by Judy Kundert
Katherine dropped the bow and laughed. “I agree with you that an eagle feather belongs to the Native Americans. Do you agree that when a Native American receives an eagle feather, it is an honor to the recipient and has a special meaning to that person?”
He nodded. “But this doesn’t give you a right to have the feather.”
Katherine smiled and lifted her Thunderbird necklace out and held it up. “This is a special gift from my great-grandmother Hanging Cloud, a member of the Chippewa tribe. She gave it to me for protection. If you know anything about Native Americans, you know about the Thunderbird.”
“You’re a tall, beautiful blonde. I don’t see an ounce of Injun in you.”
Katherine sighed. “My father is German. I have one-eighth Chippewa in me.”
He released a breath and glanced down at her Crow Bow. “You held that bow like you’re an expert archer and that Thunderbird necklace makes me think you might have Native American blood in you. I don’t need to see any more evidence.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “Yeah, and O’Leary told me that you made the eagle feather turn into a mouse—something like shape shifting. Yikes!” The man jumped. “What the hell?” He shook his leg and out popped a mouse. It ran over his shoes and disappeared out the open front door.
He shook his head and walked over to Katherine. He extended his shaking hand. “I apologize for bothering you, miss. I’ll write up a report that you have a legal right to the eagle feather.”
Katherine smiled. “Thank you. And I apologize for throwing tomatoes at you. But I didn’t know what you planned to do to me.”
He laughed. “Well, I do come on like a thug, but in my business, I run into a lot of real criminals who make lots of money from selling Native American artifacts. In business, people are guilty until proven innocent.” He gave her a smile and said, “But you, my lady, are an innocent and must have a sacred mission if you received an eagle feather. But be careful what you do with this gift. If you mishandle the possession of the feather, you may be breaking the law.”
24
NEAL CRAWLED OUT OF bed and dashed to get ready for an action-packed day. The shower water flowed in sync with his review of the day: a morning photo shoot at Wrigley Field and a contract law class in the afternoon. With a quick wash and shave, he barely had enough time to run his hands through his thick, blond hair. Leaping over his dirty jeans and shirts strewn over his bedroom floor, he landed on his bed and dialed the Playboy Mansion. “May I speak with Charlotte Delaney? Neal Meyer is calling.”
Debbie giggled. “I’ll get Charlotte. She’s getting ready to have breakfast. Oh, and next time, you can call and ask for Debbie.”
Neal sighed. “Yeah. Thanks.”
Before Charlotte came to the phone, Neal reviewed his fantastic day with Katherine. The times he had called to speak to Charlotte and Katherine had answered the phone were so different than this conversation with Debbie. Katherine would say hello and get Charlotte. But every time he’d called, he’d wanted to talk to Katherine. Are all stewardesses different from Playboy Bunnies? No. Katherine is different. That’s why she intrigues me.
“Hi, Neal,” Charlotte said, “it’s good to hear from you.”
“Sorry to interrupt your breakfast.”
“Neal, you never interrupt. How’s everything? I let Katherine know you’re interested. I put it in my last note to her. I haven’t talked to her yet. What’s up?”
“I found her at the Third Coast Coffee Shop. I kidded with her. So, I wanted to let you know before you talk to her., I told her I wanted to deck her friend Adam when I saw you with him last night. She thinks you and Adam have a thing now. Hope you don’t mind. But if you could help me out—”
“Adam and I, well, I’m going to New York next week. He wants to take me to the Hamptons. I was trying to remember that quote from that Thoreau guy. You know the one that Adam said describes Katherine. It started, ‘A different drummer,’ I think.”
Neal laughed. “That’s my favorite quote too: ‘If a man does not keep pace with his companions, perhaps it is because he hears a different drummer. Let him step to the music which he hears, however measured or far away.’ Good luck with Adam. Thanks, Charlotte, you’re a smart lady.”
“And good luck with Katherine.”
“Sorry to keep you, but one more thing? Is Katherine involved with any mafia guys?”
