Draw Me A Picture (40 page)

As victorious as William felt, Bob was elated.

“Now that was something!” he exclaimed as he and William rode the Metro towards their hotel. “We have to celebrate! No one’s ever walked into a client meeting and come out on top plus four before. Not at this firm...” William smiled, raking his hand through his hair in relief.

“After Mr. Orivera left, I was a little worried,” he admitted. “I’m grateful for Texan inquisitiveness.” Bob laughed.

“You did alright, Montgomery,” he said, beaming. “Ol’ Maclane will be pissed he wasn’t there to see it.” Even though it was a little early in the afternoon, William let Bob lead the way to the Sheraton lounge.

“Rum on the rocks!” Bob called to the bartender. The young barkeep looked at William.

“Whiskey sour,” he said, leaning against the bar. He allowed himself to laugh at the tumultuous afternoon, shaking his head at the results. “That Orivera is a right bastard,” he said, tossing back his drink; setting down the empty shot-glass, he signaled for another. Bob hurried to catch up, draining his rum and ordered one more.

“No argument there,” he said, with conviction. “I hope he gets malaria.” William laughed and drank his second whiskey. The alcohol calmed his nerves a little. He and Bob joked about sending Mrs. Orivera the card of a divorce lawyer.

As William threw back his third drink, he spied a pretty woman watching him from down the bar. He turned around, suddenly wanting to go back to his room and call Michelle. It didn’t bother him, but he’d forgotten that hotel bars were by and large a ‘singles’ haunt. With a smile, William realized that he didn’t consider himself single anymore.

“Well, Bob we 'knocked one out of the park', as you American’s say.”

“That we did,” Bob agreed, chewing on a piece of ice.

“Hi there.” A sultry voice sounded out from somewhere behind William. Closing his eyes briefly, he turned around and leaned back against the bar. The woman who’d been eying him stood close by, doing her best to emit a beguiling smile. “I think you’re really cute,” the woman continued. “Let me buy you another drink.”

William actually felt nauseous; the sweetness of his shy Michelle was all the more apparent compared with the bar-haunting female before him.

“I’m sorry… what is your name?” he asked, appearing confused.

“Oo... you’re English. My name’s Mandy,” she purred. William fought the urge to laugh; how clever of her.

“Mandy, well… you’re very lovely, but I’m very engaged... and it’s British, not English; ‘English’ is a language.” The woman’s face hardened for a moment, and then she looked at Bob with a smile. The man wisely held up his hand, wiggling his ring finger for maximum visibility. The woman walked off to find her prey elsewhere.

“Well, Bob… I am going to go up and call my beautiful fiancée,” William said, smiling. “As my aide, I hope I can rely on you to contact the office and have the contracts over-nighted to the various head offices for signature.” Bob chuckled.

“You got it, Montgomery,” the man said, giving a mock-salute. “I reckon you’ve earned a few hours off. Remember though, we have to be at the airport tomorrow at 7am.” William nodded, handing the bartender a couple of folded bills.

Upstairs, he related his adventures to Michelle over the phone; she amused him by chuckling at his description of the Texans. She laughed very hard at the woman hitting on him in the bar.

“Hang on; it wasn’t that funny,” William said, scowling at the wall. Michelle kept giggling.

“I would have loved to see her face!” she said, earnestly. “What a great response to a pick-up line.”

“I’ll be seeing you tomorrow, love,” William told her. “Don’t wait at the airport or anything; I’ll come by the hotel on my way home.”

“You’ll be exhausted,” Michelle said, sounding concerned.

“Don’t worry about me, sweetheart. Being near you is the best possible remedy for travel fatigue.” Michelle smiled at her fiancé's words.

“Until tomorrow then,” she said, softly.

“Yes, love. Until tomorrow.”

