Mayne Attraction: In The Spotlight (33 page)

But I nodded and turned to enter my
room.

Then as if remembering a lost thought he
said, “Oh, this is a five star restaurant, so it’s formal. I wasn’t
sure if you’d be prepared for that, so I had something appropriate
sent up for you to wear…if you want it…just in case.”

And he smiled that mischievous half smile I
loved but feared before disappearing from view.

Formal? Oh great! Something ‘appropriate’?
Even better.

There was nothing in the outdoor store that
could remotely be mistaken for formal, so now I was really curious
where he’d had my mystery formal outfit sent up from. I opened the
closet, but it contained only my two bags, neatly stowed by a
helpful Bellman. I moved forward into my large and very well
appointed room, where the curtains had been opened to reveal a
breathtaking sunset colored view of that mountain backdrop
dominating the horizon.

In a nook area to the right of the huge
picture window was a small garment stand, like a miniature version
of a coat rack. And hanging there all alone was a silky black tea
length gown resting on its own matching silky black hanger. It had
a cropped three quarter length sleeve jacket made of black but very
sheer crimped material that was piped at the hem and sleeves with
the same black silk as the gown. The tag on the inside said
‘Gucci’.

I didn’t know much about designers, but I
was pretty sure that wasn’t Canadian. On the floor next to the rack
were black high-heeled shoes, in my size, which upon closer
inspection I found were covered in black silk that matched the
dress, also labeled Gucci.

On the dresser was a thin, medium sized,
rectangular box. I lifted the edge and moved back the cream-colored
tissue paper to view the contents. Inside, on one side of the box,
folded neatly, was a pair of department store pantyhose—not the
kind from an egg—and on the other side, displayed to their best
advantage, were a black bra with matching lace panties. I was so
embarrassed I turned around, as if I had accidentally flipped to an
R-rated movie scene I shouldn’t be watching.

I’d had enough and didn’t look back as I
escaped to take refuge in the bathroom, locking the door behind me
for good measure. Then I turned the hot water in the tub on full
tilt and let it fill to far beyond the level my mother would ever
allow.

On the spacious marble counter was a huge
gift basket full of bath bombs, sugar scrubs and herbal shampoos
and treatments from a place called Lush. This gift would have been
like a dream come true if I hadn’t felt horribly embarrassed by it,
too.

Embarrassment aside, I tore into the basket
searching for the bath aid that could remedy my emotional upheaval.
There was quite a selection but I decided to go with the one called
‘Happy Pill.’

Whereas the other bath bombs were more or
less spherical, this item was shaped like a cartoonishly large
pharmaceutical, brightly colored in two tones, one half orange and
the other deep yellow.

As I soaked in the tub, the scents of
Bergamot, Frankincense and Gardenia first relaxed me, then
“brightened my mood to match the soft sunrise color of the water,”
just as the packaging had promised. While I steeped in that
wonderful smelling brew I thought about the appropriateness of the
ensemble lurking in the room outside. As I mulled it through, I
concluded that there was no way in the world Gray could have put
that together himself. After puzzling out the possibilities, I
decided that he must have enlisted the help of the lady at the
outdoor store. She would have seen my clothes and shoe size in the
dressing room and would know to buy things like matching
undergarments and fancy pantyhose.

Sherri had done a lot of good work in a
fairly short time frame, I realized—the time it took to view and
contemplate Bow Falls. Probably as incentive for a job well done,
he told her she could keep the credit card when she was
finished.

I felt better when I decided on that version
of things. The thought of Gray selecting panties for me had made me
flee the scene in the first place. But now I had the courage to
return and check out the rest of her handiwork.

Working through my bath, I used every
product category in the basket, trying hard to keep the fragrances
in the same family so that there would be some continuity to the
smell of me when I was finished. After drying my hair I stepped
back out into the room to fetch the new underwear and see if there
was anything else of interest in the care package on the
dresser.

