Suite Embrace (14 page)

“Think? I know she would,” Skylar eagerly replied. “It'd be great publicity for Scenic Ridge. Why wouldn't she go for that?”

“Good. We'll talk it over while I'm here.”

 

After another twenty minutes had passed, Skylar was anxious to get going. The Slide and Glide event was tonight and she had so much to do. She was sure Deena and the entire staff were scrambling to get everything set and she knew she had to hurry back and help.

“Richard,” Skylar began. “Will you please go inside and find out what's keeping Virina? We really need to get going.”

“Sure. Be right back,” he said, pulling on his sunglasses as he stepped out of the Jeep.

Inside the castle-like structure, he stationed himself beside a massive Eagle sculpture and scanned the lobby, a warm and inviting area filled with gleaming black marble accents and throngs of animated tourists. Virina was nowhere to be seen. Convinced she was not there, he made his way to the St. Regis's chic dining room, Olives, and told the hostess that he was looking for a friend. She allowed him to step inside to check, and he spotted Virina right away. She was seated at a corner table, picking at a salad and sipping wine while chatting animatedly with a raven-haired woman dressed head to toe in bright blue suede.

Not entirely surprised by his discovery, and knowing better than to interrupt Virina and her friend, Richard slipped out of the restaurant and returned to the Jeep to tell Skylar what he had seen.

“She's eating lunch!” Skylar snapped. “While we sit out here and wait for her? Who the hell does she think she is?”

“Virina Dagrun. That's who she is, and she's going to make sure you and I understand exactly what that means,” Richard glibly replied, before he burst out laughing. “Skylar, I think we're being tested.”

Skylar clamped her jaw shut tight, slumped down in her seat and glared out the windshield at the elaborately carved front door of the turreted, red-brick hotel. “We'll see who passes this test,” she grumbled under her breath, calculating her odds. She had Mark on her side, and that counted for a lot. A fact that Virina Dagrun knew nothing about.

Forty-five minutes later, when Virina reappeared at the hotel entrance, Skylar pulled the Jeep around and sat stoically silent behind the wheel, determined not to blow up. What use was there in starting an argument now? All Skylar wanted to do was get on the road and get home.

However, as soon as Virina climbed inside, she told Skylar, “Now, I've got to go by
Gorsuch,
and then over to Aspen Grove. The salesgirl at one of the stores there is holding a necklace for me. You don't mind, do you?” When Skylar didn't respond, Virina didn't hesitate to add, “Blame Mark, not me, my dear. If he had arranged for my limo on Saturday evening, when I asked him to, he probably could have secured one. Then I wouldn't be bothering you.”

“Oh, it's no problem, Miss Dagrun,” Skylar replied in a sugary sweet voice, fed up with the woman's obvious manipulation, but not about to take her bait. Virina Dagrun was spoiled, self-absorbed and demanding, but not as clever as she thought she was. No way was Skylar going to let Virina's antics get to her. “As I recall, Saturday evening was a very busy time,” she began. “Let's see, Mark and I went to dinner at Snowmass Village and then for drinks at the Fireside Inn. It was so late when we got back to Scenic Ridge he must have completely forgotten about calling the limo service.”

Skylar had to bite her tongue to keep from laughing out loud when a flash of surprise lit Virina's ice blue eyes and cast a shadow of annoyance over her pale features.

“N
o, Mark, I didn't fly in alone. And Muffin Lark did not come with me, as she had promised. She's gone to St. Tropez for her third divorce. Don't you remember? I told you she was going off to heal her heart and she'd stay there until after Valentine's Day.” A soft Frank Sinatra tune came from the CD player and filled the bedroom where Virina was humming along with the crooner as she sorted, inspected and hung up her clothes.

“No, I don't remember and I don't care where Muffin went to get her divorce,” Mark commented in a flat tone, already bored with his mother's detailed update on the crowd he used to follow. All of that seemed so far away and long ago, holding absolutely no interest for him now. He continually wondered how he could have been friends with people who were so self-absorbed and shallow.

“Anyway,” Virina continued. “I was accompanied on my jet by Richard Nobel, a filmmaker from New York,” she told Mark while unpacking her many suitcases. Scarves, cosmetics, jewelry and magazines were scattered all over the bed, the soft chenille love seat, the bedside tables and the Indian rug that covered the floor of the Vista View Suite, a private cabin not far from Mark's. Shopping bags and packages from trendy stores in Aspen, the result of her impromptu excursion in town, were scattered about, making it nearly impossible to maneuver through the crowded bedroom.

“
Your
jet? I think you mean Wilhelm Willard's jet,” Mark corrected, unfazed by his mother's vain attempt to heighten her jet-set status. He leaned against the doorjamb of the bedroom and watched his mother, who had changed into a pale blue, French terry sweatsuit with matching slippers as she bustled about the room. She looked fabulous. It amazed him that she never seemed to age, possessed incredible energy and continued to dress as if she were still a runway model.

