Just This Once

by K. G. MacGregor

  Wynne looked up to find Cheryl standing in her doorway on Tuesday afternoon, briefcase in hand.

  “Really, Wynne, the rest of us go home by this time, sometimes a little sooner even. Have we given you too much to do or are you just slow?” The last bit was meant to be teasing, but the executive could tell right away that her joke had fallen flat.

  “No, I…you were just kidding, right?”

  “Right,” she assured, dropping her briefcase to take a seat across from her assistant VP’s desk. “I’m going to have to tell my husband about you. He won’t believe there’s someone who gets here before I do and stays until after I’m gone.”

  “I’m in the middle of drawing up this branding campaign. Do you think we might have a few thousand in the budget for a couple of focus groups?”

  “Sure, we can move it out of advertising if you think we need it.”

  “I do. I’d feel better if we had some sort of disaster check before we launched this.”

  “That’s a good idea. Now go home.”

  “I just want to finish this….”

  “I’m waiting. We’re going to walk out together so I can verify that you’re leaving.” The older woman was serious.

  “Okay,” Wynne sighed, closing her folder.

  “And no taking it home to work on,” the executive chided as she watched her protégé

  move to place the folder in her briefcase. “That would defeat the purpose of pushing you out of here.”

  “Yes ma’am.”

  Together, the pair exited to the parking lot where Cheryl followed the younger woman to her car.

  “How’s your leg?” The limp wasn’t nearly so pronounced as it had been before the surgery, but it was still there.

  “It’s a lot better. I’m still doing physical therapy, but they’re starting to think I’ve reached the ceiling.”

  “Does it hurt much?”

  “Not like it did, but I doubt I’ll ever be pain free.”

  “That’s too bad.” Wynne had told Cheryl the awful story of the accident.

  “I’ve gotten used to it.” The pair stepped into the elevator. “Look, I said I’d go. You don’t have to escort me, you know.”

  Cheryl chuckled. “Seriously, Wynne…I don’t want to see you burn yourself out. I know there’s a lot to do, but no one expects you to get it all done the first year you’re on board. If you plan on being in this for the long haul, you need to get out and build a whole life here in Orlando, not just a work life.”

  “I know, Cheryl. I will.” Actually, the idea of venturing out to explore the social scene in Orlando always led her to thoughts of Paula, and that triggered feelings of guilt and sadness. She’d been thinking a lot lately of the small blonde hotel manager, and wasn’t at all interested in the idea of meeting someone new. “Believe it or not, I’m having a lot of fun at work right now.”

  “I can tell, and I appreciate all you’re doing. But take it from an old pro: Save the best of yourself for your personal life, not your job.”

  Wynne nodded in understanding.

  “You know, Wynne, we’re a family here at Eldon-Markoff. Now I don’t mean to be nosy, but if you aren’t seeing anyone special, I’d be happy to host a couple of dinner parties to give you a chance to meet some single men, you know, professional men.”

  The tall woman forced a smile and looked away. She had hoped that Ken Markoff had already shared the tale of seeing her with Paula, holding hands in the restaurant.

  Apparently he hadn’t, or she wouldn’t be facing this awkward moment.

  “Cheryl, thanks but…I’m really not interested in meeting…men.”

  “But you…oh. Women?”

  The dark-haired woman nodded nervously. “But to tell you the truth, I’m really not interested in meeting anyone at all right now. I’m still sort of coming out of a relationship that didn’t end well. I’d just like some time.”

  “I understand. But if I come across any interesting women — I’m not sure where, but you never know — I’ll probably mention it, whether you’re ready or not.”

  “Fair enough,” Wynne agreed.

  “Okay, this is as far as I go. I expect you to drive off, not just circle the lot until I’m out of sight so you can sneak back in.”

  “Scout’s honor. See you tomorrow.” Wynne started up her Volvo and backed out from her assigned space.

