Faithful to Laura (30 page)
“Relax.” Cora settled back into the plush leather seat. “I know this is your first time flying, but you’ll be well taken care of here in first class.”
“If we crash, it won’t matter what class we’re in.”
“We’re not going to crash.” She motioned to one of the flight attendants. “Glass of champagne, please. Make that two.”
“We don’t have champagne, ma’am. Would white wine be all right?”
Cora sighed. “I suppose.” She looked at Sawyer. “White or red?”
“I don’t drink.”
“It will help you relax.”
“No, it won’t.” He tapped his foot faster.
“One glass, then.” Cora crossed her legs and placed one hand on her knee. Sawyer noticed the emerald ring glistening in the light of the cabin. He nodded at it. “My grandfather give that to you?”
“This?” She twisted the ring around her finger and shook her head. “No. I bought it myself. Your grandfather had terrible taste in jewelry.”
“Tell me about him.”
Her thin brows lifted as she paused. “In due time. I don’t want to get into the family business.”
“Why not? We have all this time to spend together. Alone.” The plane gave a little jerk and dropped a couple of feet. Sawyer gripped the edge of the seat. In contrast, his grandmother seemed unfazed.
He glanced around the cabin again, trying to keep the claustrophobic feeling at bay. He’d rather be crammed into a buggy than stuck in a plane thousands of feet in the air. At least he could get out of the buggy when he wanted to.
“Ma’am?”
The flight attendant passed a glass of white wine to Cora. She accepted it. Took a sip. Looked at Sawyer.
“You really should try one of these.”
“I said I don’t drink.”
She frowned. “I heard you the first time.” She leaned back against the headrest. “This is a short flight. We’ll land at La Guardia in less than an hour. My driver will meet us at the terminal.” She smiled. “I can’t wait to show you what New York has to offer.”
Sawyer didn’t respond. The cadence of his foot sped up.
Getting through the packed city traffic took longer than the flight from Ohio. Three hours later, Sawyer was standing in the middle of Cora’s penthouse. The place reeked of money, from the lush white carpet to the highly polished antiques. Lukas would be impressed by the craftsmanship.
Paintings hung on the walls, and even Sawyer’s untrained eye could see they were originals, not prints. The only thing that surprised him was the décor. Animal print fabric everywhere, a riot of zebra, cheetah, tiger, leopard skin. He thought it looked tacky.
“Now we can have champagne. Manuela?”
A short, plump Hispanic woman with graying black hair appeared. Sawyer couldn’t believe it. She actually wore a black-and-white maid’s uniform. He thought those went out in the nineteenth century.
Obviously, he had flown out of Cleveland and landed not just in a different city, but in a different world. One he disliked more by the minute. He scratched the back of his neck.
“Si?”
Manuela said.
“Champagne, please.” Cora looked at Sawyer. He shook his head. “And sparkling water for my grandson.”
Manuela looked at Sawyer. He saw the surprise in her face. Guess Cora hadn’t told her about him. Then again, Manuela was only the maid. Not an attorney or some other
important
person. “Plain water will be fine. And I can get it myself.”
“Nonsense. That’s what I pay Manuela for.” Cora gestured to her maid with her hand. “Afterward, please settle Sawyer’s things in the guest room. Then you may attend to mine.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Manuela disappeared.
Cora sat down in one of the chairs. She held out her hand to Sawyer. “Make yourself at home.”
He didn’t think he could ever be at home here. But he sat down anyway, lost in a huge overstuffed chair, and watched as Cora clicked on the fireplace with a handheld remote control. Manuela appeared with two glasses on a tray—a champagne flute for Cora and a tumbler of ice water for him.
“Thanks,” he said, taking the water.
Manuela smiled and nodded her head. Then she disappeared again.
So Cora had a driver and a maid. No telling how many other servants she employed. But he didn’t wonder too much about that. “Now will you tell me about my family?”
Cora sipped her champagne. He noticed the glass trembled slightly in her hand. She set it down on the coffee table. “Patience, Sawyer. Let’s just enjoy the afternoon before we get caught up in business.”
Sawyer rubbed his neck again. “I don’t appreciate being put off.”
“That’s not what I’m doing.” She turned to him. “You will find out everything, I promise.” She touched her fingertips to her temple. “But at the moment I have a splitting headache.”
“Alcohol will do that.”
Cora frowned. “I’m going to lie down. Feel free to take my driver and have him show you around Manhattan.” She fished inside her purse and pulled out her wallet. “Here is some spending money.”
He looked at the four hundred-dollar bills in her hand. “I’m sure I don’t need that much.”
