Men of Intrgue A Trilogy (36 page)

Karen bolted into the corridor, pausing a moment to look up and down, but the lavishly appointed hallway was empty. She almost tripped over a gilt curio stand as she hurried to Linda’s door and knocked loudly.

“Linda, are you in there? Open up, it’s Karen.”
 

Linda flung open the door with a flourish, and then stared at Karen as the other woman flew past her and stopped, wide-eyed, in the middle of the room.

“What is it?” Linda asked. “Nuclear war?”

“I have a date in three hours,” Karen said breathlessly.

“With whom?” Linda demanded. “That embassy person seems very nice but he is old enough to be your grandfather.”

“With Steve Colter.”

“The American who rescued us?” Linda said, instantly alert. “Where is he?” She eyed Karen as if she were concealing him in her shoe.

“I don’t know where he is. He sent flowers to my room and said he would be by to pick me up at eight. What am I going to do?”

“Well, the first thing you’re going to do is change out of those dreadful rags. You look like one of the pickpocket waifs in
Oliver Twist
.”

“That’s the problem. This is all I have.”

“You mean you haven’t been downstairs? There’s a lovely boutique and salon on the mezzanine.”

For the first time Karen noticed that Linda’s blonde hair was freshly frosted and perfectly coiffed, her nails were done, and she was wearing a chic navy sheath, a definite post-captivity purchase. “I spent the afternoon sleeping,” Karen said.

“Darling, who sleeps? I can see that my work is cut out for me with you. Come along, and bring that plastic golden goose I gave you. It’s time for a little shopping spree.” She took Karen by the hand and led her into the hall.

“Do you think any reporters will bother us?” Karen asked as they descended in the thickly carpeted elevator.

Samba music came from an overhead loudspeaker as Linda replied, “They tried with me today and I beat them off with a stick. I don’t think they’ll be back. They’re probably all at dinner, anyway.”

Karen grinned suddenly as a thought struck her. “I just realized that a short time ago we were afraid of being shot at any minute, and now our biggest problem is buying me a dress.”

“A sign of good mental health—not to worry. We’re recovering from an unspeakable experience and we need a distraction. Several of them, in fact. We’ll get you shoes, and a bag, and some makeup too.”

They remembered Linda at the Miramar Boutique. Salesladies descended like locusts as they entered the shop, and Linda started issuing orders in staccato Spanish before Karen could open her mouth. Karen was whisked off to a mirrored booth while Linda went through the racks like a tornado, flinging silks and wool crepes and polished cottons about as the boutique employees tried to keep up with her. A tiny clerk named Maria arrived at the drawn curtain outside Karen’s cubicle with an armful of garments and said in hesitant English, “Your friend say to try these,
senorita.
”

Karen looked at the price tags, which were marked in bolivares, pounds, and dollars, and almost fainted. The news was bad in all three currencies.

She cleared her throat. “Maria,” she said calmly, “would you ask my friend to come and speak to me, please?”

“Certainly,
senorita
.” Seconds later Linda’s head poked through the curtain.

“What is it?” she said impatiently. “I’m busy.”

“Linda, do you know how much these clothes cost?”

“Of course, silly, I just bought mine here a few hours ago.”

“Linda, these prices are outrageous. This blouse, for example, is two hundred dollars, or fifteen hundred bolivares, whichever makes the more staggering impression.”

“And a very good value, too; that’s fine quality silk.”

“Linda, I can’t charge this stuff to your embassy. It’s robbery!”

Linda sniffed. “Don’t be absurd, the government can afford it. Do you know the kind of taxes we pay at home?”

“That’s no excuse for taking such obscene advantage.”

Linda fixed her with a frosty “we of the upper classes don’t discuss money” stare. “Do you want to look smashing, or not?” she asked.

“Yes, but...”

Linda held up a manicured hand. “But me no buts. You have two and one half hours left; now get cracking.”