  Instead of turning into her own neighborhood, she continued toward the condominium community where Paula McKenzie lived. Today was Tuesday, Paula’s day off, and the thought of getting a peek of the hotel manager from afar was tantalizing. It wasn’t exactly stalking — it was more like…unobtrusive observation, just checking up.

  Slowly, the Volvo wound past the small lake, turning left toward the buildings that overlooked the neighboring golf course. Wynne’s breath caught at once as she realized the garage door directly beneath Paula’s end unit condo was open. But the car inside was not the dark green Miata; it was a red sedan of some sort. Quickly, she scanned the parking lot for the familiar car, continuing until the road ended.

  Wynne turned around and proceeded back the way she’d come, slowing dramatically in front of her friend’s place. She watched in confusion as the car began to back out, its passengers a couple, presumably husband and wife, and with a plainly visible child’s car seat in the back.

  The woman in the Volvo stopped to get her bearings, double-checking in her mind the details of her one visit to Paula’s home. This was the location she remembered, and the number on the side of the building was the one she recalled giving the taxi driver.

  ———

  Wynne returned to the condominium complex the following day, as well as the next, both on the way to work and on the way home. When the weekend came, she paid one final visit, again spotting the family in the sedan.

  Paula McKenzie didn’t live here anymore.

  Chapter 15

  “It figures my first winter here would be the worst on record,” Paula grumbled as she traded her knee-high boots for the low black heels that accompanied her uniform. The eight blocks from her downtown apartment were brutal in the cold weather, but not as bad when the wind wasn’t blowing.

  “We ordered this up just for you,” Kevin joked.

  “Fine, Kevin! I can understand January and February, but this is April. Give me a break already!”

  “And the best part is that this might not even be the last of it.”

  “Oh yeah, that’s the best part alright.”

  The phone on Paula’s desk buzzed, signaling a direct patch from security.

  “Paula McKenzie,” she answered crisply. “Great…12th floor…okay, one of us will be right there.”

  “What have we got?”

  “Some guy’s smoking a cigar by the elevator on the 12th floor. Says his wife won’t let him smoke it in the room.”

  Kevin stood and pulled a quarter from his pocket. “Winner chooses?” he asked hopefully, knowing full well that his boss could simply order him to the 12th floor.

  “Heads.”

  The coin sailed into the air, turning over and over until he caught it and slapped it on the back of his other hand. “Heads it is.”

  “I’ll take care of the cigar. You get the front desk. They’re getting slammed.” Paula gestured over her shoulder at the video.

  “That was sneaky.”

  “It was lucky.”

  ———

  “I can’t believe you’ve never been to one of these travel and tourism conventions. You should get out and meet people, but don’t talk much, okay? I’m afraid you’ll get recruited and then I’d have to kill somebody,” Cheryl Williams joked.

  “Don’t worry. I can’t imagine I’d be as happy working for anybody else…but it’s nice to know you’re not taking me for granted.” Wynne had been on the job in Orlando for nearly a year, and had continued to impress her boss, as well as CEO Ken Markoff. More every day, she felt at home in the company, and her responsibilities had grown as
she proved herself again and again. Already, she had moved to an office on the building’s south side.

  “Believe me, I would never take you for granted.” Leaning forward in the seat, Cheryl asked the cabbie, “Does it always snow this much in April?”

  “I don’t think this winter’s ever going to end. We’ve had one storm after another since the first week in October…more snow than we’ve ever had before. At least today it’s not in the single digits like it has been.”

  “Thank God for small favors,” she groused. “Look at you, Wynne. All bundled up nice and warm. You’re used to this from your days in Baltimore, I bet.”

  “Yeah, like he said, it’s not so bad when it’s in the twenties…unless the wind is blowing.”

  “Do you miss Baltimore?”

  “Baltimore, no. I was homesick at first, but once my mom moved down, I don’t think I gave it another thought.” Wynne had returned to Maryland for Christmas. During that single week, a water pipe in the old house ruptured and the furnace drew its last breath.

