Dream Trilogy Read online

  “I’ve yet to come across anything you can’t handle.”

  “I appreciate that. But there’s a delicate situation. One of the doctors apparently was having a, let’s say, intimate moment with one of the other doctors when her husband decided to pay an unannounced surprise visit.”

  “God, I love this job.” Byron settled back. “It’s like a long-running soap opera.”

  “Easy for you to say. I spent an hour this morning dealing with the penitent woman. She sat where you are, spilling out tears and the whole sordid story of her marriage, her affairs, her therapy.”

  Weary with the memory, Laura pressed her fingers to the inside corner of her eye, almost relieving the tension that was living there. “This is her third husband, and she claims to be addicted to adultery.”

  “She should go on Oprah. Women who are addicted to adultery, and the men who love them. Do you want me to talk to her?”

  “No, I think I sent her off steady enough. Our problem is, the husband wasn’t too thrilled to find his wife and his”—she winced—“his brother-in-law wrapped in matching Templeton robes.”

  “It just gets better. Don’t stop now.”

  “The husband popped his brother-in-law—who, I should add for clarification, is married to our heroine’s sister—in the mouth. Knocked out several thousand dollars’ worth of caps and so forth. There was some damage to the room, nothing major. A couple of lamps and crockery.” She waved that away. “But our problem is that the guy with the broken mouth is threatening to sue the hotel.”

  “Another victim.” If he hadn’t been so amused with the scenario, he would have sighed. “What’s his rationale?”

  “That the hotel is responsible for letting the husband in. He—the husband—called room service from a house phone, ordered champagne and strawberries for his wife’s room. He had a dozen roses with him,” she added. “Then he waited until the wine arrived, slipped into the room behind the waiter, and—well, the rest is history.”

  “I don’t think we’ve got any real problem here, but I’ll take the file.”

  “I appreciate it.” Relieved, Laura passed the torch. “I’d talk to the man myself, but I get the impression he’s not too keen on women in authority. And, to be honest, I’m swamped. The orthodontists have their banquet tonight, and the cosmetic people are coming in tomorrow.”

  “And, of course, Ms. Bingham.”

  “Right.” She checked her watch and rose. “I’d better get down to Catering. There was one other little thing.”

  Standing up himself, he raised an eyebrow. “The decorators are wrestling in the atrium?”

  “Not yet.” Because she appreciated him, she smiled. It was second nature to Laura to hide nerves. “It was an idea I had for the shop, but since it involves the hotel, I wanted to run it by you.”

  “Laura, it’s your hotel.”

  “No, at the moment I work here, and you’re the boss.” She picked up her clipboard and passed it from one of her hands to the other. “Last fall we put on a reception and charity auction at the shop. We intend to do it every year. But I was thinking we could plan another event. Straight advertising, really. A fashion show, using clothes and accessories from the shop, during the holiday season. The White Ballroom would be ideal, and it’s not booked for the first Saturday in December. I thought we could feature gala attire, formals, ballgowns, in addition to accessories, all from the shop. We’d advertise it in both the hotel and the resort, with percentage-off certificates issued to Templeton employees and guests.”

  “You’ve got marketing in the blood. Listen, Laura, you work conventions and special events.” He put an arm around her shoulders as they left the office. “You don’t need my go-ahead.”

  “I like to dot my i’s, so to speak. After I’ve talked it over with Margo and Kate, I’ll work up a proposal.”

  “Fine.” She’d given him the opening he’d been hoping for. “So how is Kate?”

  “She’s holding up. Of course, she occasionally drives Margo and me crazy. A born salesman Kate isn’t,” Laura said with feeling. “But she’s competitive enough to make it work.” Her smile softened, spread. “And if Margo or I so much as breathes on the books, she hisses. So that’s a blessing. Still . . .”

  “Still?”

  “They damaged something inside her. I don’t know how seriously yet, but she’s too together, too controlled. She won’t talk about it, won’t even discuss what should be done. Just closes up when any of us try to draw her out. Kate used to be a champion tantrum thrower.”