She disappeared and Karen sighed, thinking that Linda’s long history of nannies and lawn parties and public schools had left an indelible impression. Growing up in New Jersey just didn’t compare. Karen would always worry about the cost of everything while Linda considered it
déclassé
to even refer to it.

“Here you go,” Linda announced, shoving a black silk jersey dress through the curtained partition that separated them. “Just the thing. I’d like to catch his expression when he sees you in that. What size shoe do you wear?”

“Six and a half, American.”

“God knows what that means here; you’ll just have to try them on,” Linda muttered and hurried off again.

The silk jersey dress was stunning. It clung to Karen’s curves in all the right places, with an overskirt that flared at the hips and a deep scooped neckline that showed off her light summer tan. One glance and Karen knew that she had to have it.

She walked out of the cubicle and turned in front of the three way mirror on the floor. The salespeople murmured appreciatively.

“What did I tell you?” Linda said triumphantly behind her. “Now for the shoes. Put these on.”

Linda handed her a pair of black
peau de soie
sandals with three inch heels.

“I don’t know,” Karen said doubtfully, looking at them.

Linda sighed dramatically. “What is the matter with you?” she said irritably. “You can’t be worried about dwarfing him; the man is the size of a great sequoia. If I had your legs I’d go jogging in shoes like those.”

“I doubt it,” Karen said dryly. “I just think they’re impractical.”

“Of course they’re impractical—that’s the whole idea.” She put her hands on Karen’s shoulders and turned her around. “Look,” she said. “When was the last time you had a dinner engagement with such a gorgeous, fascinating man?”

Karen didn’t have to think long. “Never.”

Linda extended her hands, palms up, in an I-rest-my-case gesture. “Then why are we having this conversation? If he’d asked me to dinner I wouldn’t be standing about nattering, frittering away precious time—that I can tell you. But unfortunately he didn’t send ME flowers, or invite ME to dinner. I will probably spend the evening doing the
Times
crossword puzzle and watching reruns of ‘The Avengers’ dubbed in Spanish. Now will you please stop trying my rapidly dwindling patience and take the damned shoes?”

“Okay,” Karen said, laughing.

“Good, now that’s settled. On to the undies and the makeup.”

Linda supervised purchases for another hour until they had Karen outfitted from head to toe. As the clerk was ringing up the shocking bill, Linda appeared carrying a pair of beige cotton twill slacks with a tan silk blouse and a pair of espadrilles.

“What are those?” Karen asked fearfully.

“Well, darling, you don’t propose to wear that black tango number back home on the plane, do you? The pilot will have a heart attack and miss the runway and you’ll end up in the marshlands.”

“The Meadowlands, Linda, but I get the idea. Just throw that stuff on the counter; I won’t even look at the tags.”

“You’re learning,” Linda replied, satisfied.

They left with several large bags stuffed with goodies, and as they lurched back to the elevator, Linda noticed that the beauty salon was still open. Karen was grateful that there wasn’t time for her to get her hair done, but Linda did manage to slip inside and wheedle a bottle of nail polish out of the manicurist. It was obvious that she had also hit the salon hard earlier in the day; the manicurist followed her into the hall and waved merrily as they got onto the elevator.

“Charming girl,” Linda commented as they rose to the second floor, this time accompanied by a Venezuelan businessman and a bossa nova band on the intercom. “I did have a bit of a communications problem with her, though. All I wanted was a bottle of rosewood nail polish, one such as a mute could buy at Harrods in thirty seconds, but this afternoon she kept coming up with these flaming reds, totally inappropriate for my coloring. I don’t think subtlety is their long suit around here.”

The elevator doors slid open soundlessly and they bustled into Karen’s room.

“Now you just hop into the bath,” Linda instructed, “and Mother will set out all your things neat and tidy. Too bad we don’t have those wonderful American rollers that you heat up; they give you such lovely curls in, and for, ten minutes.”

“I never set my hair,” Karen said as she undressed. “It’s too heavy and it just pulls out all the curl.”

