Читать книгу Manolos In Manhattan - Katie Oliver - Страница 24
ОглавлениеNatalie was sprawled on the sofa, watching the Today Show featuring Christa, the pop singer who’d nearly destroyed her best friend Gemma’s marriage, when her mobile phone rang.
She switched the TV off. “Hello?”
“Nat? Hi – Holly here. Are you free for lunch? Jamie just bailed on me. I have so much to tell you.”
“Not half as much as I have to tell you,” Natalie assured her. She glanced at her wristwatch. “Where shall we meet?”
“How about Nico’s, on Third Avenue?” Holly said. “One o’clock?”
“Perfect. I’ll see you then.”
As Natalie waited for the lift a short time later, she wondered what Rhys was doing. Perhaps they could do something together on Sunday. She’d scarcely seen him since they’d arrived in Manhattan.
With a discreet “ding,” the lift doors slid open, and she stepped in and nodded politely at the elderly gentleman standing inside.
“Good morning,” she said.
He inclined his head. “Good morning.” Although silvery-gray, his hair was thick and springy. He held a trilby in one hand and an ebony walking stick in the other.
As the lift began its descent, he tucked the hat under one arm and stretched out his hand. “Morris Holland.”
“Natalie Dashwood-Gordon.” She took his hand and noted the firmness of his grip.
“It’s lovely to meet you, Mrs Dashwood-Gordon. I’ve already met your husband, Rhys.” He smiled, and there was a twinkling in his eye. “It’s quite a mouthful, that hyphenated name of yours, isn’t it?”
“Is it a bit pretentious?” She regarded him doubtfully. “Rhys thinks so. But I like my last name. Both of them,” she added, and smiled. “And please call me Natalie.”
“It’s not pretentious in the least,” he assured her. “I’m very glad that we shall be neighbors.”
“Do you live here, too?”
He smiled, amused. “Yes, my dear. I do.”
With another discreet “ding” the lift arrived at the first floor, and he waited as she got out. “It was a great pleasure meeting you, Natalie,” he said, and lifted her hand to his lips. “I look forward to our next meeting.”
She blushed, charmed by his old-world manner. “Thank you, Mr Holland. It was lovely chatting with you.”
He left, thrusting on his trilby and touching the brim as the desk clerk called out a deferential ‘Good morning, Mr Holland,’ and as he disappeared through the front doors, Natalie walked across the lobby to the reception desk.
“Excuse me,” she said, “could you call me a taxi, please?”
“Of course.” The clerk picked up the phone and made the call. “Is there anything else I can do for you?” he asked as he rang off.
She rested her forearm atop the polished mahogany. “Yes,” she said thoughtfully. “There is one thing. Can you tell me who the elderly gentleman was? The one who just left?”
“That’s Morris Holland, the art collector. He’s the head of the Dunleigh’s co-op board. In fact,” he added with a conspiratorial wink, “he owns the building.”
Natalie blinked. “Oh. I’d no idea.”
No wonder he looked amused when I asked if he lived here, Natalie thought, embarrassed. He not only lives here – he owns the bloody building
She thanked the clerk and sat down in the lobby to wait for her taxi.
“So – tell me,” Natalie said as she and Holly followed the waiter to a table at Nico’s, “how are you and Jamie getting on? Another restaurant...you must be so proud.”
“I am. He’s worked hard for this. He never stops.” She hung her handbag over the back of a chair and sat down.
“He stopped long enough to ask you to marry him.”
Holly reached for a menu and pretended to study it. She remembered the night Jamie had proposed, at a charity ball at Mansfield Hall, under a starry sky on the terrace. She’d recently broken up with Alex Barrington, a member of Parliament and her first interview assignment for BritTEEN magazine, and Jamie had been there to put the pieces of her broken heart back together.
“The truth is,” she admitted as she looked up from the menu, “Jamie’s so busy with the restaurant that we hardly see each other. He spends more time with his sous chef than he does with me. And she’s gorgeous,” she added glumly. “I barely know Catherine and I’m jealous already.”
“Well, not to worry. Jamie would never fall for someone else. He loves you, Holly. Speaking of which – have you set a date?”
She shook her head. “We agreed to wait until the new restaurant’s established.”
“And how long will that take?”
“Oh, I don’t know. A couple of months.” She paused as the waiter arrived to take their orders.
“Well, you’re far more patient than I am,” Natalie said. “At least he put a ring on your finger. Speaking of which – let me see it.”
Obediently, Holly complied and held out her hand. A cushion-cut diamond sparkled on her ring finger.
“Ooh, it’s gorgeous. I’m so happy for you.”
“Thanks, Nat. I just...” she sighed, and Ciaran’s face flashed across her mind. “I wish we could see more of each other while we’re here, that’s all.”
“Believe me, I understand. Rhys has been constantly busy with the launch, and most nights he doesn’t get home until late. Speaking of the launch, how’s it going?”
“It’s not bad, really, except for Coco Welch.”
“The promotions manager,” Natalie said, and made a face. “I don’t like her, either.”
“Yesterday she sent me up to the attic to inventory all the junk – in my brand-new skirt – and while I was up there, I found a portrait hidden in the eaves. A painting of a 1920s flapper.”
“Ooh, how intriguing,” Nat exclaimed, and paused as the waiter brought their drinks. After he left, she leaned forward. “Give me details, please – who is she?”
“That’s just it – I don’t know. I’m trying to find out, but there’s not much to go on. Mr Darcy’s having the painting evaluated tomorrow.”
“Mr Darcy? Isn’t he Alastair’s lawyer?”
Holly nodded. “He studied Art History at Oxford, and he knows someone who might be able to tell us a bit more about it.”
“You know, when we were in the drawing room at the pre-launch the other night,” Natalie confessed, “I couldn’t get warm, despite the fire...and I felt a breeze. Like someone walking past me – but there was no one there.”
Holly stared at her. “You felt it too?”
She nodded. “Rhys said I was imagining things. Just like he said I imagined our intruder,” she said, and frowned.
“Intruder? What intruder? What happened?”
And as Natalie filled her in on the events at the Dunleigh the night of the pre-launch party, Holly’s eyes grew wide. “You saw someone in your apartment?”
“I’m quite sure I did. Oh, I admit it was dark, and I couldn’t make out details – but I saw someone, Holly. And whoever it was had a gun.”
“And Rhys didn’t believe you?”
“Not really, no. He searched the apartment, and checked to see if someone had tried to break in, but there was nothing.”
“So he thinks you imagined it.”
“Yes. And maybe I did...but–” She leaned forward. “–there really is a cat burglar on the loose in Manhattan. So it might very well have been him.”
