Classic Love: 7 Vintage Romances (57 page)

Dolores …

She should have realized. It was a name as Spanish as Carmen.

“I’m sorry to call unexpectedly like this,” Kelly said. “But I’m with the airline that brought your nephew over. I thought — ”

There was a quick interruption. “Richard? He is not my nephew, in point of fact. He is my husband’s nephew.”

“Oh yes, I see.”

“Anyway, excuse me. What is this about the child?”

“I wondered if I could take him to dinner tonight.”

There was a little silence. Then, “Are you there?” the voice asked. “I am sorry, I dropped the phone. Someone is doing my hair and another girl is attending to my nails. Are you there?”

“Yes, Mrs. Comstock.”

“You want to take the little boy to dinner?” Genuine astonishment. “Why?”

“Because I grew rather fond of him.”

Sounds from the background. Muted voices. Kelly pictured the scene … a pampered woman, in the hands of solicitous beauty operators. She waited, half-amused, half-bored, until the voice came on again.

“Aren’t you nice.” Mrs. Comstock said, in that melting accent. “Will you be careful of him? My husband is worried about the child.” She became very conversational. “There is some family trouble, you understand. He is neglected, no? I know that my husband went to some trouble to get him over here. You see — ”

There was another pause, during which Kelly distinctly heard the word
“mierda”
which, in Spanish, meant the same thing as the French
“merde”.
It was an earthy term not used in the best society. There was then a quick spate of Spanish in the background. What now? Kelly wondered. A too tight roller? A slight slash of the cuticle? And then, making little sounds of annoyance, the woman spoke into the phone again.

“
Perdon
… excuse me,” she apologized. “These people are so careless. Forgive me. Just a little question, you understand. How do I know you are who you say you are?”

“I always carry all my credentials,” Kelly said calmly. “But of course if you would rather not have me take Richard for the evening, I will certainly understand.”

“Oh, if you have your credentials,” Mrs. Comstock said gaily, “then I am sure it will be all right. As a matter of fact, my husband will not be home until very late, and I am scheduled for a dinner party this evening. What did you say your name was?”

How did I get into this? she thought.

“Kelly Jones.”

The name was painstakingly repeated.

“Is it settled, then, Mrs. Comstock?”

“Yes, my dear. You are very thoughtful. Of course Richard will have money. I couldn’t let you go to that expense.”

“You can give Richard money if you like,” Kelly said pleasantly, though inclined to boil inside. “But I’m taking your nephew — that is, your husband’s nephew — to dinner. Forgive me, but it’s my pleasure.”

There was a small explosion of laughter. “You sound like
very
fun,” the other woman said delightedly. “We must get to know each other. You’re pretty, I suppose. All of those girls are pretty. My husband will like you very much. He adores pretty girls. You know that a good wife is not a possessive one, so I won’t mind if he … maybe I’ll see you tomorrow,
si?
”

“Why, thank you.”

“Anyway, my dear, have a pleasant evening.”

“I thought I’d call round for Richard at about eight o’clock.”

“Yes, very good.”

There was a quick good-bye and then the phone was hung up.

It was while she was on the phone arranging about Richard that she saw the name on the register on top of the desk. The book was opened to the day’s listings and of course it was turned the opposite way. It was the bold, dark scrawl that caught her eye among all the other indifferent hen scratchings that ran across the lined page. Idly reading upside down, she made out the first name … Steven … and reached out to swivel the book round.

Steven Connaught.

Miguel saw her looking at it.
“Que?”
he asked, smiling.

She put a finger next to the name. “He was on my flight coming over.”

“Good-looking. Spends, too. The best cigars. And big tips.”

The Hotel Fenix had a splendid flight of stairs, baroque and crimson-carpeted. At that precise moment, while they were discussing him, Mr. Connaught came down the steps. Kelly hastily pushed aside the register and Miguel hid a grin.

“Imagine seeing you again so soon,” Steve Connaught said in that deep, rumbling drawl. “So this is where you girls put up.”

“Sometimes. Most times.”

“You look fresh and rested.”

“I had some sleep.”

