Part 2 (1/2)
”How soon can we see it?” she asked, her eyes on Thad. ”You're not going to make us wait until dinner tomorrow night, are you, Thad?”
He knew exactly what Helen was talking about, and his eyes lit up. I knew what she was talking about, too, and in spite of the fact that I told myself that it was nothing more than a b.u.t.ton and that I had known for a while that it would be on display at this conference, a little tingle of excitement shot through me.
”You'd like me to say you can see it before then. I can see that in those pretty blue eyes of yours.” Thad was done with his steak, so he wagged one finger at Helen. ”You're figurin' I'll say somethin' like come on up to room 842 tonight at eleven and you'll get a look at it-the Geronimo b.u.t.ton.”
I may have been imagining it, but I swear, at the sound of those words being spoken, every person at the table caught his or her breath.
Everyone but Thad.
He slapped his knee. ”Sure, you're gonna have to wait. Just like everyone else. Ain't that right, Josie?”
All eyes turned to me. ”Thad and I have an agreement,” I explained. ”You know, so that none of his thunder gets stolen before tomorrow night's banquet. That's the first anyone here at the conference is supposed to get a look at the Geronimo b.u.t.ton.”
”I can't wait.” Helen's cheeks flamed. At least for a second. Then it was as if someone had turned off a switch. She c.o.c.ked her head and stared at Thad. ”But how-”
”Lookee this, my gla.s.s is empty!” Thad jiggled the ice cubes in his gla.s.s and got up from the table. ”Gonna pay a quick visit over to the bar. Be right back, folks.”
Honestly, I thought about joining him. It had already been a long night, and officially, the conference hadn't even begun. I talked myself out of a trip to the bar and a well-deserved gla.s.s of wine, though, wis.h.i.+ng my dinner companions a pleasant rest of the evening and staying right where I was as they rose and scattered, walking around the room to chat with other conference-goers, heading up to the open third deck to watch the Chicago skyline in all its glory.
I would have to go outside eventually, too, but for now, I savored the peace and quiet, the smooth whoosh of the boat in the serene waters, and the contentment that comes after a good meal in (mostly) good company.
”Wanna dance?”
I didn't even bother to look at him when Kaz flopped into the chair next to mine. ”It's not a dancing cruise,” I told him. I sat up and worked a kink out of my shoulders. ”I should know. I planned it. No music.”
”We could hum and dance.”
Like I said, I was feeling content. I laughed. ”Actually...” I pushed my chair back from the table. ”I've got to go mingle. There's a woman here from Australia-”
”Meghan Moran.” Kaz nodded. ”I hooked her up-in a b.u.t.ton conference way, I mean-with a couple ladies from Indianapolis. They're hanging out like long-lost friends.”
”Thank you.” Had I actually said that to Kaz? Had he actually done me a favor? I eyed him carefully, but then, that wasn't exactly uncalled-for; when Kaz is in a giving mood, it's usually because he expects to receive something in return. ”I don't suppose you took care of the contingent from Paris, too?”
”Sorry.” He shrugged his broad shoulders. ”Don't speak the language. But that guy from the Czech Republic...” He glanced over to where I saw Alexander Benes talking to some folks. ”He speaks really good English. He was telling me about the gla.s.s b.u.t.tons they make at that factory of his.”
”And you were listening?” OK, call me cynical, but let's face it-in the three years we'd been married, Kaz had never listened to word one from me. Not when it came to b.u.t.tons.
Another shrug. ”I was sitting next to the guy at dinner. I didn't have a lot of choice but to listen. I had him on one side and some lady from L.A. on the other. She specializes in b.u.t.tons with p.o.r.nographic pictures on them. Jo, you never told me b.u.t.ton collecting could be so interesting!”
”You wouldn't have listened if I'd tried.” There was no use debating the point. Even when I was in a good mood, being reminded of how Kaz had always treated my ”little hobby” as just that always had a way of rankling. I stood, ready to head up to the open deck. ”I've got to go make sure everyone is happy,” I told him.
”You could start with me.”
Oh yeah, he was smiling, all right. In that devil-may-care way that used to make my blood boil. In a good sort of way. These days, the boil was usually because he was annoying me. This time...
I gave him a smile. ”Thanks for helping out. For the rest of the week, Thad will be at the conference and at the hotel. You can take the limo back.”
”And miss all the fun?” Kaz followed along behind me. ”Hey, I'm just getting into all this b.u.t.ton stuff.”
”Right, and I just fell off a turnip truck.” I shook my head. Honestly, the man can be brazen. The fact that he still expected me to fall for his line never ceased to amaze me. ”Good-bye, Kaz,” I said, just as a man came up behind me.
