With No Reservations

by Joan Bramsch

  "Mrs. Cummings?” she said when Vanessa answered her phone. “This is Ann. I have to see you at once."

  Vanessa agreed, and Ann had no sooner hung up the phone than it rang. She jumped in alarm, as if it were a bomb that threatened to go off in her hand.

  "Hello?” she said.

  "Hi, Annie,” murmured a deep, familiar voice. “Were you sleeping, love?"

  "Not yet. I just took a shower."

  "Me, too,” he whispered. “I wish we'd been together. We could have experimented again."

  "I think we did rather enough experimenting as it was, don't you?"

  "Your voice sounds all husky and sexy. Do you suppose you'll always sound like that after we make love in the afternoon?"

  No, Jeffrey, she thought sadly. I always sound like this after I cry. “I'm just tired,” she said. “I need to rest before this evening."

  "Rest, darling,” he whispered. “I'll see you at seven thirty. Dream of me, love."

  Half an hour later Ann was pacing the length of her boss's inner office. She felt Vanessa's gaze follow her back and forth across the thick carpet.

  "Ann,” Vanessa said, “please tell me what's wrong."

  Ann turned to face her boss, her teeth clenched against more ‘.ears. “I've just returned from Mr. Madison's suite. He made a proposition ... and he has a gun."

  "Jeffrey Madison Cum-came here with a gun? My Lord, he held you prisoner with a gun? I'll have him arrested at once.” She hurried to the phone.

  "No, no, Mrs. Cummings,” Ann said, rushing across the room to stop her. “Not that kind of a proposition. He offered me a different position. Somewhere else, and..."

  "A different position?” Vanessa asked. “What kind of a position?"

  "It doesn't matter, Mrs. Cummings. Right now I'm not completely convinced he was serious."

  "But he did offer you a job this afternoon while...” She glanced out the window. “Would you mind telling me what you were doing in this-this criminal's room?"

  "He needed a typist, and that was my job, for today. When he locked up his papers, I saw a gun. He says he has a permit."

  "A likely story."

  "I believe him. I can't think of any reason why he would lie,” Ann insisted.

  "Well, I can think of about ten,” Vanessa said, and ticked them off on her fingers. “He could be planning a heist in St. Charles. Even here at the River Regency. He could be a hit man.” She gave Ann a steely stare and hit her palm with her fist. “Why, that man could be planning to waste someone right in our very own lobby!"'

  Ann could not suppress her grin. If nothing else, this visit with her boss was giving her a laugh. “Where in the world did you learn to talk like that?” she asked. “You sound like a gun moll."

  Vanessa laughed and fluffed her ash-blond hair. “I read a lot. And my son ... my somnambulism keeps me awake at night."

  Ann looked at her suspiciously. “How can you be kept awake by sleepwalking?"

  "Well, dear, it's like this,” Vanessa said, sitting down at her desk and fussing with some papers. “If I ... ah, didn't read for hours at night, that's what I'd be doing. Yes, that's it. I'd be walking around in my sleep.” She clucked her tongue and fanned her suddenly flushed cheeks. “Terrible habit, that. Now, where were we?"

  "Trying to figure out what to do with Jeffrey Madison."

  "Ah, yes. I think we should confront him with all this evidence, then throw him out on his ear."

  "How can we do that?” Ann asked. “The evidence is all circumstantial."

  "I'll think of something."

  "He's smart enough to hit you with a lawsuit if you aren't on sure ground."

  "I can at least have him arrested for suspicion."

  "Of what? Jeffrey hasn't done anything but offer me a job."

  "And are you interested in taking it?"

  "I thought I was a few hours ago, but now I'm not entirely sure."

  Vanessa reached for the phone again. “Then I71 have him evicted for harassing one of my employees."

  Ann beat her to the receiver. Placing her hand over it, she gazed at her boss. “Do you have to do anything at all? Can't we just hope he leaves? I can even ask him to leave. Wouldn't that be a better plan? No bad press or anything."

  Vanessa tipped her head to one side and looked consideringly at Ann. Her lips were pursed, her right brow arched. “Ann? Have you fallen in love with this man? This-this hooligan?"

