The Fifth Avenue Series Boxed Set (34 page)

Evenings were best.
 
After calling it a day, they would clean up and take to the city.

Michael showed Leana a side of New York she hadn’t seen.
 
They dined at small family restaurants in the Village, went to poetry readings, browsed the many art galleries.
 
They went to see a play at the Cherry Lane Theater, had a beer and a game of darts at the Kettle of Fish, and walked the streets, looking up at the buildings and discussing how different the architecture looked at night.

Now, as Leana thought of her new job, of the opportunities it offered and how she felt about Michael, she realized she was approaching an unfamiliar kind of happiness.
 
Not since her relationship with Mario had she felt this vital.
 
She was in an apartment of her own, soon she would begin work for Louis Ryan and she had a great man in her life.
 
For the first time in years, she was experiencing something hopeful.
 
Leana decided it wouldn’t be something she would let go of easily.

The telephone rang again.
 
Leana considered ignoring it, but sat up in bed and snatched the receiver from its hook.
 
“Hello,” she said.

“Look out your window.”

“Who is this?”

“Just look out your window.
 
Hurry up before I get a ticket.”

It was Louis Ryan.

Leana stepped out of bed and moved across the room.
 
She hadn’t finished unpacking and had to push cardboard boxes out of her way to get to the window.

She parted the blinds.

Down below, double-parked on Fifth, was Louis.
 
He was standing beside a sleek new Mercedes Gullwing, his crown of graying hair stirring in the rising breeze.

His arms were lifted, spread wide.
 
In one hand, he held a bouquet of roses, in the other he held a cell phone.
 
Leana lifted the window and leaned out.
 
“You’re insane,” she said over the phone.
 
“What are you doing here?”

“Dropping off your new car,” Louis said.
 
“Just my way of saying thanks for taking the job.”

She felt a thrill.
 
“My new car—you can’t be serious!”

“I’m dead serious,” he said.
 
“The car’s yours—along with my appreciation.
 
You’re moving into a powerful position.
 
This car fits the image of that position.
 
People will expect you to be driving something like it.”

“They’ll hate me for it.
 
Look at those doors!”

Louis shrugged.
 
He tossed the roses and the phone onto the dash and pushed the door down until it clicked shut.
 
He flagged a cab.
 
As one rolled to a stop beside him, he nodded toward the gleaming Mercedes.
 
“The car’s running,” he shouted.
 
“I didn’t have time to find a parking space for it.
 
Unless you want someone to steal it, I suggest you get down here now and find a place to park it.”

“But I’m not dressed!”

Louis Ryan didn’t care.
 
He was gone.

Leana dressed quickly.
 
She went to her bureau, pulled on a pair of shorts, changed her nightshirt for a crisp, white T-shirt, and stepped into a pair of worn moccasins. Feeling like a child on Christmas morning, she fled her apartment, darted down the five flights of stairs and burst out of the building.
 

At this hour of the morning, the sidewalks were nearly deserted.
 
Only a few people wearing NYU sweatshirts were jogging down Fifth toward Washington Square.

Leana went to the car.
 
She ran a hand along the slick black surface, felt the smooth hum of the engine, lifted the driver’s side door up and down, and couldn’t help a smile—the car was a work of art.

As she slipped inside, she reached for the roses and buried her nose in them.
 
Only three years ago she had been in a drug rehab clinic, ready to give up on a life she was convinced was no longer worth living.
 
Now, she was sitting in the new Mercedes Gullwing her employer purchased for her, and soon she would start managing New York City’s largest hotel.
 
The change of events was incredible to her.

The cell phone Ryan left behind burst into sound.
 
It was on the passenger seat.
 
Leana reached for it.
 
“I love it,” she said.

Louis laughed.
 
She could hear traffic rushing past him and sensed he had the window down.
 
“I’m glad,” he said.
 
“And believe me—you’ll earn it.
 
Now, look—I’m on my way to the hotel.
 
Why don’t you throw the car into gear and meet me there?
 
I think it’s time you see where you’re going to make your success.”

She panicked.
 
“I don’t know how to use this thing.
 
It’s too powerful.
 
Can your hear the engine?
 
It’s roaring.”

“Purring,” he said.
 
“That car purrs.
 
But you can get it to roar.”

“I’ll have to change,” she said.
 
“And take a shower—”

“Nonsense,” Louis said. “You look perfectly fine the way you are.
 
And, besides, it’ll just be the two of us.
 
