Do Not Disturb

by Carsen Taite

  “I can’t think of a reason I’d want to do that.”

  “Because I told Linda that the woman I’d met here in the Land of Enchantment was truly enchanting. I told her I wasn’t going to divulge anything else about you, or about us, for fear of blowing any chance I might have at having a relationship with you.”

  Ainsley sighed. The words were perfect, but she didn’t know if she was ready to trust them. The call she’d made that morning was as much risk as she was willing to take for now. If she took any more steps outside her comfortable black-and-white existence, she was scared where they might lead. “We got off on the wrong foot and you’re not my type. We have absolutely nothing in common.” Greer didn’t look the least bit dissuaded by her proclamation, so Ainsley roughed it up. “I think I made it clear I don’t care for Greer Davis, and if I’d known you were her, we never would have even had a conversation, let alone…”

  She didn’t have a description for what they had shared. She didn’t have a framework by which to judge their encounter, and she didn’t have the words to give it a proper name. But it didn’t matter. Ainsley could tell by the combined expression of sadness and anger that crossed Greer’s face that her remark had done the trick.

  Greer closed the distance to the door as if the room were about to explode. She paused briefly in the doorway, her back to Ainsley, her words barely audible. “I’m sorry.”

  Her departure sucked the life out of the room and Ainsley was at once relieved and disappointed. Might be time for that drink now. The hotel bar is going to have to do. She waited to allow enough time for Greer to make her exit from the hotel and then walked to the hotel bar.

  “Ms. Faraday, do you have a minute?” The young lady at the front desk looked genuinely distressed and Ainsley detoured in her direction. “I have a problem with the…”

  Ainsley didn’t hear the rest of her words. She was focused on the site of Greer climbing into the oldest, ugliest car ever to grace the valet entrance of a Steel hotel. I thought the news said she was driving a shiny new Vette. Cursing herself for having internalized any part of the constant stream of gossip about Greer, she decided to do some fact checking of her own. Ainsley strode over to the bell stand and tried to appear casual. She maneuvered so she could read the young man’s name badge: Joey. “Can you believe that clunker?”

  Joey blushed a deep red and his tone was defensive. “It may not look great on the outside, but my car is tougher than it looks. I’ve driven it since high school. I had planned to drive it until it fell apart on the road.”

  Ainsley started to remark that it looked as if that could happen any moment, but she stopped herself and replayed the words Joey had spoken. “I thought I saw Greer at the wheel?”

  “I thought she just wanted to borrow it, but she said she would need it longer. Her uncle isn’t comfortable in her car because it’s too low to the ground. She’s going to be taking care of him. I told her to keep it as long as she needed, but she insisted we make a permanent deal.” He held up a shiny new key and stared at it as if it would evaporate. “She traded me for the Vette.”

  Ainsley was as confused as he was flustered. Trading her sleek and shiny car for a jalopy? Sure didn’t seem like the Greer Davis she knew. She chastised herself. All you know about Greer Davis is what you read in the paper or see on TV. She hadn’t shared more than a dozen words with the bell captain since she arrived at the hotel, but she felt compelled to ask, “She’s taking care of her uncle?”

  “Clayton Lancer. He used to own the hotel before your company bought the place.” He offered a sheepish grin Ainsley found strangely engaging. “I guess you know that already.” Ainsley smiled back and nodded in encouragement. “Anyway, he was, is, a great guy. The Lancer Hotel was his pride and joy. It’s a shame he got sick.”

  “How is he doing?”

  “Not so well. Drew says the doctors aren’t very optimistic. The treatment is supposed to prolong his life, but it won’t save it. Guess it’s good he sold the place so he can relax a little in retirement. If he was working, he wouldn’t be able to spend time visiting with Greer.”

  It was the longest string of conversation she had shared with any of the employees who weren’t on the management team. Everyone else clammed up whenever she walked in the room. Apparently, Joey hadn’t signed on to the “don’t talk to the big bad corporate villains” petition, and Ainsley decided to take advantage by pressing him for more information.

  “Are they close?”

