Читать книгу Prince Of The City - Nikki Benjamin, Nikki Benjamin - Страница 10

The muted but monotonous drone of a vacuum cleaner brought Eloise slowly, annoyingly awake. Much to her regret, the remaining wisps of a very pleasant dream faded altogether as she opened her eyes. Beams of sunlight peeked through the slats of the plantation blinds on the bedroom windows, assuring her morning had come.

Only, she didn’t really want to get out of bed just yet. She wanted to close her eyes again, snuggle deeper under the blankets and try to recapture the peace and serenity of wherever her sleeping self had been just moments ago. And she tried to do that—for all of the thirty seconds it took her to realize what hearing the sound of the vacuum cleaner meant.

Mrs. Kazinsky, who always arrived at the apartment at nine o’clock sharp on Wednesdays and Fridays, was already busily at work.

Which meant that she, in turn, had overslept by at least three hours from the time when her alarm should have gone off. Would have gone off if she hadn’t been in such a daze following the Mayor’s Ball that she had forgotten to set the darn thing in the first place.

Why hadn’t anyone invented an alarm clock that went off at the same time every morning whether you remembered to click the appropriate switch or not? And if someone already had, why hadn’t she found one yet?

Grumbling to herself, Eloise tossed aside her blankets and sat up, finally risking a glance at the obstinately ordinary and uncooperative, though highly decorative, clock on her nightstand.

Ten-fifteen! It couldn’t be.

But it was, she chided herself as she hurried toward the master bathroom, then skidded to a halt and headed, instead, for the bedroom door, her disgust at her own lack of discipline—how much effort did it require to set an alarm clock, after all?—having been replaced by concern for her sons.

It was her responsibility to see that Carl, John and Henry got off to school on time every morning—a responsibility she had never taken lightly and had always fulfilled regardless of how late she had been out the night before—well, always in the past.

As she flung open the door and started down the hallway, her agitation mounting, Eloise saw Mrs. Kazinsky backing slowly out of Carl’s room, pushing, then pulling the vacuum cleaner as she went. Seeming to sense Eloise’s presence in the hallway, the housekeeper looked up, smiled placidly and switched off the vacuum.

“So, Mrs. Vale, you are awake. I am hoping I didn’t disturb you, but I had to start on the boys’ rooms.”

“It’s a good thing you did or I might have slept till noon,” Eloise reassured her.

She knew Mrs. Kazinsky liked to tackle her sons’ rooms first, getting the heaviest cleaning out of the way while she was feeling the most energetic, and she didn’t blame the older woman for sticking to her routine. Eloise was the one who had deviated from her usual schedule, one that had her out of the apartment no later than eight-thirty most weekday mornings.

“There’s fresh coffee in the pot and I brought some of those pastries from the Polish bakery in my neighborhood that you like,” the housekeeper offered, still smiling.

“Sounds wonderful, Mrs. Kazinsky.” Eloise smiled gratefully in return, then added, “I take it the boys got off to school okay.”

“They were gone when I got here, and there were cereal bowls and glasses in the sink, all rinsed out, too. They are such good boys, Mrs. Vale.”

“Yes, they are,” Eloise agreed as she headed toward the kitchen, ready for a cup of Mrs. K.’s strong black coffee and one of the buttery rich, cinnamon and nutfilled pastries she had yet to find the willpower to refuse.

She should have known her Carl, John and Henry could, and would, get themselves off to school on their own. They had already convinced her that they were safe at home in the apartment without an adult sitter to supervise them when she attended social engagements in the evening, hadn’t they?

They were growing up, she reminded herself, pouring coffee into a china mug, taking a pastry from the bakery box on the counter, then heading back to her bedroom. And they were also growing more and more independent. She was proud of them, of course. She didn’t want them tied to her apron strings, clinging to her forever. That wouldn’t have been fair to any of them, herself included.

But at the same time, Eloise felt just a little sad and just a little lost. She had devoted so much of her life to her beloved sons. What would she do once they were truly out on their own, especially if she no longer had Manhattan Multiples to occupy her time? She didn’t like the idea of spending her golden years not only all alone, but also without work she enjoyed.

For a fleeting instant, Eloise remembered the kiss she had shared with Bill Harper at her front door the night before, and realized that she didn’t necessarily have to be alone. But contemplating a future with Bill was more wishful thinking than anything else.