  Now her fingers fidgeted restlessly, tapping a pencil, plucking at papers on her clipboard. “She’s taking this without a fight. When Margo’s career blew up and she lost her spot as the spokeswoman for Bella Donna, Kate wanted to organize a protest. She actually talked about going down to L.A. and picketing on Rodeo Drive.”

  Remembering put a smile back on Laura’s face. “I never told Margo, because I managed to talk Kate out of it, but that’s the way she is. She spits and claws and slaps when she’s up against a personal problem. But not this time. This time she’s pulled in, and I don’t understand it.”

  “You’re really worried about her,” Byron realized.

  “Yes, I am. So’s Margo, or she would have strangled Kate half a dozen times by now. She wants us to fill out a sheet in something called a columnar pad every day.”

  “Once an accountant,” he said.

  “She carries one of those electronic memo pads in her pocket all the time. She’s starting to talk about co-linking and getting on-line. It’s terrifying.” When he laughed, Laura caught herself and shook her head. “Ask a simple question. . .” she began. “Does everybody dump on you this way?”

  “You didn’t dump. I asked.”

  “Josh said you were the only man he wanted in this job. It’s easy to see why. You’re so different from Peter—” This time she didn’t just catch herself, she clenched her teeth. “No, I’m not getting started on that. I’m already behind schedule and Ms. Bingham’s waiting. Thanks for taking the orthodontists off my hands.”

  “My pleasure. You might not hear it very often, but you’re an asset to Templeton.”

  “I’m trying to be.”

  As she walked away, Byron turned in the opposite direction, studying her careful and precise report as he went.

  At the end of the day he met with Josh at Templeton Resort. The office there was a sprawling room on the executive level, with windows offering a view of one of the resort’s two lagoonlike pools, surrounded by hibiscus in riotous bloom and a patio with redwood tables under candy-pink umbrellas.

  Inside, it was built for comfort as well as business with deeply cushioned leather chairs, Deco lamps, and a stylish watercolor street scene of Milan.

  “Want a beer?”

  At the offer Byron merely sighed low and deep. He accepted the bottle from Josh, tipped it back. “Sorry to hit you at the end of the day. It’s the first I could get away.”

  “There is no end of the day in the hotel business,” Josh said.

  “Your mother said that.” Byron grinned. Susan Templeton was one of his favorite people. “You know if your father would just step aside like a gentleman, I’d beg her to marry me.” He drank again, then nodded at the file he’d put on Josh’s desk. “I started to fax this business over, then thought I’d just swing by personally.”

  Instead of going behind the desk, Josh picked up the file and stretched out in the chair opposite Byron. He skimmed the reports with varying reactions. A chuckle, a groan, a sigh, an oath.

  “That sums up my feelings,” Byron concurred. “I had a talk with Dr. Holdermen myself a few hours ago. He’s still a guest. He’s got temporary caps on and a real beaut of a black eye. My take is he doesn’t have a case, but he’s pissed off enough, and embarrassed enough, to pursue it.”

  Josh nodded, came to his own conclusions. “And your recommendation?”

  “Let him.”

  “Agreed.” Josh tossed the fil
e onto his desk. “I’ll pass it along to Legal with that recommendation. Now . . .” Josh settled back, the beer bottle cupped loosely in his hand, his eyes curious. “Why don’t you tell me why you’re really here? You can handle this kind of nuisance in your sleep.”

  Byron rubbed his chin. “We know each other too well.”

  “Ten years on and off should be enough. What’s on your mind, By?”

  “Kate Powell.”

  Josh’s brows shot up. “Really?”

  “Not in that context,” Byron said, a bit too quickly. “It was something Laura said today that got me thinking about the whole situation. Bittle made some serious allegations against her, yet they haven’t pursued it. And neither has she. It’s going on three weeks now.”

  “I’m going to get pissed off again.” Feeling his temper bubbling, Josh rose and paced it off. “My father used to play golf with Larry Bittle. I don’t know how many times he’s been over to the house. He’s known Kate since she was a kid.”

  “Have you talked to him?”