  "He's not a hooligan,” Ann said, raising her voice. “He's a fine, wonderful, kind man. He's—” Then she realized to whom she was talking. “I apologize for yelling, Mrs. Cummings. Please forgive me."

  Vanessa continued to study her. “I will repeat my question, Ann. Do you love Jeffrey Madison?"

  "I ... I ...'

  "Well?"

  "Yes, yes! Heaven help me, but it's true.” To her embarrassment, she began to cry. “I don't know what I'm going to do,” she wailed, suddenly finding herself wrapped in Vanessa's maternal embrace.

  "There, there, child. It's all right. Everything will straighten itself out. Don't cry."

  "But how can everything straighten itself out?” Ann asked. “I don't know where to turn."

  Vanessa wiped the tears from Ann's face, then gave her a string of orders. “First, young lady, you are to go to your room, lie down, and put a cool cloth on your forehead. Next, you are going to take a long nap. Sleep will do you a world of good. Last, you're going to trust in luck."

  "Luck?” Ann repeated scoffingly. “The Lady has not been very friendly lately."

  "As one of my dear friends who's succeeded the hard way says: Luck is nothing but preparation meeting opportunity."

  "Then I suppose I wasn't prepared to fall in love,"

  Ann said, sniffling. “How else do you think I got messed up with a felon?"

  "Ann Waverly, who are you calling a felon?"

  "Jeffrey Madison. Who else?"

  "Now, dear, we don't know that for a fact, do we?"

  "No, but ... aren't you starting to change your tune?"

  "Only because I've considered your good advice about bad press, et cetera,” Vanessa said. She fluttered her hands at Ann. “Go on now. Shoo! Get some rest. I'll talk to you in the morning."

  Back in her room Ann climbed naked into bed and laid a cool damp cloth over her burning eyes. Every muscle in her body ached. It was not an entirely unpleasant feeling because she knew why her body hurt. But the ache in her heart was almost more than she could bear.

  Should any of this change her decision—Jeffrey's supposed profession, the gun in his room-now that he'd professed his love? she wondered. Asked her to marry him? Said he wanted to share the rest of his life with her?

  Being honest with herself, she knew her first impulse would be to grab him and run like hell. But it took only a moment to realize what a big mistake that would be. Yes, she wanted to share her life with Jeffrey. She loved him. But how long would her love for him endure when she knew it was built upon a false premise?

  She tried another tack. Suppose none of the things she suspected turned out to be true? her logical mind asked. Then what would you do? She squirmed under the covers, pressing the cloth against her eyes as she again felt the sting of tears. If Jeffrey were really an honest, ethical man who'd asked her to marry him and go with him to Mountainview to live happily every after, she'd know exactly what to do. She'd leave everything behind to take the biggest chance of her life. It would be worth the risk.

  But she couldn't gamble with her heart until she knew the odds she was playing. And she didn't know.

  "Oh, dear Lord,” she said softly, and rolled over to curl into a ball. Until she knew the truth, she and Jeffrey couldn't even discuss the kind of compromises they'd have to make, about where they'd live and how and for how long. She couldn't accept his proposal under these conditions. Like it or not, she knew she needed her career together with a marriage. She'd discovered that about herself long ago. She truly did not think she could change.

 
"But I love him,” she cried. She pounded the bed, railing at her frustration. “And he loves me,” she whispered. “With all my heart, I know he loves me.” She sighed tremulously. “Damn, damn, damn!"

  Heartsick, she decided she couldn't see him again until she knew the truth. If, as she suspected, he were trying to lure key employees away from the River Regency, that would destroy any relationship they'd had. Even if he were pure as the driven snow, what kind of a life could they have together anyway?

  Wonderful, exciting, rewarding, shouted her heart.

  Tears spilled down her cheeks again. “It would never work."

  Ann woke with a start. She thought she must be very sick because she heard a ringing in her ears. She shook her head and sat up, then finally realized the ringing was the phone. She groaned and fell back onto her pillows, reaching for the receiver.

  Her hand froze in midair.