  “Super close. Mr. Lancer is like a dad to Greer. She lived with them all through high school and spent most summers during college staying at the ranch and working here at the hotel.”

  None of these bits of information fit neatly into the mental image Ainsley carried around of Greer Davis. She shoved them into her head and quickly shut the door before they could all come tumbling out. She’d sort out the mess later when her head wasn’t fuzzy from the combination of sizzling kisses and mixed-up messages. Why do I even care? Despite her rattled condition, the answer was clear. Ainsley wasn’t done with Greer Davis. Nor did she want to be.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Greer jumped at the sound of the alarm. It was the first time she had used one since…well, she couldn’t remember the last time she had used an alarm clock. She had staff trained to deal with most situations, which kept her from having to wake before her body decided it was ready to greet the day, but this morning she had a promise to keep.

  As she dressed in her hastily purchased new clothes, she was relieved to see her old self looking back in the mirror. Being a natural blonde was indeed everything it was cracked up to be, except when it came to winning over a certain hotel executive. Greer wondered what her relationship with Ainsley would be like if they had been seated on the plane and Ainsley had actually known who she was. Would the same sparks have flown between them? Would she have had the courage to kiss her? Would Ainsley have slapped her instead of returning the kiss? Greer shrugged at her reflection and decided her idle mental reflections would get her nowhere. She desperately wanted to win over Ainsley, but after yesterday’s encounter, she knew she had to start by being the kind of person Ainsley obviously preferred. Responsible.

  “Greer, honey, are you up?” Aunt Ellen poked her head in the door and Greer laughed at the incredulous expression on her face. “Didn’t expect to see me up, let alone dressed, did you?”

  Ellen smiled indulgently at her. “Not really.” She pointed at Greer’s head. “I’m glad to see you back to your old self.”

  “I’m not so sure my old self is what I want to be right now.”

  “We all have baggage, dear. It’s how you carry it that counts.”

  Greer drew her into a bear hug. “Why are you always so damn nice?”

  Ellen squeezed hard. “Don’t get me wrong, you are a chore sometimes, but we love you. All we really want is for you to be happy.” Ellen pulled back and looked her square in the eyes. “You have reached the pinnacle of success, but I don’t know if you’ve been happy in a long time. Am I right?”

  She could only nod. Ellen pulled her back into the hug and whispered in her ear, “It’s not too late. It’s never too late.”

  Greer relaxed into her motherly embrace and felt some of her stress fade in the face of the love flowing between them. As if she could tell when Greer was finally feeling better, Aunt Ellen released her and stepped back. “Are you sure you don’t want to stay home and relax today? I’m going anyway. I don’t mind driving.”

  “Actually, I’m looking forward to having something useful to do. And I have a more comfortable car for Uncle Clayton to ride in.” Greer imagined the surprised look her aunt would have when she ushered them into Joey’s jalopy. Truth was even though the old sedan didn’t look so hot, it was still in great shape and was a very comfortable ride. Greer had announced at dinner that she planned to contribute to the household by serving as the house’s chief chauffeur and errand runner. She wanted to be more involved in her uncle’s medic
al treatment. She figured by taking care of whatever needs they had in town, she would free them up to relax at home and Uncle Clayton could concentrate on getting well.

  They seemed surprised at her announcement she planned to stick around until her tour started. She shared with them the gist of her meeting with Clayton’s lawyer, and her decision to employ a temporary agent to help her manage her affairs until she had a more permanent solution. What she didn’t share was the primary reason for her decision to stay. She had a very important mission: win the love of Ainsley Faraday.

  *

  “Why don’t you two come on back?” the nice, pretty nurse called out to Ellen and Greer. As they passed through the door leading into the inner sanctum of the doctor’s office, Greer paused by the familiar pit bull seated at the receptionist desk. When the receptionist glanced up, she could feel a growl coming her way. Greer offered a tentative smile. “Hi, I’d like to reintroduce myself. I’m Clayton Lancer’s niece. I appreciate how well all of you have been taking care of him. Thank you.” Her prepared speech delivered, Greer didn’t wait for a response, instead following her aunt into the doctor’s office.

