Queen of Hearts

by Sheryl Wright

  “Wow,” Charlotte said. She, as well as the others, were seriously impressed.

  Erin couldn’t help but wonder what they would think of the house, which she’d seen in plenty of pictures, including the one hanging in her office. It depicted the elder Parker with his two tween granddaughters dressed in their lower school uniforms, alongside a family friend, a young man attending a private college associated with the Parker family. Pam loved to show that photo off, asking visitors if they recognized the young man also in uniform, a young Prince Andrew, the Duke of York.

  They rounded the long forest road, emerging in what Pam called the park. It was a fifty-acre manicured and traditionally landscaped front lawn. Beyond it was the family home, a sprawling Georgian manor almost as large as Glendennon Castle and certainly as breathtaking, perhaps even more in its upkeep and magnificence.

  This is where the family lives and Ally’s stuck in a hotel room downtown? Erin’s respect for Allyson’s determination to follow her calling spiked beyond what she imagined possible. She listened as Pam shared stories as the car slowed and the house grew ever larger. Finally, near the front entry, Erin had to admit, even knowing what to expect, she was overwhelmed. The manor was beyond extravagant. So this was what old money and a long legacy looked like?

  “Welcome home, everyone,” Pam offered as the limo came to a soft, silent stop.

  As they climbed from the car, a uniformed, elderly butler and two much younger maids opened the big doors and stood waiting to greet them. Pam, of course, they knew and welcomed home formally. The butler rattled off the guest arrangements and looked to be ready to escort them in when the camera crew finally emerged. He looked aghast, stuttering at Pam, “Miss Pamela, this is highly irregular. Mr Parker said nothing about you having…tradespeople accompany you?”

  Pam laughed it off, taking his arm affectionately. “Oh Jarvis, these are my guests and should be treated as such.”

  He eyed the camera crew suspiciously, especially since they looked to be filming the encounter. “Highly irregular, ma’am.”

  Pam smiled. “Just like me.”

  “Very well, ma’am. I’ve set out refreshments in the library. Mr Parker advised that you will be using it as your…‘Base of Operations.’”

  Pam was about to lead her guests inside when the production van finally rounded the corner to the park. “Perfect, there’s the remainder of my party.”

  Jarvis looked to be having an aneurysm. “Miss Pamela, really? You hardly expect me to allow a trades van to enter here? They certainly can’t park where guests might glimpse their…”

  Pam shrugged, apologizing to the assistant director. “Okay, have them park by the service entrance. But they are my guests too. Is that understood?”

  His consternation was more than evident. Still, he acquiesced. “Very well, ma’am. I will direct them to the Highland entrance. Once they arrive, I will show them to the library.”

  When it looked like Denise would grab her own luggage, he looked as if he might faint. Pam ordered her to leave it. Her amusement at his reaction helped to defuse Denise’s embarrassment for her faux pas. Encouraged then, Denise offered casually, “Come on girls. Let’s get inside before Mister Jarvis here has a coronary.”

  * * *

  By the time they landed at the Billy Bishop Airport on the western end of Toronto’s island chain, Ally knew three things: Karen, the woman who had been chosen instead of Erin, was a puker; Teresa’s only salvation in life was writing; and Bobby Ann had a thing for KC. That was all fine. She knew she would never bend the knee for any of them. Not like she wasn’t attracted to these lovely women, but realistically, they weren’t Erin, and that was all she needed to know. How she wished Rene had won the elimination vote.

  With Connie’s eyes on her and the camera rolling, she helped Karen from the helicopter, repeatedly telling her not to be embarrassed. Lots of people had a hard time getting used to flying in helicopters. She even told them about the time both she and KC had upchucked on a flight so rough their chopper had sustained structural damage. That didn’t help, and she decided this was a “less is more” kind of situation. Luckily for her, KC had just landed from her morning traffic patrol. She had arranged for one of the shuttle buses that delivered passengers from Union Station to the airport to haul them over to the Admiral. She wasn’t enamored of the idea of having these women and the crew invade her home, but Connie hadn’t given her much choice. Besides, Pam had already laid claim to Highland Creek before it even occurred to her that she could take her guests there. She could have insisted they double up. With eighteen bedrooms, they had space, but Pam wanted to play keeper of the castle, and no way was she getting in on that.

