“Now, Kate. Start at the beginning.”
They were sitting at the glass and chrome table in the kitchen. Max was drinking mineral water, and Kate was sipping from a can of cola.
“Are you sure this is all right? I mean, I should get back downstairs, shouldn’t I?”
“Don’t you have your pager?”
“Yes, sir. It’s on my cart.”
Sir? Now that she wasn’t being threatened, his wild woman with the wrench had suddenly become the uncertain employee. “They know where you are. They’ll page you if you’re needed. I’m waiting to hear how you came to take Joe’s place.”
“Well, here goes. I guess it started when I got my last paycheck. I mean, it wasn’t my boss’s fault. He was a nice old man who owned a television repair business. He couldn’t pay me much, but he let me live in the shop. Business wasn’t very good. Then he lost his lease, and my last check bounced. He needed the money more than I did. Otherwise I would have installed a new water pump in my car before I left. I’d already been in Atlanta for three months, and Florida was next on my list. I just took a chance.”
“Do you always take chances?”
Her hair was dry now. It curled softly across her shoulders. Her square-shaped face, bare of any makeup, seemed determined and proud. There was a tiny scar over her upper lip, and he wondered how she’d gotten it. There was something free and natural about the woman that Max couldn’t quite pin down.
“Take chances? Me? Sure, all the time. Don’t you?”
“No. Well, I suppose I do to some extent when I’m playing the market. But even then I never make a move unless I’ve studied all the possibilities carefully.”
“Market? As in stocks?” In her mind, the man across the table changed into the stern, manipulative, cold stockbroker Michael Douglas played in Wall Street. And then Max smiled. “Is that how you made all your money?” she asked.
“No. I inherited a fishing fleet. And I’ve managed to make a few wise investments.”
“Must be nice. I’ve never worked for anybody who was rich. Well, except for Lolly Daye, the owner of Lolly’s Amusement Park in Tennessee, but I never actually met her.”
“Were you a plumber there?”
“No. I was a painter. I worked on the carousel. The animals were magical. There was one special one, a unicorn. He was all white and gold. I could sit on his back, close my eyes, and imagine I was anywhere.”
Carousel. Max had a flashing memory of the first time he’d ever seen the carousel on the Carnival Strip. He’d been just a child. The animals had seemed gigantic to him on the first ride, and he’d held on to his horse’s reins for dear life. Dorothea had been on the giraffe next to him, pretending to be a cowgirl and yahooing at the top of her lungs. He hadn’t thought of that carousel in years.
“What brought you to my hotel?”
“Oh, I never intended to stay here permanently. I knew this place was too rich for my blood. But La Casa del Sol, a place in the sun—I couldn’t resist staying one night. Then came the poodle and the wheelchair, and my car died. It was fate.”
Max took a swallow of mineral water and wondered what he was doing sharing his kitchen with a woman who lived in a TV repair shop, painted carousels, and repaired her own car. He’d never met a woman who moved from place to place.
“I never knew women moved around like that, unless they were circus employees or migrant workers. I thought all women wanted to settle down. You know, roots, that sort of thing.”
“Not me. Not yet. Maybe someday, after I’ve been everywhere and done everything. For now, my plan is to do something different every day for the rest of my life. Roots? That’s just another name for chains. And that’s one thing I’m not interested in. After three months in one place, I’m out. What about you? What do you do for fun?”
“Me? I don’t know. I don’t suppose I ever thought much about it before. I’ve always had goals and worked to reach them. That gives me great pleasure.”
“You mean making money?”
“Yes, I guess it does boil down to that. Goals, problems, solutions, success. Fun never entered into it.”
“Sounds dull to me. How old are you, Max?”
“I’ll be thirty-six on my next birthday. How old are you, Kate?”
“I’ll be twenty-six on my next birthday. At first I thought you were older. More like Cesar than Lorenzo.”
Max wasn’t certain he liked being thought of as old. “Cesar and Lorenzo? Who are they?” he asked curiously. The woman kept him constantly off balance.
