Classic Love: 7 Vintage Romances (56 page)

It was, of course, an everyday occurrence. She had been told stories by Customs Inspectors. And they had been very clever, those two, using a young boy as a decoy.

But unfortunately for them, their plan had backfired.

What do you suppose they’d do now?

She picked up the piece of paper with the number Senor Nascimento had given her, took the receiver off the hook and then put it right back again. The hell, let them squirm. She went back to bed again. And had just settled between the covers when the phone rang once more.

She swore under her breath. Of course it was the Spanish couple. “Ring her, ring her,” she could imagine the Senora saying, plucking at her husband’s sleeve. “We must get back the pearls.”

She slid out of bed and stalked over to the phone.

“Hello, hello,” she said shortly. “Yes, what is it?”

But it wasn’t the Senor. It was Miguel at the desk.

“Senorita Kelly?”

“Yes, Miguel.”

“You have a visitor.”

She sighed. “Who is it?”

“Quienes?”
There was a chuckle and then he said,
“Pronto.”

Another voice came on the line. A very youthful voice.

“Kelly? It’s I, Richard.”

“Richard? Richard! Have you got the bag?”

“Yes, that’s what it’s all
about
,” he said.

“But what happened? And how did you find me?”

“I had a bit of a time,” he confessed. “I doubted you’d be at the Ritz, and you weren’t. Then I tried the Palace. After that the Plaza and after this I was going to call the Wellington. But I was in luck, wasn’t I?”

“Come on up,” she said. “Tell the boy to get you to my room.”

“Righto,” he said, and rang off.

Twenty-four hours a day, that’s what this job means, Kelly thought, but just the same she couldn’t help being glad to see precocious Richard again. She got into a robe and waited for him. When the knock came at the door and she saw him standing outside, with that shock of blond hair falling into his eyes, she was ridiculously pleased.

“I don’t usually entertain gentlemen in my room,” she said. “But come in. I’ll make an exception in your case.”

He breezed in, carrying the familiar petit point bag in one hand, and sat down. “This is some hot climate,” he observed. “Wouldn’t it be stinking without air conditioning?” He fanned himself. “I’ve been under rather a strain,” he confessed. “Here’s Senora Nascimento’s knitting bag. I thought you’d be the best one to get it to her.”

He looked at the rumpled bed. “Oh, you’ve been taking a nap.”

“I’ve been trying to,” she said tartly. “With little success. First I had a telephone call from Senor Nascimento, saying that his wife’s property was gone with the wind, and then you called. What in the world happened at the airport?”

“The damn chauffeur dragged me away. He wouldn’t let me wait. I put up a holler but it didn’t do any good. The Nascimentos were in a long line at Customs. The chauffeur is a first class crud. Jabbering a lot of this incomprehensible Spanish and I couldn’t make him understand English. I didn’t even get a chance to say good-bye to them. Or thank her. That stupid servant shoved me in the car and it was all very infuriating.”

He added, simply, “She must think I’m buggo. And extremely impolite. Walking away with her stuff and then not even saying so long. Anyway. Will you return this, please?”

“Yes. Of course I will. It’s just such an unforeseen thing to happen, that’s all. I’m supposed to be on vacation. But I suppose I might have known
something
would happen.”

She was vexed. Because I’m tired, she thought. After all, this was only another complication in a long string of complexities that made up an airline employee’s life. She ought to be able to cope by now.

Richard must have sensed her displeasure. “It meant a lot of trouble and effort for me,” he said. “But she was making that pink wooly thing and I knew she’d want to get on with it. Mostly, I regret leaving without — ”

“Never mind, Richard, I’ll get it back.”

“And would you tell them I’d like to see them again?”

“All right, I will. How did you get over to the hotel? The chauffeur?”

“No, I took a taxi.”

“I’ll have one take you back. Meanwhile, you do look a little bushed. I’ll order up something to drink. How about a coke?”

“Sure.” His face brightened.

She called down for room service.

“I hope it won’t take too long,” he said anxiously. “I’m supposed to be taking a nap too, only I snuck out.” He looked around. “You seem to be quite comfortable here.”

“Yes, it’s a good hotel. I’ve always liked it.”

“Is that a balcony?”

“Yes, come on out and I’ll show you a Gaudi house.”

