The crucial thing is that we’ve got the meeting rooms exactly as I ordered—interconnecting with double doors. I’ve nicknamed one room “Ben” and the other “Jerry’s,” and the doors are firmly shut between them. For now.
“Right.” For the millionth time I survey the team. “Does everyone know what they’re doing?”
I’ve got the Ocean’s Eleven theme music pulsing through my head, because we watched it last night on DVD, to get us in the mood. We also played cards and drank beers and kept saying, “Are you in or are you out?” to one another.
“You’ve got the cupcakes ready?” says Suze, and I produce the box from a side cupboard. I place ten cupcakes on a plate, and for a silent moment the two of us survey it.
“You think we need one more cupcake?” I ask.
Suze doesn’t move. But I can read that little crinkle in her brow.
“You think we need one more cupcake,” I say.
Still she doesn’t move. I know what’s going on here. She’s being Brad Pitt and I’ve got to be George Clooney.
“OK,” I say, deadpan. “We’ll have one more cupcake.” I place the final cupcake on top of the pile and dust down my hands. “We’re set.”
“Corey’s here,” says Luke, looking at his phone, and my stomach gives a heave of nerves. Oh God. He’s here. It’s starting. And just for a moment I feel engulfed by terror. Are we actually, really doing this?
At least Minnie is safely in our hotel room, being looked after by the lovely Judy. (We brought Judy with us from Sedona as a temporary nanny, which was Luke’s idea, and it was a brilliant move.)
“Cyndi’s ten minutes away,” reports Danny, consulting his phone. “It’s on. Good luck, everyone.”
My hands are damp and my heart is suddenly pounding. I half-want to run away and forget we ever planned this. But everyone’s looking at me for instructions. This is my gig, I tell myself firmly. I need to make it happen. And although I’m terrified, I’m exhilarated too.
“OK,” I say briskly. “Party time. Dad, you need to get out of the way. Luke, you head down to the lobby to collect Corey.” Luke nods and strides out of the room, giving me a brief kiss on the way.
“Attagirl,” he whispers in my ear, and I give his hand an answering squeeze.
“Tarkie and Elinor, into Ben,” I instruct. “Danny, stay in phone contact with Cyndi. Ulla and Suze, into Jerry’s. You all know what to do. Mum and Janice…” I look at them both. “We need to disappear.”
I pick up the plate of cupcakes, give a quick glance round the room, and head out to the corridor. The worst thing about this whole plan is, I have to wait now. And I’ve never been good at waiting. How am I not going to explode with frustration?
“I brought a book of sudoku to pass the time,” says Janice helpfully, as we all squeeze into the small back room I located earlier. “And my iPad, with some nice films on it.” She beams at Mum and me. “Shall we have a little watch of The Sound of Music?”
Sometimes I really love Janice.
—
Twenty minutes later, even with The Sound of Music distracting me, I’m almost popping with tension. What is going on in there? What? But at last the agreed time is up, and I sally forth with my bucket of cleaning materials. (We bought them specially at a hardware store.)
I knock on the door of Jerry’s, wait till I hear Danny call, “Come in,” then make my way in, my head bowed right down.
I’m counting on the fact that Cyndi won’t recognize me from the children’s party, because being in a housekeeper’s uniform is such good camouflage. But even so, I keep my gaze down. I just about take in the fact that Cyndi is seated in a low chair by the window, with Suze, Danny, and Ulla grouped around her like acolytes. There are glasses of champagne on the coffee table and a stack of Danny Kovitz boxes on the floor.
Cyndi clearly hasn’t recognized Suze either from their brief previous encounter. Which isn’t surprising, as Suze has been transformed from a desperate-looking girl with lank hair and shadowy face into a society lady with a chignon, full makeup, and a cream bouclé dress with humongous pearl choker. Ulla, meanwhile, is looking exactly as she did when I first met her in Las Vegas and is sketching Cyndi in charcoal.
Cyndi is all rosy in the face, and her eyes are bright, so I guess I’ve missed the bit where Danny told her he’d seen her photo in the society pages of magazines and greatly admired her style.
“Housekeeping?” I mutter, practically in a whisper.
“Oh, hi,” says Danny, sounding irritated. “This really isn’t a good time for us.”
“Sorry, sir,” I mumble. “Shall I come back?”
“Maybe just, like, polish that screen?” He points to the wide-screen TV on the wall. “It’s filthy.”
It’s filthy because we smeared it with oil, earlier on. I hastily head over to it and start spraying on glass cleaner. As I rub away, my ears are almost tingling with desperation to hear the conversation behind me.
“So, as I said, Cyndi,” Danny continues, “I would love to give you this jacket, which I feel encapsulates your style.”
“Oh my!” Cyndi seems overcome. “For me? Really?” She pauses, the jacket half on. “You know, when I got your assistant’s email, I couldn’t believe it. I mean, Danny Kovitz wants to meet me?” She peers over at Ulla’s drawing. “Oh, that’s too flattering.”
“Not at all,” says Danny. “Ulla draws all my muses.”
“Muses?” Cyndi looks even more overcome. “Me, a muse?”
“For sure!” Danny nods. “Now, go ahead, put the jacket on.”
As Cyndi puts on the jacket, Suze makes admiring noises.
“Very nice,” says Danny. “Very nice indeed.”
“So, you’re organizing a fashion show for charity?” says Cyndi, as she admires her reflection in the freestanding mirror we ordered from “Conference Accessories.”
“That’s right,” says Danny. “Fashion by me, Danny Kovitz, and hosted by Lady Cleath-Stuart of the British aristocracy. That’s why we got in touch with you.” He beams at Cyndi. “We felt sure that you, as a top socialite and philanthropist, would want to be involved.”
I can see Cyndi goggling at the name “Lady Cleath-Stuart,” not to mention Danny himself. As well she might! I mean, it’s a pretty starry lineup. But it had to be, to lure her here.
As I’m polishing the TV, I keep sneaking glances at Cyndi. And I can see why Corey’s smitten. She’s so pretty. Her skin is like a peach. She has these plump lips, which she keeps biting, and these wide innocent eyes. If I were a man, I’d probably fall in love with her too. I don’t blame Corey for being besotted.
And this is how we’re going to get him. Not by forcing him or threatening him, but by shaming him, in front of the one person in the world he cares about most.
“My husband knows Lord Cleath-Stuart, you know,” says Cyndi, as she adjusts the sleeves of the jacket.
“Absolutely,” says Danny smoothly. “That’s another reason we thought of you. Does your husband know you’re here today?” he adds casually.
“I didn’t say exactly what I was doing.” Cyndi colors slightly. “I said I was meeting friends. But he’ll be so excited to hear about it!”
“Good!” Suze beams at her. “Danny, why not show Cyndi the next outfit?”
I’ve heard enough. I give a final wipe at the screen, then dump my cloth back in my bucket and retreat into the corridor. I head next door to Ben, knock, and shuffle in.
“Housekeeping,” I murmur, but no one even responds, so I start randomly wiping the TV screen. Luke, Tarquin, Corey, and Elinor are all sitting around a conference table, and Corey is in the middle of some story involving a rifle and a bear. As he finishes, Luke and Tarquin burst into polite laughter, and Elinor inclines her head.