“Are you crazy? Her dad’s a lawyer who practiced law in Chicago and warned Katherine before she could say Mama and Dada to never talk to the Chicago mob guys. Long before she ever dreamed of living in Chicago.” Charlotte sighed. “Where did you dig up that idea?”
“This strange guy stalked her when I met her at the Third Coast, and she told me he’s the same jerk that followed her home last night. It’s a long story, but he found her keys on the bus and somehow knew where she lived. I thought he might work for the mob.”
“Katherine’s straight and narrow. I don’t want anyone to hurt her. I have to run, but I will talk with the Playboy security guy, Danny O’Brien. He knows most of the cops in town and his brother is a criminal lawyer.”
“Thanks, Charlotte.”
Neal leaped into his khaki pants and slipped on his white polo shirt. He jammed his feet into his well-worn Weejuns. The sunshine brightened everything in sight as he walked to catch the Red Line to Addison for his Wrigley Field photo shoot. He reviewed all the conversations he’d had with Katherine. He wanted to share everything with her. When would he tell Katherine that he was Jewish?
25
CHARLOTTE RUSHED PAST THE brownstones that lined State Parkway. Her heart pounded with the adrenaline rush and her concern for her friend. Danny O’Brien approached the Playboy Mansion entrance, he spotted Charlotte and smiled, “Good afternoon, Bunny Charlotte.”
“Hey, Danny. You can forget all the Bunny stuff outside the mansion.” Charlotte peeked at her watch. “I’ve got five minutes before I get into my Bunny suit. Do you have a couple of minutes?”
Danny slipped his hands into his pockets. He recalled his brother’s warning to stay away from any involvement with the Bunnies. So far, he’d continued on the straight and narrow, but Charlotte was a sweet girl. He noticed her hands wringing and her blinking eyes. All clues said this was no casual meeting. He recognized a frightened woman.
“Sure, let’s step over here.” He motioned for them to walk to the corner next to the Ambassador Hotel. “It’s better to talk away from the mansion entrance.”
“It’s not me,” Charlotte said once they were out of earshot. “I need you to help my old roommate.”
“Your old roommate?”
“Here’s a picture of her from a couple of years ago when she attended Beloit College. She’s even better looking today.”
Danny examined the photo and gasped. “I recognize her.”
Charlotte cocked her head. “You’ve met?”
Danny took in a deep breath. “I encountered her twice: at the Playboy party and then again at the public library, a couple of days ago.”
“Katherine is the sweetest, most charming lady. At the party, she ran into this guy.” She had to stop and catch her breath before she could continue. “He was on one of her flights to Las Vegas. She was just polite to passengers, but he misunderstood her friendliness.” Charlotte paused for a moment. “The public library? What was she doing there?” She paused and rubbed her brow. “Oh, she said something about an eagle feather. Does that mean anything?”
Danny shrugged. “I don’t know. I wouldn’t be concerned. I’ll see what I can rake up.”
Charlotte glanced at her watch. “Yikes! I should be in my Bunny costume right now.” She gave Danny half a hug. “Thanks, big guy. Please take care of my friend.”
Danny’s knees buckled, and he moved back and smiled. “Hey, no problem. Glad I can help. I’ll keep you updated.”
Danny scratched his head as he watched Charlotte stride away. Something happened there. She’s not a damsel in distress; this is something d
ifferent. Danny cocked his head and smiled. I hope I see her at the club.
Danny dropped a quarter into the slot of the Ambassador’s pay phone to call his brother. “Hey, guy,” he said. “Can you meet at McGuires after work? I need your help.”
“Does it involve a woman?
“Yeah.”
“Is she in trouble?”
“That’s for us to find out.”
Danny hung up and gaped around the Ambassador. Wow. I’m, in the classic hotel where I saw Cary Grant appear in Hitchcock’s North by Northwest, a real thriller. Is Katherine involved in a real life thriller?