  “Kate almost took my head off when I threatened to.” Scowling, Josh gulped down his beer. “That was okay, but then she just shut down. She seemed so shaky over the whole thing, I didn’t push. Hell, I’ve been so wrapped up in Margo and the baby, I let it slide. We did this heartbeat thing at the doctor’s today. It was so cool. You could just hear it, beating away, this quick little bopping.” He stopped when he caught Byron’s grin. “Kate,” he began again.

  “That’s okay, you can indulge in obsessive expectant fatherhood for a minute.”

  “There’s more. It’s not an excuse for letting my sister dangle.” He sat again, with a muscle in his cheek twitching. “We’ve decided to settle with Ridgeway. Goddamn bastard cheats on Laura, scalps her, ignores his children, alienates half the staff at the hotel, and we end up cutting him a check for a quarter million just to avoid a premature termination suit.”

  “It’s rough,” Byron agreed. “But he’ll be gone.”

  “He better stay gone.”

  “You could always break his nose again,” Byron suggested.

  “There is that.” Willing himself to relax, Josh rolled his shoulders. “You could say I’ve been a little distracted the last few weeks. And Kate, she’s always been so self-reliant. You begin to take it for granted.”

  “Laura’s worried about her.”

  “Laura worries about everyone but Laura.” Josh brooded for a minute. “I haven’t been able to get through to Kate. She won’t talk about it, at least not to me. I hadn’t considered going over her head to Bittle. Is that what you’re getting at?”

  “It’s none of my business. The thing is . . .” Byron studied his beer for a moment, then lifted those calm, clear eyes to Josh. He’d thought it through, as he did any problem, and had come to one conclusion. “If Bittle does decide to pursue a case against her, wouldn’t she be better off to take the offensive now?”

  “The threat of a nice fat libel suit, an unjustified suspension, loss of income, emotional distress.”

  Byron smiled and finished off his beer. “Well, you’re the lawyer.”

  It took him the best part of a week, but Josh was hotly pleased when he strolled into Pretenses. He’d just come from a meeting with the partners of Bittle and Associates.

  He caught his wife around the waist and kissed her thrillingly, to the delight of the customers milling about the shop.

  “Hi.”

  “Hi, yourself. And what are you doing in my parlor in the middle of the day?”

  “I didn’t come for you.” He kissed her again and barely restrained himself from laying a hand on her stubbornly flat stomach. He couldn’t wait for it to grow. “I need to talk to Kate.”

  “Captain Queeg is in the office, rolling marbles and talking about strawberries.”

  Josh winced. “I thought you were calling her Captain Bligh these days.”

  “He wasn’t insane enough. She’s redoing the filing system. Color-coded.”

  “Good God. What’s next?”

  Margo narrowed her eyes. “She put up a bulletin board.”

  “She must be stopped. I’ll go in.” He drew a deep breath. “If I’m not out in twenty minutes, remember, I’ve always loved you.”

  “Very funny,” she muttered, and managed to hold the smile back until he’d slipped into the rear office.

  Josh found Kate mumbling over files. Her hair stood up in spikes, and the first two fingers of her right hand were covered with rubber tips.

  “Less than a year,” she said without turning around, “and you and Laura have managed to misfile half of everything. Why the hell is a fire insurance invoice in the umbrella file?”

  “Someone should be flogged.”

  Unamused, she turned, eyed him. “I don’t have time for you, Josh. Your wife’s making my life a living hell.”

  “Funny, she says the same thing about you.” Despite her ferocious glare, he walked over and kissed the tip of her nose. “I hear you’re color-coding the files.”

  “Somebody has to. The software I installed keeps clean records, but you’re better off backing up with hard copy in retail. I told Margo to do this months ago, but she’s more interested in selling trinkets.”

  “God knows how you can expect to keep a retail business running by selling things!”

  She drew in a breath, refusing to hear how foolish she sounded. “My point is you can hardly keep any business successful if you don’t concern yourself with the details. She’s been logging shoes under wardrobe instead of accessories.”

  “She needs to be punished.” He grabbed Kate’s shoulders. “Let me do it.”

