Honeymoon Hotel

by Bretton, Barbara

  The men stopped, pizza halfway to their mouths, and stared at her. She smiled sweetly. "Mangia, boys."

  Chapter Fourteen

  Holland might as well have been eating pepperoni pizza for all the pleasure she was getting out of her meal. Caviar and blini and Stoli -- Alistair was wasting his money.

  Nothing, even dinner at the Russian Tea Room, could change the way she felt.

  She pushed back her chair and rose. "Excuse me," she said, then turned to head for the staircase up to the ladies' room.

  "I'd better go with her," she heard Joanna say to Ryder and Alistair. "Order dessert."

  "We're not nuns," Holland said over her shoulder as she stalked through the restaurant. "We don't have to travel in pairs."

  Joanna restrained herself admirably as they negotiated the staircase, but the bathroom door had barely swung closed before she grabbed the rope of pearls around Holland's neck.

  "Those are real, Jo," Holland murmured, extricating herself from her friend's grasp. "Thirty-six inches, perfectly matched. A birthday gift to me from me." She unsnapped her bracelet and tossed it at Joanna. "If you must break something, amuse yourself with costume."

  Joanna spiked the bracelet to the marble floor. Holland watched as it rolled under an unoccupied stall.

  "So it's going to be one of those conversations, is it?"

  "What on earth is going on?" Joanna tugged again at the pearls as if she wanted to strangle Holland with them. "I know all about getting caught up in your role, but this ice bitch act is wearing thin."

  "Act?" Holland settled herself down at the vanity and inspected her eye makeup in the mirror. "What act?"

  Joanna grabbed her shoulders and spun her around. "I want to know why you're on this self-destruct mission with Alistair."

  "Marriage must agree with you, darling," Holland purred. "You're becoming downright dictatorial."

  "I thought you loved him," Joanna persisted. "I thought everything was wonderful."

  Holland lowered her head and rested her face in her hands. "Don't, Jo. I'm not in the mood. Back off."

  "I can't back off. I've known you too long to back off."

  "This is difficult enough. I don't need your unsolicited opinion."

  Joanna gave her a sharp kick.

  "Careful, darling," Holland said, rubbing her ankle. "You're abusing the highest paid actress on daytime television."

  "You're lucky I don't give you a black eye." She grabbed Holland by the lapels of her Chinese silk smoking jacket. "Why are you doing this? Have you gone crazy?"

  "None of your business."

  "It is my business. If it hadn't been for Ryder and me, you never would have met Alistair."

  "Correction: our elegant Mr. Chambers picked me up in the lobby of your apartment building. You, as I recall, had nothing whatsoever to do with it."

  "If you hadn't been sitting in the lobby waiting for me, you'd never have been picked up in the first place."

  Holland called up her best Act III, Scene IV glare. "At the moment, that's hardly a recommendation, Joanna."

  "Please," Joanna said, touching her arm. "I know all about privacy and everything else, but I'm worried. What's going on?"

  That touch was Holland's undoing.

  She lay her head down on her arms and started to cry.

  #

  "You've looked at your watch three times in the last ten minutes," Alistair said to Ryder as they polished off their brandy.

  The younger man glanced toward the doorway. "They've been gone a hell of a long time."

  Alistair shrugged. "Talking about me, no doubt."

  "Holland is mad as hell at you."

  "As usual, you exaggerate."

  Ryder glared at him. "As usual, you see what you want to see. Joanna told me Holland is running out of patience."

  Alistair offered his friend a cigarette and, after Ryder refused, drew one out of the packet for himself. "I see a man who is overstepping the bounds of propriety."

  "You're losing her, Chambers, and you don't seem to give a damn."

  Alistair lit his Gauloise and inhaled deeply. "Things are under control."

  Ryder slammed his hand down on the tabletop, drawing a look of disapproval from the headwaiter across the room.