“Take it. You might want to see a play. Go to a museum.”
“Cut off my right hand. It would be just as enjoyable.”
“No need to be vulgar.” She scowled. “Fine, go to a club, or whatever it is you young people do.”
A tiny spasm of guilt stabbed at him. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude.” He took the money. “Maybe I’ll get something to eat.”
She brightened. “That’s the spirit.” She rose, taking her champagne glass with her. “Don’t get too full. I’m ordering something extra special for supper.”
“Okay.” He stood as she walked out of the room. Manuela came in seconds afterward.
“Can I get you anything, Mr. Thompson?”
“Call me Sawyer.” He stared at the fire for a moment. A gas fire with fake logs behind a glass. He suddenly longed to smell the smoky scent of real burning wood. But like everything else here, the fire was superficial. He turned to Manuela. “You don’t have to wait on me.”
“I don’t mind. It’s my job.”
“Yes, but—”
“Mr. Thompson, it’s my
job
. Señora Easely would be upset with me if I ignored my duties.”
“I see.” He didn’t want to be the cause of her losing employment. “I think I’ll go out for a while.”
“I’ll ring for the driver.”
He held up his hand. “I think I’ll walk.”
She nodded. “Do you know your way around? I can get you a map if you need one.”
“I have a good sense of direction.”
Moments later, Sawyer was standing next to the doorman on the sidewalk. Cars, taxis, people—the noise was overwhelming. He looked up at the tall buildings.
No farmland, no fields, no fishing ponds. No grass. No winding roads.
Just endless concrete and exhaust and noise.
A couple of hours later, Sawyer returned. He had walked aimlessly around the city. It was easy not to get lost. There were no turns, other than at the corners of intersections. He remembered going to Cleveland a couple of times for an Indians game. But nothing compared to the size of this city.
He longed for home. His real home, back in Middlefield. More than ever he knew he didn’t belong here. Nothing fascinated him or drew him in. By the time he returned to the penthouse, he was agitated. And determined to pin his grandmother down and find out what he came here to learn.
He waited impatiently in the lobby while the doorman called the penthouse and announced him. The elevator ride to the top of the building seemed endless. He walked down the hallway to the apartment. Knocked on the door. Manuela opened it.
“Surprise!”
Sawyer’s mouth dropped as he saw the penthouse full of people. Cora wore a glittery jacket and black trousers. He stood at the threshold of the doorway as half-a-dozen gazes, filled with curiosity, assaulted him.
“Don’t just stand there.” Cora, holding a champagne flute, grabbed his arm. “Come inside.”
“What’s going on?”
“Just having a little dinner party in your honor.” She lifted up on tiptoe and whispered in his ear, “There is suitable clothing in your room. You can freshen up and change. But don’t be long.”
Bewildered, Sawyer looked around the room. “Who are these people?”
“Some close friends. They’re dying to meet you.”
“Any family?”
Cora paused. “No. But I consider my dearest friends family. Hurry up. Don’t keep us waiting.”
“You promised we’d talk.”
“After the party.” Cora took a sip of champagne and smiled. But her eyes filled with impatience.
“What if I refuse? I can just turn around and leave, you know. I have money. Catch a cab to the airport. Spend the night there if I have to.”
Her expression grew cold. “You wouldn’t embarrass me like that.”
They stared at each other. Sawyer shook his head. “No. I wouldn’t.”
Cora’s smile returned. “Now, go get changed and meet us in the dining room. I’ve ordered an exquisite meal. No more chicken hash or whatever it is you’ve been eating for the past few years.”
“I’ve eaten very well.”
“And now you’ll eat better.” Cora turned. “Oh, there’s Kenneth waving me to him.” She glanced at Sawyer.
“Hurry up.”
Sawyer walked into the bedroom. Just as he figured, a brand-new suit, neatly pressed, lay on the bed. He picked up the purple silk tie. He couldn’t remember the last time he wore a tie. He knew for sure he had never worn anything purple.
“Dear Lord,” he said aloud. “Help me get through tonight.”
It was the first sincere prayer he’d said in a long time.
When the penthouse door shut behind the last guest, Sawyer yanked off his tie and unbuttoned the top button of his starched shirt. For the first time in hours, he felt like he could breathe again.
“Glad that’s over.” He sank down in the zebra-striped club chair. Manuela and two other maids, whom Sawyer assumed had been hired just for the party, were cleaning up the crystal glasses and glass plates. Many of them were half full of champagne that hadn’t been drunk and food that had been barely touched.