  She couldn't answer her phone. Ten to one it would be Jeffrey. She squinted at her clock. It was after eight o'clock. He'd be calling to find out why she hadn't met him for their date. How would she be able to explain her reasons? No, she decided, it was far better just to let the phone ring. She could leave a message for him at the desk so he wouldn't come pounding on her door later.

  When the incessant ringing stopped, she sighed in relief. But in moments it began again.

  "Stop ringing, dammit,” she screamed at the phone. “I won't answer, so just stop."

  At the other end of the line Jeffrey slammed the receiver down, then shoved open the door of the phone booth and jogged to his car. He paused and searched the mall parking lot and the stretch of highway one last time. Nowhere could he see a little red car. Ann's little red car.

  "Where the hell is she?” he grumbled.

  In the next instant he condemned his impatience. Suppose she'd had an accident? he thought, his stomach twisting with sudden fear. Quickly he slid behind the wheel of his car and started the engine, then pulled out of the parking lot with more speed than good sense.

  The trip back to the hotel seemed interminable. He forced himself to drive at a slower speed than he would ordinarily, glancing into the ditches on either side of the road. Whenever he passed a service station he slowed to a crawl until he was sure there was no red automobile there.

  When he pulled into the hotel parking garage and found Ann's car sitting in its usual spot, he still did not consider that she'd stood him up. He worried that she was ill. In the lobby he walked over to the registration desk and asked if there were any messages for him. The clerk handed him an envelope. He opened it at once.

  "Exhausted. Forgive me,” the note read.

  "What the hell?” he muttered.

  "Something wrong, sir?” the clerk asked.

  "What?” He glanced up from the cryptic message. “No, nothing."

  He walked over to the garden lounge and hoisted himself up onto a high stool at the bar. After ordering a double vodka on the rocks, he reread the typed message.

  When his drink arrived, he took a long swallow, then another, before he tried to decipher the hidden message contained in those three words. After two more long swigs of his drink, he started to relax and a smug grin tugged at the corners of his mouth.

  "Dearest, darling Jeffrey,” he rewrote in his head. “This afternoon's lovemaking was beyond belief. Your kisses, your caresses, your ... everything left me weak. I don't know where I found the strength to return to my room. I should have stayed with you. I wish I had.

  "But now that I am here, in my own room, in my own bed, and all alone, I am filled with vivid memories of you. I try to move, but I am exhausted. It is a most satisfying lethargy, I can assure you."

  He envisioned her in her bed, leaning back against the pillows, her hair spread around her as she gazed lovingly into his eyes. He sighed, straightening his shoulders, then finished his drink and ordered another.

  Well, he thought, that took care of the first word. Now on to the second and third, “Forgive me."

  He closed his eyes and imagined a sleepy, satisfied smile on her sensuous lips.

  "Forgive me,” she would say. “I want so much to share the night with you, my darling. I want to dine with you, dance with you, feel your hard body pressed against me. I want to greet the dawn in your arms. In your bed. Beneath you. With you inside me. But, dearest Jeffrey, you have drained me. I must rest now. I want to be with you. You know that. Forgive me until tomorrow, my darling. Then I'll make it up to you. I promise."

  He sipped his drink, grinning for no reason in particular. It was amazing, he decided, how much information Ann had been able to pack into those three little words.

  At seven o'clock Thursday morning Ann called Mike, the manager of the parking garage. She was supposed to work for him that day, but she told him she was sick and wouldn't be able to make it. After she hung up she lay back in bed, hugging one of her pillows to her chest. She buried her face in its cool softness. If she inhaled deeply, she could still identify Jeffrey's cologne. This only proved to Ann that she did indeed need a day off, away from work, from the world, from Jeffrey. She was sick, as sick as could be. But no doctor could help her, because she was sick at heart.

  Two hours later Jeffrey had swum his customary fifty laps, showered, shaved, and eaten an enormous breakfast. Those two-or had it been three-double vodkas last night had calmed him nicely, he thought. He'd slept like a baby.

  Reading Ann's letter of apology had helped too. He didn't even consider that all those words, except three, were his.

