Kieran York - Appointment with a Smile

by Kieran York

  “What in the heck are you talking about?”

  She interpreted. “Affairs leave ghosts, too. Memories are jam-packed with them. The yesteryear Molly ghost leans heavily on your mental retention. Ghosts become like little brain souvenirs—keepsakes. You’ve got them going on. You need to shut them down. Take all those memories of Molly and let amnesia have its way with them. Don’t be sad. Bethany will call.”

  I checked the clock. “I need to immerse myself in the painting. Hear the whoosh of my brush against canvas. Listen to the scraping sound of my pallet knife as it applies paint. Paint spreading like wings across the white.”

  “fine, but remember the damned ghosts.”

  After hanging up, I returned to my easel. I had spent half an hour with brush in hand when Bethany finally called. A major disturbance had occurred at Heathrow. Security hierarchy, which I suddenly realized she was part of, had all been called in or were on standby. She would have called earlier, but she explained that when she was on alert, there just wasn’t time. The moment the emergency was over, she had phoned me. She asked if I might forgive her. I did, and we disconnected. I ordered a sumptuous dinner for us.

  She arrived before the dinner delivery. After pouring her a drink, I showed her the latest work on her portrait.

  We sat down, and I said, “I didn’t know you were in security.”

  She gave me a secretive smile. “It isn’t what I talk about.”

  “Not even to a lover?”

  “No one. I’m a part of the security team. In fact, I head a section. I haven’t even gotten into specifics with my family. Of course, Carrie is aware of the basics, and I’ve now told you the basics. Haven’t you ever wondered why I carry two mobile phones? When I ring someone, it’s always with the more colorful one. The other is always open unless it’s an emergency. I place them both on the bed stand every time we go to bed. If a call had come in on my company-issued mobile, you would have seen me rush.”

  “I promise your secret is safe with me.” I crossed my heart.

  “I know that. We’re required to pull background checks on people we’re intimate with. Security precaution. You’ve been vetted. Danielle Eve O’Hara. Born in Topeka, Kansas to Eve Marie and Norman O’Hara. One brother, Dylan Patrick. No criminal record. No civil lawsuits. Lived in your current house nearly thirty years. No foreign ties. Travel has been minimal. Never been to a country on a restricted list. Never affiliated with a militant or subversive group.”

  “You mean to tell me that my women’s rights, civil rights marches, and anti-war efforts went unnoticed? My 1960s were a lost cause?”

  “Apparently so. You must not have been arrested. No record. Nothing. You’re a perfect citizen of your country. You’re obviously, other than your marching in a parade or two, or burning your bra, rather dull. At least your actions haven’t been nefarious enough to attract attention.”

  “Busted.” I chuckled. “I’m dull.”

  “Clover is even dull,” she said with amusement. “She has never run away, nor has she been reported for any canine transgressions.”

  “You didn’t really check her out, did you?”

  “Not at all. I could tell from her photo she hasn’t a covert move in her playbook. Completely trustworthy is little Clover.”

  “I’m glad I cleared. And I promise I’ll refrain from delving into your work. Besides, I wouldn’t have any idea what secrets I’d be looking to find.”

  “The obvious might be that I’ve been briefed on the arrivals and departures of high-profile travelers. Or possibly information about any deficiencies in our systems or policies concerning possible breaches of security. Not that we have any. When they transferred me to security, I even signed a pledge, along with a full disclosure of my sexuality. So there’s nothing I can possibly be blackmailed about.”

  “Don’t worry, I won’t ask any questions about how your day went. Actually, I stopped asking about your profession when your details were so brief they were almost curt. I guessed that some people like leaving business at the office. Then I thought you might consider your job boring.”

  “Boring? I think not. My life revolves around emergencies. Like crisis traffic lights—red, amber, and green critical stages. That’s a summation of my job. When my larger cell phone rings, my heart races. Followed by my body. I can still do a fairly adequate sprint.”

  “I suspected you used two phones for different women.” I actually had noticed the two phones but thought it was common for airline workers.

  “There are no other women in my life, Danielle,” she said softly.

