Just Before Midnight: A Tale of Love, Romance, Treachery and Treason

PROLOGUE

Suddenly aware, the Marine looked down at his body. Suspended six or seven feet above the operating table, he watched as doctors and nurses frantically struggled to revive his lifeless form.

A bit late for that, he thought. But I appreciate the effort...

His surroundings grew dim as the darkness closed in around him. But there was a light, far off in the distance. More curious than afraid, he began walking toward it.

He was almost halfway there when he heard the clip-clop of women’s shoes behind him, and then the voice of a young girl calling after him. Hey, Mister, wait!

Halting in mid-stride, the Marine turned around and peered in the direction of the voice. A girl of 10 or so was running after him. Dressed in one of her mother’s dresses and wearing a straw hat with artificial flowers arranged along the brim, she was hugging a Raggedy Ann Doll against her chest with one hand and holding up her skirt with the other, to avoid tripping over the hem in her mother’s shoes.

Careening to a halt a few feet from him, she lost her balance and almost fell over. But she recovered, and then she looked up and smiled. She was missing a tooth.

Puzzled, but pleasantly surprised, the Marine greeted her. Well, hello there.

The little girl smiled again, and said hi in return. Then after leaning over to glance around him, she pointed at the light. You can’t go there, she said.

Really? said the Marine as he knelt down on one knee. And why not?

Suddenly very serious, the little girl shook her head back and forth emphatically. You can’t go there, because you have to come back with me!

Smiling gently, the Marine asked her why.

Well, she said. So I can grow up and we can get married, and live in a big house with three kids and some dogs!

Amused, the Marine smiled again. Really?

Nodding again with extra emphasis, the little girl said, Really!

Humoring her, the Marine pretended excitement. Wow! he said. That sounds great!

Smiling from ear to ear, the little girl extended her tiny hand. It’s gonna be fantastic!

Then after tugging on his hand with hers, she said Come on!

The Marine smiled, and rose to his feet. Alright, he said. But just for you.

As they started back into the darkness, the Marine asked the little girl her name. I’m Alicia McAllister, from Glen Meadows, she said proudly. It’s in Connecticut.

Glancing down, the Marine nodded. It’s nice to meet you, Alicia. I’m Alex…Alexander de Vris.

Stopping suddenly, the little girl looked up and raised her index finger to her lip. I think I knew that, she said.

Then after a long pause, she smiled again. "I have to go home now, and you have to go back to that hospital…

But remember, she said emphatically. You have to wait for me to grow up, OK?

Releasing her hand, the Marine smiled down at her. I will.

As her smile turned into a grin, the little girl laid her head over on her shoulder. You promise?

The Marine nodded. I promise!

Stepping back, the little girl pointed a tiny index finger at the Marine and pretended to be stern. Now, don’t forget!

Then she gave him an excited, open-handed wave, and disappeared into the shadows. See ya!

INTRODUCTION

I turned the last page of my husband’s photo album, and closed it. After savoring a memory for a long moment, I finally pushed it away and reached for a tissue. There were tears in my eyes, and I didn’t want to ruin my makeup.

Even after all these years, I missed him more than words could possibly convey.

Mai Ling knocked on my bedroom door, and opened it slightly. She peered around the dark oak, just long enough to tell me in badly broken English that they were ready for me downstairs. I got up, and took one last look in the mirror. After tugging at my vest and smoothing my skirt, I turned ever so slightly to glimpse my profile.

Not bad for an old woman, I thought.

I strode across the room and exited into the upstairs hallway where Mai Ling and the Secret Service agents were waiting for me. Mai Ling took the lead, and with two agents in front of me and one behind, I started down the long steps.

I had objected to the Secret Service agents after leaving Washington, but the government had insisted. Rules were rules, they said, and they were going to protect me whether I liked it or not. But in time I had reconciled myself to their constant presence. They were such nice young men, and in truth I had come to adore them. They were always willing to talk with me, and on many a windswept night we had shared whispered secrets before a raging fire in the den. They were always up for a hand of gin rummy or hearts. Fools that they were, they would even play a little poker with me on payday, even though I’d cleaned their clocks time and time again.

But they were good-natured about it. Years ago, one of them told me that the head of the Protective Division had started an office pool with a $100 contribution, and each new agent assigned to me had contributed a like amount ever since. They knew I was cheating, but they couldn’t figure out how. So the first agent who caught me – and could prove it – was going to hit the jackpot. According to rumor, the prize had passed the $20,000 mark, and they all wanted to win.

Fat chance, I thought. Alex taught me better than that.

We reached the bottom of the steps, and turned right into the enormous living room. Waiting for me was Suzanne Hernandez.

She was the brightest star in a new galaxy of journalists, or so I was told. But I really had no way of knowing. I hadn’t granted an interview in more than 15 years, and I had long since given up on TV. Or whatever it is they call it these days.

Ms. Hernandez rushed forward, and extended her hand. Mrs. de Vris, thank you so much for meeting with me today. I’m a great admirer of yours, and I can’t begin to tell you how thrilled I am to meet you in person. You’re a national hero.

She seemed sincere, so I smiled graciously as she went on.

I am so sorry to have kept you waiting. There was a great deal of unexpected solar activity this morning, and the flares played havoc with the satellite feeds. And then we have had problems with the lighting…I am so sorry.

I smiled at her indulgently. It’s quite alright, dear. It gave me a chance to look through my husband’s photo album. It made me realize how anxious I am to see him again.

Taken aback, she looked at me with concern. In the next life, perhaps?

The look on her face made me laugh. Obviously worried that I had become a religious nut in my old age, I decided to toy with her a bit. In this world or the next, Ms. Hernandez. Frankly, it wouldn’t surprise me if he turned up at the door one day.

