The Unkindest Cut (5 page)

The woman made no attempt to lower her voice, and heads turned in our direction as diners at nearby tables heard what she had said. Poor Paula blushed deep red, and I felt very sorry for her. Ms. Hinkelmeier had humiliated her in public, and she made little effort to hide her enjoyment of the scene she had made. Paula seemed unable to respond for the moment, and I was so put out with the Hinkelmeier creature that I spoke before I thought much about it.

‘‘I’m sure that the mistake is on
your
end, Ms. Hinkelmeier, ’’ I said, letting my voice carry. ‘‘After she has finished her lunch, I’m sure Mrs. Trowbridge will be more than happy to discuss the problem with you. In the meantime you might want to go back to your duties.’’

I used the tone I had often employed with recalcitrant high school students, and Veronica Hinkelmeier was so taken aback by my speaking up that she stood there gaping at us.

‘‘Good day, Ms. Hinkelmeier,’’ I said in the same firm tone. Then I turned to Paula. ‘‘I know you told me what a wonderful place this is, Paula, but frankly, the behavior of some of the staff here leaves a lot to be desired.’’

Sophie and Marylou were hard-pressed not to burst out laughing by this point, and even Paula was trying not to grin. I very carefully did not look in Veronica Hinkelmeier’s direction again, but I could hear her breathing next to me.

Chuckles from some of the tables nearby were apparently more than Ms. Hinkelmeier could stand. From the corner of my eye, I saw her whirl around and stalk off.

‘‘Thank you, Emma,’’ Paula said. ‘‘I was so embarrassed I didn’t know what to say. That woman despises me, and it’s mutual, of course. She’s such a spiteful cow.’’

‘‘You’re more than welcome, Paula, but I have to apologize for butting in like that. I just found her behavior so distasteful I couldn’t stop myself.’’ I said.

By now Marylou and Sophie were openly laughing. Sophie was laughing so hard, in fact, that she had to wipe the tears from her eyes. ‘‘Oh, Emma,’’ she said, ‘‘if only you could have seen that woman’s face. I bet no one has spoken to her like that in years.’’

‘‘They sure haven’t.’’ Our server, Bree, had approached the table with a large tray and a tray stand. She opened the stand, set the tray on it, and began serving our food. I was very impressed with her dexterity and said so.

‘‘Thank you, ma’am,’’ she said, smiling shyly at me. ‘‘And whatever you want for dessert, it’s on the house.’’ Then she winked at me. ‘‘And thanks for telling off old Hinkelpuss. I wish I had the courage to do it.’’

‘‘Isn’t she your aunt?’’ Sophie asked as Bree set her salad in front of her.

Bree sighed heavily. ‘‘Unfortunately for me. I know I shouldn’t say this, but I can’t stand her. And the way she treats poor Monica, it’s just awful.’’

‘‘Thank you, dear,’’ Marylou said, ‘‘for such speedy, efficient service. You more than make up for your aunt’s lack of manners.’’

Bree smiled widely at that. ‘‘May I quote you on that, ma’am?’’

‘‘You certainly may,’’ Marylou said, laughing. ‘‘And I’ll be happy to tell anyone you like to their face.’’

Giggling, Bree departed, tray in one hand and tray stand in the other.

We all tasted our food, and we all seemed quite happy with our choices. We ate in silence for a moment, until Marylou set down her fork.

‘‘Now, Paula, I don’t want to embarrass you further, ’’ she said. ‘‘But do you think there’s really a problem with your credit card? Because if there is, I’m sure I can help you until you get it straightened out.’’

‘‘Thank you,’’ Paula said, her face reddening slightly. ‘‘But I’m sure there’s no real problem. It was just that witch trying to humiliate me. I’ll go talk to her, but I’m sure it was all put on.’’

‘‘If there’s a problem, let one of us know,’’ I said. ‘‘But after this, I doubt she’ll try to get away with anything else.’’

Paula shook her head. ‘‘You don’t know how vindictive and nasty she can be, Emma. So you’d better watch out. She’s the type to bear a grudge and do something about it.’’

‘‘She doesn’t worry me in the slightest. If she tries anything with me, she’ll draw back a nub.’’

Paula laughed at that, along with Marylou and Sophie.

‘‘Now let’s forget about that woman,’’ Sophie said, ‘‘and enjoy our food.’’

We managed to do that for about ten minutes before being interrupted again, this time by a tall, striking man dressed in clothes so casual and simple that I knew they had to be extremely expensive.

