“Well, neither have I.” She hurled the words at him, glad the roof was down. Glad she had an excuse to raise her voice and let out all the pent up emotion. “But these are the worst possible circumstances. We have the extra adrenaline of danger mixed in with whatever else we’re feeling. For God’s sake, someone tried to kill us yesterday. This is no time to be distracted by falling in love” Annabelle winced and covered her eyes in mortification. “Oh, no, no, no. Tell me I didn’t say that out loud. Please save me from eighteen kinds of embarrassment and tell me you didn’t hear a thing.”
“And here I thought we were making real progress. Relationships are supposed to be all about communication. What kind of man would I be if I told you I wasn’t listening?” He laughed and reached across to lay his hand on her thigh. “Darlin’, love is a gift, not a distraction.”
The ring of Mark’s cell phone startled both of them. He noted the New York area code and passed it to Annabelle.
“You will buy me a crazy expensive present for my birthday.” Jonathan’s voice snapped her immediately back into work mode.
“What is it? What did you find out?”
“Did you hear me, sweet, extravagant sister of mine?”
“Jonathan, your birthday was three weeks ago, and I gave you season tickets to the Yankees. Tickets I spent two years haggling with three different players to get.” Exasperation tinged her voice. “I don’t have time for this.”
“Fine,” he said sulkily. “Don’t play along. But for missing the opportunity to use the aforementioned tickets tonight, not to mention leaving my air-conditioned building to come down there to the most humid city known to man…well, you’ll owe me. Big. As in next year, I get a supermodel to share my season tickets.”
Annabelle motioned for Mark to pull over. “Why are you coming to Richmond?”
“It’s a long story. Well, probably not so long, but with the mood you’re in right now I doubt you’d appreciate the subtleties of my little yarn.”
Annabelle was on the verge of reaching through hundreds of miles of phone cable to strangle her brother. “How about you give me the high points?”
“Weren’t you listening? I’m coming to Richmond; flying down tonight. Or to be precise, flying into Dulles and driving the rest of the way. I’ve a few things to tie up, so it’ll be late when I get there. Don’t wait up, but if you could get me a room, I won’t have to crash on the foot of your bed at one in the morning.”
“Fine. I’ll get you a room. But you still haven’t told me why you’re coming to Richmond.”
His voice finally sobered. “Hey, when the chips are down and you need me, I come running. I did some digging and immediately hit a rather unexpected brick wall. Once I’m there it’ll be easier to sort out. I get the feeling we’re under a time constraint and you need the help.”
“All true. I do appreciate it, more than you know. We’re staying at the Jefferson Hotel. I’ll make sure they leave a mint on your pillow—or a mint julep. Whatever it is they do down here.”
“I expect details regarding your choice of pronoun just now. See you at breakfast.”
“So you averaged a total of what, one word to his fifty?” Mark asked.
“It’s better than I usually average. Jonathan is brilliant and often equal parts amusing and annoying. And I’d move the sun and the moon for him, just like he would for me.”
“You two are lucky to have each other.” Mark eased them back into traffic.
“Oh, don’t get me wrong. I was convinced for years he was the main carrier of all boy-cooties in the world, and he still goes out of his way to drive me crazy. Gives him some sort of twisted pleasure, I guess. But we do things together. Ten years ago it didn’t seem like a possibility. Now we do coffee, or grab takeout in front of really bad movies. I try to help him with his girlfriends, but he’s into serial dating right now. Which doesn’t require much in the way of sisterly advice.”
“Sounds like a friendship.”
“Huh,” Annabelle pursed her lips. “I never thought of it in those terms. But, if you insist on putting a label on it—”
“And I do,” he interrupted. “We researchers can be transfixed for days at the thought of correctly labeling inter-personal relationships.”
She shot him a sideways look. “You’re a very strange man.”
“Don’t evade the question by stating the obvious.”
“Fine. If I stopped describing Jonathan as my brother, I’d probably introduce him as one of my closest friends. But don’t you dare tell him, or he’ll start demanding better presents.”