With that she turned ashen, so I quickly explained. My husband was a most remarkable man, Ms. Hernandez. He cheated death a thousand times, so I wouldn’t be the least bit surprised if he did it again.

I looked at her with a wry smile. "I don’t know if God has him or the Devil, but there is one thing I’m sure of: The instant he knew he was dead, he started hatching an escape plan. And if there is anyone who can pull that off, it’s Alex…

As I said, he was a most remarkable man.

She stared at me, dumbfounded.

I understand you wanted to talk with me about my career in politics and power. I shook my head in disapproval. Mere icing on the cake.

She started to protest, but I cut her off with a wave of my hand. What your viewers would really like to hear about is my husband, and the years we spent together.

I have never once discussed our relationship in public, so this will be an exclusive. And you will be grateful for it, my dear.

I looked at her and smiled with mischievous rue. "It’s one hell of a story."

From behind a bank of monitors, the crew chief was gesturing frantically. Got the uplink, Suzanne. 68 seconds to feed.

Facing certain defeat, Ms. Hernandez conceded. Very well, Mrs. de Vris. It will be about your husband.

I gestured towards the overstuffed chairs that had been rearranged for the interview and waited for her to be seated. She was, after all, a guest in my house.

The makeup man rushed around and dabbed her face, and then mine. Getting a thumbs-up from the lead cameraman, he retreated into the background while Suzanne stared into the lens. From somewhere a voice called "On my mark…five, four, three, two, we are ON THE AIR."

Ms. Hernandez smiled, and began addressing the audience. Good morning, and thank you for joining us. I am Suzanne Hernandez with Global News Network, and we are broadcasting live from the living room of one of our great national heroes, Alicia de Vris. A living legend, Mrs. de Vris has never before discussed her relationship with her late husband, Alexander de Vris, and we are here today to bring you this Global News exclusive.

She leaned forward, and looked at me intently. "Mrs. de Vris, your relationship with your late husband has been discussed endlessly in books and articles. In fact, it is often said that yours was one of the greatest love affairs of all time…

Tell us, please. How did it begin?

I leaned back in my chair, as a smile of delight danced upon my face. It was, Suzanne, it was. And believe it or not, it began one miserably hot morning in front of the old bus station in Washington, DC.

CHAPTER ONE

Dragging my oversized suitcase behind me, I worked my way through the milling crowd toward the front of the bus station. Stopping every three or four feet to get a better grip on the handle, or to apologize for having run over someone’s foot, or bumped them with the carry-on bag slung across my shoulder, it took me ten minutes to cover the two hundred feet from my bus to the big glass doors. When I finally emerged into the sunlight to look on R Street, I was exhausted, exhilarated, and happy.

I had been planning the move ever since my junior year at Township College, when my boyfriend took a job in suburban Virginia. A year older than I, James had majored in business administration. The country was just emerging from a deep recession, and his prospects didn’t look good. Very few companies were hiring, and so we assumed he would stay on at Township for another year of graduate study. But just before graduation he had received an offer from a management-consulting firm based in Arlington, Virginia. It was an exciting opportunity, and he had accepted it on the spot. Two days later, he was gone.

It was all so sudden that we didn’t have time to talk about it, or our future together. But in the midst of a tearful goodbye, he asked me to join him in Washington as soon as I finished my senior year. And in the almost daily long distance calls, hundreds of cards and letters and occasional visits home he had never wavered. He wanted me to be with him, here in the nation’s capital.

The idea had thrilled me for an entire year, and now it had finally arrived. As I stood in the hot sun and searched the crowd outside for James, a welcome feeling of triumph possessed me. Getting from Glen Meadows, Connecticut, to Washington, D.C., had not been easy. It had taken an enormous amount of planning and preparation, financial sacrifice and – of course – parental disapproval. When I had first broached the idea with my Mom, she had laughed. Chasing after James was a damned stupid idea, she’d said, and in the months that followed she had done everything she could to talk me out of it. But that had only hardened my determination.

It wasn’t just that she disapproved of James. She had never liked him very much, and even though she had tried to hide it from me, it still showed in unguarded moments. But the real issue was that she wanted me to stay close to home. We had been on our own ever since Dad died when I was four, and she dreaded being alone. Whenever things were hard, or frightening, she had always reassured me that we were a team. We’d always be together, she said, and as a little girl growing up in a fatherless world, those words had comforted me. But as I got older I realized that she had said them to comfort herself as well. Being a single mother was hard and sometimes scary, and at times it must have been as frightening as being a little girl without a dad.

But childhood always ends, and as I moved into my teens new traits took hold. I had always been stubborn, like my Dad, but by the time I turned 16, a restless curiosity had seized me. There was more to the world than the small town I was growing up in, and I wanted to know more about it. I wanted to experience it, and to make it my own.

I knew it would be hard to leave my Mom, but I also knew it was the right thing to do.

I felt like I owed her that. Throughout the 18 long years since my Dad died – years that had often been filled with hardship and struggle – she had been the perfect Mom. Now it was time for her to have a life of her own. She was only 42, and she was stunning. When we went out together, the men didn’t just look. The ones with proper manners stared, and the others gawked.

She was a beautiful woman, and I knew the men would beat a path to her door. Or at least they would, once I was out on my own.

So as I dragged my big suitcase up to the retaining wall that ran beside the bus station’s entranceway, I congratulated myself. Ya done good, Alicia.

The retaining wall seemed a bit dirty, so I sat down on my suitcase and pulled the carry-on off my shoulder. As it hit the ground with a dull thud, I glanced at my watch. 9:18 am. Where is he?

