by Zuri Day
“And you are?” the woman asked, and actually tried to act as though the question had been asked for professional reasons.
Dexter leaned on the counter. “My name is Dexter Drake,” he said, with a quick glance at her name badge. “Do you have any other questions for me, Veronica? Or will you just be a darling and tell me where I can find my relative?”
“Of course, Dexter,” the pretty blonde replied. “Here, let me write down his room number.” She did, adding another ten numbers beneath it, along with her name. “Have a good day!” she sang to his retreating back.
Dexter turned the corner, nodded at a couple of ogling nurses and reached the room number written on the slip of paper. Taking a deep breath, he slowly opened the door. The sight that greeted him caused him to stagger against the wall, close his eyes and will down his emotions. Papa Dee looked pale and ashen. Against the stark white of the sheets and hospital gown, his frame seemed smaller, thinner than just the day before. In other words, for the first time in Dexter’s memory, his great-grandfather looked closer to his actual age. For the first time in about fifteen years, since the time Papa Dee fell off a horse, Dexter briefly entertained the thought of life without one of his best friends. He couldn’t. Not now.
After several long minutes, Dexter pried himself from the wall and walked over to the bed. He looked at the screen of the device hooked up to Papa Dee, showing squiggles and numbers and letters like BPM and NBP. On the other side of the bed was a pole holding a bag of fluid, a tube traveling from there to Papa Dee’s hand, where the needle allowing delivery of those fluids into his great-grandfather’s body was taped in place. Dexter took his large, strong index finger and outlined the veins on Papa Dee’s hand. Have they always been this pronounced? He gave a light squeeze, looked into his great-grandfather’s face and felt his heart constrict. “Hang in there, old man,” he said aloud. “This is no way to get out of a chess match. I’m still going to whoop that ass.”
Lashes fluttered. Lips pursed. An eye worked to open.
“I thought that might get you,” Dexter said, with a smile in his voice. “All of this just so you wouldn’t have to dance with Birdie.” Ah, yes. A wisp of a smile. “Just relax, Papa. Don’t let me bother you. I’ll just take a seat by the window until you wake up.”
A soft sound escaped Papa Dee’s mouth. He cleared his throat as his eyes fluttered open. “Where...am...I?” His voice was barely above a whisper.
“You’re at the hospital, Papa. Remember, we told you last night, when you woke up.”
Papa Dee tried to look around, but moving his head from side to side was too much work. “Hospital?”
“Shh, come on, now, Pops. Don’t worry about it. Just lie there and get your rest. The doctor will be here in a minute to explain everything. Mama and Daddy will be here soon, and the grands are on their way, too.”
“Woman?” Papa Dee whispered, his eyes closing.
“What did you say, Papa?” He didn’t answer. “Are you thirsty? Do you want some water?”
“Woman,” Papa Dee repeated with a slight shake of his head.
“Are you already eyeing the pretty nurses? Here you are flat on your back and still trying to be a player. You’re something else, Papa. You just stay relaxed. I’m going to go and find the doctor.”
* * *
Back at Drake Resort, Faye rolled over and enjoyed a good stretch. She looked at the clock and was surprised to see that it was just 7 a.m. Given that she’d gone to bed at eleven the night before, however, she felt rested. And restless. This vacation stuff was not for the faint of heart. And yesterday’s events had nudged the doctor within her, made her miss Haiti and practicing medicine, and all the friends and stalwart natives of that country she’d left behind.
When Faye had arrived in Port-au-Prince just after the worse earthquake to hit that area in almost a century, it was to sheer devastation. Hospitals had been totally destroyed along with most other buildings. Death and injuries were everywhere. She’d deplaned, checked in with the Red Cross and worked a solid seventy-two hours without sleep. More crew arrived and the pace slightly lessened. But the sick and injured remained, keeping the doctors who’d flown in busy for the next six months. During this time she met Adeline, the daughter of a Haitian diplomat who’d died in the quake. Adeline had poured her grief into the founding of Haitian Heartbeats, and soon Dr. Ian Chapollow heard of her efforts and became a board member and resident doctor. He’d hired Faye and the rest was history. Faye became not only his protégé but the daughter he never had. He became a father figure, providing acknowledgment and encouragement that had been sorely lacking in her life since her own father’s death so many years ago. For the first time since those late night chats with Gerald McPherson, Faye had shared with someone her hopes and dreams of one day returning to the United States and helping the underprivileged. As the years passed more medical help arrived, and the stream of patients lessened. Dr. Ian convinced her that now was the time to make her move. If not for the prodding of Dr. Ian, Faye would still be in Haiti, sharing a modest duplex with a nurse and a rescued yellow Lab named Lucy, driving a beat-up Jeep, and loving every minute of it.
After checking emails and then luxuriating in the wide marble shower with its multiple heads and floating bench, Faye dressed in workout gear and prepared to leave the room. “Let’s see...room card, cell phone. Do I need my cell phone?” A knock interrupted her internal debate. She looked at the clock. Who’s at my door at eight o’clock in the morning? She looked out the peephole and was surprised to see a hotel worker holding a large basket with a big red bow.
