Classic Love: 7 Vintage Romances (61 page)

She stood and looked thoughtfully into the contents of the drawer. Everything was neat as a pin, except that there was a slip on the side with the nightgowns. Tidily folded, to be sure … but in the wrong place.

That wasn’t her doing. Time being of the essence, she
never
made mistakes like that. There was no reason in the world for that slip to be where it was.

Once she got the idea in her mind, she went snooping. After a thorough search of the room she had to come to the conclusion that she was reaching at straws. Because there was nothing else out of place. It was only the nylon slip that was not where it should be.

It was the maid who did her room, she decided. The girl had been curious to see what the American Senorita’s underwear was like. But it was almost with triumph that she discovered the other tell-tale sign. Just before she was ready to go downstairs, she realized that she would have to change pocketbooks to go with the dress she was wearing.

She opened her suitcase and got out the navy bag.

And as she started to transfer the contents of the one previously used, she saw a rip in the stitching of the navy handbag where the flap joined the body of the bag.

It was a sizeable tear. One which hadn’t been there before; as a matter of fact, it was a recently-purchased bag.

Now she was certain. It hadn’t been an inquisitive housemaid. It had been someone else, someone who had been in her room last night, when she was away. Someone had carefully gone through her things. But it was a very hasty search. Hence the two slipups … the slightly disarranged drawer in the chest and this damage to the handbag.

Her mind went back to the telephone call, the last one from Senor Nascimento. So that was it, she thought, He suspected her of swiping the pearls. And had decided to fine-toothcomb her room in an effort to retrieve them.

It had to be that.

How had he gotten into her room?

She carefully and methodically went over all her possessions again. There was nothing else awry. Of course it could have been the maid …

No, she thought. She was so used to travel. And particularly in Spain the hotel employees were painfully honest. It was such an impoverished country, yet the help everywhere was scrupulously trustworthy. Their pride was almost heartbreaking. In Italy, perhaps. But never, never Spain. And it was a truism that airline employees were handled with kid gloves everywhere.

However it had happened. Someone had been in this room last night.

She went outside to the terrace, looked up and down. It was the only terrace visible; she had never had this room before, but there was nothing above in the way of an outdoor accommodation. And it seemed almost impossible for anyone to gain access to this terrace from an adjoining building. The Gaudi house, with its grotesque, if interesting contours, was a good distance away, and the only possible means of climbing up would be from the windows below, which meant a particularly strenuous form of athletics. And anyway, how would it be easier for someone to get into the suite below?

Yet someone had been here, had canvassed the room and her belongings, and if it weren’t for the rip in her handbag she would have been convinced that a wistful and curious little Spanish girl had glanced longingly at her finery in the drawer of the chest. There was nothing else amiss, and she was already late in meeting Steve. She locked her door and went down the corridor. There wouldn’t be a second visit, she was sure. There was nothing hidden in her room and whoever had searched it must know that by now. But she cursed the day she had ever laid eyes on Senor and Senora Nascimento. She had enough troubles without theirs added to the rest of it.

• • •

The outdoor terrace of the Hotel Fenix had several levels, each of them set on a plateau above stone steps. Cherry-red awnings shaded the round white tables. The foliage was lush and wonderful, the smells ineffable. Even the Ritz didn’t have a garden like this.

Steve was sitting on the second level. He stood up when he saw her walking up the steps. There was an ice bucket with a bottle of Taittinger’s nestled inside it.

“Champagne at ten in the morning?” she said.

“Yes, with fresh strawberries.”

He filled a tulip glass for her. “To days of love and laughter,” he said, clinking glasses. “You look rested. Of course it’s because you’re so young. These old red eyes of mine …”

She laughed. “You sound like Father Time.”

“Sometimes I feel that way. Why are you looking so preoccupied?”

“Because something’s on my mind.” She sipped the champagne; the bubbles flew up her nose. The strawberries, in crystal bowls, smelled tangy and sweet.

“Tell me about it.”

“Someone was in my room last night.”

“What makes you think so?”

“I saw something wrong when I was getting dressed. Things were out of order in my lingerie drawer.”

“Oh?”