James was a complex guy, a fact that had intrigued and often delighted me. But punctuality had never been one of his strong points, and if I hadn’t been there to roust him out of bed at Township, he probably would have slept through half his classes. So I shrugged, and watched the traffic pass by.

James had warned me about Washington’s weather, but I hadn’t really believed him. Who would be stupid enough to put the nation’s capital in a swamp? But by now it was 9:30, and it was already hot and humid enough to persuade me. Making a mess out of history, I began to wonder if the Founders weren’t so smart after all.

By that time I was bored. Knowing that James had probably overslept, I figured he wouldn’t be up until about noon. I thought about calling him, but the way he slept it wouldn’t make any difference. He wouldn’t hear the phone even if I yelled in the answering machine. So to pass the time, I started making up stories about the people passing by. The longhaired man in the brightly painted Volkswagen was obviously a leftover hippy, or at least a wannabe. But the guy in the Mercedes looked rich and distinguished, and I wondered if he was a big shot in the government.

Maybe a cabinet member?

I was almost lost in the thought when I noticed a guy in a pickup truck, piled high with furniture. He had been by before, or at least I thought he had. It looked to me like he was moving, and I wondered where he was going, and why.

There had been a minor fender-bender at the light, and traffic had backed up while a motorcycle cop inspected the damage and talked to the drivers. From where I was sitting, I couldn’t see what had actually happened, but the drivers stalled in front of the bus station were getting a bit irritated. From somewhere back down the line, impatient horns were blowing.

The guy in the pickup rolled down his window and leaned his head out in a vain attempt to see what was going on. Back in the truck, he looked down at his watch with unmistakable irritation. Obviously he had better things to do than sit in Washington traffic on a Saturday morning. He must not be getting paid by the hour, I thought.

Or maybe his boss would get mad at him for being late...

He was handsome, ruggedly handsome, like the guy in the Marlboro commercials. With his dark brown hair and mustache, I could see him galloping a horse across the plains. Distance and a pair of aviator sunglasses hid his eyes from me, but I imagined them to be a piercing blue. And I wondered how old he was…

Although I could see him plainly, it was impossible to tell. His face had a certain indeterminacy about it, and he could have been 25, I thought, or 35 or maybe even 40.

By then the long line of backed-up cars finally began to creep forward, and I lost sight of him. Disappointed, I went back to my game.

This time it was a girl in a Toyota. She was wearing a gorgeous dress that was thoroughly rumpled, and as she waited for the light to change again, she tilted the rear view mirror so she could see and began brushing her hair with long, fast strokes. Someone had a good time last night…

Snickering, I looked down at my watch. 10:30! It can’t be!

More cars passed, and then a score of kids on bikes. Careening through the traffic like madmen, they seemed to be having fun annoying the adults. Oh God, I thought. Convinced that one of the kids was going to get run over, I looked the other way.

And there he was again, the guy in the pickup truck.

I looked away quickly so he wouldn’t see me, and crossed my fingers. Come on light, turn red!

But it didn’t, and he drove past again. This time there wasn’t any furniture, so I guessed he had dropped it off someplace close by. But where? The bus station was in an awful neighborhood, and I couldn’t imagine him living anyplace like that.

Do you suppose he’s really poor? Maybe he’s just helping a friend who’s down on his luck.

I didn’t like those thoughts, so I pushed them from my consciousness. There was a perfectly reasonable explanation, I told myself.

By now it was hot. Really hot…

I pulled my cotton headband down on my forehead to wipe away the moisture, but things were more problematic inside my blouse. Beads of perspiration were forming on my chest, and starting to trickle into my bra. It was an awful feeling, one that made me long for a shower. I had ridden the bus all night from Glen Meadows, Connecticut, and I was beginning to feel a bit grimy. God, I must look terrible!

I grasped the top button of my blouse and fanned it to and fro to cool myself. A police officer who had been standing by the doorway laughed and smiled knowingly. Welcome to D.C., Miss. You’re going to love it here.

He was big, black and powerfully built. I smiled and nodded. Happy to have someone to talk to, I asked him if it was always this hot.

He shook his head sadly. You ain’t seen nothing yet, Miss. By August it will be 100 degrees in the shade, with 90 percent humidity. It’s awful.

He rolled his eyes and shook his head again. If I had known about the weather, I would have found a police force someplace else. Criminal justice majors were in short supply when I graduated from college and I could have gone anywhere.

Then he laughed. Like maybe Alaska.

I couldn’t help but laugh, too. Under the circumstances, it was pretty funny. But then he turned very serious, and asked what I was doing sitting in the sun all alone. Did I have friends or relatives who might pick me up?

I shook my head no, and explained the situation. The officer nodded, and suggested that I try calling James. The weather was brutal, and the last thing he needed was a heat stroke victim on his hands. He was supposed to get off in a few minutes, and if I passed out the paperwork would take him at least another hour. He volunteered to watch my bags for me, so I got up and went inside.

There was a bank of pay phones against the wall, so I picked up the handset of one, dropped a quarter in the slot and dialed the number from memory. It rang once, then twice. There was a click, and suddenly a recording. The number I had dialed was not in service.

Darn! I opened my purse and began fishing in the bottom. There were four or five quarters in there, someplace. This always happens! Irritated, I wondered why James couldn’t just get up on time.

I finally found a coin, and dropped it in the slot. This time I punched in the numbers more carefully. It rang, and rang again. And then the click, and the mechanical voice.

His phone is out of order? This can’t be happening…

As I slumped against the wall, my mind raced, turning over one awful possibility after another. What could have happened? I had just talked to him two days before, and everything was fine. I bet the dummy forgot to pay his phone bill again.

