Platinum Promises

by Zuri Day

  This place indeed looks magical but you are not Cinderella, this is no fairy tale and that oh-so-gorgeous, dimpled piece of corporate goodness is not your Prince Charming. Period. End of story.

  She reached the room boasting the number on the card envelope she’d been given, opened the door and stopped short. Convincing herself that she wasn’t in a fairy tale while staying in these surroundings would not be easy to do. She stepped inside, closed the door and did a slow 360-degree turn. The suite was straight out of a magazine or movie screen. Ian had booked her in a suite, and the living and dining areas alone looked incredibly impressive. The floors were a dark-colored polished wood, the couch and loveseat the color of rose wine. A beautiful multicolored rug anchored that area and complemented the glass and metal coffee and end tables. Beyond the living room was the dining room, complete with buffet. The open-concept kitchen was small yet highly functional, its stainless-steel appliances gleaming in the afternoon sun. Walking to the oversized, floor-to-ceiling windows, Faye beheld the most beautifully landscaped garden she had ever seen. There was a profusion of flowers, perfectly-formed shrubbery and a large fountain in the middle. The cobblestone path added a classic touch to the modern architecture. The mountains soared toward the brilliant blue sky.

  “Are you sure you’re not Cinderella?” she mumbled. Wow, Ian...thanks. She continued to gaze out the window, overcome with emotion for the man who’d helped her become a better doctor, had helped her realize her dreams and had sent her here. Batting away tears and battling emotions from she knew not what, she reached for her phone and dialed Ian’s cell phone. The call went to voicemail. She left a brief message, plopped down on the bed and fought off a wave of melancholy.

  “You’re exhausted, Doctor. You need sleep and a shower.” And not necessarily in that order.

  She walked into the oversized bathroom, stripped off her clothes and stepped into the marble shower. Her goals were to rinse off the weariness and the grime from her journey—and to hopefully wash away her gloominess as well. But as she brushed the loofah sponge over her body, images of sexy eyes and succulent lips, of broad shoulders and long, lean legs flitted across her mind’s eye. She tried to tell herself it was the man from her dream. But, no. The person she was envisioning was all too real. The type of man that women like Faye could only dream about. The type that beautiful women dated, and lucky women married. Like the woman in the lobby, perhaps, the woman whom the man of her dreams had kissed on the cheek. Of course he’d be attracted to someone sexy and flawless. Not someone like her.

  Chapter 3

  “I saw you!” Marissa Drake said after their greeting, eyeing her brother-in-law with playful suspicion.

  “What?”

  “Dexter Drake! Don’t even try it. I saw you looking at and flirting with the woman who was waiting by the elevator.”

  “Who? The toned, natural-looking sister, about five-seven or eight, with the long legs and cute tush? Naw, I wasn’t looking at her.”

  “Right. You weren’t paying her any attention at all.” They laughed as Marissa hooked her arm through his and they began walking toward the hotel entrance. Even before marrying Dexter’s brother, Donovan, a year ago, she and the youngest Drake had developed a special bond. Part of it was his effervescent personality, and part of it was the fact that when both Donovan and Marissa were trying to deny their mutual attraction, Dexter forced his brother’s hand by jokingly implying he was interested in Marissa. He’d threatened to ask her out if Donovan didn’t. That had led to a scowling “don’t you dare” from his more reserved brother followed by a campaign from Donovan for Marissa’s love that would have impressed a presidential candidate. Marissa thought about a particular conversation that took place during this time, and chuckled.

  “What’s funny?”

  “Nothing, just thinking.” An improbable thought came to her mind, but she dismissed it immediately. Dexter may be a matchmaker. She was not. Besides, Dexter liked sultry, flashy women. The woman at the elevator did not at all look his type. “So...what has a Drake Wines executive pulling kitchen duty on a Thursday afternoon?”

  “Huh? Oh, right.” Dexter knew that one could see the door to the kitchen when sitting at the end of the bar. Marissa had obviously seen him exit it. “I was meeting with the chef to make sure that everything is in place for Papa’s party tomorrow.” David Drake Sr., Dexter’s great-grandfather, whom everyone affectionately called Papa Dee, had been born on the sprawling, mountainous land inherited by his grandfather almost two centuries ago. His centenary celebration would be the resort’s highlight of the month. “The kitchen staff is as excited as the rest of us and has done a bang-up job.”

  “I’m really looking forward to the party. It’s going to be wonderful to pay tribute to Papa Dee in this way.”

  “What about you? What had you sipping wine at the bar on a Thursday?”

  “On my way back from Riverside and decided to drop by.”

  “What’s going on in Riverside?”

  “A good friend of mine recently divorced and moved back there. I went to help her settle in and offer moral support. I’d thought about meeting Don here, maybe having dinner with the in-laws. But when I reached him he reminded me about the meeting he had with your cousin.”

