
She thought his request was odd, but she passed it off and granted his wish. When reporters and photographers flocked around her, she was amazed that they’d be so interested in her when there were bigger celebrities in the room. Derek gave permission to the photographers to take her picture with him, but he carefully evaded answering questions each time reporters inquired if a romance blossomed between him and Lindsay.
The minute that Derek left her alone, a thin woman with short black hair and piercing brown eyes approached her. “How long have you been personally acquainted with Derek, Miss Blair?”
“For a few months,” Lindsay replied.
“I suppose you met some of his friends by now, but tell me, did he introduce you to Marco Moore?”
Lindsay wondered why Marco’s name kept popping up, especially since he didn’t attend the party. “Actually, Derek and I are just--”
Before she could finish, Derek stepped between her and the woman he addressed as Bella. “Always the bird of prey, eh, Bella? You’ll have to excuse us. I need to speak in private with my lady.”
It was news to Lindsay how she suddenly became “his lady.” He put his arm around her waist and firmly guided her in the opposite direction of Bella. When they were out of earshot, Derek’s dark eyes flashed as he turned to her. “I’d prefer that you refrain from giving the press any information unless it has been cleared with me first.”
“But I didn’t tell her anything important,” she argued.
“Sometimes it’s hard for an outsider to realize that a few casual words intercepted by the wrong person can easily wreak havoc on a career that took years to build. Naturally, the reporters and columnists are eager to learn all they can about you and my personal life.”
So now I’ve gone from being “his lady” to “an outsider,” she thought. What did Derek hide from her? She was almost sure there was something.
“Any time Bella Garrett uncovers the answer to one question, she has fifteen more ready to ask,” Derek went on.
Tired of the direction the conversation took, Lindsay wished the party would end so she could head home. “I’m going to the powder room.”
Down the hall just as she turned the door knob to enter, Lindsay heard someone on the other side mention her name. Pausing a moment to listen to the two women inside, she felt embarrassed as well as confused.
“Lindsay Blair might fool some people, but I’ve been around this business too long to always believe what I see,” a catty voice declared. “No one’s going to convince me that Derek Eden’s heart doesn’t lie elsewhere.”
“Maybe so,” the other woman agreed, “but it would have been amusing if we could’ve watched the three of them in the same room.”
Angry that they gossiped about her, Lindsay opened the door and faced them. The two women who stood in front of a wide mirror saw Lindsay’s reflection in it, then glanced guiltily at each other before they made a quick exit.
Lindsay leaned against the cool marble top of the vanity a few seconds and concentrated on drawing long, deep breaths to calm her nerves. She decided that she was leaving, regardless of whether she offended Derek or not. Her excursion into the realm of the rich and famous disappointed her enough for one evening.
The next day Lindsay felt happy to receive a phone call from Serita. “Wow! You’ve been going out with Derek Eden? When you forget them, you really do it in style, don’t you?”
“What do you mean?” Lindsay asked, confused.
“Brant. I wasn’t going to bring up his name, but since you must be wild about Derek now, I’ll tell you that Brant didn’t take it too well when I returned your engagement ring to him like you asked me to do.”
“What did he say?”
“It wasn’t what he said as much as the way he looked. He thanked me for giving it back to him, but the expression on his face was sad enough that he almost made me feel guilty because you chose New York over him.”
“Brant had a choice in the matter as much as I did, and he didn’t have any qualms about choosing his own job rather than coming here with me.”
“I’m not taking sides, Lin. I just thought the two of you had a chance at real happiness, something that doesn’t come to everyone. By the way, did you contact him at all since you moved?”
“No. I realized that I took the cowardly way out of an unpleasant situation by asking you to give him his ring back, but I kept hoping he’d change his mind at the last minute. Maybe he counted on me to reverse my decision, but none of that matters now. He’s in Columbus; I’m in New York. That’s the way it is.”
“Yes, and it’s a shame. Well, Lin, I’ll talk to you soon.”
“Take care, Serita. Thanks again for returning the ring to Brant.”
Lindsay ended the call, but that couldn’t cut off her thoughts of Brant as she imagined his reaction when Serita gave him back the ring. She felt an unexpected tear slide down her cheek when she remembered their joy the night he presented her with the diamond. For a brief period, they shared such high hopes for the future, but Fate waited around the corner to snatch it cruelly away from them.
Maybe I’d have been better off if I never met Brant. Then I wouldn’t hurt so much now, she thought. After all, how could anyone miss something if they never had it?
CHAPTER NINETEEN
“I’d love to accompany you to New Orleans and watch you do the big concert for charity, Derek, but I haven’t been at my job long enough to deserve a vacation yet,” Lindsay explained, sitting on the sofa in her living room and talking to him over the phone a few nights later.
“Is that the only reason you won’t go?” Derek pressed.
“Yes. I’ve never been to the South and I always wanted to go ever since I watched Gone With The Wind years ago.”
“Ah, ha! Just as I suspected—you’re a romantic at heart. Take along some nice dresses because after w
e get to Louisiana, a real-life Rhett Butler just might mistake you for Scarlett and invite you to go out with him for a night on the town.”
“I told you—now isn’t the time for me to ask for time off.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll speak to your boss and take care of everything,” he assured her, “and I’ll see to it that your job will be more secure than ever.”
She didn’t ask how he planned to do this, but the next morning there was a memo from Frank Thomas on her desk. When she called him, he seemed thrilled that one of WCIT’s employees would go with Derek. “This will be great publicity,” Frank told her. “And Derek guaranteed me that he’ll give WCIT an exclusive interview on the air as long as you ask the questions.”
The interview was two days later and turned out great. On Friday morning, as a gentle rain washed the gray streets of New York and made them look like long streamers of silver satin, Lindsay, Derek and his band departed for the Crescent City. After they arrived at the New Orleans International Airport, Lindsay squinted in the late afternoon sun as she and the others stepped out of their stretch Lincolns and sauntered along the cracked sidewalks in the old French Quarter. There brick and plaster buildings dripping with lacy wrought-iron balconies and courtyards filled with sweet-smelling plantings allowed passers-by a peek at the past. The public didn’t get a look at Derek Eden this time, however, since he wore a disguise—a fake beard and moustache along with dark glasses that fit over the plastic nose, shaped differently from his real one, which he snapped on before he stepped off the plane.
Located in the heart of the Vieux Carre, one-half block from Bourbon Street, the Prince Conti Hotel seemed to Lindsay a perfect combination of classic elegance and a comfortable atmosphere of hospitality. As she stepped into the grand entrance of the quiet hall lobby, a draft provoked a gentle tinkle from the glimmering chandeliers that were authentic 18th century Baccarat crystal and bronze dore.
“Everything’s beautiful,” she told Derek, looking around at the 18th century Trumeau painting that hung above an original Louis XV carved marble mantel. On each side of the room were matching Louis XV armchairs covered in original Aubusson tapestry.