I hung up the phone, and took a deep breath. Shaking my head, I walked back outside and smiled weakly at the police officer. Thanks for watching my bags. He’ll be here in a few minutes.

I was lying, and he knew it. He hesitated a moment, and I could see that he was calculating the possibilities. He looked at me closely, then nodded. Glad to hear it, Miss. Then he turned, and walked back into the building.

I sat down hard on my bag. My mind was racing again, and I was desperately trying to shut it off. It’s just a glitch, he’s done this before. He just forgot to pay the phone bill again, that’s all. He’ll wake up anytime now, and come for me. He won’t leave me sitting on the sidewalk. I know he won’t.

After reassuring myself over and over again, I began to calm down. The game, I thought. I’ll play my game again.

Hey! I looked down at my watch. It had been an hour or more. Where’s the guy in the pickup?

By then it was almost noon, and I had to make a trip to the ladies’ room – no ifs, ands or buts about it. So I slung my carry-on over my shoulder again, and tugged on the big bag. It had gotten a lot heavier.

I dragged it through the automatic doors, and began looking around for the restrooms. The crowd had thinned out quite a bit by now, and I caught a glimpse of the sign off to my left. I jerked the bag hard, bouncing it up on the little back wheels, and then made my way inside.

I reemerged ten minutes later, much refreshed. The bathroom had been deserted, and I had taken advantage of that fact. After locking myself in an empty stall, I peeled off my top and jeans and used moistened paper towels to wipe down my body. It was a far cry from a shower, but under the circumstances it was the best I could do. After dressing once again, I had tied my hair up and washed my face. I even thought about putting on some makeup, but it was just too darned hot.

I had just emerged from the double exit doors when I heard a terrific crash. And there was The Mystery Man, at long last.

He had hit one of the potholes that Washington had become famous for, and a large wooden table had somehow come free and bounced off the truck. It had hit the road hard, and shattered into a half dozen pieces. But before the rubble had finished bouncing, he’d stopped the truck and jumped out. There was a rueful look on his face, and from where I was standing I could almost make out the muted swearing.

After surveying the damage, he shrugged and began picking up the pieces. He had almost finished loading the debris back onto the truck when he noticed me staring. He was down on one knee, gathering up pieces of kindling when he looked up and saw me. Our eyes met for the briefest of moments, and before he could look away an embarrassed smile flickered across his face. Blushing badly, he retrieved the last shattered stick and climbed back into the cab. A moment later he was gone.

I felt badly for him. It wasn’t his fault that the table fell off, or at least I didn’t think it was. But still, I knew that it must have been humiliating.

And of course, my staring made it all the worse…

Dejected, I sat down on my suitcase again and rested my chin on two balled fists. I knew that if past experience was any guide, I’d never see him again and that depressed me. Male egos being what they are, I was pretty sure he would be taking another route on the next trip.

Over the past couple of hours I had grown sort of attached to him in a curious kind of way, and the thought that he wouldn’t be back saddened me for some reason. Oh well, I thought, it’s not like I was going to marry him or anything…

By then it was well past one o’clock, and I was hot, tired, and hungry. I wanted to go inside to get something to eat, but I just couldn’t afford it. I had begun the trip with exactly $100, and I had $98 and some change left. It was all the money I had in the world, and if I spent it now I might end up in real trouble later. If anything went wrong – and deep down inside, I was beginning to suspect it had – I’d have to call my Mom and ask her to wire me money. I desperately wanted to avoid that, because I knew I’d never hear the end of it. So I sat on my suitcase and sweltered, as my feelings cycled between self-pity and livid anger with James.

After a while I stopped feeling sorry for myself and started plotting my revenge. I was going to read him the riot act when he finally showed up. And after that, I was going to make his life a living hell for three, maybe four days.

And if he thinks there is going to be any sex in his future, he’d better think again…

Because trust me on this – I was gonna make that boy grovel!

Pleasantly distracted, I almost didn’t notice the guy in the pickup as he pulled to a halt across the street. When it came to a stop, he turned around to look through the rear window, and whistled. A moment later, a huge black dog jumped out of the back and trotted around to the cab.

Curious and puzzled, I watched as he opened the door and handed him a big white sack. The dog grasped it in its mouth, turned, and stopped. After checking the traffic both ways, he trotted across the street and up the tarmac to where I was sitting. He stopped in front of me and sat down, wagging his tail.

Incredulous, I looked up at the guy in the pickup. I pointed at myself, and mouthed the words: For me?

He smiled and nodded. Curious and flattered, and a bit hesitant, I reached out and took the bag. Nestled inside was a smaller bag, from Wendy’s, and inside that one I could see a bacon cheeseburger, French fries, packets of salt, pepper and catsup, and a Coke. Next to it all was a small bottle of Evian water, and curled around it was a note. How cool, I thought.

Holding the bag from the bottom with my left hand, I pulled out the note with my right. After snapping my wrist three or four times to flick it open, I read the words scrawled on it: Hope you like Wendy’s!

With a huge smile on my face, I looked up to thank him. But by then the pickup was already disappearing down the street. The dog’s head was sticking up over the tailgate, so I waved him goodbye. He acknowledged my gesture with a friendly bark, and disappeared around the corner.

I was flattered, and delighted. It was a class act from start to finish, and it made my spirits soar.