  KC trotted up to join them, explaining, “No need to go street side. I got permission for the bus to roll in here.”

  She watched with interest as Connie helped get the gear unloaded, and sparks flew between Bobby Ann and KC. Ally almost laughed. One down and two to go. As she stood holding up the still-weak Karen, the bus rolled through the airside gate and KC waved it over to where the Huey was parked. She needed to get the aircraft cleaned, and right now. She was pretty sure Karen had made good use of the air sickness bag, which KC quietly grabbed and disposed of, but if she missed even a little, the sun and the warm day were all that was needed to bake the smell of vomit into the cabin.

  Once they began loading onto the shuttle bus, she trotted back to the Huey. KC, just as experienced, had read her mind and joined her by the big side door, jumping in and sniffing around. “I think we’re okay, but I’ll get our new cabin guy to give it a good wash out and pull out the utility seats so we’re ready in case we get a charter.”

  “Like that’ll happen.”

  “Hey, where’s the optimistic Ally who flew outta here weeks ago to go save the day for the kid?”

  Ally groaned. “Still banging my head against a wall. And don’t ever let me do something that stupid again.”

  KC was chuckling as Bobby Ann joined them. “Is it bad?”

  “Nah,” KC reassured her. “We’ll have one of the kids hose her down. She’ll be as good as new in an hour or two. Well, not new but good anyhow. So…” Chatting up Bobby Ann, she asked, “How was the flight in, barf and all aside?”

  “Not bad. I could get used to traveling like this. Sure beats the hell out of my Charger.”

  “You’ve got a Charger! Oh, man I’ve been looking at them and oh wow. Still, I kinda wish I could afford a Classic Mopar.”

  Bobby Ann’s smile was gorgeous. “Oh boy, you and me both!”

  Ally shook her head, turning to see Connie storming her way to their side.

  “Let’s get a move on, ladies! It looks like Karen needs a bed and the guy driving the bus says he needs to be at the Royal York by eleven.”

  Checking her watch, she knew they had plenty of time but understood Connie’s need to get things back under control. “KC, I hate to…”

  “I got this buddy. You head out with the gals and don’t forget I’ll be joining you guys after my last traffic report.” She added this reminder more for Bobby Ann’s benefit. “Oh, I’ve got those financials you wanted, Ally. Any chance you can find ten to have a look-see?”

  “I’ll make time,” she promised, hooking Bobby Ann’s arm for effect and tossing her business partner a wink. “We’ll see you around eight, then?”

  “I’ll be there with bells on.”

  “One day I’m gonna tell you what that means.”

  “Whatever,” she tossed out with a wide grin, her smile meant for Bobby Ann, not Ally.

  The longest part of the drive to the Admiral Hotel was the five-minute wait for the car ferry and the three-minute crossing of the hundred and fifty-meter channel. Two minutes later they pulled up in front of the cube-shaped, five-story, silver-glazed building. The driver helped them get their luggage and gear to the curb, then continued on his way. While this was a hotel, there were no doormen per se, but one of the desk clerks, recognizing her, rushed
to help them in.

  “Welcome home, Captain Parker. We’re so happy to see you have returned and with your guests. Everything is set up as per your instructions. Let me take care of your bags.”

  “Just help us get them upstairs…”

  “Of course, of course.”

  They dragged all their gear toward the busy lobby. There were far more people than one would expect for a hotel this small, especially at ten in the morning. Ally knew they were lined up out the door for Starbucks, not the front desk, and skirted around them, heading straight for the elevators.

  Connie immediately ordered her PA to get in line and grab coffees for them all. She copied down their order on a Post It note, then joined the line.

  Ally winced. Coffee drinkers, oy.

  “What’s the plan?” Connie asked.

  “The front desk will bring your keycards up when the rooms are ready. I’m assuming you want us all to head up to my apartment first.”