  That was enough for Kitty, who proposed that she give up the house for good and move south. Wynne’s realtor found her a two-bedroom unit with a garage in the nice complex where Paula used to live. The marketer was pleasantly surprised at how glad she was to have her mother close again.

  The cab wound through the maze of one-way streets in downtown Denver, finally pulling into the circle in front of the Weller Regent. They were immediately met by a valet in a down jacket and gloves with a wool cap pulled over his ears.

  “Welcome to the Weller Regent, ladies. Sorry about the weather, but we’ll do everything we can to make your visit as comfortable as possible.” The young man smiled sincerely and collected their bags from the taxi’s trunk, loading them onto a cart that was whisked indoors with the bundled women close behind.

  “Warmth!” Cheryl exclaimed. “How do people live in this climate?”

  “They say the same thing about us in August, don’t they?” Wynne followed her boss to the registration desk. In her frequent travels, she often stayed in the Weller Regent, and each time she entered the reception area, she thought of Paula McKenzie. She had learned after finally getting up the nerve to call the Orlando hotel last fall that the pretty blonde was no longer working at the WR, but the employee she spoke with was prohibited from giving out further information.

  “I’m supposed to meet a couple of old friends for dinner. You’re welcome to join us if you’d like.”

  Wynne knew Cheryl well enough by now to know that the invitation was sincere, even though she’d only be tagging along.

  “I don’t think so. I’m probably just going to grab something upstairs in the lounge a little later and go to bed early. But I really appreciate the offer.”

  “Yeah, you’re the smart one. With the two-hour time change, you’re going to be rested tomorrow and I’ll be walking around like a zombie. Don’t let me give away any of our trade secrets, okay?”

  Cheryl stepped forward to the reservation counter, looking back at her assistant VP who waited patiently for the next available clerk. It was a lucky day for Eldon-Markoff when they brought Wynne Connelly on board in the corporate office. The woman was a workhorse, not to mention smart and innovative. Best of all, she had a presence about her, a demeanor that practically demanded attention. In only a year, the young executive had taken the position to a higher level than either she or Ken Markoff had envisioned, and was already sprinkling her ideas and initiatives into their sales department. No way were they going to let Wynne Connelly go to work for the competition.

  When she walked up to the busy counter to check in, the tall woman couldn’t help but notice that the clerk who assisted her wore a nametag that identified him as a Shift Manager. Checking her watch, she confirmed that his was the second shift…Paula’s shift…in fact, he had the same job here in Denver as Paula had held in Orlando.

  “Wynne Connelly,” she announced, handing over her credit card.

  “Yes, Ms. Connelly. I have you for two nights on our Concierge floor, king-sized, nonsmoking.”

  “That’s right.”

  Kevin Ross worked efficiently to complete the check-in process. He used to hate the times when he had to fill in at the front desk, but over the last year, his new boss had helped him appreciate the opportunity to interact with both staff and guests. The front desk got the lion’s share of problems and complaints and he’d learn more about dealing with them by exercising his newfound authority here. Best of all, she’d said, his example would help the younger clerks do a better job, and that paid off when they learned to handle difficult requests on their own.

  “Here you are, Ms. Connelly.” Sliding the key card across the counter, Ross directed her to the elevators and informed her of the perks she’d receive with her upgrade. “I hope you have a nice stay, and if you have any problem at all, please let someone know and we’ll do our best to take care of it.”

  Wynne smiled and nodded, thinking back to the way Paula had handed her a business card, pointing out the direct extension. Flirting.

  ———

  Paula hated situations like the one she was walking into. The fact that security was already involved and had called her indicated that they hadn’t been able to diffuse the situation with just their presence.

  Exiting the elevator, she was met at once by one of the guards. “Do you have the gentleman’s name yet?” she asked, all business.

  “No, and this guy is not exactly a gentleman, if you know what I mean. If I had to guess, I’d say he likes his Johnny Walker straight up.”