I ate the cheeseburger happily, and started nibbling on the fries. As I reached into the bag for another couple, I found myself wondering about the mysterious man in the pickup, and his well-trained dog. I wondered when he’d first noticed me, and how he’d known how hungry I was. The thought that he was a mind reader briefly flickered through my consciousness, before I dismissed it as silly. But I soon found myself thinking about the strange bonds that sometimes connect people through time and space, so strongly that they know what one another is thinking and even feeling in times of stress or anxiety. I had read about that in Psychology, and I remembered that for some reason the people it happens to are always connected on some really deep level. Most of the time it happened with twins, or with couples who had been married for years and years. But sometimes it just happened with people who hardly even knew one another, and I couldn’t help but wonder if we hadn’t made some sort of connection. It didn’t seem very likely – after all, we hadn’t even met – but the thought intrigued me.

After finishing off the fries, I went back to my game. But the traffic was even less than before, and I soon became bored. As hard as I tried to concentrate, I kept thinking about him. And hoping he would come by again soon.

But I was cruelly disappointed. Thousands of cars passed as the sun made its way slowly across the sky; and as it began to settle in the far west, I finally realized that he would not return. And at long last, I admitted to myself that James would not be coming either.

I was lost, alone and abandoned. My courage exhausted, I broke down and wept.

CHAPTER TWO

I’m not sure how long I cried. It might have been for a half-hour, or maybe even an hour. Oblivious to the people who occasionally walked through the bus station’s doors, I sat on my suitcase and wept until I choked on my tears. It was only then that I noticed someone was standing there. Startled, I looked up through grief-stained eyes.

It was him, the guy in the pickup. Aghast, I burst into tears again. But by now he wasn’t wearing jeans and a T-shirt. He had changed into a double-breasted navy blue blazer, and razor-creased khaki trousers. A pale blue button-down shirt subtly contrasted a regimental tie, and from just beneath the cuff of his shirt came the gleam of a Rolex watch. Horrified that he would see me this way, I turned away in shame.

He knelt down on one knee beside me, and without saying a word offered me his handkerchief. Afraid to face him, I took it and turned away. I dabbed my eyes, and then gently blew my nose. Looking down at the ground, I slowly folded his handkerchief and handed it back to him. I’m sorry, was all I could say.

He smiled softly, and reached up to touch my face. Guiding it gently around, he looked into my eyes and smiled again. Hey, I’ve had some pretty bad days myself.

His voice was soft and gentle, but it conveyed an unmistakable sense of power. Wiping my eyes, I nodded again and again. It’s been a really bad day for me.

I thought he smiled, but through my bloodshot eyes I couldn’t be sure. Mine wasn’t so great either, he said. "Not only did I have to move about ten tons of accumulated junk, but I broke an antique table into a million pieces…

So I think we’re about tied.

I was incredulous. That was an antique? Oh, my gosh, it must have been worth a fortune!

He smiled and rolled his eyes. "Leave it to Alex to make a mess out of moving...

Oh, by the way…I’m Alex. Alexander de Vris.

Sniffling, I said, hi. It’s nice to meet you, Alex. I’m Alicia McAllister, from Glen Meadows. It’s in Connecticut.

I felt like a complete idiot. I hadn’t introduced myself to anyone like that since I was ten years old. But thankfully, he didn’t seem to notice. Or if he did, he was too much of a gentleman to show it. Instead he stretched out his hand. It’s nice to meet you, too, Alicia.

We shook hands, but he didn’t let go immediately. Still kneeling, he pivoted slightly on his heel and gestured behind him at an Asian couple. And these are my friends, Nguyen and Mai Ling Tranh.

I looked up, noticing them for the first time. Nguyen smiled and said hi in perfect English. His wife – at least I assumed it was his wife – smiled as she placed her hands together, and bowed slightly.

I tried hard to smile, and said hello.

Alex cocked his head to the side, and asked me if he could be of assistance. He had watched me bake in the hot sun all day, and he was concerned.

With that, I burst into tears again. After sobbing for a few moments, I blurted out my predicament. For whatever reason, James wasn’t coming, and I had less than a hundred dollars to my name. Lost and alone, I was stranded in D.C. I had no place to go, and no one to turn to. I didn’t even think I could afford a hotel room, even if I could find one.

Too embarrassed to even look at him, I broke down and wept again. He remained motionless for a moment, then gently touched my knee. Please don’t cry.

He paused for a moment, suddenly thoughtful. You know, I keep a suite at the National Hotel for business purposes. I hardly ever use it, but it comes in handy now and then…

I looked up at him incredulously. A whole suite?

Even in the dim light, I could see he was embarrassed. "Just for business purposes. Every now and then someone important comes into town on short notice, so we put them up there. And once in a while we use it for a reception or an open house…

No one’s using it now, but I have to pay for it anyway. So why don’t you stay there tonight?

I was mortified. Oh, no, I couldn’t. I can’t possibly impose on you like that.

Alex smiled. It’s no imposition at all, Alicia. It would be my pleasure.

I didn’t know what to do. Alex and his friends seemed really nice, but I didn’t know anything about them. They could be serial killers – or even worse, for all I knew.

But if I didn’t accept his offer, I’d have to call my mom to come bail me out, and she’d never let me forget it. I’d be hearing about it for the rest of my life.

Not to mention the fact that I’d never see him again…

Looking back on it now, it all seems pretty crazy. But at the time, risking life and limb seemed a whole lot more appealing than the alternatives. So I reached out and took his handkerchief again. Then after taking a moment to mull it over, I wiped my nose again and nodded. Thank you, was all I could say.

Alex smiled. I have a couple of things I have to attend to, but Mai Ling will get you checked in. I’ll be along in a half-hour or so, and we can get something to eat in the restaurant, OK?

With that he stood up, and said something in what I thought was Vietnamese. Mai Ling swept forward, and put her arms around me. We go now, she said in broken English.

Stunned by my good fortune – and still more than a little bit fearful – I nodded silently and let her steer me to a BMW parked across the street. Nguyen followed behind us, carrying my bags.

