A Taste of Fame (23 page)
“A restaurant,” her husband supplied. “Not too far away. Fiftyseventh Street at Le Parker Meridian Hotel.”
“My name is Lizzie.”
The young man replied, “I’m Robert.” He pointed to the woman. “Sharon,” he said.
I looked outside. The city was still vibrant and alive. “How close is the restaurant?” I asked.
“A few blocks,” Robert said.
“Too many to walk?”
Robert looked out toward the front of the hotel, then nodded. “Let’s ask the concierge.”
At the concierge’s desk I explained the situation. “Hold on,” the young man said. Robert, Sharon, and I waited as he dialed the number for Le Parker Meridian. When he spoke, I listened and signed.
“They do have the purse,” he said, hanging up. “I can have someone get it for you.”
As soon as I signed the good news, Sharon shook her head and signed back to me, “How long will that take?”
I repeated the question to the concierge.
He looked at his watch. “Could be up to an hour, unfortunately. We’re not as highly staffed during this shift.”
I repeated the answer. Sharon quickly signed to Robert, “Can we go get it? Please? I’ll worry.”
Robert nodded.
I told the concierge, “They’ll take a cab to the hotel.”
Robert and Sharon thanked me, and I wished them luck. I was just about to turn toward the lobby when a sudden and unexpected thought came to mind. “Would you like me to go with you?” I asked. “Just in case there’s a problem?”
The young couple smiled. The next thing I knew, we were standing outside and then slipping into a cab.
Minutes later we were heading—in a roundabout way—toward 57th, although it seemed to me the cab driver wasn’t taking any direct route to the hotel/restaurant. While we were en route, I called Goldie to tell her what was happening. She was, of course, beyond mortified. “You left the hotel without telling me?” she nearly screamed. “Lizzie, my gosh!”
“It’s okay, Goldie. Really, it is. This is one of those moments, you know, when you realize God has you in a particular place at a particular time for a particular reason.”
I heard her sigh. “Only you, Liz.”
“Did you talk with Jack?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“Practically all of Summit View was at the church tonight, cell phones in hand, ready to make those calls.”
I laughed lightly. “Well, who knows? Maybe we’ll move one more rung up the ladder to the finale.”
Goldie didn’t reply.
“Is something wrong?” I asked.
“No. Not really. Well, not for you or me.”
“For who, then?”
“Donna. Jack says Faye Gage is coming with them tomorrow. She told Jack tonight at the church.”
“Faye Gage? Oh, dear.”
The taxi slowed and stopped in front of the spiffy entrance of the hotel and quoted the price for the ride. “Goldie, I have to go. I’ll call you shortly.”
I disconnected. As Robert paid the cab driver, I opened the back door and slid out of the car. Robert and Sharon followed behind me. We zigzagged between the pedestrians then pushed our way through the revolving doors and into the lobby.
I allowed Robert and Sharon to lead the way to the restaurant, which turned out to be a French bistro that—with one look—I knew was way out of my pocketbook’s price range.
We were met by a host who said, “Three?” but I quickly shook my head. “No. This young woman left her purse here.”
The man frowned. “Ah, yes. Can she describe it for me?”
I turned to Sharon and signed the question, and as she answered me, I translated. “Coach … Ergo … tote.” I turned fully to the host. “She says the color is called brass.”
He smiled then, mostly at Sharon, and said, “I have it in the back. The young lady left it in the ladies lounge.”
I smiled at Sharon and watched as she beamed. Robert showed nothing short of sheer relief and gratitude. “Thank you,” he signed.
I waved away their appreciation. “The host will be back in a minute,” I said to them, then turned and gazed around the room, which was filled with small round and square tables, dark chairs, and booth seating in black trimmed in wide white strips of leather. The tables were draped in white linen and accented by red flowers in the centers. Even at just a little past midnight, there seemed to be quite a crowd. Just as at the Hilton, most seemed to have just returned from an evening at the theater and were either having late dinners or spoiling themselves with dessert.