  “I do have one question.”

  “I had a sneaking suspicion you might be an undercover bad sort.”

  “When you hear the question, you might well have me in cuffs.”

  “I’m really not into that, luv.”

  We chuckled a moment, before I asked, “Will you accompany me to dinner tomorrow night? As Fiona’s guest?”

  “Certainly. I know it isn’t your birthday, so why is Fiona splashing out?”

  “She promised me and my date an evening at an elegant restaurant of my choice. She also invited Esther and Carrie. Reward for the success of the exhibit. Any excuse for a celebration is fine by me.”

  “Where are we going?” Bethany asked.

  “Where would you suggest?”

  “There’s a place called The Scripted Banquet. Very elite. It does rather separate you from your money. They’re so exclusive that Carrie doesn’t even receive comps.”

  “That shouldn’t be a problem since Fiona has plenty of money. She’s not squeamish about opening her vault, either.”

  “A great many gay and lesbians frequent The Scripted Banquet. Will Fiona be all right with that?”

  “Not that she swings both ways, but she has explored both worlds. I’m only interested in women.”

  “I’m only interested in one woman.”

  Our eyes met until I looked away. “I hope that’s me. I hope tomorrow night at The Scripted Banquet is to your satisfaction.”

  “If you’re there, Danielle, I shall be more than satisfied. I’m certain the nosh will be absolutely superb.”

  Chapter 32

  Bethany left my hotel suite early in the morning. Although she tried not to wake me, I rolled over into her goodbye kiss. After she departed, I touched the warmth of the spot where she had slept, feeling the indentation in her pillow. I dropped off in a pleasant, drifting sleep.

  By midmorning, I awakened and reached to check my alarm clock. I wished Bethany hadn’t left. Happily, the next best thing was elevenses with Esther. I heard her rhythmic knock and opened the door. She stood with sack in hand and two paper cups of cappuccino.

  “Elevenses,” she chimed as she placed them on the table. Looking back at me in my sky-blue terrycloth night garb designed somewhat like a toga, she grimaced. “Elevenses are stretching it some for you. In your case, it looks like you’re ready for brekky. Or not. Do you have one single negligee in your entire wardrobe?”

  “Nope.” I was not willing to discuss my state of fashion in a barefooted moment.

  “A very grotesque nightie. Just rolled out of bed, did you?”

  “I did. Late night. The planets were aligned for a late, late night.”

  “They say there might be another planet beyond the orbit of Pluto. Lurking out there. Planet X. Bigger than Pluto. It could explain some of the goings on with the Kuiper Belt. Bet if it does exist, it is one cold, flipping planet.”

  “And?” I tried to sort out how this Planet X might be relevant to our conversation.

  “If it exists, you had one chilly, frosty planet aligned with your sweet affair last night. I doubt the temperature of your bed got much above boiling.”

  I flipped the top from the steaming cappuccino and took a quick taste. “Hot. I can warm my frost-bitten lips, still frigid from Planet X’s influence.”

  “Must have been some scalding sex last night.” Esther spread napkins and dumped her favori
te overly gooey pastry on them. “Was the night long, sweaty, and hot?”

  “Yes, I had to sleep in. Have you noticed our decomposing bodies don’t regenerate as quickly as they used to?” I bit into the crispy turnover. Hidden within were tart cherries, the kind with a delicious bite. “I need to conserve energy.”

  “I don’t consider it conserving when sometimes there’s nothing left to conserve.” Esther lifted her coffee into the air and said, “To us and our energy.”

  “Or lack of it.” I had a foamy sip of the cappuccino’s topping. It had been wonderfully blended. “However, I’m happy for the good health I’ve been blessed with. When we get to be this age, it gets dicey health-wise. So I’ve got to say, we’re holding up pretty well.”

  “It’s a puzzle how you’ve gotten this far. Usually heartbreak is a killer. And you’ve been heartbroken nearly all of your life. Unhappiness can knock off a few years. Stress, too, as far as that goes.”

  “I’ve had my art. That’s kept me going. They say pets keep people healthier.”