William smiled at the phone before hanging it up. He missed Michelle terribly; talking to her without being able to hold her felt rather torturous. What if something should happen to her while he was thousands of miles away? He didn’t want to think about that. Sighing, William turned on the shower; he hoped that tonight he’d dream of being in a blossoming apple orchard with certain girl in a pink dress to keep him company.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Michelle waited for Laurel and Co. by the lobby doors. The last two days she’d put in for a 6am wake-up call, just to be ready when her uncle’s exuberant assistant breezed in the doors. All yesterday morning Laurel taken them to a variety of florists, cake makers and finally the Waldorf’s catering liaison, who stuffed them with delicious food samples. When the caterer found out that the groom was British, she showed them a menu Michelle liked very much; quality Beef Wellington, rosemary, olive-oil milled potatoes, sautéed baby artichokes and the famous Waldorf Salad. The caterer knew of just the right wine to serve but made a special note to bring the bride sparkling cider.

Later that afternoon, Michelle had arrived tired and happy to her hotel room; she’d called Margaret with the date of the impending wedding; the motherly lady was anxious to help. Michelle asked her to kindly provide a list of people who’d genuinely like to see William get married, relatives, friends and forth. Margaret was nearly beside herself with giddiness and said she’d get them the list by noon the next day.

Sitting on a divan near the Park Avenue side lobby doors, Michelle smiled; she dressed with care in the pink gown that she’d worn on her first date with William; she hoped that seeing it would cheer him up a bit, when he finally arrived back from Brazil. Running her mind over the last two days, Michelle shook her head at the amount of preparation involved in this ‘simple’ endeavor; one knew automatically that a wedding was a lot of work but the number of people to see and things to be ordered irritated even Michelle’s calm nature. The only blight on her happiness was a rather glaring fact that the Bride’s side of the church was going to be almost empty. Sighing, Michelle wondered if Laurel would have a viable solution to that.

The door opened and the genial Laurel waltzed in, followed by Daniels. Michelle smiled at them; it felt good not to have to do this alone. Laurel brandished her clipboard and sat by Michelle.

“Good morning!” she said, adjusting her glasses. “I'm glad you wore something nice. As I mentioned yesterday, we’re going to take you to a photographer this morning; he’s really very good… very edgy, but in a nice way. He doesn’t usually do weddings but when I told him you’re wedding was at the Waldorf, well, he sounded more receptive.” Michelle smiled.

“I suppose so,” she said, amused. “Mr. Chan confirmed last night for the Starlight Roof room. Amazingly, no one will be using it all that week, so the resident decorator won’t be rushed.”

Laurel nodded, checking things off on her clipboard.

“Great. We’re good on the ceremony and reception; we’re also going to visit two florists and lastly swing by the printer to approve the invitations. Your future mother-in-law is to fax over the guest list for the Montgomery side, right?” she asked, looking up at the bride.

“Yes. By noon she said,” Michelle responded. She looked at Laurel for a moment. “I am wondering what
to do about my side of the aisle, so to speak. Besides Uncle Oscar, I’ve no family left and very few acquaintances. I am wondering at the logic of the bride-side and groom-side tradition.”
 

At this, Laurel smiled.

“You do it just how you like,” she said, kindly. Her eyes appeared to twinkle with some secret joke, Michelle thought. “Mr. Maclane informed me this morning that you do have relatives, mostly in Scotland; they’re distant relatives, but family nonetheless. He could make a special point to invite them, if you’d like.” Michelle blinked, and looking at her hands for a moment; she laughed.

“How odd,” she said, shaking her head a little. “I don’t even know their names. Mom was the one who kept track of distant relatives; she’d send pictures and Christmas cards… things of that nature.”

“Oh, I can help you with that,” Laurel said, holding up a piece of paper. “I’ve got all their names and information here.”

“I suppose they would not object to being flown across the ocean and put up in a very nice hotel,” Michelle said, smiling. Daniels snorted.

“Of course not,” he said. “Weddings mean dancin’ and free food.” Laurel hid her smile and gave Daniels a severe look before turning back to the bride-to-be.

“Invite them,” Michelle said, smiling. “At least it will give me an opportunity to meet them. Strangely enough, William is planning to take me to Scotland for our honeymoon.”

“Nice. Well, that settles it,” she said, writing a few notes on her clipboard. “We should get going. There’s a place nearby we can stop at for some quick breakfast. What do you say?” Michelle stood up.

“Sounds good,” she replied, looking up at the lobby clock; only ten hours to wait until she could see William again.