I caught a glimpse of the host returning with a purse in his hands. As I looked toward him my eyes shot past his left shoulder and to a corner booth. My lips parted, and I sucked in my breath. Bubba, the adorable Cajun chief chef of Wild Cajun Cooks, and Amy Snyder, Kat Sebastian’s assistant, were leaning toward each other, deep in conversation, with what appeared to be half-eaten crème brulée smothered in raspberry sauce between them. As the restaurant’s host neared the three of us, I stepped to one side for a better look. Amy was stroking Bubba’s face, kissing him lightly on the lips, then nuzzling his nose with hers. Adept as Michelle at reading lips, I watched to see if she would say anything to him. She did. “I promise … I promise …” she said, kissing him lightly again. “Believe me, my love. I have it all arranged.”
I was nearly frantic by the time Lizzie returned to our room.
Frantic, but I’d showered, changed into my pajamas, and was propped up in bed trying to read Lauraine Snelling’s latest novel that I’d picked up from the church library before leaving Summit View. I couldn’t concentrate, though, and had started reading page 15 for the third time.
Finally, I heard Lizzie slide the key across the lock on the other side of the door. I bolted upright as the door swung open. Slapping the book shut, I said, “Where have you been?”
Lizzie looked wide eyed.
“What?” I asked. I scurried from under the cover and sort of crawled to the far side of the bed closest to the door. “What happened? Were you mugged?”
Lizzie placed her hands on either side of her face and shook her head.
“Did you see a murder or something?”
“Worse,” Lizzie finally said, panting.
“Worse than a murder? What could be worse than a … Do we need to call Donna?”
I was reaching for the phone now.
“No!”
I dropped the phone.
Lizzie made her way across the room and sat on my bed. “Goldie. Oh, Goldie. I don’t know what to do.”
“About what?” I scooted close to her, wrapped her hands in mine. “Oh, Lizzie. You’re positively pale.”
She pulled her hands out from under mine and brought them back to her face again. “Am I?” She looked toward a mirror, then back at me. “You won’t believe what I saw tonight.”
“Well, I will if you tell me!”
She took a deep breath, exhaled slowly. “Okay. Okay. I’m okay now.”
I jutted my chin forward. “So?”
“I told you I was going to this hotel’s restaurant—Seppi’s, it’s called—over on 57th Street.”
“Yeah …”
“You won’t believe who I saw in there. Sitting in the corner. In a booth. Kissing.”
“Who?”
“Amy Snyder and Bubba from Wild Cajuns.”
I didn’t respond at first. I had to take it in. Amy? And Bubba?
“They were kissing?” I asked Lizzie.
Lizzie nodded. “And there’s more. Amy was speaking to Bubba—I read her lips—saying she had, and I quote, ‘it all arranged.’ ”
“What all arranged?”
“I don’t know.”
“What else did she say?”
“That was it.” Lizzie raked her hands through her salt and pepper hair. “I decided I’d better get out before I was seen.”
“Did she say anything before that?”
“Only ‘I promise, I promise.’ That was it. ‘I promise, I promise’ and ‘I have it all arranged.’ I don’t know what it means, but it can’t be good. Those two surely shouldn’t be seeing each other.”
“Of course not.” I took a moment to allow the news to sink in a little before adding, “We have to tell the girls.”
Lizzie glanced at her watch. “Not this late. My gosh, it’s nearly 1:30. I should shower and get ready for bed.” She stood from her place on my bed, then extended a hand toward me. I took it in mine. “We’ll call the girls together in the morning before breakfast. Most definitely before we go to the studio to find out who was eliminated.” Lizzie sucked in her breath. “That’s it. Amy has it all arranged that the Wild Cajuns will win.”
I nodded. She was probably right about that. “Go shower,” I said. “Tomorrow is another day, and there’s nothing we can do about it today.”
Lizzie scoffed lightly. “Tomorrow is today,” she said, then retreated to the bathroom.
The next morning, as soon as we’d slipped into the clothes we were going to wear to the studio, I dialed Lisa Leann’s cell number while Lizzie dialed Vonnie’s, summoning the girls to our room.
“Should we call the guys?” I asked.
Lizzie shook her head. “I’m not so sure it’s proper to have them in our room.”
Propriety, as far as I could see, had taken a flying leap out the window.
Minutes later the girls were all gathered in our room and Lizzie repeated what she’d told me the night before. I thought Vonnie was going to faint. She turned whiter than Summit View in a blizzard. Donna reached for her and guided her to a nearby chair. “Sit, Von,” she said. Then to me, “Can you get a glass of water for her?”
That Donna may be still a young thing, but she sure has a mature and commanding presence in a crisis. I complied with her command. I shot a quick look toward Lisa Leann, whose face and hair had managed to accomplish the same in color. “This one is going to stroke out,” I said, pointing to her.