He strolled up to our table, his tanned face alight with what I could describe only as malice.

‘‘Well, Paula, what are you doing with these ladies? I expected to find you in Basil’s bedroom.’’

Paula paled suddenly, her fork dropping onto the table and then flipping onto the floor. Slowly she turned around and looked up at the man standing slightly behind her.

‘’Avery! What the hell are you doing here?’’

Chapter 5

So this was Avery Trowbridge. I eyed him curiously— and I hoped, discreetly. He was certainly handsome, with the kind of boyish, blond, blue-eyed good looks that never seem to go out of style. He was probably in his fifties, but he looked a good ten years younger. At some point, he would no doubt run to seed, but for the moment he was holding age at bay pretty well.

The smirk on his face detracted from the otherwise favorable impression of his looks, however. Even if I hadn’t already heard Paula’s complaints about his treatment of her, I wouldn’t have taken long to get his measure.

‘‘Now, Paula, love, is that any way to speak to your
loving
and
devoted
husband?’’ Avery said with sarcasm dripping from his words. He bent to give Paula a fast buss on the lips. When he straightened, though, I could see he had spotted Sophie. His eyes widened in appreciation.

Sophie easily put the rest of us in the shade. She was every bit as blond and attractive as Avery, and they certainly would have made a striking couple. From the gleam in Avery’s eyes, I figured he probably was thinking the very same thing. Sophie, however, took one look at him and assumed a supremely bored expression. He wasn’t her type, and he would find that out very quickly if he tried to get anywhere with her.

‘‘Now, Paula, love, aren’t you going to introduce me to your friends?’’

‘‘You still haven’t explained to me what the hell you’re doing here,’’ Paula said. She fairly spit out the words. ‘‘And what the hell did you mean by such a tasteless remark about me being in Basil’s bed?’’

‘‘Tut-tut, Paula, love,’’ Avery said, his voice soothing, as if he were talking to a balky child. ‘‘I know the way your sneaky little mind works. You wouldn’t be here if Basil weren’t here. You can’t expect me to believe you’re here just because you love to play bridge so much.’’ He threw back his head and laughed.

‘‘Stop being a jackass, Avery,’’ Paula said.

Avery sobered. He leaned down, then placed one hand on Paula’s shoulder. From the expression on Paula’s face, he must have been squeezing it rather hard. ‘‘Now, you look here,
Mrs. Trowbridge,
’’ he said. ‘‘You lied to me about where you were going. Did you think I was going to sit idly by and let you jump into Basil’s bed the moment my back was turned?’’

Paula pushed back her chair suddenly and stood up, jerking Avery’s hand away from her shoulder as she did so. ‘‘What the hell do
you
care whose bed I jump into?’’ She kept her tone low, and I could see people at the tables near us straining to hear. ‘‘As many beds as
you
jump into, you have some nerve talking to
me
like this.’’

‘‘Oh my goodness, I do believe she’s jealous,’’ Avery said. If he had spoken in such a mocking tone to me, I think I would have slapped his face. ‘‘Paula, love, I had no idea you cared so much. This puts an entirely different spin on things.’’

Paula snapped at last. Before Avery had time to react, she slapped him. She slapped him so hard, in fact, that he stumbled backward into a table. Luckily for him, the table was empty, but it still made a mess when it crashed over. Avery slid to the floor with it.

Paula stalked off while Avery, clearly stunned, sat on the floor for a moment. As one of the restaurant staff rushed over, Avery got to his feet and brushed himself off. He reached into his pocket and pulled out some bills, peeling a couple off the roll, and thrust them into the hands of the staff member.

‘‘That should cover it, I trust,’’ Avery said, as coolly as if nothing untoward had happened.

‘‘Yes, sir,’’ the young man stammered.

It looked to me like Avery had given him two fifties. Considering that nothing had broken during the fall, it was more than enough to cover any damages.

‘‘Ladies, I guess we’ll have to wait until later to be properly introduced.’’ Doffing an imaginary hat, Avery bowed, then turned and walked away.

‘‘Quite entertaining, wouldn’t you say?’’ Sophie said before she picked up her fork and resumed eating.

‘‘Poor Paula,’’ I said, shaking my head. ‘‘What a horrible man.’’

Marylou sighed. ‘‘Now that you’ve met her loving husband, I think you can begin to understand some of the reasons why Paula is the way she is now. Once upon a time she was a much happier, lighthearted person.’’