“Fair enough. How do you think he’ll react to meeting me? Pistols at dawn?”
“Nothing that drastic. We live our own lives. He’ll be surprised. You might say before this week, the chances of my teaming up with anyone would be classified as significantly less than zero.”
“Really? I hadn’t noticed your independent streak.” He dodged her quick poke in his ribs.
“Sarcasm from you? It’s supposed to be my line.”
“Sometimes I can’t resist. Does it really make you uncomfortable having me along?”
Annabelle leaned her head back and closed her eyes. “You do ask the tough questions, don’t you?”
“And you dodged it like a pro.”
“Caught me,” she laughed. “It feels different. Like a new coat you try on, and it’s heavier than you’re used to. On the other hand, it’s twice as warm as the old coat, which is probably a good thing; you just need to get used to it.”
“What you’re saying is that to you I’m a heavy, puffy winter coat?”
She bit her lip. “That came out less like the compliment I intended.”
“No, I can be a parka. If you’d compared me to something insignificant like a sock or a glove, now that would’ve been hard to take. But a big, substantial parka, well, I’ve no complaints.”
“Clearly I need to brush up on my Flirtatious Comments 101.”
“Anytime you need someone to practice on, you let me know. Ready for breakfast?”
She shook her head. “I already ate.”
“Darling, a cup of bitterly strong coffee does not a breakfast make.” Mark slowed to negotiate the curve of the off ramp. “When I stopped to pick up your suitcase, Mrs. Haley made me promise to get some food into you. She was worried you’d slipped past her without ‘touching a morsel of food’, I believe were her exact words.”
“I didn’t want to hurt her feelings, but have you seen the size of her breakfasts? After last night’s barbecue, I couldn’t face it.”
He came around and opened the door for her. “Nevertheless, a gentleman doesn’t go back on his word. You will eat something. Don’t look at it so much as breakfast as it is ulcer prevention. But don’t go overboard here. I have a treat in store for you this afternoon.”
Annabelle paused, one leg out of the car. “This is really where you want to eat?” She was dubious about his choice. They were parked in front of a Waffle House. The garish orange sign was a highway fixture across most of the country.
“This is precisely where I want to eat. Don’t even think of turning up that fancy nose of yours. People drive hundreds of miles out of their way to get a smothered waffle.” He guided her through the doors. Annabelle giggled when Mark was unable to stifle his own shock at the wall of smoke which immediately engulfed them.
“Now wait just a minute,” she said. “Living in New York doesn’t mean I’m incapable of enjoying life’s simpler pleasures.” She warmed to the topic and her voice rose accordingly. “You can’t make sweeping assumptions based on a person’s zip code. After all, I don’t assume you’re a half-wit because you speak with a drawl.” At the end of her tirade Annabelle found herself seated at the counter, coffee cup plunked in front of her wordlessly by a sullen teenager. The girl’s face was covered with at least a dozen piercings. She brandished menus, but Mark waved them away without a glance.
“Two smothered waffles.” Mark smiled at the w
aitress, who merely scribbled down their order and then walked away, still without having uttered a single word. “Hmm—maybe the hoop on her lip prevents her from using her mouth. Hope it’s good for her love life. Her attitude sure won’t help rake in the big tips.”
Annabelle squinted at him. “Did you hear a word I said? I’m in the middle of a rant. This isn’t the time to evaluate the customer service downfalls of facial piercings.”
Mark calmly stirred his coffee. In the blink of an eye, comprehension washed over her.
“You were baiting me. Trying to get a rise out of me.”
Mark grinned. “Of course I was. You get worked up so easily over the smallest thing. Then your cheeks get red and you start lecturing me. I think it’s adorable. When the opportunity presents itself, I can’t resist.”
“Arguably the single most backhanded compliment I have ever received. Far worse than when I compared you to a coat.” She shook her head and smiled. “But I enjoy compliments, no matter how oddly they’re presented. I’m on to you now, though. Don’t expect me to fall for it next time.”