“I had a little too.” He looked her over. It was thorough but not really offensive. It was just that for some reason she was vulnerable with this man. He was so extraordinarily —

Attractive.

She found herself, for example, chattering like an idiot.

“As I said, I had
some
sleep. But it wasn’t very … well, I thought I’d rest for hours, but … you see, the telephone kept ringing. I was getting in and out of bed …”

She broke off. He had finished his inspection of her and when his eyes met hers again they were quietly approving. “If you don’t have a rule about going out with strangers,” he said, “I’d like it if I could take you to dinner. I think I introduced myself on the plane, but in case it went in one ear and out the other, my name’s Steve Connaught. Yours, as I recall, is Kelly something or other.”

“Kelly Jones.”

He held out his hand once more, as he had on the plane. There was no undue pressure of his fingers, just a firm handclasp. “Would it be on for that dinner?” he asked, and Kelly had the impression that when she said no, there would be nothing held against her and no skin, for that matter, off his nose.

Yet she would have given a lot to be able to say yes.

Only there was the little matter of Richard Comstock. The poor, lonely little rich boy. I had to be the do-gooder, she thought. I had to sew up my evening.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I’d really like to, but I’ve already promised to spend the evening with someone.”

He smiled briefly. “Have a good time anyway.”

“Thanks. I’m taking the unaccompanied minor to Botin’s.”

“The who … what?”

“Richard Comstock. The little boy on the flight over.”

“No kidding.”

“He seems to be rather tossed about by … well, family. But he did someone a very nice favor. So I’m taking him out for the evening.”

“How about making it a threesome?”

“Oh, but — ”

“Be fine with me if it’s all right with you.”

“Well, surely. Yes, all right, thanks very much.”

“Good. Meet me in the lounge for a drink first? Seven?”

“Yes, fine.”

“Until then,” he said and, nodding, moved on and out the front doors.

“Good-looking,” Miguel repeated, smirking conspiratorially.
“Muy simpatico.”

“I’m a little afraid of him.”

“Why? You have a chaperon, the boy. Nothing to be afraid of.”

“I didn’t mean that, exactly.”

“Then what?”

“I don’t know.”

She went into the lounge. Lucille was on her second brandy. She was a little high. “I’ve been waiting,” she complained. “What have you been doing?”

“Resting,” Kelly said ironically, and they went out together into the bright Madrid sunshine.

The Casa Bique, a stately old mansion hidden behind immense trees, had an American management and so did not observe siesta. The interior was cool, due to its thick stone walls, and the girls wandered through the high-ceilinged rooms, selecting, rejecting, and finally settling on a few objects that were too glittering to resist. Lucille’s silver cigarette box was, fortunately, still unsold.

“I’ll stick it in my make-up kit,” she said to Kelly. “No one will be the wiser.”

Both of them bought gifts, and some things for themselves as well. Totalled, their purchases came to about a thousand pesetas, or just over three hundred dollars.

This haul would enter the U.S. undeclared. Somehow, each of them would find a way to get the stuff in without paying duty. And again Kelly thought, we’re all venal at bottom. She had never really dwelt on it before, but thinking now about the volume of illicit traffic in small and large items, she was a little ashamed. It was not that she was Establishment; it was more that, after her many forays abroad, with treasures she had slipped in from other countries to her own, she thought now that it was no more unworthy to smuggle priceless things than it was more modest purchases.

Where did you draw the line?

Later, they walked a bit and then had a
tonica
at an outdoor cafe on the Plaza de Cibeles. Kelly sipped her drink and said suddenly, “Lucille …”

“Yes?”

“We’re friends, right?”

“I’ve always thought so. What’s the pitch?”

“Would you do a big favor for me?”

“Sure.”

“I have something I don’t want to declare. Would you put it in your bra on your return trip?”

“Good heavens. Okay. Will it fit?”

“Yes. And then, darling, leave it off at the apartment for me. All right?”

“Sure. No trouble at all.”

“It’s just a little hash.”

“What?”

“You don’t mind?”

“Who are you carrying hash for?”

“Does it matter?”

“No, of course not,” Lucille said hastily. “It’s your business.”

But she was glad to see a reserved look in the other girl’s eye. “You’re not keen about doing it, are you?”