Of course there was more, including an
adorable little matching purse, a full complement of cosmetics in
their own cool looking case, some exotic hair pins, and another
box, this one from a jewelry store. I gulped at the thought, but I
couldn’t resist the suspense.

The necklace and matching earrings inside
the black velvet case were understated, but flawlessly sparkling
and beautiful. A thin chain of braided platinum looped through a
pendant that featured a cascade of six successively larger
gemstones, transitioning in color from black to purple to magenta,
linked together by more of the platinum braiding. The earrings were
a smaller version of the necklace, but with three stones each.

It reminded me of costume jewelry, except
that I knew the stones were real, and I knew that this was not
something Sherri had picked out for me.

When I’d fixed everything in place,
including the make-up and the jewelry, I had to admit that I looked
pretty good. Well, probably the best ever…for me, that is. Which I
reminded myself was not that big of an accomplishment. I took deep
breaths and tried to think happy thoughts. Gray had gone to a lot
of trouble to bring this ‘accomplishment’ about, or at least he’d
paid Sherri to, and I owed it to him to wear a pleasant expression
to go along with the rest of what I was wearing.

At exactly five till eight he knocked on my
hallway door. I was relieved that he hadn’t attempted to enter
through the adjoining room door. I had been troubled by its
presence ever since I realized what it was. In fact, my room had
two adjoining doors, one on each inside wall, and though there were
locks in place, I still found it unsettling, somehow.

I was standing just inside the main door,
but I counted to fifteen before I answered and stepped out. To my
surprise, and I’ll admit it, my gratification, Gray’s eyes actually
popped open wide at the sight of me, before he adjusted his
expression to reflect more genuine delight than astonishment.

“Wow,” was all he said, in tandem with a
huge smile. Then, with a soft chuckle, he added, “That worked out
well,” seeming a little too proud of himself as he spoke.

“Thank you for thinking of this,” I said
softly as I pulled at the sides of the dress, unable to meet his
gaze, which was burning a hole in me. Reaching up to finger the
necklace, I spoke with perfect sincerity, even more softly, still
addressing the floor, “It was very kind of you.”

He helped me correct my perspective with a
soft hand guiding my chin upward to meet his gaze.

“It was kind of you to go along with it…and
I’m pleased at how…beautifully…it all came together.”

He smiled like he was enjoying an inside
joke and he made a show of looking me over.

“You’ll need to drive me back over to the
store so I can thank Sherri personally.”

I was serious, though he still laughed at
me.

“If you’d like,” he said, as he held out his
elbow for me.

I hesitated for a moment, but then wound my
free hand up and through, while my other hand carried my matching
clutch with various quickly corralled portable beauty aids stowed
inside.

“And you can get your credit card back from
her while we’re there,” I added.

His only response to that was to smile even
wider, and shake his head slightly, while looking straight ahead as
we rounded the corner heading for the elevators.

When we walked out into the lobby, that
scopophobic sensation ballooned larger than I’d ever felt it
before, except that it wasn’t from unseen eyes. It was from eyes
coming toward me, and eyes walking behind, and eyes from the other
side of the room. It felt like I had a huge spotlight beamed
directly on top of me, tracing my every step. I could feel myself
stiffen in response and worked furiously to stay loose, otherwise I
might trip and give everyone a real reason to stare.

Gray was not oblivious to the situation, the
looks or my reaction to them. He put his arm around my shoulder, in
a reassuring hug, then held me a little tighter while we were
waiting for our turn with the maître d’.

I laughed at myself when I thought about how
uncomfortable I thought I’d been modeling clothes that afternoon in
comparison to how I felt at the moment. It was like the difference
in comfort levels between a dental cleaning and a root canal.

The pain got worse before it got better. As
we were led to our table, if one person turned to look, I swear
they all did. It was ridiculous. I wanted to bolt, but I held it
together and pretended to ignore everyone. As Gray held my chair
for me, I noticed that the table was set with wine glasses and I
had an epiphany. I’d just discovered a way to hold at bay
everything unpleasant this evening was threatening…vino.