“They star in a Friday night television series called Falcon Crest. Cesar Romero is the suave older wealthy lover. Lorenzo Lamas is the young rich stud.”
“I take it you’re making a comparison to my wealth rather than to my sexual prowess.”
Max tilted his head quizzically and gave Kate a smile that made her feel all warm and tingly.
“Well, sure, of course,” she mumbled. “You’re rich, aren’t you?”
“I suppose so. I don’t think much about it.”
“You don’t watch much television, do you?”
“Not much. And you don’t impress me as the type to watch television, either. That seems rather a tame pastime for a liberated lady plumber.”
“I watched television with my mother, six years of television. I haven’t always been a liberated traveling lady.”
“Oh, what liberated you?”
“My mother died.”
An uncomfortable silence followed Kate’s statement. Max felt his throat tighten. “I’m sorry,” he said softly, and touched her hand. “My mother died, too, when I was very small.”
“I was twenty-four. That’s when I hit the road,” Kate said, allowing herself to enjoy the unexpected comfort of his touch for a moment before she pulled her hand away. “I guess I’d better go. I’m sorry about the mess. But I really do know what I’m doing, and I’ll get the water temperature problem fixed as soon as I get a new shower head.”
She stood up and started toward the door, stopping to retrieve the maintenance cart.
“Wait,” Max said sharply. “I still don’t know about Dorothea Jarrett, the lady in the wheelchair.”
“Oh, yeah. Well, there was this poodle. He ran out of the hotel and caught his leash in Dorothea’s wheelchair and pulled her toward your pool. She was about to take a swim with her clothes on when I stopped her chair. I couldn’t take money as a reward, but she was pretty insistent. Then I found out that my car had committed suicide in your driveway. I know this must sound pretty wild to you.”
“No, no it doesn’t. I’ve had some experience with this manipulating lady. Dorothea has never been known to do anything the ordinary way if she could make it more exciting.”
“Well, she convinced the manager to hire me. I’d probably never have taken the job if it hadn’t been for my car. But they told me that Joe was going to be gone for two weeks and that he was your live-in maintenance man. Hey! It was fate. I fill in for Joe, get my two weeks’ pay, and live in La Casa del Sol.” Kate pressed the elevator button, watched the door slide silently open, and stepped inside.
“Even Kate Hepburn couldn’t ask for more than that. Good night, Mr. Sorrenson. By the way, if you’re going out, you’d better change your shoes.”
“Why?”
The elevator door closed.
Good night? Max looked down at his watch. Eight-thirty. Good Lord. Almost as hour earlier he’d been due to pick up Danni Manderson for dinner. Instead he’d mopped a bathroom floor, cleaned the mirrored wall, and sat at his kitchen table talking to his hotel maintenance man … eh, woman. He’d completely forgotten about Danni.
But he did remember that sometime during the disaster they’d just weathered, he’d considered firing Kate. Instead he’d held her hand and comforted her.
Max looked at himself in the mirrored wall of the entranceway. He was grinning like some silly yokel. Mirrors. They really were wonderful things. Walking into his study, he located his
calendar and jotted down a reminder to his secretary to write to his decorator and thank her for the mirrors. He wasn’t certain that he’d taken proper notice of them before.
He tried to call Danni, but she didn’t answer. Feeling guilty but not knowing what else to do, Max decided to visit with Dorothea. The story of the poodle and the rescue was too intriguing for him to overlook. He went into his closet and chose a jacket. What was it Kate had said about his shoes? He looked at his feet and burst out laughing.
Max Sorrenson, who never left his apartment without coordinating his clothes, was wearing one brown loafer and one black one. He grinned, shrugged his shoulders, and exchanged both shoes for a pair of sneakers that he rarely wore. He started out the door, returned to his desk, and added a postscript to the note to his secretary.
“Order Alpo for the poodle, who wasn’t supposed to be in the hotel anyway, and … smaller coveralls for Kate.”
He studied his note for a moment and scribbled again.
“Have a television set installed in the bedroom.”
Almost at the elevator, he paused once more, turned, and made one final note.