Promise.”

*
  
*
  
*

The hotel seemed to touch the sky.

When Leana pulled in front of it, she looked up at its enormous sheets of mirrored glass, at the ultra-modern exterior glass elevators shooting up and down its sides and felt a rush of adrenaline when she noted that the scaffolding had been removed.

Although Louis said work would be completed soon on the 4,000-room hotel, she had no idea it was this close to completion.
 
And then reality struck.
 
I’m going to be running this place in a matter of days.

Although her father owned a fleet of hotels, Leana knew nothing about the hotel business.
 
But she knew it would be okay.
 
Harold will help me.

With the exception of the exterior glass elevators, perhaps the most striking part of the building was its sign—it was sleek and modern, so smooth in its conception, it looked as if it was designed with the next century in mind.
 
Centered above the entrance, shining in the sun, were three words in ten-foot steel letters:

The Hotel Fifth

Leana looked at the sign and felt a chill—then a shot of determination—dart up her spine.
 
I’m going to do this
, she thought.
 
Failing isn’t an option.

She put the car into gear and was about to leave for the underground garage when she noticed a man in an immaculate gray suit walking swiftly toward her, his smile almost as dazzling as the hotel’s sign.
 
“Miss Redman,” he said.
 
“Welcome.”

He moved to her side of the car and extended a hand, which Leana shook.
 
“Zack Anderson,” he said.
 
“Your new assistant.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Leana said, and quickly became aware of her appearance.
 
Louis said it would be just the two of them here and so she hadn’t changed her clothes.
 
But this man, this man who was at least twice her age, looked as if he just stepped off the cover of GQ—and he would be working for her.

“Is Louis here?” she asked.

“He’s inside,” Zack said.
 
“Just beyond those doors.
 
Would you like me to park the car for you.”

Leana thanked him and stepped out of the car.
 
Before he slipped inside, she noticed him noticing her wrinkled shorts, her T-shirt and worn moccasins, and couldn’t help wishing she had changed into something more appropriate before leaving home.
 
He lowered the door and Leana watched him run his hands along the leather steering wheel, watched him envy the plush cream interior.
 

Before he sped off, she said, “Can I ask you something?”

He checked his hair in the rearview mirror. “You can ask me anything,” he said casually, without bothering to look at her.
 
“It’s why I’m here.”

It was at that moment she decided she didn’t like him.
 
He was too smooth, too helpful and there was a whiff of condescension about him.
 
He thinks I’m just another pretty face
, she thought.
 
So, I’ll need to prove him wrong, too.
 
“How long have you been in this business?” she asked.

“Twenty-three years” he said swiftly.
 
“And I have to be honest with you, Miss Redman—one of these days, I hope to have your job.”

*
  
*
  
*

Louis Ryan was nowhere in sight when Leana entered the hotel.
 
She waited by the revolving glass and steel doors for several moments before she climbed the small flight of stairs that led to the lobby—which left her stunned.

It was huge, cavernous and filled with seven floors of shops and restaurants and bars.
 
People were hurrying about her.
 
Escalators zigzagged to the atrium’s glass ceiling.
 
An enormous indoor waterfall fell smoothly in the center of the room, glinting and casting rainbows of light on the gray marble walls—it divided an open-air restaurant filled with exotic flowers and plants.
 
Not only was this lobby bigger than Redman International’s, the way it was positioned in the room made it superior in every way.

She turned her attention to the people bustling past her, watched the hustle and commotion, and became fascinated by how seamlessly everything was coming together.

Men were pushing racks of clothes, polishing glass, wheeling cartons of food across the great expanse of carpet.
 
Women were shouting orders, arranging window displays, shooting past her in crisp, designer outfits.

One woman called out to a friend.
 
“We’re opening Wednesday and we’re booked.
 
Tell me how we’re going to be finished in time when we’re having a party the night before.
 
This is going to be impossible.”

We’ll see about that
, Leana thought and moved further into the room.
 

As she looked around, it occurred to her that she could see herself managing this place and turning it into the success she promised Louis Ryan it would become.

There was a hand on her arm.
 
Leana turned and saw Zack Anderson.
 
“So, what do you think?” he asked.

“It’s beautiful,” Leana said.

He laughed softly.
 
“I guess we’re not on the same wave-length,” he said.
 
“I know it’s beautiful.
 
This lobby alone set Mr. Ryan and his investors back a cool $300 million. I was just wondering if you think you’re going to be able to manage it.”