”Oh, there you are!” I turned to see what he wanted from me and realized he was one of the waitstaff and was talking to Kaz. ”We've got the tea you requested for that woman from j.a.pan,” he told Kaz. ”It took some digging, but we found it in the kitchen.” The waiter turned to me. ”You're Josie, right? I saw you talking to Micah a little while ago. I've got to tell you, I don't know where you got this guy...” The look he gave Kaz was one of pure admiration. ”But you've got an amazing a.s.sistant here.”
”a.s.sistant? I-”
There was no use trying to explain. Kaz and the waiter had already walked away.
And I told myself not to worry. If Kaz wanted to play the good guy for tonight, so be it. Once he took Thad back to the hotel, that would be that, and we could get on with our conference.
My conference.
I breathed a sigh of pure contentment.
Every program was organized and interesting.
Every speaker and panel was ready to go.
All was right with the world, Lake Michigan was as smooth as gla.s.s, and my guests were having the time of their lives.
”Oh, yeah?” The words-spoken by a woman-were loud and said with enough sarcasm to sour a lemon. They echoed down the metal stairway from the open third deck. ”I can't believe you'd have the nerve to show up here, you son of a b.i.t.c.h. I'm warning you right now; you'd better step away from that railing, Thad Wyant, or you're going to find yourself in Lake Michigan-floating fish food!”
Chapter Three.
I SCRAMBLED UP THE STAIRWAY AS FAST AS MY LESS-THAN-long legs allowed, and got up onto the open deck just in time to see that every single person out there had gathered in a semicircle around the far railing. The fabulous Chicago skyline was at their backs. But the show was happening right in front of them. Eager to diffuse whatever time bomb they were watching and waiting to explode, I pushed myself to the front of the crowd (politely, of course) just in time to see Thad Wyant shake his head in a way that told me that woman's outraged voice I'd heard was nothing to him-nothing but pitiful.
My guest of honor had both his elbows propped against the railing. His lanky legs were stuck out in front of him, crossed at the ankle. With his Stetson far back on his head and those cowboy boots of his coated with enough dust to make it look as if he'd just come in off the range, he was the picture of serenity.
Not so the middle-aged woman who stood across from him, a woman I didn't remember checking in at the gangplank. She was no more than five feet tall and as thin as a stick of chewing gum. Tiny hands, bitty feet. She reminded me of a little gray mouse. Gray pantsuit, gray hair, sensible gray shoes. From where I stood, I could see her trembling like the flag that snapped at the back of the boat in the breeze we kicked up as we scooted through the water.
”You don't even care, do you?” Her voice-high-pitched and quivering-floated away on that same breeze. ”How can you stand there and pretend like it doesn't matter?”
”Aw, shucks, lady.” As if it was a monumental effort, Thad unfolded himself from the railing and scuffed his boots against the metal deck. ”Why don't you just head on out of here? I told you; I don't know what in the tarnation you're talkin' about.”
”You... don't... know... what...” The woman contained her aggravation, but just barely. And it cost her. Her hands curled into fists, she pressed her arms close to her sides, and she pulled in breath after uneven breath. ”I'm not going to give you another chance. You hear me, Thad Wyant? You've had every opportunity to come clean about this. Now-”
”Yer wasting your time! Git along. Git yourself outta here.” Thad never touched her, but the shooing gesture he made toward her might as well have been a slap in the face. That's how violently she reacted.
Her shoulders so stiff that I swore they were going to snap, the woman backed away from Thad and whirled around. It was the first she realized there were a couple dozen people watching their confrontation, and when she did, all the color drained from her cheeks, leaving her grayer than ever. Her chin quivering, she dropped her face into her hands and raced to the stairway, sobbing.
I was torn between going after her and checking on my guest of honor. I'm pretty sure I would have opted for the woman if not for the fact that Thad, hands in the pockets of his jeans, ambled over like he didn't have a care in the world.
”Well, ain't that just the darndest thing.” He looked toward the now-empty stairway, shaking his head.
I am not the dithering type. Still, I found it hard to get anything evenly vaguely coherent out of my mouth. I looked from the stairway to Thad and from Thad to the crowd that, now that the excitement had ended, was heading over to stand near the railing and watch the city skyline float by and-no doubt-go over a play-by-play of the knock-down, drag-out they'd just witnessed. By the time I did, my blood pressure was down and I'd regained some of my legendary composure. ”I'm so sorry,” I said. ”Things like that shouldn't happen in public. It's bad enough that your friend was upset, but-”
”Friend?” Thad wrinkled his too-big-for-his-face nose. ”Never seen that there lady before in my life.”