“What’s that?”

“Follow me and I’ll explain.”

When they went outside she pointed to a building with a peaked roof and irregular architectural lines which were unorthodox in the extreme.

“That’s a funny-looking thing,” Richard commented. “It looks like Hansl and Gretl … the house in the forest.”

“It does, sort of. You’ll see more of them in Barcelona, if you go there. There are only one or two Gaudi houses in Madrid. He was an Art Nouveau architect, with some very wild ideas.”

She looked across at the neighboring structure. “Yes, it’s funny-looking. But it has a certain …”

She searched for the right word.

“You mean
panache
,” Richard said officiously.

Yes, of course she had meant
panache.
Heavens, this kid was smart, she thought. She felt a little silly. “Um, that’s right,” she said, trying not to stare at him. After all, how many ten year old children knew a word like that?

“Shall we have our drinks out here?” she asked him.

“I guess not. I’m overheated. I’d sooner go inside where it’s cool. Thank you, though.”

The drinks came and Richard ignored the tall glass filled with cracked ice. He tilted his head and drank from the bottle.

“Taste good?”

“Groovy.” He stuck his legs out and slid down on his spine. “Do you like Spain, Kelly?”

“Not as much as France or Italy. It’s interesting, though. How do you feel about it?”

“I don’t know yet. It’s my first time here. I’ve been lots of places, but not here.”

“Oh, you’ve done some other traveling, then?”

“Certainly.” He looked a little offended. “I s’pose I know France the best. I’ve been to Paris,” he said, folding down one finger. “And the Loire country.” Another finger went down. “And the Provence.” Three fingers were tucked under his thumb, and then a fourth joined them.

“And of course the Riviera,” he said, jadedly.

“Oh, my.”

“I don’t know Italy
quite
as well. Rome, Florence, Milano. But just hurriedly. Of course at that time I was just a child.”

She regarded him with amused tenderness. Here was this infant, barely ten years old, talking about a time when he was a
child.
He was really a dear little boy. “I was in Umbria,” he said solemnly. “The Italian hill towns, where St. Francis walked … the musician of God. I remember it fairly well.”

“It’s beautiful country. You’re a fortunate boy, Richard.”

“I guess so.” His gaze was watchful, as if he suspected her of condescending.

“But you are. Me too. There are people who never get to see the world, who always stay a few yards from where they were born, more or less.”

“Yeah, I guess so. Probably.”

“Where are you staying in Madrid?”

“With Uncle Constant.”

“Oh?”

“He’s quite a pleasant person. Though I must say I don’t really dig his wife.”

“His wife?”

“Dolores. His second wife. Of course she’s very
pretty.
She’s, you know, about as young as you are. Whereas my uncle is old, like my father. Dolores looks like a marble statue. Or maybe a painting. You know … Tintoretto. Like that.”

“I see,” she said dryly. “Tintoretto. Like that.”

“Anyway, a Renaissance type. Marvelous bone structure.”

“Really?”

She was dazed. This prodigy would get his PH D at the age of sixteen, she thought. Was there anything he didn’t know?

He took another swig of his Coca Cola, then put the bottle down on top of the desk. “My aunt is a good friend of mine,” he volunteered.

“You mean Dolores?”

“No no. My real aunt. Before they got a divorce.”

“Got a … are you talking about your uncle’s first wife?”

“Yes, Aunt Elizabeth. I’ve always been rather a favorite of hers. She’s not spectacular looking but she’s … well, very kind.”

He hefted the coke bottle again and drank, not too quietly. Then he set it down again and shrugged. “I feel so sorry for her,” he said. “Though of course she’s well taken care of. Financially, I mean.”

“Does she live in New York too?”

“Uh huh. She doesn’t have a husband now. I don’t think she wants one.”

“I see.”

“Dolores has beautiful clothes. But I think she’s shallow. Quite a bit like my own — ”

He stopped short and flushed.

Kelly started to ask whom he meant to compare Dolores Comstock with and then, in a flash, it came to her. Why, he was thinking of his own mother!

She looked at him for a moment and then looked away again. Poor little rich boy, she thought. Nobody to love him and nobody to love. With the possible exception of Aunt Elizabeth, his Uncle Constant’s discarded wife.

She was casual about it. “Anyway, this is a nice holiday for you, to visit your relatives in Madrid.”

