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I was amused, relieved, and slightly pissed all at the same time.
“That is inhumane! Even for you,” I said and playfully shoved him away.
He faked a fall, landing conveniently on the bed. Then, in a single leap, he grabbed me by the wrist and dragged me back, over his knee. He delivered five light smacks, laughing at his own stupid joke.
That trick had seemed kind of mean at the time but the fact that he mentioned it now said he wanted to remove all doubt that his intentions were anything but serious. Sitting in that hotel lobby with my spine rigid with anticipation, I crushed the letter into my bag, closed my eyes, and willed my pulse to slow down.
“Sadie, are you okay?” A cool dry hand touched my forearm and Ronnie Flynn’s light scent of carnations wafted around me. Concern shone in her eyes. What an actress.
I tried to shake away the anxiety that had to be written all over my face.
“Yes. Yes. I’m fine. Just worried about D2,” I said, my voice trembling. I stood quickly and my legs wobbled under me. If I tried to walk, I’d look drunk. Fighting to compose myself, I stuffed the crunched letter and envelope into my purse.
“Not bad news, I hope?” Ronnie studied my face and then looked pointedly at the corner of the letter poking out of my purse.
“No, just a note from Simon saying he might be late.” When lying, it’s always best to tell at least part of the truth.
“Do you have time for coffee then?” She motioned toward the Dunedin Coffee Company shop just off the hotel lobby.
She was trying to get me alone so she could pry some more, and we both knew it.
“Sorry. I’ve got some work to do before Simon gets back to the hotel.” I waved the room key as if in explanation.
“Suit yourself,” she said and clicked her tongue, maybe in disappointment, maybe in disbelief.
“Sorry, Ronnie,” I repeated, as if it would make her any less offended. “I thought you were going to the garment district with your sister today.”
“I was but then your mom’s friend, Cherie, suggested we meet downtown for lunch. I knew if Simon was staying here, it would have to be a top place. It looks pretty swank. Are you eating in the La Belle Vie? It’s got two hats. Maybe we’ll see you there?”
“Maybe.” I glanced at the entrance to the hotel’s restaurant and shrugged. “Simon has plans but I’m not sure what they are.”
“He probably wants a nooner.” She winked.
I laughed at how close she was to the truth and relaxed. “That’s a possibility.”
I headed away before Cherie arrived and scrutinized me further. In the few seconds I’d spoken to Ronnie, my legs had regained their muscle strength and I walked to the elevator bay with a normal gait.
On the twenty-second floor of the vintage hotel, a lavish bouquet of fresh flowers greeted me as I stepped off the elevator. The corridor smelled like furniture polish. The fine old wood of the side table shone so brightly it reflected the vivid colors of the roses and peonies in the crystal vase.
The suite was equally well decorated, but I barely glanced at the opulent surroundings as I went straight to the bedroom. I saw Simon’s carry-on bag open on the suitcase rack. The Mason Pearson hairbrush lay on top, but I forced myself not to think about it. The view of the Jacques Cartier Bridge spanning the St. Lawrence River was beautiful, and I wanted to stand and drink it in but thought better of it.
By the time I’d closed the drapes, stripped, hung my dress up and tucked my bra around the hanger it was 11:55. I turned one of the guest chairs away from the window. At noon exactly I set my phone on the bed. Clicking video, I made sure it was aimed at the corner of the room. I waved at the camera before lowering myself onto the cool brocade upholstery. Nothing to do then but sit and wait, staring at the point where the gauzy drapes met the lemon-colored wall. The rule for standing corner time was hands behind my back or on my head, depending on Simon’s mood. I’d only had sitting corner time once before. Right. Hands folded in my lap then.
Very quickly I realized I should have turned off the air conditioning. It had to be near freezing in here and my nipples were at full attention like the pop up headlights on an old Corvette. I didn’t dare leave my seat so I sat and tried to distract myself with every song lyric I could think of. Time stretched into eternity.
Simon
Tuesday evening, I opened my cabin bag that was always packed and ready to grab and go and added the Mason Pearson hairbrush. I headed to the airport to catch the same redeye that Sadie had taken two nights earlier. My flight was on time, no one sat beside me, and I arrived in Montreal rested and ready for work. First things first: I checked in at the Charles Rose and got an extra room key for Sadie.
I left my bag in the luxury suite before heading to the downstairs business center to meet a couple of young entrepreneurs looking for financial backers. One wanted money to expand her organic, gluten free baby food line. Maybe, I said and sent her away to revise her business plan. The next couple, a husband-and-wife team, wanted funding for an electric bike they’d designed. I asked many questions, studied their balance sheet and marketing plan, and expressed appreciation for how strong their sales were already. In the end, I said no. I didn’t know enough about the competitive bicycle industry to buy into it.
I gave them the name of someone who might be interested in their enterprise and left, smiling at the thought of seeing Sadie again. She’d only been away for two days but not having her at my side was like the world was stripped of color and I was tired of life in black and white. As I walked across the hotel lobby to the elevator bay, thoughts of Sadie distracted me to the point of near blindness. I almost collided with Ronnie Flynn who had planted herself between me and the elevators. She’d been lying in wait.
“Simon!” she said with feigned surprise.
“Hello Ronnie.” I forced civility into my voice, although I’d been ambushed. The heat in my blood cooled.
“Have you met Sadie’s godmother? Cherie Gareau?”