Unwittingly playing straight into my
strategy, Gray studied the wine list before reviewing the menu. I
spoke up and asked, “Did you know that here in Alberta the legal
age for alcohol consumption is eighteen?”

He looked up at me with a strange mixture of
amusement and caution in his eyes.

“Are you sure about that?”

“Positive. Would you allow me to have some
wine with my meal tonight?”

I assumed he was buying, since I hadn’t even
been allowed to purchase my own Cinnabon at the airport earlier in
the day.

“Of course. I guess it would be rude to
partake myself and deny you the opportunity, wouldn’t it?”

He was smiling at me now, but his expression
was hard to translate. He turned back to the wine list and my
scopophobic sensitivities directed my eyes to the corner of the
room, over Gray’s shoulder, to the source of the sensation: Ash’s
eyes.

He smiled at me, though I knew there wasn’t
a drop of pleasure in it. I could only imagine what he must be
going through. I wondered where he’d been all day. I hadn’t seen
him since the airplane lavatory. The thought of that encounter made
me smile, self-consciously. This whole situation was like a mean
joke, or a really awful play with a terrible leading lady. I felt
so bad for him. I looked away before I got caught.

Gray ordered the salmon steak and a glass of
Merlot for himself and the lobster stuffed ravioli with a glass of
Zinfandel for me. How did he always manage to get my order right? I
thought he might quiz the waiter with a drinking age trivia
question as well, but to his credit, he let it go.

Moments passed and we chatted pleasantly
about the places he planned for us to visit. Some places I had seen
in pictures, others I could only imagine as he described them. It
was an absorbing and pleasant distraction. Then I became aware of
an unfamiliar sensation on my lap. What I felt was my purse
vibrating and I realized that someone was trying to call me. This
was definitely not the kind of place to take a call at the table,
so I excused myself and headed toward the Ladies’ Room to see who
it was and what they wanted.

That annoying spotlight switched on as soon
as I stood up and followed me all the way into the bathroom, not
switching off until I was inside a stall.

I had the option of looking at the missed
calls or checking the voicemail that was left. I opted for the
voicemail, since I was in no hurry to leave. Pulling out the little
instruction sheet from my wallet, I followed the steps for message
retrieval. I had never done it on this phone before, which reminded
me…I had better keep this thing out of Gray’s sight or he might
steal it back, since it was his, technically.

The system informed me that I had four new
messages.

Four messages? Did somebody die?

“First message…Saturday, August 30, 3:15
p.m. …“Ellie, this is Gray. You forgot to give me my phone back. If
you happen to check messages, could you call my company voicemail
and let me know if you want to keep it or send it back? I’m at
extension 2009.”

Whoops. Guess I should have checked these
messages a long time ago.

“Next message…Friday, September 5, 1:22 p.m.
… “Ellie, I’m guessing you didn’t figure out how to check messages
yet…well that’s okay I guess. There are a couple of numbers in the
contacts I’d like to get, though. If you get this message can you
please call me? 919-555-2000, extension 2009. Thanks.”

Oh well. He really should have called me on
my home phone if he wanted his phone back. Would that have been so
very hard?

“Next message…Saturday, February 12, 2:09
a.m. … “Hi Ellie. I was just thinking about that night in
Reykjavik, you know, the one with the uh…fireworks? Did that mean
as much to you as it did to me? Yeah, huh…anyway I was thinking
about you. I really, really miss you.”

What the what?!?

I quickly scanned the instruction sheet for
the button to replay.

Five.

I pushed the five and listened again. I
listened to his message four more times.

What just happened the February before
last!?! And what did he mean about the fireworks? Did I blow my
chance with him because he thought I blew him off? No!

NO, NO, NO!!! Months of pain and loss
swirled through my mind and settled in the pit of my stomach. Had
it all been accidentally self-induced? Being sad because I thought
it was over was understandable. It being over because he thought I
wasn’t interested was the zenith of wire crossing. Or was Lidia
right about it being more about timing, now that I was old enough
to drink wine in Canada?