Their plates were unceremoniously dumped in front of them. Again, the young waitress disappeared without a single word.
“You know, if I was one of those slice-of-life reporters, I could do an entire segment on our mute, pierced friend.” Annabelle gestured with her fork as the girl sauntered to the opposite end of the counter. “There’s got to be a story there. Is she saving money for college? Or the sole support of an infant? Or did her parents kick her out over all the piercings, and this job is all she has?”
Mark methodically cut a grid through his waffle, topped with cheese, hash browns and an egg. “Do you look at everyone like that? Do you mentally dissect each person you run across in a day?”
Annabelle snorted. “Maybe if there were thirty-six hours in a day and I didn’t have a job. I juggle so many things on a daily basis, I barely have the time or energy to remember to drop off my dry-cleaning.”
“Any trouble remembering to pick it up?”
“Of course not.” She inhaled a huge bite of waffle. “When my closet gets so empty it echoes, I know it must be time.”
“Foolproof system you’ve got going.”
“And when the system breaks down, I can always go shopping. Really, it’s like a built in bonus.”
“In that case, what made you wonder about our Lady of the Piercings?”
“It’s a game—a hobby, really. It started years ago, in college. Vanessa and I were coming back from Christmas break. There was a once-in-a-century blizzard, and we were stranded at the airport for almost a day. I don’t remember whose idea it was, but we tried to guess the life stories of the people around us.” She looked down at her plate, and was amazed her breakfast was almost gone. “It embarrasses me to admit the twist was definitely my idea.”
“Troublemaker in your younger years? I’m intrigued.” Mark waggled his eyebrows.
“Nothing that exciting. I’m so insanely curious I couldn’t stand making up stories about those people and not knowing if I was right. We’d find an interesting-looking person, and each of us would come up with a brief life history. Then we’d put a dollar each in our hands, and walk right up to that person to find out who was right.” She rested her elbows on the counter and tucked her chin in her hands. It was a bright, shiny memory of Vanessa, and sharing it with Mark felt right.
“The first guy had a buzz cut, and was dressed in camouflage and boots. Vanessa went the easy route, asked him if he was a soldier. He looked at the dollars clutched in our fists and asked me what I thought he did.”
“And what did you say?”
“Wasn’t sure about the profession entirely, but he had a blue, non-camo carry-on at his feet. My guess wasn’t a soldier, but a hunter. He gave me a thumbs up, nipped Vanessa’s dollar right out of her fingers and handed it to me.”
“And thus an investigative reporter was born.” Mark clinked his coffee cup against hers in a toast. “How much money have you won over the years?”
Annabelle looked up at him swiftly. “What on earth makes you think after all these years, as seasoned professionals, we’d still bother with the wager?”
Mark hooted. “You are one of the most driven, competitive women I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting.” He pushed back his empty plate, threw a twenty-dollar bill on the counter and ushered her out of the diner.
“You really think you can pigeonhole me that neatly?”
“Not at all. Not anywhere close, as a matter of fact. First thing comes to mind if I had to describe you’d be the word complex. But identifying a few character traits doesn’t mean I’ve labeled and filed you away in a single mental drawer.”
She wrinkled her nose at him. “Fine. Use your smooth-talking charm…again. You know I fall for it every time.”
They got into the car and were soon back on the highway. After a few miles, Annabelle twisted in her seat to look at him. “All right—you’ve officially broken me with this silent treatment. As much as it galls me to validate your labeling system, I have to admit we’ve kept up the wager. It’s what old friends do; they maintain traditions.”
“Mmm hmmm. I repeat, how much money have you won over the years? Just give me a ballpark number.”
“I can tell you exactly.”
“Doesn’t surprise me a bit. I bet you have it all tallied up someplace.” Mark glanced over at her. “You do, don’t you? A nice, neat record of every single wager for the past ten years? Darlin’, you are priceless. I think you could easily be the most adorable woman I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting.”