  “It’s four o’clock in the afternoon, for crying out loud.” Paula turned from the guard to appraise the uncooperative guest, who sat in an armchair by a potted plant — his ashtray, she observed — holding a drink in one hand, and a cigar in the other. He was a large, barrel-chested man, his tie knotted loosely but still obscuring his neck. His bulbous face was red and his eyes had that unfocused look that indeed said “I’m drunk as hell.”

  “Hello, I’m Paula McKenzie. I’m the manager here. They tell me that your wife won’t let you smoke that cigar in your room. Is that right?”

  “Goddamn right!” he barked.

  “That’s too bad, Mr. ….” She waited a moment, but he didn’t take the bait. “But I’m afraid that the city of Denver has an ordinance that prohibits smoking in the common areas of all public buildings, so your choices are pretty limited. You either have to stay in your room, or you can go to the smoking area on the second floor. Unfortunately, that’s on an outside balcony.”

  “Or I can sit right here,” he answered belligerently.

  “No, that isn’t one of your choices, unless you put out the cigar. I think it would be best if you returned to your room. I’d be happy to explain the rules to your wife. Maybe she’d change her mind.” Her voice was calm and steady, and her face bore just a hint of an encouraging smile.

  “Can I smoke in the bar?”

  “I’m afraid not.”

  “Then I’m going to sit right here until I finish.” Extracting his lighter, he relit the smelly cigar.

  Paula sighed. “Look, as the manager, I have to enforce the smoking rules or I’ll get in trouble with the hotel director. If that happens, I could lose my job; and if I lose my job, they might take my children away from me. Please help me here. All you have to do is put out the cigar and go back to your room.”

  The man looked at his drink, then at his cigar. “You mean you might get fired if I don’t put this out.”

  Paula nodded with a pleading look.

  “How many kids you got?”

  “Two,” she lied, “Josh and Jordan.” It was handy to have a nephew and niece top of mind.

  “Well, I don’t want you to lose your kids on account of me,” he finally acquiesced, turning to stub out the cigar in the plant.

  “Why don’t you let me take that?” Paula intercepted the smoking object, dousing it at once in what was left of the man’s drink. “I reall
y appreciate you helping me out on this one. Why don’t you stop by the front desk when I’m working tomorrow and I’ll see that you get a coupon for a free drink in the bar?”

  “Okay, thanks.”

  Paula turned back to her two security guards who were waiting at the ready in case the situation had escalated. “Will you see that this gentleman gets back to his room okay?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  From the corner of her eye, Paula glimpsed the elevator door opening to allow a businessman to exit. The lighted arrow pointed upward, and she was vaguely aware of two women who remained on the car. As the doors began to close, her eyes met those of the tall dark-haired woman and she froze.

  ———

  Wynne’s heart pounded the very instant she recognized the hotel manager. The sensations were almost overwhelming: the tightened stomach, the shaking hands, the rapid breathing.

  “Are you okay?” Cheryl noticed at once that her companion had fallen back against the side of the elevator, gripping the rail for support.

  “Yes, I’m fine. I just got…queasy all of a sudden.”

  “You better not be getting sick. Being sick at a hotel is one of the worst experiences there is.”

  “No, I’m fine, really,” she assured, though her voice shook in response to the adrenalin rush. So Paula McKenzie had moved to Denver.

  The door opened on the top floor and both women stepped out, checking the placard to locate their rooms.

  “I’m in 2116. Call me if you start feeling sick. If I’m not in, call my cell phone.” Cheryl knew she was mothering her protégé, but after raising three children, it was her nature to worry about other people.

  “I’m okay, honest. It was just…nothing.”

  “Alright, but call me if you need anything.”

  “I will. But go out and have a good time with your friends. Don’t worry, okay?”

  “If you say so.”

  “I say so. I’ll see you in the morning. Watch the margaritas.”

  “Spoilsport.”

  Wynne pushed her card into the slot across the hall from her boss and stepped inside, leaning her back against the door as it closed. Coming face to face with Paula had completely unnerved her. An array of emotions had surfaced all at once: surprise, guilt, apprehension. And desire.