‘‘Then why on earth did she leave her first husband for that schmuck?’’ Sophie asked. ‘‘Couldn’t she see what he was like?’’

Marylou shook her head. ‘‘She’s always been rather naive where men are concerned.’’ She sighed again. ‘‘Besides, I said she was happier. I didn’t say she was smarter.’’

Sophie and I exchanged amused glances. Such a negative remark was unusual for Marylou, but I supposed the circumstances were rather unusual, after all.

Marylou frowned at us. ‘‘Now, you know I didn’t mean that the way it sounded.’’

Sophie giggled. ‘‘Are you sure? I was about to call the waitress over and order you a bowl of milk.’’

‘‘Sophie! You’re terrible,’’ Marylou said, but she couldn’t help laughing. ‘‘I guess it did sound pretty catty, didn’t it?’’ She laughed again, and Sophie and I joined in.

Once the laughter had subsided, I said, ‘‘Okay, ladies, let’s finish our lunch. And let’s not talk about Paula and her troubles anymore.’’

Marylou and Sophie nodded, and we concentrated on finishing our lunch in peace. Paula never reappeared, and I was grateful, though perhaps it was mean-spirited of me to be so. I had had enough of her and her travails to last me quite a while. I doubted, however, that the respite would last.

We had finished dessert and were on our way out of the dining room when a commotion at the reception desk caught our attention. The three of us stopped, almost as one, about fifteen feet away from the desk and simply watched the disagreement.

A very large young man—at least six four and massively built—was slamming his hand against the counter. ‘‘. . . simply outrageous. What kind of establishment is this?’’ His face red, he glared at Veronica Hinkelmeier, who stared defiantly back at him.

‘‘I’ll thank you not to take that tone with me, mister, ’’ she said, fairly spitting at him. ‘‘I don’t care who the hell you think you are. I told you, you have to have a reservation. We’re fully booked right now.’’

‘‘And I told you, you stupid woman, that I do have a reservation. Can I help it if you bloody well can’t read? I suggest you consult your computer again.’’ He shoved a piece of paper across the desk at her. ‘‘Here’s my confirmation. Are you trying to tell me that this is a fake?’’

Veronica slapped her hand down on the paper and pulled it toward her. As we watched in complete fascination, she scanned the document. Surely she would have to admit defeat now.

But I had underestimated her.

She looked up at the man with triumph written all over her face. ‘‘You didn’t guarantee this with a credit card. That’s why you don’t have a reservation. It was your stupid mistake, not ours.’’ She thrust the paper back at him. ‘‘I suggest you find a room somewhere else.’’

‘‘Do you know who I am?’’ the man demanded.

‘‘No, and I don’t give a hoot either,’’ Veronica said. She turned her back on him.

‘‘My name is Haskell Crenshaw,’’ he said. ‘‘I am Avery Trowbridge’s agent and business manager. Avery will not be pleased to know that I wasn’t accommodated here.’’

Upon hearing Avery’s name, Veronica whirled around. Her face quickly suffused with red. She grabbed the confirmation notice back, stuck it on the counter by her computer, and began tapping furiously at the keys.

Crenshaw watched her, a sardonic smile on his face.

Veronica looked up from the computer. Her tone devoid of inflection, she said, ‘‘It appears we do have a room for you after all.’’ She held out her hand.

Crenshaw, now openly smirking, reached into the pocket of his suit jacket and withdrew a wallet. Opening it, he pulled out a credit card and slapped it on the counter. Veronica picked it up and swiped it before handing it back to him.

Moments later she placed a piece of paper on the counter and handed Crenshaw a pen. He signed the paper, and Veronica gave him a key when he pushed the paper off the counter toward her.

‘‘I’d like someone to help me with my bags,’’ Crenshaw said, in the mildest tone we had yet heard from him.

Veronica tapped the bell. Leonard appeared a few moments later. ‘‘Please escort this person to room three-nineteen, Leonard,’’ she said.

Leonard gave her a funny look but otherwise made no comment. He scooped up Crenshaw’s two bags and said, ‘‘If you’ll come with me, sir.’’ He and Crenshaw headed for the elevator.

Veronica turned and saw us before we could move away. A very unpleasant expression flitted across her face. Judging by that look, I figured we’d be lucky not to find scorpions in our beds before long. Without a word, she turned away and disappeared through the door behind the counter.

‘‘Curiouser and curiouser,’’ Sophie said. ‘‘The staff in this place are really something, aren’t they? With charmers like her at the front desk, it’s a wonder they have any people staying here at all.’’