Special of the Day
Page 29
“When you said dress up, you meant dress up,” she said, her eyes raking him hungrily from head to toe. He looked…classic. Like he belonged in a 1940s movie right next to Cary Grant. He’d even had his hair trimmed.
He stood casually, his hands in his pockets, and appreciated the sight of her with a low, “Mm, mm, mm.” He tilted his head, and his eyes—she could swear they were actually twinkling—met hers. “You look incredible.”
She smiled, unable to contain it. “Thank you.”
He held out an arm. “Shall we?”
With a light laugh, she took his arm, closing the door behind her. “This is awfully fancy for a trip to our own restaurant.”
“You’re thinking about this the wrong way. We’re not going to our own restaurant. We are going to have the Chez Soi experience. Just like any other patron. Though I suspect we’ll be given something of the V.I.P. treatment.”
She looked him up and down again. “I’ll say. I can’t wait for Rita to see you in that tux.”
Sir Nigel opened the door for them with the broadest smile Roxanne had ever seen on his face. “Good evening, mademoiselle, monsieur. Your table is almost ready. Would you mind waiting at the bar a moment?”
It was a Wednesday night, but there was a fair number of people in the restaurant anyway. Two seats at the near end of the bar were open and they made their way to them, saying hello to some of the regulars as they passed.
Steve had just pulled out a bar stool for her when the white-haired gentleman who was always at the bar—the one Steve had said only ordered thirty-year-old single-malt Scotch—rose from his seat and came toward them.
“Hello,” he said, his face creased and kindly. He was shorter than both Steve and Roxanne, so she sat to even them up a little.
“Mr. Shumaker,” Steve said, taking his outstretched hand. “How are you tonight?”
“I’m fine, fine,” he said, looking the two of them up and down. “You all look fit for a coronation. What’s the occasion?”
“Just checking out the restaurant from the other side of the kitchen doors,” Roxanne said with a smile. “Can we buy you a drink, Mr. Shumaker?”
“Well, that’d be lovely.” His eyes crinkled when he smiled and he took the seat Steve offered him as Roxanne ordered their drinks. “Though I fear I have to take you to task, Miss Rayeaux, for depriving me of my favorite bartender.”
Roxanne glanced up at Steve, who stood next to her, his arm circling her on the back of her chair. “Now don’t go pinning that on me. Steve’s the one who got his book published. Besides, he’ll be back, part-time.”
“No kidding. You got your book published?” Mr. Shumaker looked at him with delighted eyes. “The one about Jefferson’s cousin?”
Roxanne laughed again. “Is there anyone you didn’t tell that story to?”
Steve glanced around the bar. “Nobody here.”
“And when is this book coming out, young man?” He looked expectantly at Steve.
“Next spring.” Steve’s smile was beyond gratified. The culmination of all his hard work had been better than his wildest dreams. The advance he had received had been much larger than he’d expected, and the publisher had decided to devote quite a bit to publicity, since there was already so much to be built on.
“They’re even sending me on a book tour,” Steve added. “Ten cities, can you believe it?”
“Wonderful, wonderful,” Mr. Shumaker said. “I think I heard something about the discovery you made here. Do you mind if I ask a little bit about it?”
“Sure, fire away,” Steve said.
To Roxanne’s surprise, Mr. Shumaker pulled a pair of glasses and a small, spiral-bound pad of paper from his breast pocket.
“Tell me what led you to that spot in the cellar. In fact, tell me everything. Start at the beginning.” He grinned and donned the glasses.
Happily, Steve launched into the story of how he’d followed the theories, studied the house’s history, then found the letters and discovered the missing staircase.
Roxanne sipped her drink, watching Mr. Shumaker take notes while Steve talked. He continued to ask questions and Steve answered, warming to his topic like a mother going on about her newborn.
“So if it wasn’t for the cat,” Mr. Shumaker concluded at the end of the tale, “and that night that resulted in the first review of this place, the bad one, this ‘fair copy’ of the Declaration of Independence might never have been found.”
“Maybe not,” Steve said, “though I like to think I might have found it without Cheeto’s help.”
Roxanne corrected him. “Don’t forget, we’re calling him Sherlock now.”
“That’s right.” Steve chuckled. “Mr. Holmes.”
“So you dug at the base of where that hidden staircase would have been,” Mr. Shumaker reviewed, “and found the…jar, was it?”
“Yes, an old pickling jar. One of the larger types, with the document folded once and rolled up inside.” Steve leaned forward. “And it’s interesting. Because Portner had sealed it with a combination of mutton tallow, beeswax and camphor, the parchment was protected from humidity. And being in a basement, which is a pretty constant fifty-five degrees, it was protected from heat. Finally, being buried, it was not exposed to sunlight. So despite being folded and neglected for nearly two hundred years, it held up incredibly well, better than the final copy we’re all familiar with.”
Mr. Shumaker shook his head as he finished writing. “That’s just fascinating. So where is the document now?”
“It’s on indefinite loan,” Roxanne said, looking warmly at Steve, “to the Library of Congress.”