“At first I blamed it on the girl who did my room. I just thought she wanted a peek at American silks and nylons. But later, when I got this handbag out of my suitcase, I had second thoughts. Look.”

She showed him the tear.

“Sure you didn’t do it yourself?”

“No, it’s a brand new purse. Someone else did it, someone who was in a hurry to get out fast.”

“How would that someone get in?”

“I don’t know. Maybe found a way to get hold of a white coat so he’d look like a servant of the hotel. Somehow got the keys to my room.”

“You say ‘he.’ “

“Well, I think it was Senor Nascimento.”

“Looking for the missing pearls?”

“It’s as good a guess as any.”

“Maybe.” But his smile was indulgent.

“Oh, I know they seemed substantial people. But there’s something going on, and when I spoke to Senor Nascimento and said Richard wanted to see them again, he shrugged it off. They
are
questionable, Steve. I sense it. And they didn’t want me to show up at their house. He called for the bag at the hotel here.”

“Okay, if you feel that way, let’s follow it up.”

“How?”

“Go and see them, whether they like it or not.”

“I guess it’s better to just forget about it.”

“If I thought someone entered my room without my knowledge, I wouldn’t want to forget about it.”

“Well, I don’t know. We’ll see.”

“Meanwhile, let’s finish this bottle.”

“Fine, but can we order soon?”

“Party pooper.” But he called over the waiter.

They ate a hearty breakfast, had coffee and a last cigarette and then Kelly said that Richard must be waiting impatiently for her call. “All right, you ring him and I’ll snag a cab,” Steve said, and they went down the steps into the lobby again.

Richard cut in on the conversation between Kelly and one of the servants. “Hey, is that you?” he asked.

“Richard?”

“Hi. Are you coming around soon?”

“We’re just leaving the hotel. Steve’s outside, getting a taxi.”

“I’m ready,” he said. “I’ll open the door for you. It’s a nice day, isn’t it?”

“Yes, lovely.”

“I’m all ready,” he said again, and she hung up the phone, picturing him looking earnestly out the paned glass of the entrance door, waiting for his friends.

And it w
as
Richard who swung open the door for them.
“Buenas dias,”
he said, his face flushed with eagerness. “Say, this is great. Hello, Steve. Come on in.”

Joia came down the stairs and said good morning to them.

“I wanna show them my room,” Richard said.

“But, Richard — ”

“It’s all right,” Joia murmured. “The Senora is sleeping.”

“C’mon up. This is really a very nice house.”

They followed him up the stairs. And yes, it was a beautiful house, built around a central, interior courtyard. Long, windowed balconies stretched out on corridors with rooms to the right. Richard’s bedroom looked out onto the back, with a view of sweeping trees and blooming bushes. The louvres were slatted against the sun.

“Do you like it?” the boy asked them.

“Richard, it’s lovely.”

“A nice place to visit,” he said. “But I wouldn’t want to live here.”

“Well, you’re only stopping off here, isn’t that so?”

“I don’t know. I think my uncle wants me to stay. He’s making everything highly attractive. He claims he’s very fond of me.”

“Well, I suppose he is. That’s only natural, isn’t it? What’s this, Richard?”

He dashed over. “My diary.” His hand closed over it. “It’s rather private, you know.”

“Oh, I see.”

“Some day I’ll write my memoirs.”

Kelly’s eyes met Steve’s, and it was in that moment that she was lost. His strong, carved face was tender, so understanding …

A man who liked kids.

That’s all I needed, she thought, turning away quickly.

Every big city in the world had its Flea Market. In Madrid it was the Rastro; every kind of article could be bought there. It was divided into two parts, the antiques and the second-hand goods. The sophisticated buyer could always hope to unearth a painting that might net him a small fortune or a first edition or anything that might have escaped the vendors’ expertise.

Richard bought a silver crucifix for Joia.

It was wrapped for him and he pulled a wallet out of his pocket, stuffed with paper money. “Richard,” Kelly said, dazed. “Where did you get all that cash?”

“Pushing drugs,” he said tersely.

“Is that supposed to be funny?”

“It was supposed to be,” he said. “But apparently it landed with a dull thud.”

Steve turned away, hiding a smile.