  “Sadie and Aggie want to keep me healthy enough to be their servant.”

  “Speaking of bosses, have you talked with Fiona?” I asked.

  “Just left the gallery. I stopped by on the way to pick up the goodies. She confirmed dinner tonight. Where have you selected to celebrate?”

  “It was Bethany’s choice, actually. A truly great place. The Scripted Banquet.”

  “Sounds fine. I like Fiona. I remember when you first met her. She’d seen your work at an art fair in Santa Fe.”

  “Yes. Best break I ever had. Told me she would like to represent me. When she gave me her card, I did a double take. I’d heard the name, of course. Although she wasn’t as prominent as she is now, she was certainly a force with which to be reckoned.”

  “A force and a dynamo,” Esther said.

  “Over the years, I’ve gotten to trust her. I liked her from the first. Sometimes I can tell about people by studying them as if I were going to paint them.”

  “You must have had that kind of feeling with Bethany.”

  “Pretty much. I was mostly concentrating on Molly when I met Bethany.”

  “We all know that. So is Molly still weighing heavily on your mind?”

  “Yesterday, Molly was so insistent that I forget her. So final. I even offered to live part time in California.”

  “You what?” Esther almost jumped out of her chair.

  “I suggested we live six months in each locale.”

  “I can’t believe you’d agree to that.”

  “It didn’t do me any good. She just isn’t interested.”

  “Danielle, love isn’t always a forever deal.”

  “I do care about Bethany.”

  “Now back to the activity report on last night. Lovemaking for hours, were we?” She sniggered so loudly she snorted. “Don’t hold back the good parts.”

  “We talked most of the night. I told her about Molly’s declaration of love.”

  “What did she say?”

  “Again, we don’t own one another.”

  “Bethany’s a sensible woman.”

  “I appreciate that about her. She said she’s glad I’m honest with her. She’s aware that Molly has dumped me for good and that I’m still in love with her.”

  “What I admire about the death of stars is their clean breakup. They explode and then just blink out of the sky. Boom, goodbye. Relationships should be so blessed.”

  “What does Carrie have to say when you explain crap like the death of stars?”

  “She says, and I quote, ‘It’s all going on up there, isn’t it, luv?’”

  “Your reply?”

  Esther giggled. “I tell her, not all. A lot is going on down here in London, as well. I told her I could open doors for her she never knew existed.”

  “She didn’t buy that tired old line, did she?”

  “She called me a saucy muffin, so I do believe she caught the gist of my statement.”

  Chapter 33

  I spent the day’s remaining hours painting. As I painted, Molly and Bethany consumed my thoughts.

  Although I wasn’t quite finished with Bethany’s Smile, I had made enough progress to feel it was nearing completion. When I finally placed my brush down, it was time to clean up my work space and myself. I showered, applied a slight amount of makeup, arranged my curls, and dressed in a new pantsuit.

  I appeared at the gallery where Fiona was waiting. Esther had spent the afternoon at Carrie and Bethany’s apartment. Fiona had suggested that I stop by the gallery and we would drive together to pick up the other three women. It was, she diagrammed in the air, on the way to The Scripted Banquet. She explained that she loved driving her rented Bentley. All the younger men, she claimed, were wild about flashy cars.

  She had staged a little get-together at the gallery with wine, cheese, and all the promotional adornments served throughout the afternoon. She had more than adequately sampled the wine. Perhaps she had, I thought as I sniffed her, bathed in it. Clearly, if it were not the fault of osmosis, she had imbibed. Normally, I balked at being driven when a driver shows signs of booze. But on a few occasions, I’d seen Fiona drink the bar empty and still be functional. Thus, I relented.

  The dark tan Bentley was impressive. We were dressed to the nines, and so all was festive. Fiona was in a particularly elated mood.

  Sales had been brisk. Each time the stock appeared meager, Fiona called Roxie. Roxie took photos of some of my remaining works that were scattered in my studio, garage, and assorted closets and sent them to Fiona via email. Then Fiona would direct her to pull and ship the ones she wanted.