“I repeat, old friends maintain traditions. Yes, there happens to be an official logbook, with our names, each wager, correct answer, and the current total.” And in an instant, another piece of her best friend was ripped out of her heart forever. “God, Mark, what if it never changes? What if I never get to make another silly dollar bet with her?”
She leaned her forehead against the window and fought to choke back a sob. “Vanessa’s my rock. What will I do without her?”
Mark took his time formulating an answer. “You’ll do what you have to do. You’ll live your life. And every time you want to pick up the phone and make another wager with her, you will remember. You’ll remember the joy it brought both of you. You’ll honor the memory of her life and take a moment. And then you’ll go on to the next moment.”
Annabelle reached silently for his hand and held on for dear life, no longer surprised at the comfort the simple gesture brought her.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Even on this stifling June day the doorman was outfitted in a full uniform, from top hat down to the white gloves.
“Welcome to the Jefferson, the finest hotel in the state of Virginia.”
“Really – is it printed on their matchbooks?” Annabelle whispered.
“Wait until we get inside. You’ll see.” Mark put a hand in the small of her back and gave her a slight push through the doorway.
She only made it two steps in the door before dropping her overnight bag. “Mark, this is amazing!”
He hadn’t visited in years, and took a moment to reacquaint himself with the majestic hotel. The grand lobby was bigger than a ballroom, and the décor looked as though time stopped in 1858. Floor to ceiling red velvet curtains tied back with gold fringed swags framed the windows. Gilt columns supported an ornate, stained glass rotunda. He picked up her bag and tugged her down the wide marble staircase.
“They used to keep live alligators in pools here back at the turn of the century. I think all the plants are a much better choice.” Mark led her to a plump, clearly antique peach and gold chair. She sank into its softness while he checked in and reserved a room for Jonathan. He returned quickly and pulled up an equally overstuffed chair.
Annabelle stretched her arms overhead and then crossed them behind her neck. “After driving through some downright depressing parts of the city, I never expected to find anything like this here. I
feel like I stepped back in time. And when I did, I suddenly became extremely wealthy.”
“Don’t get used to it. We’re only staying here one night.”
“Wanderlust is paying all my expenses. I don’t want to put you out.”
“Don’t get me wrong—I can afford it. I just don’t want you to expect this kind of treatment from me all the time. Then it wouldn’t be special, would it?”
A woman dressed in period clothing appeared at Annabelle’s elbow and bobbed a curtsey. Her puffy white mobcap shook as she spoke.
“Welcome to afternoon tea. It is my pleasure to serve you today.” She quickly ran through a list of six different teas and returned moments later with individual, steaming pots. The china was so translucent the rose pattern showed through on the inside of the cups. A sugar bowl held actual sugar cubes with cunning little silver tongs to serve, lemon slices wrapped in cheesecloth, and a very elaborate ritual of pouring the tea commenced.
Annabelle gaped at Mark. “Do you go through this every afternoon?”
“Of course. We Southerners are quite set in our traditions.” He winked at her, smug in the knowledge he’d pleased her with this surprise. “Who has time to do this every day? Consider it my attempt to keep you from getting homesick for your New York elegance.”
“Most of New York’s dirty and frankly a pain in the neck. I spend at most ten weeks a year there in my own apartment, which, by the way, could entirely fit within this room. Are you trying to get me riled up again? I thought we were past that.”
Mark winced. “Sorry. But I swear I wasn’t thinking in terms of a negative stereotype. I was trying to make you happy. Instead, I get the impression I insulted you.”
“Nonsense,” she replied briskly. “Chalk it up to a knee-jerk reflex on my part. These are things both of us have to work through. People have baggage, make assumptions. Honestly, I was far more open-minded when I went to India for the first time than I’ve been on my trip here. I imagine both of us will run out of stereotypes to bump into fairly soon. There can’t be many left.”
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