26
KATHERINE STOOD IN FRONT of the mailbox at the airport before her flight to Portland with Emma Jean. Legs tingling and chest tight, Katherine tugged the bright blue stationery from her box. The note from Anita, her almost roommate, tumbled out of the box. She wanted to wait to deal with her apartment problem until she got back from her flight. Her father’s favorite quote from Sophocles, “Quick decisions are risky decisions,” kept her from making some big mistakes.
Katherine leaned against her mailbox and read the letter.
Dear Katherine:
I’m so sorry I didn’t have time to talk to you before my life got upended. Things happened fast, and I had little time to decide. Does that ever happen to you? When you read this, I’ll already be living my new life. So here’s what happened.
Dave, my boyfriend, and I lived together. We wanted to get married next fall. I thought the supervisors were spying on us because we lived together. You know they fire stews for living with a man. Well, that’s why I wanted it to look like I had you as my roommate. I planned to pay part of the rent, and you’d have the apartment all to yourself.
Well, before my flight two weeks ago, a supervisor met my flight and escorted me to her office. I didn’t even get to pass go; it was like going to jail. She sat me down and said I’d violated airline policy because I’d gotten married. I don’t know how they knew.
Boy, was I stunned. And we weren’t even married yet. So Dave and I decided that we should get married. I am pregnant, so I would have quit anyway.
When I talked with your roommate, I didn’t think of this idea, but I’m wondering if Dave and I could take over your lease? I didn’t mean to leave you in the lurch, and you only have a couple of weeks before the rent’s due.
I’ll be back from my honeymoon in Cancun on July 15. I’ll call you.
Anita
Katherine shook her head. I can live alone and take care of myself. If I can afford rent, I’ll forget about finding a roommate. How would I replace Charlotte, a lifelong friend, who was like living with a family member?
Katherine folded the letter and stuffed it into her purse. The situation made her think of Mr. Albert Einstein advice: “Life is like riding a bicycle. To keep your balance, you must keep moving.” With a laugh, she whispered, “For me, I change it to a horse, and now I better trot over to check-in.”
Soaring to 30,000 feet, the DC-8 glided into the bright sunlight painting the underlying clouds. Katherine appreciated the golden glow that illuminated the pages of The Diary of Anaïs Nin. She loved this time before they reached cruising altitude when the passengers sat locked in their seats and waited for the captain to turn off the No Smoking sign. Katherine wished the captain could leave the No Smoking sign on the whole flight.
Glancing at the sea of humanity, Katherine wondered who they were, where were they going, and what waited for them at the end of their journeys. Anaïs Nin’s words flowed off the page: “We don’t see things as they are, we see them as we are.” Oh my, this fits me, Katherine, thought. I’ve rushed through life and didn’t take the time to examine people and things in my life. Do they fit? Each person, each experience is like a headlight or guidepost leading us.
“Hey, Darlin’,” Emma Jean said, waving her hand in Katherine’s face. “The captain turned off the No Smoking and Seat Belt signs. It’s time for us to be our charming hostess selves.”
Katherine smiled and snapped her seat belt open. “Let’s go girl; it’s show time.”
After stuffing the last meal tray in the galley, Katherine untied her apron and sighed. Another pleasant meal service with pleased and resting passengers. How many more flights will I take before I move on? Could this be one of my last ones? I should savor each trip because we never know when life takes away. Don’t take anything for granted.
Katherine stretched back on the jump seat and closed her eyes. “At the hotel, I’ll take a warm bath.” She turned to Emma Jean and smiled. “Do you want to walk down to Barbary, the old pirate section of Portland, or take a tour of the Pittock Mansion? It’s haunted.”
Emma Jean rolled her eyes and sighed.
Katherine grabbed her friend’s arm. “Don’t you want an adventure?”
“Remember: you’re the adventurer. I’m just the ever-charming romantic. Give me a tall, dark, handsome man and roses and a candlelight dinner at the best restaurant town.”
Katherine gave her friend a big grin. “Well, then—”
“We hope all you back there enjoyed your flight,” the captain’s cheery voice interrupted. “We’re approaching the beautiful City of Roses. The weather is perfect, and we’re even arriving five minutes ahead of time. Just buckle your seat belts and relax.”