  “We’ll wait a few weeks to run another scan, but I’m hopeful. The PET scan performed midcycle was promising. I believe we’ll have even better results with additional treatment.” Dr. Prescott leaned back in his chair. “Questions?”

  “I have a couple,” Greer heard herself say. She glanced at Clayton as if to ask permission. At his nod, she continued. “Can you define ‘promising’ and ‘better results’? I’d like to have a point of reference.”

  Dr. Prescott looked at his patient, and Clayton answered, “You can speak freely to my niece.”

  “Your uncle has small cell lung cancer, Stage Three. We’re treating him to prolong his life, but I can’t guarantee, nor do I think it’s likely, we’ll cure the cancer. The best we can hope for is to keep it at bay and allow him to have some quality of life for longer than he would without the treatment. We’ll scan him every so often and make determinations as we go about whether additional treatment would be helpful.”

  Greer quickly realized she hadn’t braced herself adequately for the heavy dose of realism the doctor had just delivered. She wanted to shout questions about the point of all the gut-wrenching treatment her uncle was having to endure if all he could expect was a vague prognosis of a “longer” life. She held her tongue. Clayton was a grown man and a wise one too. The questions she needed to ask were how she could best take care of him.

  “I’m sure you’ve explained this to the rest of the family in the past, but I want to know what else we should be watching out for?”

  As if he knew she needed the encouragement, Dr. Prescott said, “Good question. Clayton here has a tendency to minimize his symptoms. Watch for anything out of the ordinary.” He shook his finger at both Greer and Ellen. “But don’t hover.” They nodded their understanding. “If something doesn’t seem right between now and the next scan, bring him in, and we’ll check it out. I’ll have my nurse give you a pamphlet on your way out with tips about what you should watch out for.”

  He walked them out of his office and shook hands with Greer before leaving them at the receptionist’s desk to wait for the nurse. Greer had her back to the desk and didn’t notice her trying to get her attention until her aunt pointed out she was waving a copy of People magazine in her direction. Greer remembered her tirade from earlier in the week and dreaded the payback she was about to receive. She leaned in, an apology on her lips, but before she could say a word, the receptionist spoke first.

  “My fifteen-year-old niece would like your autograph. Do you mind?” She didn’t wait for an answer, but began spelling “E-U-N-I-C-E.”

  Greer smiled, took the offered pen and autographed her photo on the cover of the magazine. She wanted to write words of condolence for the rock ’n’ roll–loving teenager with the old-fashioned name, but she scrawled a more general dedication and returned the magazine to Ms. Grouchy-pants.

  *

  Ainsley was instantly annoyed at the sight of Paul consuming a monstrous plate of what looked like a rapidly sinking submarine. She jerked a chair back and plopped into the seat at his table. “What the hell are you eating?”

  “The most amazing meal ever.”

  “I can’t believe we serve something so hideous.” She couldn’t bring herself to try the food, but from the menu it was apparent piles of tortillas, cheese, and random other goopy substance qualified as haute cuisine here in the outpost of the Southwest. Tourists and locals alike flocked to eat the stuff. She picked up a fork and poked at the green and red mess on Paul’s plate. “I ask again, what is it?”

  “Breakfast burrito,” Paul mumbled between bites. “Christmas.”

  Ainsley decided Paul had been body snatched. The trim and dapper man she knew lived for five-star cuisine. The mess on his plate was anything but. He was so far gone, he thought it was a holiday. “Christmas?” she asked, thinking she was probably starting a pointless conversation.

  He paused between bites to explain with great deliberation, as if Ainsley were the slowest person on earth. “Red chile. Green chile. Together, it’s Christmas.” Ainsley shook her head. Paul picked up a fork from the other place setting, heaped it high with a glob of the mixture on his plate, and shoved it Ainsley’s way. Ainsley pursed her lips in protest, but Paul kept coming at her, and to save her suit from flying food debris, Ainsley finally opened her mouth and let the mess enter.

  Soft, buttery flavors from the egg, cheese, and tortilla danced with the tang and heat of the chile sauce to form a taste nirvana. She chewed slowly to savor every last sensation. As the last bit dissolved in her mouth, she closed her eyes and sighed with regret. Charlie Trotter’s, watch out!