The physical and emotional attraction between them had been more than obvious. But she couldn’t, in good conscience, pursue a relationship with him under the circumstances. His views on city funding for nonprofit organizations made it impossible.

As for having to give up her work at Manhattan Multiples—work she thoroughly enjoyed—that she could control, at least to some extent. She hadn’t lost the battle to save city funding for her organization yet. And there was still a very good chance that she wouldn’t if she got her butt in gear, threw on some clothes and made an effort to get to her office sometime before noon, she reminded herself, making a face at her tousle-haired image in the bathroom mirror.

Worst case scenario, she could, and would if necessary, keep Manhattan Multiples going using her apartment as a base of operations. Granted she would have to scale down considerably, but she would continue to offer as many services as possible. And she would focus on the most important aspect of her work, the one she enjoyed the most—directing a supportive, nurturing network of people as devoted as she was to helping women cope with their multiple birth pregnancies.

She had already brought in quite a bit of money from the fund-raisers she’d been holding for Manhattan Multiples. Of course, that amount wouldn’t be nearly enough to cover the costs of maintaining the three floors Manhattan Multiples now occupied in a building on Madison Avenue. It would, however, be enough to pay some salaries, provide counseling services, some classroom instruction and some medical care to those most urgently in need of help.

The scope of her organization would certainly be smaller and the headquarters would have to be relocated, but Manhattan Multiples wouldn’t go out of existence altogether. Not if she had anything to do about it, and she had only just begun to tap her personal resources.

Reinvigorated by a hot shower, a second cup of Mrs. Kazinsky’s coffee and, yes, another pastry, along with the talk she’d had with herself, Eloise swept a brush through her hair and applied her makeup. Then she dressed quickly in tailored gray wool pants, a black cashmere turtleneck sweater and black, low-heeled leather boots. She completed her outfit with a single strand of pearls and matching pearl-cluster earrings, sophisticated but not showy, snapped the catch of her chunky gold and platinum watch band and was ready to go.

Though the weather report she’d caught on the radio stated that the outdoor temperature was hovering just above freezing, she decided to walk the short distance to her office at Manhattan Multiples. Bundled into her calf-length black cashmere wool coat she would be more than warm enough. And the brisk air and bright sunshine would surely blow away any last cobwebs that might fog her brain.

She had a lot to deal with today, and getting a late start as she already was, she couldn’t afford to be anything but at her very best.

The walk did indeed do her good. The sights and sounds of the bustling city and the people moving past her on the sidewalks with seeming strength and purpose, lifted her spirits another notch.

Yes, her beloved New York City had been down for a while following the destructive attacks by a band of mad terrorists. But the city and its people were healing, and signs of renewed faith, hope and love were visible all around her.

Especially within the walls of Manhattan Multiples, Eloise reminded herself with a slight smile as she headed toward the double glass doors that led into the warm and inviting reception area on the first of the organization’s three floors.

“Good morning, Ms. Vale,” Tony Martino greeted her as he stepped forward and opened one of the doors for her.

A personable young man, five-ten, with a sturdy build, black hair and kind brown eyes, he was the daytime security guard she’d hired after she’d started receiving threatening letters from an anonymous but frighteningly disgruntled man who seemed to despise everything Manhattan Multiples represented. Tony’s twin brother, Frank, took over as the nighttime security guard, which was extremely fitting and amused Eloise to no end.

She loved the idea of multiples looking out for the well-being of Manhattan Multiples.

“Good morning, Tony, although I should probably say good afternoon. I’m running way late today.”

“Hey, no problem, Ms. Vale. You’re the boss. Ain’t nobody I know gonna get on your case,” Tony replied with an engaging grin. “And if they do, you tell me about it and I’ll take care of them for you.”

“Thanks, Tony. I will.”

The soothing blue of the sky motif covering the wall behind the elegant antique reception desk never failed to lighten Eloise’s mood, as did the lovely mix of New Age music piped through the sound system. She recognized a favorite cut from a Danny Wright CD that had been getting lots of play lately.

And with good reason, she acknowledged, seeing Josie Tate Dunnigan, her receptionist, newly wed to Michael Dunnigan and proud mother-to-be huddled with her personal assistant, Allison Baker Perez, also newly wed to Jorge Perez, and expecting. Eloise was more and more certain she would have twins or maybe even triplets if her rapidly expanding tummy was any indication.