Mr. Shumaker sat back in his chair. “Well, that’s mighty generous.”
“We haven’t decided what we’re going to do with it yet,” Roxanne said, “but it didn’t feel right to auction it off.”
Mr. Shumaker tapped his pencil eraser on the table and looked at them both shrewdly. “I heard you also included a one-hundred-dollar donation. What was that about?”
Steve laughed. “Where’d you hear that?”
He smiled. “I have my sources.”
Steve shook his head. “Restaurants. The last place you want to be if you have a secret.”
Roxanne’s hand found Steve’s as she said, “I guess you could say that hundred dollars had been burning a hole in our pockets for quite some time, so we decided to give it away.”
“At least for the moment,” Steve murmured.
Roxanne glanced at him.
“Last question,” Mr. Shumaker said, taking off his glasses and setting them carefully on the bar. “What ever happened to that big friend of yours, Steve? The policeman? I heard he was somehow involved in this. Unfavorably involved, I should say.”
Steve and Roxanne both gaped at him.
“My God,” Steve said. “How do you know all this?”
Mr. Shumaker smiled and looked down at his lap. “I’ll be honest with you, Steve, because I like you. You too, Miss Rayeaux.” He leaned toward them, his voice dropping conspiratorially. “I work for D.C. Scene. I have, you might say, a nose for news.” He tapped the side of his nose with a gnarled finger.
Roxanne gasped as the penny dropped in her mind. “You’re the gossip columnist.”
Mr. Shumaker wiggled his eyebrows and grinned like an Irish leprechaun. “I hear things, I write them down.” He patted his breast pocket. “But don’t worry, I won’t print anything you don’t want me to. The only reason I printed that other stuff was because I was here that night the Post’s reviewer came…and well, I just wanted to be sure my favorite restaurant was going to be around for a while despite what he might write.”
“You’ve got to be kidding,” Steve said. “That was you? You saved us.”
Mr. Shumaker chuckled. “Everybody loves a scandal. That’s one constant about living in D.C. Not to mention everyone loves to dine with the rich and powerful.”
“I don’t know,” Roxanne said slowly, unsure what to make of this t
urn of events. She still didn’t like the idea of showing up in a gossip column. “I think it was Richards’s second review that really saved us.”
The old man’s eyes twinkled as he looked at the two of them. “Richards owed me a favor. After I found out a little gossip about him.”
Roxanne’s eyes widened. “You blackmailed him to review us again?”
Mr. Shumaker laughed. “He was happy enough after he ate here again. Said he would have raved whether I had anything on him or not.”
“Well…I just don’t know what to make of that.” Roxanne continued to look at the man curiously. He had saved them—that second review had brought the crowds rolling in—but had it been…ethical?
“Now don’t give me that pretty look, missy,” Mr. Shumaker said with a wag of one bony finger. “I’m not divulging what I had on him. That was part of the deal.” He smiled impishly. “And you wouldn’t feel sorry for the man, either, if you knew what I know about him.”
Roxanne couldn’t help it, she laughed.
“So what happened to the cop?” Mr. Shumaker asked again, looking at Steve.
Steve hesitated. “Oh, I don’t know. I’d rather you didn’t publicize P.B.’s part in this.”
“No, no,” Mr. Shumaker waved a hand. “Off the record. I’m just curious. Only thing I’m going to write about tonight is your book. With your permission of course.”
It was all Steve needed to hear. He explained that after they’d discovered P.B. was behind the break-ins, they decided that they had to inform P.B.’s bosses. Even though they thought this was just a one-time thing, if he was so unscrupulous as to use his position to cover up something like that, they reasoned, they couldn’t in good conscience let him continue to have the power of a police officer.
Lucky for P.B., his captain let him simply quit, telling him that a bad evaluation would be placed in his file so he could never work on a police force again, but that since Steve and Roxanne were not going to press charges, he could not be prosecuted.
“I never liked that guy,” Mr. Shumaker said. “He was loud and disruptive. Not nearly as funny as he thought he was. A good way to ruin a nice Scotch on a winter’s evening.”
Steve laughed a little and looked down at his plate. “He’s not so bad.”
“Well, I’ll leave you two to your drinks.” Mr. Shumaker put his palms on the bar and stood up. “I hope you enjoy your dinner. I know I’ll enjoy mine.”
“Thank you,” Roxanne said.
“Oh, one last question?” he asked, turning back to them with his impish smile.
“On the record or off?” Steve asked.
“Up to you.”
Steve chuckled. “Depends on the question.”
Mr. Shumaker raised a shrewd brow in his direction. “I’m just wondering about you two. What’s next for Alexandria’s hottest couple?”
“We’re just enjoying the success of the restaurant,” Steve said, leaning on the back of Roxanne’s chair with a contented smile at her. “On the record.”
“And the success of Steve’s book,” Roxanne added. “On the record.”
Mr. Shumaker nodded. “Good to know. Best of luck to you both. And remember, if anything else develops I’ll be right here to report on it if you want. Or rather.” He looked toward his seat down the bar. “Right over there. Third stool from the right.”