Evie motioned for Lisa Leann to take a seat on the rumpled covers of my bed. “Goodness, Lisa Leann,” she said.
Once everyone was over the initial shock, Lisa Leann took her usual position of authority. “We’ve got to do something.”
“And just what do you suggest?” Evangeline asked.
“We’ll go to Kat,” she said. “That’s what we’ll do.”
“And then what?” Lizzie interjected. “I’ve been thinking about this all night—as the bags under my eyes can attest. Believe me, I’ve thought of every angle. If we go to Kat … what if she already knows? Amy is her assistant, after all. If Kat is in on this and they find out that we know, they’ll make sure we’re done for.”
“What if we’re already done for?” Vonnie asked.
Dear Vonnie. Of course she’d be the one to think of that possibility.
Lisa Leann grabbed her oversized purse from the floor where she’d dropped it upon arrival. It was gold lamé, decorated with large gold and silver-rimmed rhinestones. I wondered fleetingly if this was one of the bootlegged purses she and Evie had purchased before our arrival.
Oh, dear. What an argument
that
had caused between Donna and Evangeline. Not to mention Donna and Lisa Leann. I thought Donna was going to arrest them both, haul them down to One Police Plaza (which I know about because of watching
Law and Order
), or at the very least force them to take her to the place where they’d made their big purchase so she could bring down the house, so to speak.
But she didn’t … though she just may yet.
“I’m calling Nelson,” Lisa Leann was saying.
I looked at Lizzie, who said, “It’s okay. She’s his mother, after all.”
Lisa Leann looked perplexed, but then again, who didn’t at that moment.
Five minutes later, Wade, David, and Nelson strolled through the door and into the room of women all set to pounce with the news.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Nelson said while holding his hands over his ears. “One at a time, please.” I chuckled at the way he enunciated every word as though it were a sentence unto itself. He dropped his hands and glared at his mother. “Mother? Can you explain this in a simple sentence?”
“No,” Lisa Leann said honestly. “But I think Lizzie might be able to do so.”
Lizzie repeated what I had now heard three times. The boys took the news differently than we girls had. They paced a moment, exchanged glances, leaned against the wall, then shrugged.
“Okay,” Nelson said. “Here’s what I think. I think we don’t have enough evidence. But, with a little investigating on my part and Wade’s and David’s … well, we just might have something, ladies.”
“What about us? What kind of investigating should we do?” Evie asked.
“Uh-uh,” Donna said, taking a step toward her. “You stay out of this.”
“Excuse me?”
I could practically see the hairs on the back of Evangeline’s head standing straight out.
“Leave it to the guys, Evie. We have to continue to do what we’re doing. Besides, Dad and the rest of the men will be here later today, right?” She glanced around the room.
“Yes,” I said. “I spoke with Jack last night. They should be here around three or four this afternoon. They’re catching the same flight time we did last week.”
Last week? Had we only been a week?
“Personally,” Donna said, “I think you should let Dad and me handle the investigating.”
“She’s right,” Lizzie said, then added a moan. “Oh goodness,
I never called Samuel last night. With all the excitement, I just forgot.”
“There’s one other thing,” I said, hating to have to add any more distressing news.
“What’s that?” Lisa Leann asked.
I gave my best sympathy look to Donna, then glanced over to Wade. “Your mother will be with the men this afternoon on the plane.”
“My mother?” Wade exclaimed.
“His mother?” Donna coughed out.
The two looked at each other while we all looked at them. Wade was clearly shocked and Donna was obviously furious.
“Well,” she finally said, “isn’t that just great? Just wonderful. Just peachy.”
She stormed through the crowd of us, jerked the door open, and then stomped out of it. When the door had closed behind her I looked to Wade, but not without catching David’s face.
David looked like the cat who’d swallowed the canary.
We had a quick breakfast downstairs in the restaurant called New York Marketplace. I ordered their Belgian waffle with fresh fruit on the side. After a quick run back to our rooms to brush our teeth and then gather for prayer, we jumped in the limo waiting out front and headed for the studio. There, we went through the usual wardrobe and makeup and hair, then silently strolled down the hallways and to the main auditorium, where a few of the other teams had already been seated. I quickly noted that the Wild Cajun Cooks were not among those who’d already made it.