At least she's in a good mood.
Mark was relieved that his mother had not launched into a tirade about the missing limo, a subject he was not about to bring up. She hadn't even said a word about Skylar, either, and he thought that was strange. Let it go, he told himself, because a discussion about Skylar was the last thing he wanted to have.

Skylar must have suffered greatly while driving Virina all around Aspen. Mark sighed. He had only himself to blame for that mix-up. He had planned to arrange everything far in advance so that Virina's arrival would be perfect, but then he and Skylar had decided to go over to Snowmass for the evening and all thoughts of Virina had vanished. First thing tomorrow, he'd call around and secure a car and a driver for her. No way was Skylar going to play chauffeur again.

“Whatever,” Virina snapped back, clearly upset by Mark's observation. “The plane is at my disposal for the season, so it's mine as far as anyone knows. All right?”

“All right, but I won't lie for you, Mother,” Mark replied in a level tone.

“I didn't ask you to lie, you simply don't need to divulge any information about the plane or my financial status for that matter, okay? Wilhelm and I parted amicably enough for me to be able to call on him from time to time, if I should need…help. So I don't want any nasty gossip going around that might mess that up. Image is
everything,
Mark.
Everything.
People only believe what they see and only know what you tell them. You ought to remember that, son. The truth is meant to be bent, shaped and molded into what you
want
it to be. That's the only way to make it in this crazy world.” She tossed an Hermès scarf across the foot of the bed, and then sat down, fingering the soft patterned silk.

“All right,” Mark agreed. “You don't have to blow everything I say out of proportion. I'm just telling you that the way you look at your situation and the way I see it are very different. But it's your life, so tell people whatever you want. I don't care.”

Brushing a hand through her hair, Virina slumped back on a pile of pillows, the scarf clutched in a fist. “Sorry I snapped, Mark. Really. But things are a little tight for me right now. I'm under so much stress.” She kept her eyes lowered on the scarf as she spoke.

“You're stressed? Why? What's really going on?” Mark wanted to know.

Now, Virina looked up, jaw raised defiantly. “You can't tell a soul, promise?”

“Sure.”

“Deleur Cosmetics is not renewing my contract. It ends next month.”

“Oh?” Mark responded, genuinely concerned. He had been relieved when his mother signed on with the French cosmetic giant because it had given her an independent income and something to do other than meddle in his life. As the face of Deleur, she had been able to remain in the public eye, connected to the fashion-conscious world that was so important to her, and she no longer had to depend on a husband to support her. What would happen once her income stopped and there was no new man in her life? Mark shuddered to think about that scenario and how it might affect him. “What did the people at Deleur tell you?” he ventured.

“I spoke to my agent by phone last week, and of course, she didn't actually say why I was being released, but we both know it's because they want a younger face, even though Deleur's demographics indicate that their target audience is women between thirty and sixty. I fit right in. I gave the public exactly what it wanted. Just this morning, at the airport, a woman asked me for my autograph and told me how much she loves the night cream. Why can't Deleur see that I'm perfect for the job? I don't plan to go away without a fight, so don't go telling anyone that I am about to be out of a job.”

“Fine, but I can't imagine why they
want
to let you go,” Mark murmured, slightly alarmed by the ring of defeat in his mother's voice, something he rarely heard. He knew she could be difficult, snobbish and downright manipulative, but weren't such characteristics fairly normal among the models, designers, photographers and other creative types who populated the fashion industry?

Long ago, Mark had learned to tolerate Virina's regal airs and her heightened sense of self-importance, and as much as he hated to admit it, at one time he had been just as royally obnoxious. For the duration of his career, she had been his mentor, his ski instructor, his business manager and his cheerleader while traveling the world and coaching him. He had allowed her to shape his opinions, pass judgment on his decisions and permeate his life in a way he hadn't fully understood until he moved halfway across the world and out of her sphere of influence. At last, he was free of the hold that his mother had established when he was young and vulnerable. Now, he planned to keep it that way, no matter how much it might hurt her.

“So, as you can see,” Virina continued, her voice cracking miserably. “My finances are not so stable and I don't have a husband to take care of me. I have no one to count on except you, Mark. No one. My future is in your hands, you understand what that means?”

A flicker of guilt passed through Mark to hear those dramatic words. He knew that she was leading up to her favorite line.
I did everything possible to make you what you are and now you owe it to me to do as I say.
He'd heard it all before, and there had been a time when it had made him feel guilty enough to give in to his mother's demands. But not now.