  Dexter smiled at the mention of his cousin, Warren Drake, part of the clan formerly known as the Drakes of Louisiana. Several years ago, four of the six brothers in that family had relocated to Northern California, when gold had been discovered on land that had been in their family for decades. The siblings had incorporated the land, founded a town and were soon movers and shakers in Paradise Valley, California. Most of the Drakes of Louisiana were now the Drakes of California, just like their cousins. They were also smart and shrewd with business savvy, which is why Donovan was meeting with Warren—to expand their businesses and their brands.

  They exited the hotel. “So...what does your friend look like?” Dexter asked. “Is she fine?”

  Marissa gave Dexter the side eye. “You are not interested. She has four children.”

  “Whoa!”

  “Ha! Thought that would make you put that player card back in your pocket. Everyone knows you’re allergic to kids.”

  “That’s not true. Kids are cool...as long as they’re not mine.”

  “So everything is set for Papa Dee’s party?” Marissa asked, clearly not up for a debate on the value of anyone’s next generation and changing the subject to prove it.

  Dexter nodded. “Because of the RSVPs and sold-out rooms, we had to expand the menu, but I consider that a good problem to have. They are working hard to make sure his favorite dishes are executed to perfection.”

  “What about the cake?”

  “That’s being done by an outside company, one that specializes in imaging. It will feature a picture of Papa, set against a vineyard backdrop, with one hundred candles lighting the way from the countryside to the hotel.”

  “Wow. Papa Dee is turning one hundred years old. I can’t even imagine what it will feel like to be in this crazy world another seventy years.”

  “I can’t imagine it either,” Dexter said. “But I hope I get to experience it.” They reached his car. “Where are you parked?”

  “Not far.”

  “You want to ride to the house with me and join us for dinner, since Don is acting like the workaholic that he is?”

  “Thanks, Dexter, but no. I think I’ll head on home and make dinner for two.”

  “Listen to you sounding all domesticated.”

  “Marriage will do that to you,” Marissa said with a laugh. “You ought to try it.”

  “Naw, I’m good.”

  “Are you sure?”r />
  “Positive. You saw what happened to the last woman who tried to tie me down.”

  “I sure did, but I respect Maria. You can’t be mad at a woman in her thirties who doesn’t want to continue dating—” Marissa used air quotes “—for the next ten years.”

  Dexter opened his car door. “On that female-biased note, I’m out.”

  “Ha! Whatever.”

  “I’ll see you at the party tomorrow.”

  “See you.”

  Dexter slid into the soft leather seat of his latest toy and made the five-minute trip from the boutique hotel that anchored the resort to the Drake estate to have dinner with his parents. On the way, he thought about what Marissa had said. In two short years both of his older siblings had found their true loves and married them. As a result, his sister, Diamond, had blossomed into an even more beautiful and confident woman with a child on the way, and his brother, Donovan, was happier than Dexter had ever remembered.

  “But that’s not you, man,” Dexter said aloud as he pulled into the circular drive of the family home, where he still lived. “There are too many clusters on the vine for you to be satisfied with just one grape.”

  Chapter 4

  Faye was startled awake, this time by her ringing cell phone. She looked at the clock on her nightstand in amazement, checked that time against what was shown on her watch. What had been intended as a five-minute nap before ordering room service had turned into the first seven uninterrupted hours of sleep she’d had in a very long time. Before, when she’d worked in Africa, and for the past three years that she’d spent in Haiti, four to five hours of sleep per night was the norm, six or seven a luxury. She yawned, stretched and reached for her phone, smiling as she rapidly typed out a text to Ian:

  I called and left a message, but here’s a text as well. The brochures don’t do it justice, Doctor! This place is more beautiful than I could have imagined. I plan to enjoy every minute here, and will call you tomorrow. Again, thanks so much.

  Eleven-thirty here, Faye thought. That means it’s two-thirty in Haiti. Faye wanted to talk to her best friend, Adeline Marceaux, a native who served as director of Haitian Heartbeats, the organization through which many doctors, including Faye, had entered the country following a devastating earthquake. “She might be up, but I shouldn’t chance it,” Faye said to herself. I’ll just call her tomorrow.

  As she placed the phone on the nightstand, it rang. “I don’t believe it!” she exclaimed, looking at the number. “Hello?” The voice on the other end was a bit distorted. Faye pressed the phone against her ear, trying to hear more clearly. “Addie?”

  “Faye! Can you hear me?”

  “Yes! It’s a little scratchy, but that’s okay.”

  “Hold on a minute.” Faye heard a rustling sound, a closing door and then Adeline’s voice, loud and clear.

  “Is this better?”

  “I can hear you just fine. Girl, you are going to live a long time,” Faye said, a phrase she’d heard the islanders use when someone you were just thinking about got in touch. “I just thought about calling you but figured it was too late.”

  “You know how it is—our work is never done.”

  “Where are you?”

  “Home, now. We just returned from the backcountry,” Adeline explained in the lyrical accent that Faye adored. “Delivering food, water and emergency supplies to some families there. The rains are supposed to begin tomorrow in earnest. We wanted to make sure these provisions were delivered before the roads washed out.”