He opened the rear door for me, and then walked around and opened the opposite door for his wife. After maneuvering my bags into the trunk, he got in himself and started the car.

Mai Ling put her hand on my knee. Poor dear, she said. But not worry. You fine now.

I was embarrassed, and a little bit ashamed, so I didn’t say anything. I nodded and smiled instead.

Nguyen started the engine and pulled out into traffic. Glancing in the rear mirror, he asked me if this was my first time in D.C. When I told him it was, he grinned. It can be kind of intimidating at first. I remember the first time I saw Washington…I was blown away.

Feeling a little better, I asked him where he was from. Oh, I was born in Hue, but I grew up in Saigon. That’s in the Republic of Vietnam.

He stopped abruptly. Or at least it was. Anyway, my father was a member of the diplomatic service, and we were posted here when I was 14.

He laughed to himself. You know it’s really kinda funny. Saigon was a lot bigger than D.C., but for some reason this place really cowed me. I was scared to death when I first got off the plane.

Interested, I asked Mai Ling if she was from Saigon too. Yes, she said, Cholon. She went on to explain that was Saigon’s equivalent of Chinatown. Her family were expatriate Chinese, and had lived in Vietnam for generations.

I wondered if they had been able to escape the war here, but I was afraid to ask. Saigon had fallen to the Communists only a few years before, and I didn’t want to raise a painful issue.

Curious, I asked Mai Ling how they knew Alex. Before she could answer, Nguyen informed me that he and Alex had been classmates at St. Alban’s Preparatory School in Northwest D.C. He laughed and said that was where all the spoiled rich kids went to high school.

They’d been the new kids in their class that year, and in such a cliquish environment they had become friends of necessity. But strangely enough, they’d found they had a lot in common. In addition to being social outcasts, they shared a love for fast cars, science fiction, horror movies, pinball and – especially – oldies music.

Then he glanced over his shoulder and grinned. And pretty girls, of course.

With that, Mai Ling lashed out with incredible speed, cracking him on the back of his head with her purse. A torrent of Vietnamese followed.

Grimacing, Nguyen apologized. My wife says that I shouldn’t talk that way in front of a proper young lady. He looked over his shoulder and said, I am sorry.

I laughed. Oh, that’s OK. Boys will be boys.

Mai Ling rolled her eyes. Dat right, dose two boys, she exclaimed in a voice filled with exasperation. Keep dem out of trouble make hair gray!

Nguyen laughed easily. He glanced over his shoulder at his wife and smiled. It’s all part of my charm, darlin.

Mai Ling shrieked in horror as Nguyen suddenly hit the brakes and swerved hard, barely missing a kid on a skateboard who had shot out in front of him. In the process, he almost took out a police car parked on the side of the street. Glancing guiltily in the rear mirror, he apologized to us both. The hotel was only a block away, and he promised to get us there in one piece.

My heart was still stuck in my throat when he pulled the Beemer into the shallow circular drive in front of the hotel. Through the windshield, I could see the Capitol Building just blocks away, its dome illuminated by spotlights. For a girl from Glen Meadows, it was a breathtaking sight.

A liveried doorman stepped forward and opened my door. Extending a white-gloved hand to help me out of the car, he wished me a good evening.

Needless to say, I was impressed. I thanked him, and took his hand.

Nguyen had already opened the door for Mai Ling, and was struggling with my bags. Although he was clearly in excellent shape, he was slight and slender like most Vietnamese. Standing only a bit taller than me – he couldn’t have been much more than 5’5" – I didn’t think he could possibly lift my oversized bag. But somehow or another, he managed to get it out of the trunk and up on its wheels.

Mai Ling took my hand, and led me into the lobby with Nguyen tagging behind. As I glanced around, all I could think was, Wow!

It was huge, ornate, and richly furnished. Suddenly conscious of the fact that my mouth was hanging open, I turned crimson. Mai Ling saw my expression out of the corner of her eye, and smiled. It nice.

Yes, I said. It’s more than nice. Glancing around again, I whispered, It’s gorgeous.

Nguyen dragged my bags over to the check-in desk, and said something to the concierge. After the man gestured, two members of the staff scurried over and picked them up. Then with my luggage in hand, they vanished into an elevator as the concierge walked over to greet me. As he approached, it suddenly occurred to me that I was badly underdressed for such an elegant establishment.

The concierge extended his hand. My name is Antoine, and I am the night concierge. I understand you will be staying in Mr. de Vris’ suite? His accent was French, and apparently genuine.

I took his hand, and nodded dumbly. He shook my hand and apologized with a practiced smile. "I am sorry, Mademoiselle, I did not get your name."

Letting go of his hand, I introduced myself. He bowed slightly, and said "Enchantė".

Glancing around at the desk clerk, he snapped his fingers. The clerk removed a key from one of the mahogany boxes behind him, and hurried over. Antoine took the key from him and handed it to me ceremoniously. "Monsieur de Vris is our honored guest, as you shall also be…

I understand that you wish to be served dinner. Please follow me and I will rouse the Chef.

He turned stiffly on his heel and led us across the lobby and through a beautifully carved doorway. Mr. de Vris’ table is this way.

Nguyen had vanished, but Mai Ling was still holding onto my hand as we followed Antoine across the deserted room to a table in the far corner. There he pulled out a chair on the left and seated me, then a chair on the right for Mai Ling. He said something to her in French, and listened attentively as she replied.

He nodded. "But of course, Madame."

Antoine disappeared into the shadows of the partially lit room, returning a few moments later with the wine steward and the chef. The wine steward showed Mai Ling the bottle, opened it ceremoniously and handed her the cork. She sniffed it, and smiled with delight. Excellent!