  “Yeah, I do, but I want to shoot your arrival. Can you hang here for five while we get set up?”

  Ally gave her a look that said, like I have a choice? But Karen, still leaning against her, didn’t look like she could wait.

  “Okay, I’ll take Karen with us. We can interview her later about her first impressions. Come on kiddo,” Connie said. Taking the sick and weak Karen by the arm, boarding the elevator with the remainder of the production crew, she called to her PA, “Deb! Meet us in 501.” Then she tossed Ally one of the crew’s two-way radios as they crammed their cases of gear aboard the elevator along with everyone’s luggage.

  Ally blew out a hot breath, trying to decide what to do with her guests. It was summer in the city, and the harbor was alive with all sorts of activities. The Admiral was only one of two hotels on the south side of Queen’s Quay with the Hilton at the far end of the harbor. In between, the old wharf buildings had long been converted to galleries, shops, and seasonal restaurants. The docks were lined with paddle boats, tall ships, and ferries available for daily rentals and harbor tours. “I know what we’ll do. Metro PD’s marine division is housed just behind us. I know Bobby Ann will get a kick out of seeing their cedar strip runabout. If a Mopar lights your fire, wait till you get a load of the twelve-cylinder Packard engine they’re running.”

  Bobby Ann, a true motorhead, almost swooned at the prospect, and Teresa looked to be at least amused.

  The marine division boathouse wasn’t open to the public, but they knew Ally, always remembering that she and KC were quick to offer free air support during a crisis, and immediately welcomed them in. While Bobby Ann drooled over the long, sleek and highly polished lines of the Packard powered runabout, which had seen more than seventy-five years in police service and still looked brand new, Teresa peppered the young constable giving them the tour with questions about the modern rescue boats housed alongside.

  Enjoying Bobby Ann and Teresa’s pleasure, Ally was disappointed when the handheld radio squawked to life. “Sorry, guys. Duty calls.”

  Leading them back into the hotel and upstairs, she used her passcode to open the digital lock. Technology sure made life easier sometimes and had saved her from having to knock on her own door. Inside the entry, she waved the other two in. “Welcome, welcome. Please make yourselves at home.”

  Stopped dead by the extravagant view, an unbroken panorama of the Toronto harbor and island chain, neither woman moved.

  “Guys, you can come in. It’s safe.”

  It was Bobby Ann who voiced their incredulity. “Holy smokes, Parker. You live here?”

  Ally, confused by their confusion, finally understood. To them, contestants and crew alike, she was just a lowly charter pilot. Tired of the subterfuge, she wasn’t interested in playing anymore. “Guys, I may be just a pilot, but I’m still a Parker. Now come on in and make yourselves at home. Besides, if you’re this impressed with the foyer, your heads’ll explode when you see the rest.”

  “There’s more?” Teresa said. Evidently, her estimate of life with a pilot had immediately escalated.

  “Oh, my good novelist, you have no idea.” While the camera recorded every aspect of their astonishment, Ally was running low on patience and had to paste a smile on her face. Connie had wanted to see their shock and awe, and it looked like she wouldn’t be disappointed on that score. “Please follow me, and I’ll give you the five-cent tour. Obviously, this is the foyer.” She pronounced it in the French fashion more suitable to her education. “Those stairs lead to the rooftop terrace. I think the plan is for us to have dinner up there tonight with a few friends of mine.” She pointed to a hallway to the right. “The guest bedrooms are that way.” Pointing to the left, she explained, “The master suite and my office are this way. And if we continue toward the view, you’ll find the living room, dining room, and the kitchen.” The entire space was open concept with the living area taking up the entire southeast corner of the floor, while the dining room area and long ornate bar, which fronted the kitchen, occupied half of the southwest. Together, the space was larger than the entirety of most suburban homes. “Any questions?”

  They looked shell-shocked.

  “Oh boy. Connie?” Ally called, wanting her cousin and the show’s director to handle the situation.

  Standing beside her camera crew, she did what directors do, ordering, “Okay guys. Come in and look around. I bet you’re both more than a little surprised and I would be too.” Connie led them to the living area, backing her way there, circling her crew around the visitors to capture them as they stepped up to the floor-to-ceiling and wall-to-wall view.