“Invite Kate for dinner on Friday night.”
Two
The insistent ringing of the phone awakened Kate. She sat up abruptly.
For a moment, she had forgotten where she was. She reached for the phone and put it to her ear.
“Kate, is it? This is Ricardo, the night manager. Sorry you have to start your second day on the job at five-thirty in the morning, but we have a little problem in nine-oh-four with one of our resident guests, Mrs. Jarrett. I’ll meet you at the elevator.”
Kate splashed cold water on her face, trying to force herself awake enough to tackle a problem. She quickly pulled on a fresh pair of Joe’s coveralls and ran a comb through her hair. Heading down the sidewalk that led from the housekeeping wing to the lobby, she shivered in the gray dawn air.
“Good. That was quick,” the slim, dark-skinned man waiting by the door said in approval. “Normally Mrs. Jarrett has a companion with her, but Lucy left several days ago and isn’t back yet. Mrs. Jarrett asked for you.”
Kate yawned and followed Ricardo to the elevator. Mrs. Jarrett again. “What’s wrong?”
“I don’t know, but it sounded urgent. If you don’t already know it, Mrs. Jarrett is one of our most important resident guests. She keeps things lively.”
“I figured that out yesterday when she browbeat your day manager into giving me this job. Why is she in a wheelchair?” Kate asked, as much to let him know that she wasn’t sleepwalking as for information.
“Arthritis, I think. She can walk with difficulty, but she uses her wheelchair most of the time. Don’t let her helpless appearance fool you. She’s about as innocent as a killer bee. I just hope that the problem is something we can solve.”
“If it’s maintenance work, I think I can handle the job,” Kate replied. “I’ve had training in mechanics, carpentry, and plumbing. Anything else I can probably fake.”
“Not necessary. We always keep three maintenance men on duty in the daytime. Anything you can’t do, somebody else can. Mr. Sorrenson insists that everybody work together around here. We have a good team.”
“I met Mr. Sorrenson last night. He’s quite young to be so successful, isn’t he? What kind of man is he?” Besides being strong, silent, sensual, and knee-knocking sexy? she added silently.
“He’s pretty much a recluse. Doesn’t mix much with outsiders. Just lives up there and plays with his computers, his fishing boats, and his real estate. I think he’d rather deal with spread sheets than people. He’s a fair man, but he doesn’t get involved. He expects us to do our jobs, and we do.”
“Really?” That didn’t sound much like the man she’d talked with at his kitchen table.
They reached the ninth floor, room 904. Ricardo knocked and directed his voice into a speaker panel beside the door. “It’s Ricardo, ma’am, and Kate.”
“Let Kate in. You go away.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Ricardo unlocked the door and gave Kate a shrug of his shoulders. It was clear that he was glad to be dismissed. “If you need help, I’ll be at the desk.”
Every light in the suite was burning when Kate entered. She blinked her eyes in protest and closed the door behind her. There was no sign of Dorothea.
“Mrs. Jarrett? Where are you?”
“Are you alone?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Well, come in here. I’m in the bathroom, and I can’t get this bony old body out of this damn slippery lily pond they call a hot tub.”
Kate followed the voice into a bedroom-sized bath that must have been designed for some movie star out of the nineteen-forties.
Black marble tiles covered the floor and ran over the side of a lotus-shaped pool, which was filled with rose-perfumed bubbles. In the midst of the bubbles was the pink-faced cherubic woman with her arms crossed in regal disdain.
“What seems to be the problem?”
“The problem? Criminey, woman, use what sense the Lord gave you. Whoever created this swimming pool failed to take into consideration that there are those of us who need sides, normal sides. I told them I didn’t want a hot tub in here anyway. Well? Don’t just stand there, come and get me out.”
“Come into the tub?”
“Unless you have the power to levitate.”
Kate tried to keep a straight face as she considered Day Two of her grand adventure in the hotel of the rich and famous. Only a few hours earlier she’d practically drowned herself in the penthouse. Now she was about to be knee-deep in bubble bath. This was some party she’d been invited to.