Love had been in the air at Manhattan Multiples for several months now, much to Eloise’s delight. She had always been a romantic at heart, and having so many of the special women she had come to care about over the past few years finally finding happiness with some very special men had given her great joy. And a great, but very secret, desire to find that same kind of happiness for herself.

Maybe that explained why she had been so attracted to Bill Harper last night. Maybe she had just been overly receptive to any possibility of love, and Bill had simply been available. Of course, that would only be the case if her attraction to Bill was something new rather than something she had first felt seventeen years ago and had continued to feel ever since.

Again Eloise remembered the kiss they’d shared, and again she realized how easily he had swept her off her feet. And would again, she warned herself, given half a chance. Unless she kept in mind the cause she had to support—a cause that was in direct opposition to Mayor Harper’s own stated goals for the city.

“Sorry I’m late,” Eloise said again to Josie and Allison as she approached the reception desk.

“I would have been surprised if you weren’t, all things considered,” Allison replied, her smile as teasing as her tone of voice.

Amazing how her formerly oh-so-prim-and-proper personal assistant had changed in the past few months, Eloise thought. Allison could still be businesslike when necessary, but she was so much more relaxed, and so much happier now. Marriage to Jorge Perez and impending motherhood seemed to have made it possible for her to reveal the more lighthearted side of her personality that she had once seemed impelled to hide.

“Nor would I,” Josie chorused, still cute as a button and still a free spirit at heart despite her own recent marriage to firefighter Michael Dunnigan and her unexpected, but thoroughly welcome, pregnancy.

Her eyes danced as merrily as Allison’s did, making Eloise wonder what kind of news the two of them might have for her. They were in such good humor, not to mention so full of devilry for it to be anything as routine as one of Manhattan Multiples’ clients successfully delivering healthy babies.

Though always a cause for celebration, Eloise was sure such an announcement wouldn’t have had them quite so…atwitter.

Only as she paused by the reception desk to collect the large sheaf of message slips Josie had ready for her did Eloise spy the source of Josie and Allison’s merriment. Spread out on the gleaming cherry wood surface of the reception desk were several of New York City’s daily papers. All were open to the Lifestyle section where photographs of the Mayor’s Ball were featured prominently.

Not just any photos of the ball, though, Eloise saw at once as she wordlessly picked up one newspaper after another and viewed the pictures more closely. Jumping off the pages were pictures of Bill and her—pictures that showed the two of them having a wonderful time together, as, of course, they had.

But there was so much more revealed in the photographs, and what she saw made Eloise blush hotly all the way to the roots of her smoothly styled ash-blond hair.

“Oh, my…” she murmured, her hands starting to tremble ever so slightly as she studied the look in Bill’s eyes as he touched the rim of the champagne glass he held with hers.

The same look was in her eyes as she smiled at him across the small table she had thought hidden away in an alcove. And it was apparent again in both their eyes as they swayed together on the dance floor, their bodies appearing to meld much more closely than she’d realized at the time.

She couldn’t believe that two mature adults, as well schooled in the importance of public behavior as she and Bill, had each let down their guards so carelessly and so completely. She didn’t know about Bill, but she hadn’t intended to wear her heart on her sleeve. Yet it appeared she had done just that, quite blatantly, in fact.

And, Eloise admitted, quite honestly, as well.

Here, for her and the whole world to see was proof that she was still in love with Bill Harper. And if the expression on his face was any indication, not only was the feeling most definitely mutual, but also a source of great delight for the newspapers’ headline writers.

“The Mayor and Manhattan Multiples Maven—Enemies No More?” read one. And “Ms. Vale v. the Mayor—All Bets Off!!!” read another of the more sensational banners under the photographs. Eloise was almost afraid to read the accompanying text, although she knew she must.

“You look lovely in the pictures,” Allison said, as if sensing her need for reassurance. “And the articles I’ve read are pretty fairly divided as to which one of you has possibly gone over to the other side.”

“Well, that’s something for which to be grateful,” Eloise replied. She quickly scanned first one article that claimed she now went along with the mayor’s cuts in funding, then another saying the mayor must certainly have been charmed into rethinking his long-held position. “Everyone could have assumed I’d given in completely. Especially considering the sappy look it obviously appears I had on my face all evening.”