He yawned. “I don’t know exactly what I’m going to do with myself, but I suppose I can find something.”

The yawn was a front. The elaborately offhand manner in which he phrased his worry about the bleak prospect of being cooped up with a busy uncle and an indifferent aunt was also a front. Kelly said, “Why, certainly they’ll see that you meet some young people your own age.”

“It isn’t likely,” he said, and drank some more coke.

“Why not? Else your parents wouldn’t have sent you here. They want you to have a good time. Isn’t that so?”

“It was my uncle’s decision to have me here.”

“What do you mean?”

“Daddy’s away. In Afghanistan. He’s a financier. He’s always off somewhere. It’s generally a problem to know what to do with me after school closes.”

“What about your mother? Didn’t she want to have you with them in … Afghanistan, you said?”

“Oh, no, Mummy’s not there. She’s in … I
think
she’s in Rome.”

He put down his empty coke bottle and stood up.

“It was nice seeing you again.”

“Wait …”

She got up too. “Listen, you wouldn’t be free for dinner tonight, would you?”

“For dinner? Why?”

“If you were, I’d ask you to dine with me.”

“You would? Then I’m free.” His eyes glistened. “You just have to ring my uncle and explain who you are, then you’ll probably be permitted to call round for me. I’ll tell him you’re going to ask for my company.”

“Can I phone now? While you’re here?”

“No, I’m supposed to be resting. And I have to hurry back to bed before I’m found out.” He looked around. “Can I have something to write on, the address and stuff?”

She gave him a piece of hotel notepaper. He scribbled on it and then she took a look at it. “Is your uncle in the diplomatic service, Richard?”

“Yes. He’s an air attache for the U.S. Government. He started out as a Lieutenant in the Armed Forces. And he had some flying background in the Korean War, which should interest you, Kelly. Then he was an aide to a General, who got him appointed to Spain.”

Kelly hid a smile. “You seem to have a full dossier on your uncle, Richard.”

“I believe in finding things out about people. Besides, I’ve heard a hundred times about him, from my aunt.” He glanced up at her. “Why did you ask if he was in the diplomatic service?”

“Because that’s a section where many of them live. Well, fine then, Richard, it’s a date for tonight. I’ll wait half an hour or so, then I’ll call there.”

“Okay. And now I hafta go.”

“Just a second, I’m going to call downstairs and have the desk clerk get you a taxi.”

He stood on one foot while she dialed Miguel. “See that my young friend gets transportation back to his home,” she told the clerk, and when she was assured it would be taken care of Richard hurried out and Kelly went to the phone again, to tell Senor Nascimento about the return of the bag.

Another voice answered, but almost instantly the Senor was speaking. He must have been sitting by the phone, and he went into raptures when he heard the good news. He would be forever in her debt. “Richard thought it would be nice to see you again,” she said. “I thought maybe we could drop the bag off at your home.”

“No no no,” he said quickly. “Thank you so very much, but I could not put you to all that trouble.” He didn’t say a word about Richard, but hurriedly suggested that she leave the bag at the desk of her hotel.

“Very well, Senor Nascimento. I’ll have it downstairs right away.”

Well, that was the end of that, thank God.

As soon as she put the phone down it rang again. This time it was Lucille. “It’s getting on toward one,” she said. “How about it? You haven’t conked out, have you?”

“No, I’ll meet you as scheduled.”

Lucille rang off and once more she rang for the desk.

“Miguel? Could you send a boy up. To pick up something that will be called for by a Senor Nascimento.”

“
Si
, okay,” he said, and in less than five minutes a boy knocked at the door.

“Please take this to the desk and give it to Miguel.
Gracias.
” She fished in her handbag and dug out a couple of pesetas.

Then, when she was alone again, she ran a bath, sat in the warm, soapy water until she felt very relaxed and pleased with life in general, after which she dried herself and got dressed again. She locked the door of her room and went downstairs. And then remembered that she had to call Richard’s uncle. Miguel rang for her, but she didn’t speak to Uncle Constant. After a few words with some servant whose English was none too good she was turned over to Richard’s stepaunt.

Dolores Comstock was, unexpectedly, Spanish. She had a rich, throaty voice with an accent that was thick enough to cut with a knife.