  "Careful, my boy," Alistair said. "When one is given a booth at the Tea Room, one is expected to behave with decorum."

  "You can take your decorum and shove it."

  "Aren't you a bit old for this Young Turk routine, Ryder?"

  "And aren't you a bit old for this loner routine?" Ryder shot back.

  "As I said, things are under control."

  "Not from where I sit."

  Alistair ignored him. "How are things progressing on the Steel project?"

  "He leaves for Hawaii next month for stage two, Chambers. I --"

  "And Madison is still scheduled to vacation there?"

  "Yes, dammit! We can talk business later. I want to know what you're going to do about Holland."

  "None of your business." Alistair exhaled, letting the plume of fragrant smoke drift across the table.

  "I'm your friend. I don't want to see you piss away your last chance for happiness."

  "May I quote you on that?"

  "You can do any damn thing you want as long as you answer me."

  A waiter swooped down on their table with a fresh ash tray. Alistair nodded his thanks and rested his cigarette on the edge. "Although this is none of your business -- and I highly resent being put in the position of defending my behavior -- I shall endeavor to answer your question anyway." He fixed his friend, protégé and surrogate son with his most authoritative look. "After the Summit Meeting, I intend to ask Holland to marry me."

  Ryder stared at him as if he'd announced his intentions to propose to the Queen of England.

  "Any objections?"

  "How many times did you tell me that marriage and the organization were incompatible?" He raked his unruly hair off his forehead with a sharp, impatient gesture. "Damn it! You were right about that. If Joanna weren't in PAX, I don't know how in hell I'd explain the trips and the phone calls and the roomfuls of equipment. Holland is a bright woman. She has a high profile. How in hell could you ever --" He stopped. "You're not."

  Alistair grinned. "I am."

  "Not you."

  "Afraid so."

  "You're an institution."

  "Institutions get lonely."

  Ryder leaned back in his seat and, after a long moment, he threw back his head and laughed. "Well, hot damn! Alistair Chambers is going to retire!"

  #

  "I never cry," Holland said as she repaired her mascara. She looked at Joanna in the mirror and forced a smile. "That is, I never cry unless I'm being paid for it."

  Joanna, who had shed a few tears herself, snapped the lid back on her eye shadow and met Holland's gaze. "You tell me you're breaking up with Alistair, and I start to cry." She shook her head angrily. "Who would have figured it?"

  "Yeah," said Holland, recapping her mascara. "Ironic, isn't it? All those years I said I'd give everything up if the right guy came along, and now that the right guy is here, I find I don't want to give everything up." She ran a brush through her hair and tossed it into her purse. "Not that the man in question has asked me to give anything up, you understand."

  Joanna started to say something before she apparently thought better of it.

  "Look," said Holland, suddenly exhausted, "I know there are things I'm not supposed to wonder about, things that you understand." Joanna's mouth opened in protest, but Holland raised her hand. "I'm not going to ask any questions. I simply can't live on the outside any longer."

  "It's because he's leaving next week, isn't it?"

  Holland shrugged. "Let's just say that was the last straw in a long series of last straws. Do you realize how many times I humiliated myself talking about marriage and commitment with a man who's married to something I don't understand?" She slipped her bracelet back on. "Coming in second is bad
enough, but not knowing what's coming in first is even worse. I deserve better."

  "Talk to him about it," Joanna urged as they stood up and got ready to return to the main dining room. "Don't do something you'll regret."

  But Holland knew it had gone too far for that.

  She knew she'd regret it for the rest of her life.

  #

  John and Maggie were sitting on the back steps listening to the sound of the crickets and the summer wind rustling through the trees. The sky was clear and lit with stars, and it would have been a wonderful night for love.

  "Out in the cold again," he said, stroking her hair gently. "I can't believe it."

  "Neither can I." Maggie laced her fingers with his. "You should have told me you had houseguests, John,"

  "They were supposed to be out, remember?"