Climbing the lush red carpet to the lobby of the Benson Hotel, Katherine paused to take in the grand crystal chandelier, the English wingback chairs, and the grand piano in the corner of the landmark Portland hotel. “I can’t believe that the airlines use this great hotel for a layover! I feel like a rock star.”
Emma Jean squealed. “Oh, my heavens look at those great mahogany pillars. They must be over 100 feet fall. This lobby reaches to the sky.” Emma Jean raised her chest and tipped her chin toward the ceiling, pretending to be a wealthy Portland socialite.
Katherine shrugged. Once a Southern belle, always a Southern belle. Every time Emma Jean’s real southern character shined, Katherine felt more lost. What is my way? How do I find the actual Katherine hiding behind all these masks?
After checking in, Emma Jean glanced toward the gift shop. “Look at that shop. It must be full of gorgeous clothes. Let’s go and take a peek inside.”
The young women split ways in the store, heading toward their separate interests: Katherine to a fake fur vest and Emma Jean to the mod dresses.
As usual, Katherine made a free choice and went to pay for her vest. True to her nature Emma Jean admired herself in the mirror with every possible dress on the rack. Katherine said yes to every dress. She knew better than to tell her friend her real opinion. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed a tall young Japanese man lost in a trance watching her southern friend.
With ease, the dark, handsome stranger strolled over to Emma Jean and gave a slight bow. “Please excuse me, but may I give my opinion? The red dress is the one you should buy.”
Emma Jean angled her head slightly, trying to look innocent. “Oh my, I did need your help. Do you think this is right for me?”
“Of course,” he said. “And if you buy this dress, I’d be pleased if you’d wear it as my dinner guest this evening.”
Emma Jean turned toward Katherine, who’d already walked halfway to the shop door. “Oh, Katherine, wait.” She paused and turned to the stranger. “Can my friend join us?”
Katherine shivered. “Thanks, Emma Jean, but I’m meeting friends.”
Emma Jean’s brow wrinkled as if to say, What friends? Then a flash of recollection: their silent language for I’m bowing out, you have fun. “Oh, that’s right.” She paused and, with composure, said to the young man. “I don’t go out with strangers. I only go out with gentlemen.”
Katherine giggled as she walked out the door. That woman should win every acting award in the book. Katherine knew her friend had already sized up his income and social status.
This man had all the qualities on Emma Jean’s checklist for acceptable men: money and station wrapped up in
a perfect gentleman.
As the elevator door opened, Katherine felt a tug on her sleeve. “Hey, Darlin’, you didn’t even wait for me.”
“Well, you and that guy hit it off, and I didn’t want to crowd in.”
“He’s nice, and he said he could find a date for you, so you can join us.”
Katherine’s neck rushed with heat. “I can find my partners without your help.”
“He said you’re beautiful and could find any man you want. He was just thoughtful.”
“I appreciate his thoughts, but you know me, I can always find something to do.”
As the elevator door opened to the tenth floor, Emma Jean turned and laughed. “Oh, I forgot, you want to visit the pirate haunts or that Pick Mansion.”
“It’s called Pittock Mansion,” Katherine said as she entered the room. “We’ll both have our fun tonight, right?”
Emma Jean opened her shopping bag and held her new red dress up to show Katherine. “Do you think I bought the right dress?”
“You mean did he buy the right dress, don’t you?”
Emma Jean giggled then glanced at Katherine’s hip hugger pants and fringe suede vest. “You, on the other hand, must find something else to wear if you want to go with us, Darlin’.”
“I can decide what to wear. You’ll have a grand time without me. Besides, I’ve planned an excursion. First, I’ll have dinner at the Barbary Coast where I might meet a swashbuckler. Then I’m going to an after-dinner tour of the Pittock Mansion, the best time to see ghosts lurking in corners.” Katherine shook her hands in the air and rolled her eyes in search of spooks.