LAUNGUISHING IN Miami International Airport, William tried to get a little sleep in the plastic airport chair. It was two o’ clock in the afternoon. Bob sat two chairs down, snoring under an open newspaper; the briefcases sat between them in the empty chair. Already the two hour layover had stretch to three. Sighing, William rubbed his temples; all he wanted to do was talk to Michelle. He’d called the hotel already, hoping she’d be there, but was informed Miss Gregory was still out.

“I need to get her a cell phone,” William thought, staring at the floor.

Three newspapers and two issues of Forbes sat next to him on another chair, already read.

“Mr. Montgomery, from Felix-Maclane... please come to the desk,” a voice called out over the terminal intercom. Looking over at the desk, William saw a short lady in an airline uniform standing behind it; she looked around with a worried expression. William stood at the desk moments later. The airline lady smiled at him nervously.

“I’m sorry sir, but your two business class seats have been bumped. We over-booked the flight.” William closed his eyes for a moment.

“Coach is fine,” he said, calmly. The lady looked even more apologetic.

“Actually, we have to put you on the next flight,” the lady said, her voice very small. “And there’s nothing left on it but seats in first class.”

Sighing, William rubbed his temples.  “If it makes you feel better sir, twelve other people got bumped, too.”

William gave the airline woman a look.

“No, that doesn’t make me feel better,” he said, testily. “I’m supposed to be having dinner with my fiancé this evening, in New York. How long will it be until the next available flight?”

“Eight hours,” came the awful words. William felt like ripping the desk in half. He clenched his fists a moment instead; they could almost drive to New York in eight hours.

“Fine,” William said with resignation. He fixed the girl behind the desk with a steely gaze. “But, tell me… what does the airline plan to do about this incredible inconvenience to representatives from a Fortune 500 company? Do you suppose that we have no business to accomplish today?”

The woman quickly called someone on the desk's phone, and spoke in a low voice for a minute. Ending her call, she turned back to William, smiling a little.

“We can offer you half-off on a first class upgrade for the next flight,” she said, timidly. “You could wait in the VIP lounge that way.” William took out his wallet.

“I’ll pay the difference,” he said. “Hopefully, paying you more will ensure we don’t get bumped again.” The woman looked apologetic again but William was not fooled; they’d squeezed an extra $900 dollars out of him and this woman would be putting on the nervous act for the next poor sod. The woman handed him the new boarding passes and two key-cards to the VIP lounge.

Waking Bob, William told him the news; gathering their things, they ambled over to the more comfortable reserved area to wait. Sliding the card through the magnetic lock, William opened the door and stepped willingly into the cooler environment. In spite of the very long wait, at least they could sit somewhere more comfortable.

“Hey, this is nice...” Bob said, impressed. He sat down in a reclining chair, and let out a low whistle. A server appeared from behind some potted palms and offered them cocktails or cold sodas; he took one of the latter. “I don’t know... after this I may lobby for no more coach flights.” William chuckled.

“Coach wasn’t all that bad,” he remarked, still standing. He took cold bottle of water from the server’s tray. “Michelle seemed quite proud of me for joining the ranks of the 'commoners'.”

Bob seemed to find this information interesting; he sat forward and looked at William closely.

“Your family’s real wealthy, right?” he said; he spoke it as one of those statements which is both question and observation. Nodding, William unbuttoned his suit coat and sat down in another chair; no one was in the lounge but them.

“Yes,” he answered. “Better off than the Windsors, at any rate.”

“So, why do you work?” Bob asked. “I mean... I gotta admit that if I didn’t have to work, I wouldn’t.”

William took in a long, patient breath and let it ease slowly out.

“My father, though he wasn’t the most caring of men, did instill in me a very strong work ethic,” he said, staring at the wall. “He considered a trust-fund-playboy as the very worst waste of a man. Having observed some of the other sons of my parent’s friends and how they lived their lives, I have to agree with him.” William drank some of the cold water; it tasted wonderful after hours of lingering in the humid, Miami air. He turned to Bob with a smile. “Besides, if I had not traveled stateside and gone to work at that firm every single day, I would have never met Michelle.”

Bob smiled; it was a warm smile... the kind a seasoned family man would possess.

“Can’t argue with you there, Montgomery,” Bob said. William smiled.