Silence hung awkwardly in the room for a long moment before Virina continued. “And you can stop frowning at me, Mark! You're going to have to make some very serious decisions soon about your future. You're thirty-eight years old. Not so young anymore. Not so flush with cash, either. You need to be settling down with the right kind of wife, living the life I worked so hard for you to have. If you marry wealth, you'll marry well. Choosing a wife is a very important matter.”

For you
, Mark thought, strengthening his resolve before plunging into the discussion he knew he didn't want to have. “I understand what you're saying, Mother, but money does not ensure happiness. Look around you. All of your wealthy friends don't seem to be so happy, but if it's important for you, go for it. You're a vibrant, beautiful woman with class and style. Who knows what, or who, might come your way? You'll marry another rich man again, I'm sure. But as for
my
romantic life, let's just say that I have it under control and it really doesn't concern you. All right?”

Mark wished he could tell his mother that he had already met the woman he wanted to spend his life with, but knew it would be dangerous to bring Skylar into the picture too soon. He needed time. He wanted the two women to get to know each other, and for Virina to realize on her own that Skylar was a wholesome, stable, honest woman. Even though she wasn't wealthy, she was the perfect mate for him.

He still wondered why Virina had not mentioned Skylar. Other than a grumbling complaint about having been picked up by the concierge in a mud-splattered Jeep, she had not said anything negative about her afternoon with Skylar, and Mark was unsure if that was good or bad. He knew Virina well. It would be just like her to hold back with her opinion of Skylar until she could use her observations to her advantage. Well, he could play her game, too. He could wait for Virina to make the first move.

“Don't take such things as marrying
up,
lightly. Your love life does concern me!” Virina shot to her feet and began pacing the room. “How can you expect me to dismiss such an important topic when things are so…so fluid in my life right now? This is a very distressing time. You might try to understand! You're all I have, Mark. Your future
does
affect me,” she said.

“Okay, okay,” Mark gave in, not about to get into a full blown argument. “I do understand how you feel, and I promise to inform you of any major romantic decisions I might make when the time is right, and not before. That's all I can offer, so let's drop the subject.”

He had not seen his mother in over a year, and less than thirty minutes after their reunion here they were sniping at each other already. He didn't want to fight, he wanted her to enjoy her time at Scenic Ridge, and he preferred not to be drawn into her drama. Letting Virina have her way was usually much easier than trying to get her to see things from his perspective. If it made her happy to let people think that she owned a private plane and was still the face of Deleur Cosmetics, so what? And if she wanted to hold out hope that he might marry a rich woman in order to take care of her, let her keep on dreaming.

Eager to end the discussion, Mark left the bedroom and went out into the great room of his mother's sun-filled cabin.

Dropping the scarf onto a pile of lingerie, Virina left her unpacking and followed her son to the fireplace, where he stood with his back to the fire.

Mark took a deep breath. “Now, what about this man you flew in with? How long have you been dating him? Is it serious?”

Virina threw back her head and gave up a hard laugh. “Oh, I wish. But really, Mark, it's not like that at all. I barely know him. He's an independent filmmaker and he wants to do a documentary on you. Isn't that fantastic? A film, and probably a book deal, too. This project could totally revitalize your status as one of the most important figures in the world of winter sports. Put you back in circulation with the right people, too.”

“A documentary? Really? No one contacted me about it,” Mark replied, ignoring her obvious remark about mixing with the right people. He had been there, done that, and wanted no part of that fast-paced rat race again.

“That's because I've taken care of everything. Richard and I met over dinner in New York, and I assured him that you'd be very interested in doing this project. I'm going to produce it.”

“You, a producer? What do you know about making a movie?”

“Nothing. I'm going to raise the money to produce it. What's the difference? I'll have input and control of how it's shaped. That's very important, Mark. I want this film to reflect exactly who you are and how important your accomplishments have been. If I'm producing, I can guarantee that you'll be treated right. Creative types can get carried away sometimes and I'm not about to leave this to chance.”

“Can you raise the kind of money something like this would cost?”

“Oh, of course. A few phone calls and the money will be in the bank. Isn't it wonderful? Richard plans to begin shooting footage right away so he can create a rough cut for me to show the investors.”

“You told this filmmaker that I'm in on his project and I know nothing about it?” Mark repeated, incredulous that Virina would take such liberties with his name. “You seem to forget that you no longer speak for me. I manage my career, remember?”

“Oh, don't be so touchy,” Virina snapped. “I met with Richard to get an overview of his idea, and once I heard it, I knew it sounded perfect for you. Saved you the trouble of wasting your time with him, in case he wasn't serious. He'll be at the gala tonight. Talk to him, okay?”

As Mark listened to his mother ramble on about how the documentary would help raise his profile in the world of sports and entertainment, and how much money he could make, his heart sank in dismay. A warning voice in his head clicked on.

She's back, and she thinks she's back in control. So, what are you going to do about it?