The steward poured her glass, and waited while she tasted it. With a puzzled look on her face, she asked the steward something in French. She sat in rapt attention, apparently fascinated by his lengthy answer. Then she smiled broadly, and gestured for him to pour me a glass. All eyes were on me as I raised it to my lips.

My God, I thought. This is incredible! I’d tasted wine before, but never anything like this. It’s wonderful, I said.

With that the steward smiled broadly, and retired. The chef stepped forward, and graciously apologized. The kitchen had closed sometime before and most of the help had been let go for the night. But for Mr. de Vris’ friends, he would do his very best. He switched into French, and began reciting a lengthy list of delicacies that he could prepare unaided.

Mai Ling raised her hand to silence him. She would be staying until Alex arrived, and then collect her wayward husband and depart. But she was sure that Alex would like his usual, a strip steak covered in Béarnaise sauce. And of course, a mountain of French fries. She turned to me and asked me what I would have. Dumbfounded, I said that would be fine for me as well.

And a small salad, if it wasn’t too much trouble…

The chef clapped his hands together in obvious relief. "Of course, Mademoiselle. Immediately." Then he turned and disappeared into the kitchen.

Antoine asked Mai Ling something in French, but I couldn’t follow it. I had taken two semesters of Modern French in college, and I could read it reasonably well. But I was far from fluent, so I couldn’t keep up with their rapid-fire speech. After Mai Ling finished speaking, Antoine nodded. "Certainly, Madame. I will see to it."

Turning to me, he expressed his delight that I would be staying at the National and informed me that he and the staff were at my service. I need only ask for anything I wanted. I smiled nervously, and thanked him. Since I hadn’t seen the bill of fare, I couldn’t be certain – but I was pretty sure I couldn’t even afford a cup of their coffee, so there wasn’t much chance I’d be asking for anything.

Just as Antoine turned to go, Alex walked in. He smiled and waved.

He stopped for a moment to talk to the concierge. They were too far away for me to overhear what they were saying, but after a few moments of discreet conversation Alex reached into his pocket and handed him a folded bill. Then he smiled and thanked him again before turning away.

He strode across the room, and stopped before the table. Smiling, he pulled out a chair and turned it around before sitting down casually. Have you ordered?

For the first time, I caught the faintest hint of a southern accent, and for some reason it surprised me.

Mai Ling said something to him in Vietnamese. Alex looked disappointed, but he shrugged before nodding. That’s OK. Maybe tomorrow afternoon? Mai Ling said she would check with Nguyen, and leave a note on the nightstand.

That piqued my curiosity, but I knew it would be rude to inquire. Mai Ling pushed back her chair and stood up. She extended her hand across the table, and told me what a pleasure it had been.

I thanked her in turn, and I meant it. She had been gracious to a fault, and she had made me feel at ease in very difficult circumstances. I really appreciated it.

She smiled as she turned to go, and asked me to look after Alex. Then she bent over and kissed him on the cheek, and hurried out the door.

Alex got up and turned his chair around so that it faced properly, and sat down. Reaching for the bottle of wine, he grinned. Hell of a day.

I’m not sure if it was the wine or the expression on his face, but I cracked up. Less than an hour ago I had been sitting on my bag crying, lost, alone and broke – and now I was sitting at a private table in the deserted dining room of some fantastically expensive hotel, sipping wine with a guy I had been fantasizing about all day. It was, in fact, one hell of a day.

Alex grinned sheepishly, as though he had said something wrong. He raised his glass and said, To you, Alicia McAllister, of…

He paused and looked at me quizzically. Where did you say you were from?

Flushing badly, I reminded him. Glen Meadows, I said. It’s in Connecticut.

Glen Meadows, it is. He clinked his glass against mine, and downed the entire contents. His elbows propped on the table, he held the empty glass before him with both hands and looked at me. So tell me about yourself.

He was looking at me intently, but I thought there was a mischievous look in his eyes. I didn’t know if he was flirting with me, or just putting me on the spot. As I felt my face flush yet again, I fell back in my chair and looked at the ceiling. I was smiling, involuntarily, and trying hard not to laugh in embarrassment. As unsettling as it was, I liked his attention.

In fact, I liked it a lot. But I had no idea what to say to him. He was handsome, obviously rich and probably powerful. And I was just a kid fresh out of college. A state college, no less. In Glen Meadows, Connecticut.

What could be more boring?

I just couldn’t believe there was anything about my life he would find interesting. In contrast, he was charming and sophisticated – and if there was a certain shyness about him, there was also an intensity that whispered of danger. For beneath the practiced charm and polished manners, I could sense roiling emotions. Like an ocean storm, they were frightening and exciting and all too erotic.

Made suddenly uncomfortable by my sensual response, I pushed it out of mind. Then after summoning up my courage, I looked into his deep green eyes and tried to smile. Well…

But just then, the Chef arrived with our salads.

Alex thanked him and unrolled his silverware from the starched linen napkin, and began eating. After he had taken a few bites, he looked up at me and smiled. You were saying?

So at last I began talking, and to my surprise he seemed genuinely interested as I told him about my life. And as he encouraged me with an occasional word, or question, my halting sentences began to flow more smoothly. By the time our steaks arrived, I had shared with him the joys of my tree house in the backyard and the Raggedy Ann doll I had implausibly named Skinnard, and the awful fights I used to have with my mom over dresses. As a little girl I had hated wearing them, more than anything else in the world.

Alex laughed softly. You must have been quite the tomboy.