  Maggie sighed deeply as he pulled her close against his body. "I've been wondering why you haven't asked me in for coffee."

  "Now you know," he said, smiling into the darkness. "Who the hell wants to sit around watching those guys tune their guitars?"

  "I like those guys. They're your friends."

  "Not much of a recommendation." He paused. "You like them?"

  "They told me all your deep, dark secrets. What's not to like?"

  "I need to have a long talk with them."

  "What's with the older guy? He slipped out before he finished his first slice."

  John shrugged. "I hadn't noticed."

  "Was he part of your crowd? He didn't look all that comfortable."

  He told her about Ronnie's broken hand and Dave riding to the rescue at the last minute.

  "He seems familiar somehow but I can't put my finger on it."

  John shot her a look. "You spent a lot of time in Brooklyn?"

  She shook her head. "No, but there's something about him." She closed her eyes for a moment then sighed. "I feel like I've met him somewhere."

  He laughed and pulled her close. "Not very likely."

  "I guess not." She regrouped. "So why didn't you tell me you were famous?"

  "I told you we used to sing together."

  "Yes, John, but you didn't tell me you were The Domino Theory. I bet I have one of your old albums stashed away somewhere."

  He laughed. "You thought The Domino Theory was a political activist group."

  "What can I say? I spent a lot of my time out of this country back then." She brushed a strand of her hair off his face. "Were you really going to keep that concert at the Garden secret?"

  "Yes."

  "I don't understand."

  "I never really enjoyed performing. I didn't get anything out of standing there on stage waiting for applause."

  "Then why are you doing this show?"

  "I owe it to them," he said, gesturing back toward the house. "I walked out on the group pretty suddenly. They deserved better."

  Like this second chance at success.

  "I'm dying to see you onstage." She snuggled closer to him. "I love leather jackets."

  "I can't believe it. I've been wasting my time with the three-piece suits and the five-star restaurants."

  "Well, let's not get crazy. I love five-star restaurants."

  He moved away until he could see her face in the moonlight. "You'll come to the Garden?"

  She placed a kiss against his jaw. "Try and stop me."

  Heat, fierce and sudden, spread throughout his body. "I have a suite reserved at the Plaza, Maggie."

  The look she gave him was powerful. "With a view of the Park?"

  "With a view of the Park."

  She linked her hands behind his neck. "Is that an invitation, Mr. Tyler?"

  "Yes," he said, bringing his mouth toward hers.

  "Yes," she whispered against his lips. "Yes, yes, yes."

  Sorry, guys, he thought, but you're being bumped to the Waldorf.

  #

  Alistair sat in the wing chair listening quietly as the woman he loved told him it was over.

  Decades of training made it possible for him to maintain a stoic calm on the outside, while inside he railed to the heavens at this bloody example of bad timing.

  Holland was standing at the window, her lovely face silhouetted against the ivory curtains. "No explanations?" she said, her voice quiet and controlled. "No last minute pardon from the governor?"

  "None," he said, cursing PAX and the Summit Meeting and a world that made Summit Meetings necessary. "If it were up to me, my love, I would --"

  She raised an elegant hand in protest. "Don't," she whispered. "There's no point to it. It's taken me forty-four years to get here, and I may lose my nerve."

  "I don’t understand."

  "No, I don't suppose you would. You've never had to choose, have you, darling?"

  That fine female arrogance that covered her very human heart.

  How little she knew.

  How he wished he could tell her he was about to make the first choice of his life.

  Instead he pulled her into his arms before he turned and walked out the door.

  In ten days it would be over, and he would be able to ask her.

  In ten days, God willing, she would say yes.

  #

  Four days later, Maggie glared at her uncle across the table at The White Elephant.

  "What do you mean you're moving up the date? I thought things were already set in motion."

  "Best-laid plans, et cetera, et cetera. You of all people should understand that." He pushed aside a maze of wires and dug out an ashtray. "Actually this was part of the original plan."