  Chuckling, she shoved him back. “Go away. I don’t have time to laugh right now.”

  “I didn’t come by for laughs. I need to talk to you.” He pointed to a chair. “So sit.”

  “Can’t this wait? I have to be back in the showroom in an hour. I want to get the files in shape first.”

  “Sit,” he repeated and gave her a brotherly nudge. “I just had a meeting at Bittle.”

  The impatience drained out of her eyes, leaving them cold and blank. “Excuse me?”

  “Don’t take that tone with me, Kate. It’s past time this was dealt with.”

  She continued to take that tone, quiet and icy, as fear clawed at her insides. “And you decided you were the one to deal with it?”

  “That’s right. As your attorney—”

  “You’re not my attorney,” she shot back.

  “Who went to court to get you out of that speeding ticket three years ago?”

  “You, but—”

  “And who looked over your lease for your apartment before you signed it?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “Who wrote your will?”

  Her face turned mutinous. “I don’t see that that has anything to do with it.”

  “I see.” Idly, he studied his manicure. “Just because I’ve handled all the pesky little legal details of your life doesn’t make me your lawyer.”

  “It doesn’t give you the right to go behind my back and talk to Bittle. Particularly since I asked you to leave it alone.”

  “Fine, it doesn’t. Being your brother does.”

  Bringing up family loyalty was, in Kate’s opinion, hitting below the belt. She sprang to her feet. “I’m not the inadequate, incapable little sister, and I won’t be treated like one. I’m handling this.”

  “How?” Primed to fight, he got to his feet as well. “By color-coding the files in here?”

  “Yes.” Since he was shouting now, Kate matched her voice to his. “By making the best of the situation. By getting on with my life. By not whining and crying.”

  “By backing down and doing nothing.” He poked his finger against her shoulder. “By going into denial. Well, it’s gone on long enough. Bittle and company know that they’re facing legal action.”

  “Legal action?” The blood drained out of her face. She could feel every drop flow. “You told them
I was going to sue? Oh, my God.” Dizzy, she leaned on the desk.

  “Hey!” He grabbed her in alarm. “Sit down. Catch your breath.”

  “Leave me alone. Leave me the hell alone. What have you done?”

  “What needed to be done. Now come on, honey, sit down.”

  “Jesus Christ.” She exploded, and rather than a poke on his shoulder, she landed a punch on it. “How dare you?” Her color was back, flaming. “How dare you threaten legal action?”

  “I didn’t tell them you were going to sue. I merely left them chewing over that impression.”

  “I told you to leave it. This is my business. Mine.” She threw up her arms, spun around. “What gave you this brainstorm, Joshua? I’m going to kill Margo.”

  “Margo didn’t have anything to do with it, though if you would open your beady eyes for five minutes, you’d see how worried she is about you. How worried everyone is.”

  Because he might poke her again, he decided his hands were safer in his pockets. “I shouldn’t have let it go this long, but I’ve had things on my mind. If By hadn’t dropped by and given me a push, it would have taken me longer, but I’d have gotten to it.”

  “Stop.” Breathing hard, she held up a hand. “Playback. Byron De Witt talked to you about me?”

  Realizing his misstep, Josh tried a quick retreat. “Your name came up in conversation, that’s all. And it started me—”

  “My name came up.” Now she was breathing between clenched teeth—teeth that matched the fists ready at her sides. Anger was better, she realized, than panic. “Oh, I just bet it did. That son of a bitch. I should have known he couldn’t keep his mouth shut.”

  “About what?”

  “Don’t try to cover up. And get out of my way.” Her shove was fierce enough and unexpected enough to knock him back. Before he could make the grab, she was sailing past him.

  “Just a damn minute. I haven’t finished.”

  “You go to hell,” she shot back over her shoulder, causing several customers to glance around nervously as she stormed out of the office. She sent Margo one seething glare before slamming the front door behind her.

  “Well.” Struggling with a smile, Margo handed a bagged purchase to a wide-eyed customer. “That’s thirty-eight fifty-three out of forty.” Still smiling, she handed over the change. “And the show was free. Please come again.”