“Good morning, ma’am!” The worker’s blue eyes sparkled as he held the large basket. “Delivery for Dr. Faye Buckner. May I put this on the table?”
“For me?”
“Absolutely.” The hotel employee beamed.
“Are you sure?” She’d spoken to her family and told them where she was staying but doubted her mother or brother would send such a gift. They’d never before presented her with “welcome home” flowers and her birthday was still four months away. Still, she moved aside so that the young man could enter.
“Enjoy!” He turned to leave.
“Wait—let me get your tip.” Faye walked toward where her purse sat in a chair next to the window.
“No need, ma’am. You are the resort’s special guest. This is my pleasure.” Before Faye could get over her shock and formulate a sentence, he was gone.
Special guest? Faye walked over to the basket and took the card out of the envelope pinned to the bow.
Dr. Buckner:
Thank you for your quick actions yesterday. We are sure that it helped our loved one survive. On behalf of the Drake family and this resort, please accept this basket and complimentary use of our entire facility including restaurant, wine bar, spa, salon and hotel gift shop during your stay. The cost of the room has been credited back to the card from which it was debited...with our deepest and most sincere gratitude.
The Drakes
“What?” Faye looked around as if somehow the empty room would give her an answer, and then back to the lovely arrangement. For a second she wondered if Dexter had orchestrated the floral delivery and immediately warmed at the thought. Then she remembered Donald and his comment. Let us thank you for stepping in today and helping our patriarch by considering you our guest during your stay. Now it made sense. She was now staying at this luxurious, five-star resort for free, and being encouraged to take advantage of its upscale amenities! For simply being who I am and doing my job? Faye was impressed at the generous offer, but it was too much. She couldn’t do anything about the room cost since she hadn’t purchased it in the first place. But she had every intention of paying for any services she received.
Her first test came in the Grapevine, the hotel’s comfortably appointed restaurant. After a delightful breakfast of fresh fru
it, a bagel and two scrambled eggs, she requested the bill.
“Would you like the total added to your room bill?” the waiter asked.
“No, I’d like to pay now, please.” She pulled out a credit card and handed it to the waiter.
After a few minutes, the waiter returned. “I’m so sorry, Dr. Buckner. I didn’t realize it was you. Please accept the breakfast with our compliments.”
“Thank you, but I’d really like to pay.”
The waiter’s eyes widened in alarm, his head shook slowly. “Oh, no. We cannot accept your card.” He lowered his voice. “My job would be on the line, and we couldn’t have that, now could we?” Wink.
“No,” Faye said, determined to be gracious until she could speak to one of the Drakes. “The meal was delicious. Thank you.”
Faye worked out for an hour, came back up to the room for another quick shower, and then hit the road in her rented Hyundai. She went to an area of Temecula called Old Town, three quaint blocks filled with boutiques, restaurants and tourists. On the corner was a small building touting a sign: Tarot/Palm Readings. Faye immediately thought of Dexter. Don’t need a psychic to tell me what I already know. He’d been gracious and attentive at the hospital but she deduced that that was less about a personal interest in her and more about deep concern for his great-grandfather. He’s probably already forgotten about me. The woman who ended up with Dexter Drake would more than likely look as though she stepped off the pages of Glamour magazine. She thought about Diamond, still gorgeous in the last few months of pregnancy, and the dark-skinned woman with the long, thick hair and curvy figure; the one who she now guessed was Dexter’s brother’s wife. Both women dripped culture, sophistication, that city-girl vibe that Faye could never imagine having.
She spent an hour meandering through the shops in Old Town and then decided to go back to the Promenade Mall, where she’d shopped the day before and had also noticed a movie theater. After enjoying her first movie on the big screen in almost two years, she returned to the resort, ready to get in a few hours of work before deciding on what she wanted for dinner. She’d just fired up her computer when the hotel phone rang.
“Hello?”
“Dr. Buckner?”
That voice. Those chills. The tingle. “Yes?”
“It’s Dexter.”
Breathe, Faye. It’s a necessary component to living. “How’s your great-grandfather?”
“He’s coming around. He asked about you.”
“Really? I’m surprised he remembered me.” I am even more shocked that you’re calling me! “He was barely conscious when they took him away.”
“You don’t know Papa. He never forgets a pretty face. They’re going to keep him a few days for observation, get him rehydrated, but after that we should have him back as good as new.”
“That’s good news.” Faye hoped that was the right answer because honestly, she hadn’t heard much past the pretty face remark.
“My family can’t thank you enough.”
“Yes, you can. And you have. In fact, I need to speak with you about my being your special guest. I can’t possibly—”
“Join me for dinner tonight?”
“Excuse me?”
“Meet me in the lobby. Say, seven-thirty?”
“There’s no need to feel obligated to take me out.”
“Good...because I don’t. Now, put on something sexy like what you wore at the party. And wear that lipstick that you had on earlier, too. That pink shade looked nice on you.”
Five minutes later and Faye was still thinking about Dexter’s lipstick comment. Did men actually pay attention to such things? Obviously they did. Which meant one thing: he’d been really checking her out while they were dancing. Looking at her lips! She only hoped he hadn’t seen her lick them while she’d looked at him.