  Maggie yanked the ashtray out of his hand and tossed it into the trash bin near the swinging door. "You should have told me."

  "I didn't dare, my girl. You aren't as circumspect as one would like."

  "I have plans for that night, Alistair." She thought about the Plaza and the suite with the view of the Park. "I can't leave for Bermuda for at least another day or two."

  "Not good enough. We need you secured before that."

  She wrinkled her nose. "You make me sound like a piece of furniture."

  "Would that you were so easy to contain." He found another ashtray. "Sensibilities have no place in this business. That much I thought you remembered."

  "That much I've been trying to forget. If you recall, I'm not in this business any longer."

  "Afraid you are, my girl." He lit a cigarette, ignoring her furious glare. "At least for the next two days."

  "I refuse to change my plans."

  "Don't worry," he said, letting the smoke out slowly. "You can still see The Domino Theory at the Garden on Thursday."

  She felt her jaw slack open. "How in God's name do you know about that?"

  "Trade secret."

  "I resent having my privacy invaded."

  "Then you shouldn't have agreed to my offer, Magdalena. This comes with the territory."

  "So Big Brother's still watching," she mumbled. "What else do you know, Ally?"

  To her amazement, her uncle's aristocratic face reddened. "A great deal."

  "Don't tell me you know about the Plaza."

  He nodded. "Mr. Tyler has excellent connections, my girl. The view of the Park from that suite is unparalleled."

  She jumped up from her seat, toppling the chair onto the tiled floor with a crash. "I can't believe it! You probably have the room bugged."

  "I'm wounded," said Alistair. "PAX holds young lovers in the highest esteem."

  "We're not lovers."

  "Be that as it may, we would never infringe upon your privacy."

  "Easy for you to say now," she countered. "I won't even be in that room for you to infringe upon anything."

  "Sailing off to Bermuda on La Jolie is scarcely a life sentence at hard labor."

  "No," she said. "It's more like solitary confinement."

  He stubbed out his cigarette. "You'd like to invite your beau."

  What a wonderfully old-fashioned word.

  Maggie nodded. "It seems the wisest course o
f action." A grin tugged at her mouth. "You certainly don't want him poking around the premises here, do you?"

  Her uncle's bright blue eyes twinkled with amusement. "We certainly do not."

  "If he's in Bermuda, you won't have to worry."

  "Your concern overwhelms me, dear girl."

  "It's either that or the Plaza. Take your pick."

  He threw back his head and laughed loud and long. "Sometimes I forget how like your Aunt Sarah you are."

  "Aunt Sarah issued ultimatums, too?"

  He stopped laughing and met her eyes. "She knew how to get around me, same as you."

  "Does that mean yes to Bermuda?"

  "That means yes to Bermuda." He laid out the ground rules, and Maggie listened intently. "He's a smart man, Maggie. You'll need a great cover story to explain this trip."

  She snapped her fingers. "I'll tell him I have a generous uncle."

  Bermuda.

  Pink sands.

  Gentle waters.

  Sunsets viewed from the deck of a private yacht.

  And John.

  She shivered as a wave of longing washed over her.

  "Don't worry about a thing, Ally," she said. "From here on in, it's going to be clear sailing."

  Chapter Fifteen

  "Cut! That's a wrap. Enjoy your weekend, boys and girls."

  Holland put the Baccarat wineglass down on the end table and headed for her dressing room.

  "Good job, Holland," the director said as she passed him in the doorway. "You really nailed Caroline's fury over Jason's defection. Who says the method doesn't work?"

  Holland flashed him her best smile. "The Method," she said. "Where would we be without it?"

  Fool!

  Who needed the Method when you had a bona fide broken heart to draw on for inspiration?

  Idiotic tears stung her eyes as she hurried to the privacy of her dressing room.

  Why on earth had she ever thought breaking up with Alistair was the right thing to do?