There was a little silence. “Well, I — ” Lucille shrugged. “I just didn’t figure you for — ”

“Okay, I was only making funnies.”

The other girl gave her a long look. “What led up to this?” she finally asked.

Kelly picked up her glass, with the slice of lemon at the bottom. “Forget it. I don’t have anything for you to sneak in. It was just … a train of thought.”

“But what started it?”

“Some people on the plane. I just suddenly started thinking about how hard it must be for Customs. That they must have one hell of a problem with … people beating the rap.”

Lucille’s bright face, topped by her blond, cropped hairdo, was questioning. “Are you suffering from fatigue syndrome?” she asked sympathetically.

“Maybe. No. Not really.” Kelly, surrounded by sunshine and sheltering palm trees, shaded in a quiet oasis on a beautiful avenida in Madrid, laughed. “File it away in a corner of your mind and for the moment stop thinking about it. It may mean something some day. But for now, allow as how I didn’t say anything.”

“You mean I should pay duty on what I bought today?” Lucille asked, astonished.

“No, silly. Don’t give it another thought. I just have a funny feeling.”

“About what?”

“I’m not sure. But I think I’ve stumbled on to something. It’s just a feeling. God, it’s hot. Catch that waiter’s eye, if you can. I could go for another
tonica.
”

• • •

After siesta they went to the Gran Via, window-shopped and picked up a few minor items, then returned to the hotel where a party was in progress in a stewardess’s room. It was just the girls, and they were going fairly light on the liquor but definitely bypassing rules by drinking at all so soon before flight time, which was only a few hours away. But of course Kelly wasn’t in danger at the moment, since she was not returning with them, and they knew she wouldn’t spill things to the Captain in command.

It was shortly before six when the girls changed into their uniforms and settled their caps on their heads. “You with your twelve days off,” Lucille said, saying good-bye. “Nobody deserves it more.”

They all went off with their loot, tipping on the way, and then Kelly went to her own room. It’s a funny life, she thought, sitting on the edge of the bed. Nice … but driftless.

If it hadn’t been for the thought of the evening ahead, she would have felt lost, and lonely. Suddenly, with them all gone, everything seemed so terribly quiet.

Damn it, can’t you ever relax? she asked herself angrily.

At a few minutes past seven Kelly locked her room from the outside and was just about to go down the hall when she heard the ringing of the telephone inside.

Should she answer that?

When it kept on ringing she unlocked the door again. It was Senor Nascimento.

“Yes, hello,” she said, trying not to sound rushed.

“It’s terrible,” he said. “I can’t … Senorita, I don’t know what could have happened!”

“Didn’t you get the bag?”

“Yes. Thank you,
gracias
, but oh, my goodness — ”

“What’s the trouble?”

“An unforeseen development! I called for the bag, at your hotel. Thank you, Senorita. Only when I reached home there was something missing.”

“Missing? Well, what?”

“My wife’s beads.”

“Your wife’s — ”

“You know, the pearls,” he said, his voice dropping. “They were not in the bag.”

Oh, for heaven’s sake, she thought. Why did I
answer?

“I’m so sorry, but I don’t know anything about it,” she said rapidly. “And Senor Nascimento, I’m in rather a hurry. Could I call you back tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow?” He sounded shocked. “But what about
now?
What about …” He wheezed. “Something must be done
now.
”

“What would you suggest, sir?”

There was a breathless pause, and then he came on again. “You must realize that it is a great disaster, Senorita. Can’t you — ”

“I’m really very sorry,” she said implacably. “But I’m already late for an appointment.”

This time the man’s voice was shrill. “But I don’t understand,” he cried. “You see, there were the beads. Well, not very expensive beads but my wife is — ”

“Senor Nascimento,” she said, hanging on to the last shreds of her patience, “I can’t help you at the moment. I have to meet someone.”

“Just the same,” he said desperately, “we have something missing, Senorita! You must comprehend! It is very difficult! My wife and I … we bought some valuable pearls. You must know how it is. Investments … everyone does it. My God, Senorita, they are gone! They were in the bag but they are not in there now …”