“You don’t look sappy at all,” Josie retorted. “You look like a woman in love, and Mayor Harper appears to be positively smitten, as well. How could that not work in our favor?”

“Mayor Harper isn’t the type to allow personal relationships to get in the way of public policy,” Eloise pointed out pragmatically.

In fact, he wasn’t the type to allow a personal relationship to get in the way of any action he deemed necessary for the public good. She had learned that the hard way seventeen years ago when his very earliest political aspirations and involvement had been of primary importance to him. But such an in-depth explanation would only serve to stir up Josie and Allison’s curiosity that much more.

“Maybe he just hasn’t met his match till now,” Allison suggested with a knowing smile.

Her life had turned around completely since Jorge Perez had entered her life, and so had Jorge’s. The same was true of Josie and Michael. Thus Eloise chose to forgive them both for fantasizing a similar happy ending for her. She also resisted the urge to offer elaborate explanations as to why such an outcome would never be possible for her and Bill.

“I may be his match, but that gleam he seems to have in his eyes is hardly the result of affection for me,” she stated in a dismissive tone. “He’s simply enjoying our latest and first face-to-face confrontation.”

Since she and Bill hadn’t actually discussed their differing viewpoints last night, Eloise knew she was stretching the truth. But if she succeeded in throwing Allison and Josie off track, maybe the rumors of a budding romance between her and the mayor apparently already stirring in the press would be quickly put to rest.

“So you don’t feel as if you made any headway in convincing Mayor Harper to reconsider his proposed cuts to city funding?” Allison asked, her ever-present concern over the possible closing of Manhattan Multiples echoing in her voice.

“I can’t honestly say that I did,” Eloise replied, her cheeks burning all over again.

She could only imagine what Allison and Josie would think if they knew she had been so enamored of the mayor that she hadn’t brought up the issues dividing them even one time while she had been with him last night. The two young women were depending on Manhattan Multiples for their livelihoods as well as for much-needed support during their pregnancies. So were a lot of other women.

Eloise had admitted that she’d been a selfish socialite partying hearty last night, and downtime or not, she was more than a little ashamed of herself just then.

“At least a lot of people seem to think you did,” Josie pointed out, waving a hand at the newspapers. “As Allison said, the articles are pretty fairly divided. Some of the reporters seem to think progress has been made in favor of our side of the issue, and some in favor of the mayor’s side. It’s more than obvious that you’re a force to be reckoned with. Otherwise your presence at the ball with Mayor Harper wouldn’t have rated such publicity.”

“And I’d better take full advantage of it before Mayor Harper makes a final decision.” Tossing the newspapers aside, Eloise picked up the pink slips of paper containing her telephone messages and turned toward the hallway that led to her office. “Allison, make an appointment for me to meet with Mayor Harper later today. A follow-up to our outing last night seems to be in order.”

“I’ll get right on it,” Allison replied, gathering the newspapers into her arms, then following Eloise down the hallway.

Having gotten such a late start to the day, Eloise concentrated first on returning as many telephone calls as she could. Some were from acquaintances wanting to chat about the personal aspects of her date with the mayor. Those people she politely cut short. Others were from supporters of Manhattan Multiples congratulating her on having gotten the mayor’s attention at last. Those people she thanked graciously while also requesting that they continue to fight to save city funding for nonprofit organizations, reminding them the battle hadn’t actually been won yet.

Early in the afternoon, Eloise also had a visit from Leah Simpson, the pregnant homeless woman she and the staff of Manhattan Multiples had made a special effort to help over the past few months. Leah now had a small but tidy apartment of her own. She was also currently on paid maternity leave from her job as a clerk at Manhattan Multiples, and had been keeping busy caring for her newborn triplet daughters, fondly and appreciatively named Eloise, Allison and Josie.

All three babies, dressed in darling little outfits and secured safely in the triple-seat stroller Eloise had given Leah at the baby shower they’d held for her at the office, were glowing with good health. Leah, too, seemed to be doing well, though she was understandably tired.

With the help of various friends she’d made at Manhattan Multiples, however, she seemed to be coping with the stress of caring for three tiny babies. And finally more confident of her own ability to take care of herself and her babies, she no longer seemed inclined to reconcile with the alcoholic and abusive husband who had left her when she was pregnant.