“What can I buy you?” Richard asked. “I want to buy you something nice, Kelly.”

“I don’t want anything. Put that money away.”

“I
will
buy you something,” he insisted. “If you won’t tell me I’ll just have to guess.”

“Darling, nothing.”

“Then you’ll just have to accept my choice.”

He made her stay where she was, and then went browsing. He came back a short while later with a large box. He held it out to her. “I hope you like this,” he said.

“Oh, Richard.”

“Let’s get something for Steve.”

He selected, for Steve, a beautiful glass paperweight. “Now I have to get something for my uncle,” he said.

“Do you mind?” Kelly asked Steve, as they followed Richard around.

“No, let the kid have his fun. I’m rather enjoying it.” He took her hand. “How about you?”

“Yes. Very much.”

Richard found an old edition of an eighteenth century book on medieval music. “He can add it to his library, you know.”

“Richard, this costs 2500 pesetas. That’s a great deal of money.”

“It doesn’t matter. I have lots of money. Oh, yeah, one thing more,” he said. “Something for my aunt.”

“Dolores?”

“No, Aunt Elizabeth. I’ll have it sent.”

And he did. He bought a jade bracelet, which came to 5500 pesetas, and when he put his wallet in his pocket again it was still crammed with notes. But it was touching; quite clearly Uncle Constant’s first wife held a very special place in this little boy’s heart. “She’ll like it,” he said. “I
hope.
”

“Now how about lunch?” Steve asked.

“But Richard didn’t get anything for Dolores.”

“Do I have to?”

“I’m afraid so. You got something for your uncle.”

“Okay. Let’s see …”

He started browsing again.

“That,” he said finally, pointing.

It was a golden canary in a gilded cage. The sweet voice of the bird trilled, as the tiny throat quivered with ecstasy.

“Richard, she wouldn’t want that.”

“Why not? She’s a bird herself, in a gilded cage.”

His face was calm and serious. Kelly turned him away from the little canary and directed him to a stall with Florentine trinketry. “Get her some earrings,” she said, and at her bidding, he bought some filigreed drops for pierced ears.

“Now can we have luch?” Steve asked patiently.

“I thought you wanted to go to the Stamp Market.”

“Richard would only buy stamps for all his friends and relatives. I’m hungry.”

“Me too,” Richard said.

They ate at an outdoor cafe near the Plaza Mayor, after going down a flight of ancient steps into the beautiful square; their table faced the plaza, an architectural splendor almost as gorgeous as the Place de Vosges in Paris. The gazpacho was cool and refreshing, the cold beef like butter. And then they got into a taxicab which took them to the Toledo Bridge, where they got out and walked. Later, they found a fascinating winding street of houses, got out and walked again, and after that viewed the city from the Casa de Campo, with its soaring, twisted cypresses sketched across an almost cloudless sky.

At five o’clock they took Richard home. He had been gratified to hear that they were dining with his family. “And you must open your present as soon as you’re home,” he told Kelly.

When she had left Steve, agreeing to meet him in the lobby at seven-thirty, she unwrapped Richard’s gift before lying down to nap.

It was a pearline shell, a chambered nautilus, the hollows of which wound round and round, with a secret heart at the innermost cavern at the core of the nacreous husk. If you put it to your ear you could hear the sea sounds, the primeval roar of the waters of the earth, the mysterious signallings of the beginnings of man.

She held the beautiful object in her hands. She was almost crying inside. That stuffed wallet … the pesetas Richard had dribbled away in the course of the morning. This lovely thing had been, of all of them, the least expensive, costing practically nothing. Yet it was the loveliest present he had bought. His values were perfect. Money didn’t have any meaning for him, but beauty did, and he had made her the finest present of all.

There could be nothing more exquisite than this treasure from the sea, washed up onto the sands.

She got into bed and closed her eyes. The chambered nautilus was clasped to her. And with the silky, cool shell against her breast, she slept.

It was nice to know that a little boy knew how to please, that he hadn’t given her a bracelet, or a silver trinket, but something from the earth and the natural elements. And that he instinctively knew what it would mean to her. It was a wonderful thing … and that a child could know so much.