  Paul laughed out loud. “See, isn’t it wonderful? Now do you get why I don’t want to mess with the menus?”

  “Shut up and give me another bite.”

  Drew joined them at the table. “I see how it is. Current management does all the work, while you two sit around eating.” She placed a box next to Ainsley. “This was just delivered for you.”

  “Weird. I’m not expecting anything.”

  “Well, it’s from Señor Murphy, so if you don’t want it, I get first dibs.”

  “Who is Señor Murphy?”

  Drew gave her a disdainful look, but her tone was teasing. “Do you not get out at all? Señor Murphy Candymaker is a premier Southwestern chocolatier, right here in the City Different. If you haven’t had Señor Murphy’s candy, you haven’t lived.”

  “Then I suppose I should see what’s in the box.” Ainsley unwrapped the box and glanced inside. “Peanut brittle? It looks different.”

  Drew pulled the box out of her hands. She rifled through the wrapping and handed Ainsley a card. “This isn’t peanut brittle. This is chile piñon brittle. Completely different thing. Much, much better.”

  Paul reached over and snagged a piece of the reddish brown candy while Ainsley read the card. I hope you enjoy this even though it’s not what you’re used to. Here’s hoping you like a bit of spice with your sweets. Yours, Greer.

  Ainsley read the card half a dozen times before she noticed Paul waving a piece of the brittle in her direction. “Who’s the amazing person who sent this? I want to write them a thank-you note. I’ll write you one too since I’m about to eat this entire box myself.”

  Ainsley slapped his hand away. “None of your business, and that’s your last piece, by the way. This is mine.” Ainsley placed the lid on the box and left the table, ignoring the questioning looks on Drew and Paul’s faces. She was surprised and touched by the gift. She hadn’t expected to hear from Greer again, let alone in such a thoughtful way. Ainsley took the box to her room, where she could experience the dual sensations of hot and sweet in private.

  *

  Greer carried in the last bag of groceries from the car and plunked it on the table. She felt good doing normal things like buying groceries. Except for her tr
ip to the drugstore when she’d first arrived, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d actually purchased everyday things like toothpaste and bread. People at the market had recognized her as she pushed a cart through the aisles and consulted with her aunt about the list, but the locals left her alone. A few tourists ventured closer, and Greer had braced herself for an onslaught of displeasure. Instead, the few who talked to her told her they had seen her TV interview and they hoped her life would return to normal soon. She signed a few autographs on random grocery lists and then helped her aunt load the car. Pretty normal.

  “Greer,” Ellen called out, “there’s a Mr. Berkley on the phone for you.” The name sounded familiar. Oh yeah, the agent her uncle’s lawyer had lined up to assist until she found someone permanent to replace Rick. Berkley would be working on a trial basis for now, and Greer had a task ready to test his skills.

  “Thanks, I’ll take it in the den.” Greer spent the next twenty minutes outlining her request. She wanted to kick off her world tour early with a concert at Paolo Soleri Amphitheater in Santa Fe—a benefit for the Lung Cancer Society. The Paolo Soleri was a rustic outdoor amphitheater on the grounds of the Santa Fe Indian School with terrific acoustics and a breathtaking view of the Sangre de Cristo mountain range. Young Greer Davis, playing all the smoky bars in town, had once equated success with taking the stage at the Paolo Soleri. The storm of success blew her by that dream, ultimately landing her at venues like Madison Square Garden, Wembley Stadium, and Red Rocks Amphitheater. Two weeks ago, she would have said she had experienced all the success she had ever dreamed of having. Now, all she wanted was to make her teenage wish come true.

  She outlined her general take on the event. She wouldn’t take any of the proceeds, and she would cover the cost of her band. All she wanted him to do was make the arrangements on a tight time frame.

  She was pleasantly surprised at his response. After a few pointed questions, he simply said “I’ll make the arrangements” and ended the call, presumably to do just that. Rick would have spent more time and energy listing the reasons she couldn’t and shouldn’t do a freebie concert than it would have taken to put the concert together in the first place.