Kate slipped out of her shoes, got a firm grip on her sense of humor, and stepped into the tub. She reached down to lift the slender frame of a very nude and very slippery Mrs. Dorothea Jarrett. Between the bubble bath and the downward slant of the hot tub, the chore was proving to be more difficult than she’d anticipated. She couldn’t get leverage on the helpless old woman.
“How did you plan to get out?”
“I never plan. Of course, I’ve never used any of this bubble bath before, either. How was I to know it would make the sides slippery? If I hadn’t brought my portable phone along, I’d probably be a prune by the time anybody found me.”
Just as Kate thought she was making progress, her foot hit a cake of soap, and down she went, skidding into a startled Mrs. Jarrett. Water sloshed over the sides. Mrs. Jarrett was hit by a tidal wave of foam, and Kate went under like the Titanic.
Kate came up sputtering. As the absurdity of the scene flashed through her mind, she began to laugh. Mascara ran down Dorothea’s face in wavy black lines. The older woman lifted eyelids heavy with false eyelashes and glared for a moment at Kate before a choked-back giggle emerged like a giant hiccup.
“If this isn’t a fine kettle of fish,” Mrs. Jarrett said with a chuckle.
“Let me try sitting on the edge of the tub,” Kate said. “I’ll pull you up the side.”
It worked. At least, Kate got her up the edge. Though Mrs. Jarrett was fairly light, it took lots of effort on Kate’s part to get the woman into a chair.
“If you’ll just hand me a towel and my robe, I’ll manage. You did that rather well, considering how small you are, Kate,” Mrs. Jarrett complimented her.
“I’ve had some experience in lifting people. My mother was an invalid for almost six years, and she had to be moved around.”
“Was?”
Dorothea’s question was a normal one, Kate thought, and her answer came easily for the first time. “She died two years ago.”
“I’m sorry, Kate. What brought you to Florida?” Dorothea wrapped herself in the towel and began drying her face.
“Well, you remember those television commercials the temporary employment services used to run about working your way across the country? I decided if a typist could do it, so could I—three months at a time.”
“Why just three months?”
/> “I don’t want to get tied down. After twenty-four years of being in one place, I made up my mind that I would fill my life with grand adventures. By setting a time limit, I don’t—won’t—stay too long.”
“But don’t you get lonely?”
“Lonely is when you don’t have friends. I have friends everywhere. Each new job is a challenge, and I love it. Of course, my life isn’t without its little problems—take my car for example. But I don’t mind. You have to expect a little sour with the sweet.”
“If life sends you lemons, you make lemonade. I like that philosophy. How do you like the Carnival Strip so far?”
“So far I’ve found it a bit wet, but once I learn my way around, I’m sure that I’m going to enjoy it.”
Kate slid her hands down the legs of her coveralls, squeezing the water over the tub. She reached for a towel to blot her face as she slipped her feet back into her loafers.
“I like you, Kate Weston. I truly do. And I think I have the perfect idea.”
“I’m afraid to ask.” Kate gave her hair one more vigorous rub as she waited to hear Mrs. Jarrett’s newest plan.
“I’m going to have the hotel manager let me borrow you for this evening. I like a person who uses lemons to make lemonade.” Dorothea slapped her thigh in glee. “Yes sir-ree! I’m going to help you learn your way around. We’ll have some fun. Oh, dear, you did get rather wet, didn’t you?”
Kate used the wet towels to soak up the water that had spilled over the tub edge and then threw them into the hamper. “Yes, rather.” Kate laughed. “But that seems to go with the job. We’re both a mess. What else can I do to help you?”
“You can start by pushing me to my bed. I need to get some sleep. Don’t know why I stay up so late,” she said as she removed the pink shower cap and fluffed her silver hair.
Kate steadied the chair as Dorothea stood, grimaced, and swung around to lie back on her bed, still wrapped in the huge towel. “Go along with you now. I’m going straight to sleep. Just be back at eight o’clock tonight and wear a party dress. We’re going to have dinner with my nephew.”
Penthouse Suite Page 2