  While Connie shot the expressions on Bobby Ann’s and Teresa’s faces, peppering them with questions from behind the camera, Ally headed for the long bar to make herself fresh iced tea. She spooned tea leaves into the brew basket then filled the reservoir with filtered water. Grabbing the glass jug that went with the machine, she topped it with ice before turning on the machine. While it spit and hissed, pouring hot tea on the ice to instantly cool it, she sliced lemon and tossed in a few wedges. While it finished brewing, she listened to Connie explain how Allyson had learned of the hotel’s demise and approached their grandfather with a plan to redevelop the property as a boutique hotel. He’d wanted a full proposal, including a business plan and full financial forecast, which she provided. He’d liked what he saw and partnered with her to acquire the property. His only demand: that she take up residence to be sure the establishment was run to the family’s standards.

  “The last owner took this entire floor for himself. Probably one of the reasons it wasn’t doing well,” Connie explained. “Ally was intending on keeping just a quarter of the space she now has, but Grandad thought this was more appropriate. So, there you have it.”

  Bobby Ann, the boldest of the lot, moved to her side, the fixed panoramic view all she could see, and gestured to the vast windows. “Do these open?”

  “No,” Ally answered. “It’s one thing I wanted to change but the bylaws wouldn’t allow it. Evidently I’m too close to the airport to have either a balcony or windows that open. That’s why I had the staircase put in and the rooftop terrace added.”

  Before she or anyone else could comment, the doorbell chimed. Connie excused herself to let her PA in with their coffee order. Bobby Ann, still bolder than the rest, said what Ally imagined the others thinking. “You were right to keep mum on having a place like this. Could you see what some of those women would have done if they suspected you were doing as well or better than good old Pam?”

  “It was the one thing Connie and I discussed before production started. You two and Karen are here because you’re nice and you’ve been good to me. No matter what happens, I think I can count you each as friends.”

  “Not more?” Bobby Ann asked.

  She had a twinkle in her eye and Ally grinned. “I think you have a thing for pilots. I can tell you, my closest friend with wings does play down her success too, much the way I do.” That was all she would say about KC. If Bobby wanted
to know more she needed to ask KC herself.

  Bobby Ann wrapped her arms around Ally’s neck giving her a hug and whispering, “Thanks for understanding.”

  “I think that’s something we have in common.”

  * * *

  Erin had been hoping for some quiet time after their refreshments, but Pam, of course, had other ideas. She had sent them to change into the provided riding gear—fancy English habits, not boots and jeans like average people would expect. They would spend the day at the stables. Who the hell had stables, and a herd of thoroughbreds, in this day and age? Parkers, obviously. Pam had sometimes mentioned a horse she loved and rode as a girl, but Erin had missed the full implication. She had learned over morning refreshments that the Parkers raced and bred thoroughbreds, and remembered Pam complaining about Ally trying to screw up horse bloodlines by introducing Paints to the line. Later in the stables, they were introduced to one of the offspring of such a pairing, and she had to admit Ally had a point. The young stallion was magnificent. His coat was a sleek black like his sire just two stalls down. but mixed with blazes of brilliant deep red.

  “This is Blaze, as we call him. He’s our newest contender,” the groom explained, adding, “our trainer just started him at the track this year. He’s already amassed an impressive purse.”

  Erin had no clear idea what that meant, but assumed it more than proved Ally’s idea valid and profitable.

  “He should be on the track, not here,” Pam declared.

  “The vet and our trainer were concerned about his stress level. He’s home for a holiday before we trailer him to Knoxville.”

  Pam nodded, but didn’t comment. Erin knew that expression. It meant she didn’t have a counter argument and knew enough not to draw attention to it.

  “He is beautiful,” Erin said. “I guess I can’t say beautiful for a boy?”

  The groom smiled. “He doesn’t mind at all. Unlike most men, this boy is happy with the compliments. And you should see him in the breeder’s paddock before a race. Proud as a peacock, this one.”