  Now it was time to find out where Ann was working today. He had had no idea there were so many jobs involved in running a large hotel. There hadn't seemed to be so many different positions when his folks had owned Mountainview Inn. Of course, that had been a much smaller operation, and not as luxurious. It was still operated by a single family—the Angelinos—but he'd heard they were putting it back on the market next month because they were moving to Europe. He wondered how much they wanted for it. A germ of an idea began tickling at the back of his mind.

  He stood near the elevators in the lobby, considering where he should begin his search for his Annie love. He could always call his mother and ask her. But she was probably curious enough already. It was a wonder she hadn't sent out the troops to spy on her only son just because he'd mentioned Ann's name a couple of times.

  No, he'd tough it out all by himself. After all, he was supposed to be a pretty sharp detective, wasn't he? Always got his man, right? His heart was quick to ask him if that also applied to “his woman"? Strolling to the registration desk, he grinned broadly because he knew the answer. Annie loved him, had said she wanted to be his wife. True, they had a lot of discussion and compromises ahead of them, but with Annie at his side, all things were possible.

  "Hello, Mr. Chapman,” he said to the registration clerk, reading the name on the pocket of the man's uniform. “I wonder if you could help me. I'm trying to locate my cousin. She works here. Her name is Ann Waverly. Do you know where I might find her?"

  Mr. Chapman was most helpful. Within a minute he was able to direct Jeffrey to the parking garage.

  "Ask for Mike, sir. He'll be able to help you."

  Jeffrey smiled and thanked the man. It took him ten minutes to find Mike. After he'd been informed that Ann Waverly had taken a sick day, it took Jeffrey exactly sixty seconds to make it back to the lobby and a house phone.

  Ann answered the phone on the fourth ring. “Hello?"

  "Did I wake you, love?'

  "Yes, you did."

  "The garage manager told me you were ill. What's wrong, Annie? Do you need a doctor?"

  Pulling herself to a sitting position, Ann wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and finally came to her senses. She was sitting here, talking in her sleep, to Jeffrey!

  "I don't want to talk to you,” she said.

  He chuckled. “Annie, I can't catch any germs through the phone."

  "That's not what I mean. I really don't want to talk to you. Good-bye."


  "Wait! Why are you acting like this? What's wrong?"

  "You can't do what you're doing to my employer. It's unethical."

  "Annie, what the hell are you talking about?"

  She drew in a long breath, then sighed mournfully. “Oh, Jeff! If you don't know, then I can't help you. Good-bye."

  When she hung up she was sure she could feel her heart breaking. Jeffrey stared at the phone. Finally accepting the fact that she'd hung up on him, he slammed the receiver into its cradle.

  "Women!” he said in disgust. “Who the hell needs them?"

  What in the world was wrong with her? And what the hell was she talking about? It was obvious Ann didn't know that her employer was his mother.

  "You can't do what you're doing to my employer,” he said in a mocking, falsetto voice. “It's unethical."

  Operating on automatic pilot, he trudged to his car and left the hotel. He didn't have any specific destination in mind, but wasn't surprised when he realized he was heading in the direction of Ann's meadow. He wondered if he could find it.

  He had no trouble recognizing the gravel road off the highway. But then it took him almost an hour to find the hidden entrance to the meadow. He drove past it three times before he finally got out of the car and walked the half mile of road where he felt certain it was. After he found it and drove onto the rugged trail, he was careful to shut the gate. He'd given his word to keep Ann's secret. Even if she never talked to him again, he would keep her meadow secret.

  If she never talked to him again? he repeated silently. “Oh, Annie love, please forget you ever said that,” he whispered. He rubbed his eyes against a sudden glare that had made them water. At least that was what he told himself.

  When he reached the meadow, he remained in his car for a long time, thinking, remembering. After what seemed like an eternity, he dragged himself from the seat and slammed the door closed. Leaning against the front fender, he let his gaze wander over the peaceful land.

  There was the spot where they'd spread the blanket and had their lunch. The grass had not quite recovered. ‘His heart beat more rapidly, his breathing grew ragged as he recalled more of that afternoon.