The only negative aspect of Eloise’s day came in the form of yet another in a series of increasingly angry anonymous letters that arrived with the afternoon mail. So far, nothing overt had happened at Manhattan Multiples as a result of the threatening letters. But they had been of enough concern to Eloise that she was grateful to have security guards.

Today’s letter included accusations that her organization in general and Eloise in particular had conspired to break up a man’s family. So the threats were coming from the husband of one of their clients, she thought, having not been completely sure until then of the letter writer’s connection to Manhattan Multiples.

But who was he, and more important, who among Manhattan Multiples’ many clients was related to him? She would be the one most in danger if the man became enraged enough to do physical harm because she would be the one normally most close at hand.

Eloise would have to ask the various staff members if they knew of anyone on Manhattan Multiples’ list of clients who might possibly be currently involved in a problematic relationship or had talked about difficulties of any kind in her marriage. She would also have to seriously consider contacting the police.

She didn’t want to panic either the staff or their clients, but neither did she want to endanger anyone by failing to take proper protective measures. The Martino brothers provided a certain degree of security. But even they could be hurt if the letter writer was as crazy as he had now begun to sound, and suddenly turned violent.

By the time Eloise had sorted through the rest of her mail, nibbling on a tuna sandwich as she scribbled responses for Allison to type, it was after three o’clock. Surprised at how fast the time had flown by, she sat back in her chair, ready to relax.

Then she remembered her request of Allison earlier to set up an appointment for her to meet with the mayor. She reached out to buzz her on the intercom, but before she could, Allison bustled into the office as quickly as her burgeoning belly would allow, a frown on her normally sunny face.

“I know, I know. I was supposed to make an appointment for you to meet with Mayor Harper,” she said, sitting wearily in one of the two wing chairs facing Eloise’s desk.

“No luck?”

“I’ve been trying for hours just to get through to his chief of staff. The receptionist kept putting me on hold, then conveniently disconnecting my call. When Wally Phillips finally deigned to speak to me, he told me the mayor was all booked up, not only today, but also every day for the next two weeks. He said there was no way Mayor Harper could spare you even five minutes of his precious time. I’m sorry, Eloise, but I’m not sure what else I can do to get you a slot on the mayor’s busy schedule.”

“Nothing that I can think of, either,” Eloise replied. “Thanks for trying, though.” She pushed away from her desk resolutely. “Now it’s time for me to take matters into my own hands.”

“How do you intend to do that?” Allison looked up at her warily.

“I’m going over to Mayor Harper’s office right now, appointment or not, and I’m going to make my presence there known to all the reporters and photographers who hang around City Hall. Mayor Harper will have to see me then or he’ll end up losing all the benefit he got from those pictures in the papers this morning. I don’t think ‘Jilted Socialite Angrily Demands Audience with Mayor’ would play well with his constituents, do you?”

“No, it most certainly wouldn’t,” Allison answered with a delighted laugh. “Shall I call the limousine service for you?”

“Why, yes, that sounds like a good idea,” Eloise agreed. “I could probably get there faster on foot at this time of day, but my arrival wouldn’t be nearly as attention getting, would it?”

“Not nearly.” Allison laughed again as she pushed out of the chair.

“Twins,” Eloise said.

“What?”

Allison paused in the doorway of Eloise’s office and eyed her with surprise.

“Twins, at least. Maybe triplets. You’re getting awfully big awfully fast, sweetie.”

“Oh, please, don’t say that,” Allison pleaded, a hint of fear in her lovely eyes. “I can’t imagine how I’m going to handle one baby, much less multiples.”

“You’ll have lots of help, of course. That’s why I started Manhattan Multiples in the first place, and that’s why I have every intention of keeping our organization going—to help you and lots of other pregnant women. But first I have to have a little talk with the mayor.”

“I’ll call the limousine service.”

“Have you thought about scheduling a sonogram with Dr. Cross?” Eloise continued, still eyeing her assistant with consideration.

“Oh, it’s way too soon.”

“Not if you’re having multiples.”

Allison, looking just a little green around the gills, rolled her eyes and hurried out of Eloise’s office, leaving Eloise the one now laughing with delight.