Blushing badly, I admitted that it was true. If Skinnard was my best friend and constant companion, I had no time for other dolls or tea parties like the other little girls on my street. I was far more interested in climbing trees, and chasing balls, and exploring the mud puddles that formed in the backyard after a hard rain. And I told him about the big woods that backed up to our property, and how Skinnard and I had set out to explore every inch of it, and gotten hopelessly lost in the process.

And I shared with him the agony of losing my Dad, and the painful years that followed. I told him about what a geek I had been in high school, and how ugly I had been with braces and glasses, and straggly blonde hair. And then in a moment of terrible indiscretion, I told him about my first kiss – my first real kiss – when Tommy Jurgensen walked me home after a basketball game that had gone late into overtime my junior year. I had just finished telling him about Township College when he looked at his watch.

It was very late, he said, we really should go.

Terribly embarrassed, I apologized for rambling on and on. Alex shook his head, and said there was no need. It had been his pleasure.

As he escorted me to my room, he explained that he hadn’t any plans for the morning. He would pick me up at nine, if that was OK, and run me out to James’ apartment in the suburbs. I didn’t have a clue as to where Alexandria was, but Alex assured me that it was adjacent to Arlington, just across the river.

When we reached my door, he held out his hand and thanked me for a lovely evening. I couldn’t believe that he was thanking me, but he seemed so completely sincere. I was thrilled, and I didn’t care if it showed. I took his hand in both of mine, and thanked him instead.

Then with glistening eyes, I stood up on my tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek before disappearing inside.

It was only after the door had closed and locked behind me that I realized I had spent the whole night talking about myself. Throughout the long evening we had spent together, he’d deftly kept the focus of conversation on me. After a long dinner, two bottles of wine and three hours of conversation, he remained as mysterious as the moment I’d first laid eyes upon him.

As I drifted off to sleep that night, I wondered why.

CHAPTER THREE

I was awakened by a courtesy call from the front desk. It was eight o’clock, as I had requested. Vaguely conscious, I thanked them and hung up the phone.

I crawled to the edge of the bed, and pulled myself upright. I stretched and yawned, and with sleepy eyes, looked about me. So it wasn’t a dream after all…

I sat there for a moment, taking it all in. The suite was not merely enormous, but luxurious as well. The entrance from the outer hallway led into a large living room, with several overstuffed chairs, two couches, a huge table and a fully stocked bar. To the left were the double doors that opened into a study, perhaps half the size of the main room, and to the right another pair of doors that opened into a hallway that led to the bedroom where I was sitting. In between was a small galley equipped with a full sized refrigerator, stove, microwave, dishwasher and coffee pot; and of course the bathroom, which opened onto both the hallway and into the bedroom. Half the size of the sleeping chamber, it was divided into three sections: a dressing area, and then to the left, a separate room for the toilet, and to the right, another room with a traditional shower bath, a whirlpool, and a sauna.

Definitely not Holiday Inn, I thought. Delighted by my circumstances, and suddenly awake, I stood up and headed for the shower. Thinking that my good fortune was somehow deserved, I was in the midst of congratulating myself when I tripped over the smaller of my two bags and launched into space.

I hit hard, halfway across the room.

Being a good Catholic girl, I knew a sign when I saw one. Face down in the luxurious carpeting, there could be no doubt. God’s punishing me for that…

More than a little irritated, I had just started to wonder what else the Almighty had in mind for me when I saw my watch. Holy Cow!

Ten minutes had somehow slipped away. If I was going to meet Alex in the lobby at 9:00, I would have to fly. Anxious, I jumped to my feet and ran for the shower.

Five minutes later, I emerged with one towel wrapped around my head and another around my body. Grabbing my oversized bag, I dragged it up on the bed and dumped it out. Frantically rooting through the contents, I found a pair of jeans and a top. It took another minute of furious searching to come up with a bra, and another after that to find a pair of matching panties. Not that it mattered…

Shoes…

I tore through the pile of clothes before suddenly realizing I had shipped most of them ahead, along with my winter clothes. I had exactly one pair of flats – the wrong color – and one pair of heels. I was going to have to wear my sneakers again.

I pulled on my clothes and ripped open my smaller bag. Makeup, lipstick, comb, blow dryer, brush…

Hurrying back to the bathroom, I plugged in the hair dryer and began combing out my hair. It was long – just below my shoulders – and thick. Thinking that it would never get dry, I dropped my head to my knees and began combing it furiously.

But it did dry, and just in time. Leaning into the mirror, I put on a bare minimum of makeup. Satisfied I wouldn’t scare any small children, I applied a thin coat of lip gloss and blotted it before glancing at my watch. 8:50 am!

Pack…

I ran back to the bedroom and began throwing my clothes back into the overstuffed suitcase. They were going to get wrinkled, but it couldn’t be helped.

With the last of my things crammed inside, I pushed the top down as hard as I could. It wouldn’t close.

Darn it!

Uncertain, I looked around the room. Something, anything for an idea…

But nothing came.

Scowling, I dragged it off the bed and onto the floor, and kneeled upon it. Pushing down as hard as I could, I got the first latch closed, then the second.

I ran back into the bathroom and scooped up the things I had left there, and raced back to the bedroom. I crammed them into the carry-on, zipped it shut and slung it over my shoulder.

Purse…

I looked around frantically before locating it on the floor. I snatched it up, and grabbed hold of the oversized suitcase. After jerking it up on its wheels, I began tugging it down the hallway.

Key…

Darn it! I dropped both bags and ran back into the bedroom. Grabbing it off the nightstand next to the bed, I raced back to my bags. Repeating the whole process, I got the carry-on over my shoulder and the oversized up on end. I dragged them down the hall to the door, and yanked it open. As I was backing out into the hallway, I saw the bouquet of fresh cut flowers on the table.

Wow!

The door slammed shut before I