“Yes, indeed, that must be a terrible problem,” Linda replied sarcastically. “Speaking as one who is practically bald, I can give you very little sympathy, I’m afraid.”

Linda busied herself unpacking their purchases as Karen took a shower and emerged, dripping, a few minutes later. The new clothes were set out valet style on the bed, the shoes lined up next to each other like tin soldiers on the floor.

“Now into those duds, and Bob’s your uncle,” Linda said, picking up the phone. “I’ll order up some tea to my room. Shopping always makes me parched. With the service in this place it should arrive long after you’re gone.”

Karen slipped the expensive garments on, loving the feel of the rich material next to her skin. She bent and fastened the straps of the shoes around her ankles and then straightened, smoothing the dress over her hips as she did so.

“Now isn’t that a dainty dish to set before the king,” Linda said with relish, watching her. “Or the Yank, in this case.” She rubbed her palms together, chortling. “Now sit in this chair, my darling, and we’ll put the finishing touches on the chocolate souffle.”

“You make me sound like a dessert,” Karen said, giggling, as she sat at the marble vanity table in the bathroom.

“You look edible in that outfit. Unless I mistake my American adventurers, he’ll think so, too.”

Linda brushed Karen’s black hair as Karen applied liner and mascara to her dark brown eyes and lipstick to her full mouth. Then Linda did Karen’s nails with the recently acquired polish, a Venezuelan brand named “
Tentacion
” in a shade called “
Rojo Prohibido
” (Forbidden Red). At last they realized it was ten minutes to eight, and Karen didn’t have any perfume.

“Forget it,” Karen said. “I’ll do without it.”

Linda was horrified. “You can’t see a heavy duty number like Colter and not wear any scent. It would be like leaving off your... skirt.”

“Not quite, Linda.”

“Stay right there,” she said to Karen as if the latter were about to take off for parts unknown. “I’ll be back in a jiffy.”

She returned in seconds with an ornate bottle equipped with a glass atomizer. “I bought it this afternoon,” she said, displaying her treasure. “Eight hundred bolivares an ounce. Couldn’t resist it.”

It seemed like Linda couldn’t resist much. She sprayed the air and Karen sniffed appreciatively.

“What’s it called?” Karen asked.

“
Encantadora
,” Linda replied. “Enchantress. Don’t you love it?”

“It’s very nice.”

“Hold out your hands,” Linda said.

Karen obeyed, and she sprayed the back of Karen’s wrists, then behind her knees.

“Won’t do to wear too much,” she said to Karen, putting down the bottle. “Can’t have you smelling like a Covent Garden tart.” She glanced at the clock on the nightstand and grabbed her purse. “I must fly, don’t want to be here when he arrives. Though I would love to see him out of those tacky fatigues.”

“I wonder what he looks like in a dinner jacket,” Karen said.

“No, darling, out of the fatigues and out of everything, if you take my meaning,” Linda drawled.

Karen laughed. “Linda, you’re awful.”

“Yes, I know.” She hugged Karen briefly. “I haven’t had so much fun since I was at school. You look a perfect peach in that outfit. I only hope he doesn’t pass out at your feet when he sees you.” She went to the hall and called back as she left, “Tell me all about it in the morning.”

Once Karen was left alone in her room she began to fidget. She opened the empty closet and threw all the wrappers and bags from her purchases onto the floor, slamming the door closed behind them. Out of sight, out of mind. She slipped her new lipstick and other cosmetics into the black embroidered envelope purse she was carrying and checked her hair in the mirror. It fell in a loose shining arc to her shoulders, and she patted it routinely. She was as attractive as she could make herself under such impromptu conditions, but she still felt the quivering of butterflies in her stomach, the attack of nerves that always presaged an important event in her life. She hadn’t realized until this moment how very much she wanted Steve Colter to respond to her. She’d never felt such an instant, total attraction to any other man, and the feeling both exhilarated and frightened her.