  “I miss Haiti already and wish I were there to help.”

  “Don’t worry about us. You are exactly where you need to be, which I assume is the resort. Did you arrive safely?”

  “I did.” Faye described what she had seen so far.

  “Sounds lovely. Reminds me of a hotel I visited in Saint Thomas.”

  Faye stood and began meandering around the room as she talked. “What about the new volunteers? Was their plane able to land?”

  “Yes, and you’d like them. One is from Sweden, the grandson of one of Dr. Ian’s friends. The other is a young medical student from Nigeria. Brilliant. Lots of ideas that he learned while helping orphans in the Sudan.”

  “Sounds like the kind of help I could use at my clinic.”

  “Perhaps. But you’re not supposed to be thinking about work right now. You’re supposed to be relaxing and taking advantage of the amenities that I’m sure are at your fingertips.”

  “I know. I’ll try. But I’m so excited about how plans for the clinic are coming together, even though there is still so much to do. The contractor we hired for renovations fell through. He has to be replaced ASAP. Then there are the in-person interviews with the candidates honed from the online résumés received, meetings with the public relations firm and prepping for the benefit fundraiser. Through the churches, shelters and other organizations working with the clinic, there are already almost a hundred children to be screened. I can already use another doctor on board and the nursing staff—”

  “Faye!” Adeline’s voice was loud and firm.

  “I know,” Faye said with a self-conscious chuckle. “I should be relaxing.” She noticed an envelope that had been slid under the door, and picked it up. “But it’s so hard to turn off, you know?”

  “You are a compassionate, dedicated doctor. You give and give until there is nothing left. Now is your time, Faye. For the next week, be a little selfish. Pamper yourself. Get a massage, a mani/pedi...find a cute guy who can knock the cobwebs out of those seldom-used girlie parts.”

  “Seriously, Adeline! You did not just go there.”

  “Ha! I most certainly did. You’ve gone far too long without the love of a man. It’s time for you to get back in the dating game and find someone to make you happy.”

  “I’m already happy,” Faye murmured, opening the

  elegant-looking linen envelope and pulling out the gold-embossed card.

  “Then find someone with whom to share that happiness. Go flirt with a man, girl!”

  A vision immediately came to mind—the man from the lobby, the man of her dreams. The man who was last seen kissing a beautiful woman, Faye. Don’t forget that.

  “Faye, are you listening?”

  “Actually, I was reading an invitation from the resort. It must have been placed under my door while I napped.”

  “What does it say?”

  “It says...

  Drake Wines Resort and Spa invites you to join in the celebration of its founder, David “Papa Dee” Drake, Sr., as he marks his 100th birthday!

  When: Friday, August 8, @ 5:00 p.m.

  Where: Gardens of the South Lawn

  There will be food, fun and, of course, Southern California’s finest wines!

  RSVP recommended, but not required.”

  “There you go, girl,” Adeline squealed, the smile in her voice reaching through the phone. “An invitation to a party. Perfect! Go and buy yourself something sexy, put on some heels and flirt with every man in the room. Have some fun, Doctor. That’s an order!”

  After ending the call, Faye ordered from the twenty-four-hour room service menu. Thirty minutes later she enjoyed an all-American hamburger and fries, washing it down with a classic cola. She turned on the television and tried to focus on an over-the-top show about hip-hop artists in Atlanta, Georgia, and the women who loved them. Her eyes were on the screen, but her thoughts were on cobwebs, girlie parts, one certain businessman...and a dream.

  Chapter 5

  Because of the long nap, it had been almost 3 a.m. before Faye had settled into slumber. She woke up, sat up against the headboard and looked around. It was ten o’clock in the morning and she had no patients to see, no chores to do, no visits to make to tent villages and no idea what one did with idle time. It o
ccurred to her that because her job was also her passion, she’d not taken a true vacation in almost five years. What do people do all day when they have nothing to do? She eyed the remote on the nightstand next to her, picked it up and turned on the large, flat-screen TV. After watching the infomercial on Drake Wines, she flipped through the channels. Five minutes and she knew that watching actors she did not know and shows she did not understand would not be how she spent her spare time. She turned off the television and tossed down the remote. Now what?

  She looked around the luxurious, perfectly appointed room. Her eye landed on the envelope with You’re invited across the front. “The party,” she murmured, picking up the card once again. Maybe I should take Addie’s advice and attend. But what would I wear? After several years in Africa, and three years in Haiti, her wardrobe had been reduced to khakis, jeans and one simple black dress that she’d worn to the rare formal dinner. Go and buy yourself something sexy, put on some heels and flirt with every man in the room. “Addie is right. I should try and have fun.” That decided, Faye scheduled a massage, a mani/pedi and an appointment at the salon, then ordered a rental car through the concierge. By the time she showered, dressed and did a quick online search, her car was downstairs. With one last look around the room she headed to the elevators, reached the shiny rental, programmed the car’s GPS and set out for something she hadn’t seen in about a year—a shopping mall.