  After we arrived at Carrie and Bethany’s apartment, Bethany gave me a guided tour. The place was stylish and chic; she’d decorated it in extraordinarily good taste. I found the art on the walls to be excellent.

  Once in Bethany’s bedroom, my glance moved toward the antique desk to a photograph of Bethany and the woman I presumed to be Tricia.

  I picked up the photo. “Is this Tricia? She’s quite lovely.” Bethany didn’t answer immediately. I turned and saw her wiping her eyes.

  “Yes,” she said softly.

  I put the frame down and took her into my arms. I understood her better, now, I thought.

  Before we were ushered into the Bentley, Fiona offered up the keys. Because she had imbibed, and it was truly beginning to kick in, Carrie drove. Carrie bemoaned the fact that she had never driven such a lovely motor as a Bentley. We screeched away. Within two blocks, I wasn’t so sure that it’d been a good tradeoff. But we arrived unscathed fifteen minutes later. And we were on time.

  The Scripted Banquet was indeed ritzy. Textured walls were plum-colored fabric with plush designs. Enormous crystal chandeliers hung from vaulted ceilings. A brick wall with arches housed what looked to be enough bottles of wine to produce several drunken countries. Each of the small dining room areas was separate and private. Each had an antique fireplace with gilded gold trimmings. Alabaster-colored tablecloths and napkins polished off the posh décor.

  The hostess seated us at an enormous round table. When our wine steward appeared, Fiona took the lead in ordering a staggeringly expensive array of dinner wines. Then she began selecting after-dinner liqueurs that would pair perfectly with various desserts.

  Carrie threw her arms out wide and squealed, “Cheers, a keg party.”

  “You Saphs have fun,” Fiona said. “I’m going to. But then I always do. It might be a new emotion for Danielle.”

  I gave her a mock scowl.

  “Anyway, the rest of us are celebrating the success of her show,” she continued. “Enjoy a culinary delight.”

  We clapped. I thought I’d better not drink too much, for I might have to guide my fellow Saphs home. After the toast, I began sipping water and taking only a taste of the wine. It was to be a jubilant evening. With or without wine, I planned to be high-spirited. Or at least give the impression of elation.

  Bethany too
k my hand. “I hope you’ll all enjoy the feast. I feel responsible for having selected the restaurant.”

  “I’ve been here before,” Fiona said. “I’ve been everywhere that is anywhere. And it has an excellent menu selection. The fare couldn’t be more sumptuous.”

  We ordered dinner after a discussion about what sounded good. Every meal served at the tables surrounding us looked delicious, and the fragrances were divine. Although torn between beef bourguignon with whipped potatoes, and broiled lobster, I decided on the beef bourguignon. Esther and Fiona opted for the broiled lobster. Carrie ordered the grilled quail, and Bethany decided on chicken rouennaise.

  After the server took our orders, Esther lifted her wineglass. “I’d like to toast to this evening of fun and friends. Ladybugs Rock!”

  Simultaneously, Esther and I tapped our glasses and in unison said, “Ladybugs Rock!”

  “What’s that mean?” Fiona asked.

  “Ladybugs Rock is our little coterie of friends,” Esther told her. “A closed membership organization. Very exclusive. It’s a circle of the best women in the world, if we do say so ourselves. Twenty years ago, we congregated and decided to call ourselves Ladybugs. Then we added Rock. Ladybugs Rock became our battle cry.”

  Fiona took a large gulp of wine. “Can we join?”

  With a quick, frisky wink in my direction, Esther said, “Bethany and Carrie already had their initiation into the club. With you, it would be more difficult. You need to be a devoted fan of Colorado. That’s part of the initiation rites. In fact, you would need to express allegiance in a pledge. New York would no longer be number one in your heart. You would belong in spirit to Colorado.”

  Fiona slammed her wineglass onto the table with a little too much force, causing some of it to spill over. “How could I do that? My allegiance is to New York. Always has been and always will be.”

  “Then you can’t be a valid, authentic member of our organization. Bylaws of our organization are very strict regarding one’s affiliation with Colorado. Sorry.” Esther’s expression was grim.