Chapter 10
Put on something sexy. The exact advice and the exact words her friend Addie had used two days before. Faye huffed as she fingered the meager collection that served as her new wardrobe. Her clothing collection wasn’t extensive by any means, and the bulk of it was being shipped with her other personal items that were due to arrive next week. Focusing her thoughts on the closet once again, she went from the “little black dress” that she’d worn in Haiti for the past two years to the turquoise-blue, knee-length number that due to the clerk’s insistence she’d purchased on Friday. “That color looks so good on you,” the woman had insisted. Holding it up to herself as she looked into the floor-length mirror, she had to agree that the color did do wonderful things against her skin tone. But is it too dressy? Will it look as though I’m trying to impress? “Aren’t you trying to impress?” asked the imp on her shoulder.
“No,” was her less-than-truthful verbal reply.
She put on the dress along with the sparkly heels she’d worn to the party. And in spite of her rational claims to the contrary, she felt just a little like Cinderella.
At 7:28, Faye walked out of the elevators into the bustling lobby of the Drake Hotel. She could hear music oozing out of the Vineyard, the property’s lounge/nightclub, and watched as women in five-inch heels and men in suit jackets headed toward the establishment’s doors. Interestingly enough, there seemed nothing incongruous about the women in flats and the men in shorts who also trickled inside.
At 7:30 exactly, Dexter walked through the hotel’s revolving doors. Faye turned as he entered and willed herself not to react to six feet two inches of mesmerizing manliness; tried not to notice how the casual navy blue summer suit fit his lean frame to perfection. Or how the stark white shirt highlighted his bronzed skin. Or how the tailored jacket emphasized strong, broad shoulders. Or how he brought about feelings similar to the ones she’d felt in her dream.
“Good evening, Doctor,” Dexter said when he reached her, giving her body a quick sweep that caused chill bumps and heat surges at the same time.
“Good evening, Dexter.”
“You look good.”
“Darn,” she replied, her face in a mock pout. “I was going for sexy.”
His eyes darkened. Seconds passed before he spoke. “That, too.” Faye wanted to take the lips through which those words had been uttered and press them against her own. Fortunately, before she could act on such a rash impulse, he held out his arm. “Shall we?”
After a slight hesitation, Faye linked her arm with his. She was more than a little aware of the stares their exit elicited, sure that the women were wondering how she’d gotten so lucky. It wasn’t that Faye was insecure. She was a realist aware of her shortcomings in the looks department. How many times as a child had she been teased because her nose was too wide, and as a teen that her breasts were too small? There was one particular nemesis who harassed her almost every day of her existence during her junior high school days. “Frank, oops, I mean Faye,” he’d say with his ever-present posse in tow. “Thought you were a dude.” The crowd would laugh at him as though he were a shoo-in for Saturday Night Live.
“You’re lame and lackadaisical,” she’d retort, leaving him to wonder about her five-syllable put-down. Last she heard he’d fallen on hard times and was sweeping the floors of that same school. Karma was a bitch.
They arrived at a shiny, sleek black sports car. He opened her car door and once she was safely inside, bounded around to the driver’s side and let himself in.
“Been in one of these before?” he asked somewhat smugly, as he put the Maserati GranCabrio into reverse and eased out of the parking space.
“A two-door?” Faye quipped with feigned innocence, buckling her belt. “Sure. My first car was a Honda Civic two-door with bucket seats. Very similar to this.”
“Ha-ha, very funny,” Dexter said, though inwardly he was a tad bit offended that she’d compare his luxury vehicle to a bucket on wheels. He tapped the gas and the car soared forw
ard. Its power was undeniable yet inside you could barely hear the engine.
“Okay, admittedly it wasn’t this sporty. But it got me everywhere I wanted to go.”
“And where was that?”
“Back in the mid-nineties?” She shrugged. “School, work, the library, home. That’s about it.”
“Where are you from?”
Dexter shifted gears and accidentally brushed Faye’s leg in the process. Faye unconsciously shifted said leg closer, hoping that he’d brush it again.
“I was born in North Carolina but grew up mainly in Saint Louis. My dad was in the army. We moved around a lot until I was eleven years old.”
“And then he retired?”
A pause and then, “He died.”
“I’m sorry.” The sincerity in his voice was palpable. “That must have been hard.”
“It was. My mom remarried and we moved to the Midwest. I lived there until I went off to college.”
“Where’d you study?”
“Johns Hopkins.”
Dexter whistled. “Nice.”
“What about you?”
“Cornell.” Faye reacted before she could hide her surprise. “Didn’t see that one coming, did you?”
“I’m sorry. It’s just that...”
“You thought I was a spoiled trust-fund brother who hadn’t had to earn my position at Drake Wines. I came into a blessed family, but we believe in hard work. None of us were given our positions. We trained and competed for them. My undergrad is in viticulture and enology. My grad is in business.” Dexter gave her a crooked smile. “You can be duly impressed.”
“You’re doing that on purpose.”
“What?”