The three of them laughed and Mr. Shumaker moved back to his seat.
Sir Nigel appeared before them and with a short bow said, “If you’ll follow me. Your table is ready.”
Steve winked at Roxanne and they followed Sir Nigel across the room to the coziest table in the place.
Steve pulled out her chair and she sat.
“I could get used to this treatment,” she said. “Not to mention the sight of you in a tuxedo.”
Steve sat in the chair across from hers.
At that moment, Rita pushed through the kitchen doors with two glasses and an ice bucket containing a bottle of champagne. Without a word, she set the bucket next to Steve, placed the glasses on the table, then opened the champagne like the seasoned waitress she was.
Roxanne watched her in surprise. “What’s this?” She moved her gaze to Steve, who shrugged innocently.
Rita smiled what could only be described as a shit-eating grin and said, “On the house.”
Roxanne laughed. “How generous.”
Steve was silent until the waitress left. Then he turned his eyes back to Roxanne, a smile playing on his lips.
Taking her hand, he spread the fingers out over his palm. “You know,” he said with a smile, “I was tempted to give Mr. Shumaker a different answer when he asked what was next for us.”
“Were you?”
Their eyes met, Steve’s uncertain and Roxanne’s curious.
“What did you want to say?” she asked. Something about the look on Steve’s face made her heart rate accelerate. She curled her fingers around his.
“I wanted to tell him,” he continued quietly, “that we might be getting married.”
Roxanne’s breath left her body. “What?” The word was a mere whisper.
Steve leaned back and pulled a small velvet ring box from his pocket. Placing it on the table between them, he added, “But I needed to get your answer first.”
Roxanne gazed in shock from Steve’s face to the box on the table. With trembling hands she reached out and opened it. Inside was a diamond ring, simple, elegant, and obviously expensive.
“Oh my God.” She looked back up at him.
“So what do you say?” he asked, his expression growing nervous.
She laughed, so giddy her head was spinning. “I say yes. Of course!”
Steve exhaled as if he’d been holding his breath for an hour. “Oh thank God.”
She laughed again and reached out to grab him. He kissed her then and they laughed together, until he pulled back and took the ring from its box.
“Here, let me,” he said. He held her left hand and slid the ring on her finger.
“Steve, it’s gorgeous.” She gazed up at him, happier than she’d ever been in her life. “I love it.”
“Good.” He grinned. “Because I spent about a hundred bucks on it.”
Author’s Note
The missing draft of the Declaration of Independence I used in creating the subplot in this story was not entirely a figment of my imagination. Though it hasn’t been proven, there is reason to believe a “fair copy” of the declaration did exist but was for some reason not preserved.
According to the U.S. National Archives & Records Administration (NARA), in 1823 Thomas Jefferson wrote that before submitting his Declaration of Independence to the Committee of Five (the group appointed by Congress to produce a document that would make the case for the colonies’ independence to the world), he sent a draft to Benjamin Franklin and John Adams, “requesting their corrections…I then wrote a fair copy, reported it to the committee, and from them, unaltered to the Congress.”
According to NARA, however, that “fair copy” of the draft, incorporating the changes made by Franklin and Adams, if it existed, has not survived to this day.
Unless of course you believe in my fictional Jefferson cousin, Portner Jefferson Curtis, and his faithful biographer, Steve Serrano, both of whom were figments of my imagination.
About the Author
ELAINE FOX has spent enough of her life dating to know that the scenarios described in this book are completely plausible—though she disclaims any direct experience with any of them. Fortunately, however, she has been able to parlay this extended search for romance into a career and hopes her readers appreciate the cathartic experience while living happily-ever-after lives themselves. Elaine currently lives in Virginia and can be reached either through Avon Books or at www.elainefox.com.
Visit www.AuthorTracker.com for exclusive information on your favorite HarperCollins author.
By Elaine Fox
SPECIAL OF THE DAY
HOT STUFF
/> IF THE SLIPPER FITS
MAN AT WORK
MAYBE BABY
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
SPECIAL OF THE DAY. Copyright © 2005 by Elaine McShulskis. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
ePub edition December 2006 ISBN 9780061752650
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
About the Publisher
Australia
HarperCollins Publishers (Australia) Pty. Ltd.
25 Ryde Road (PO Box 321)
Pymble, NSW 2073, Australia
http://www.harpercollinsebooks.com.au
Canada
HarperCollins Publishers Ltd.
55 Avenue Road, Suite 2900
Toronto, ON, M5R, 3L2, Canada
http://www.harpercollinsebooks.ca
New Zealand
HarperCollinsPublishers (New Zealand) Limited
P.O. Box 1
Auckland, New Zealand
http://www.harpercollinsebooks.co.nz
United Kingdom
HarperCollins Publishers Ltd.
77-85 Fulham Palace Road
London, W6 8JB, UK
http://www.harpercollinsebooks.co.uk
United States
HarperCollins Publishers Inc.
10 East 53rd Street
New York, NY 10022