that looked like it rode on helium. Ellery’s own posterior had settled into a more earthy upside-down heart shape—“earthy” being code for “Hello, gravity”—but she was determined to be an appropriately attired bar patron this evening. Withan exhalation calculated to reduce both her weight and volume, she herself eased into the jeans, though “eased” didn’t quite cover the combination of hopscotch and yoga necessary to get them over her hips, and zipped them closed.
She looked at herself in the mirror. She had to admit, the jeans made her look fantastic. It reminded her of a pair she’d had in college, though those hadn’t ridden quite so low on her hips. It was probably good she’d be wearing a slip dress with them and not a camisole.
She took off her top and no-nonsense T-shirt bra and fastened the “Hands of God” around her chest. She felt a little like Chuck Yeager strapping himself into a cockpit, but once all the buckles had been snapped and the safety checklist reviewed, she felt ready for even the bumpiest flight.
Then she pulled the light-as-air slip over her head and let it flutter over her body. Jill was right: She was going to rock in this outfit. She pulled the elastic from around her ponytail and let her hair fall. She was just strapping on her heels when her cell rang.
“On my way,” she said, breathless.
“You certainly are, missy,” an ebullient Carlton Purdy said. “And I have some very good news.”
Ellery’s heart made a joyful lurch.
The job!
“You do?”
“I do. I’ve convinced the board to wait on their decision until the John Irving article comes out. We have two Irving fanatics in the group, and I know they’re going to be thrilled.”
Ellery felt her test flight careening toward the ground. “Oh.”
“I’ll be waiting in line at the corner newsstand the day the magazine drops.”
Ka-boom. She collapsed on her back on the bed. “That’s great. Are you sure you can afford to wait?”
“Missy, we can’t afford
not
to wait. You can thank me later.”
“You know I will.”
Ellery hung up and stared at the ceiling. Then she turned off her cell phone, rolled to her feet and broke the seal on the honor bar.
C HAPTER E IGHTEEN
Monkey Bar, Pittsburgh
Axel put down his club soda. There she was at last. His calls had been going straight to voice mail for the last half hour.
He watched her make her way across the crowded floor. Irritated as he was, he had to admit she looked great. Nor was he the only man in the room with his eyes on her.
She was wearing something bare and silky on top that fluttered over her curves like the delicate wings of a butterfly. The lights of the room lit her hair like a fiery halo, and her cheeks were aglow. He was reminded with sudden sadness of what he’d lost five years ago, and the pain in his back, which had been gone since the day before, returned.
She spotted him, took a step and went over like a sequoia, arms flailing as she fell.
He ran to her side and pulled her up. “Are you okay?”
“I am very fine,” she said, catching his shoulder with an air of companionability that surprised him. “Very fine.”
“You sure?” He looked her over, curious. “I’ve been trying to reach you.”
“There was a slight, er, development after you called. It took me a while to work my way through it.” She hiccoughed and covered her mouth. “Pardon
me
.”
Oh
boy
. Dress slightly askew, lipstick drawn beyond the lip on one side, telltale scent of Tanqueray in the air. “Please tell me you took a cab here.”
“I did. Came right to the front of the hotel for me.” She tried without success to snap her fingers. “So, are we gonna get this party started or what?”
“I wonder if we should get you a spot of dinner first, eh?” He led her back to the bar.
“That’s a fine idea.” She waved the bartender down. “Martini, please.”
“I was thinking food.”
“Loads of olives,” she amended.
“And a
She looked at herself in the mirror. She had to admit, the jeans made her look fantastic. It reminded her of a pair she’d had in college, though those hadn’t ridden quite so low on her hips. It was probably good she’d be wearing a slip dress with them and not a camisole.
She took off her top and no-nonsense T-shirt bra and fastened the “Hands of God” around her chest. She felt a little like Chuck Yeager strapping himself into a cockpit, but once all the buckles had been snapped and the safety checklist reviewed, she felt ready for even the bumpiest flight.
Then she pulled the light-as-air slip over her head and let it flutter over her body. Jill was right: She was going to rock in this outfit. She pulled the elastic from around her ponytail and let her hair fall. She was just strapping on her heels when her cell rang.
“On my way,” she said, breathless.
“You certainly are, missy,” an ebullient Carlton Purdy said. “And I have some very good news.”
Ellery’s heart made a joyful lurch.
The job!
“You do?”
“I do. I’ve convinced the board to wait on their decision until the John Irving article comes out. We have two Irving fanatics in the group, and I know they’re going to be thrilled.”
Ellery felt her test flight careening toward the ground. “Oh.”
“I’ll be waiting in line at the corner newsstand the day the magazine drops.”
Ka-boom. She collapsed on her back on the bed. “That’s great. Are you sure you can afford to wait?”
“Missy, we can’t afford
not
to wait. You can thank me later.”
“You know I will.”
Ellery hung up and stared at the ceiling. Then she turned off her cell phone, rolled to her feet and broke the seal on the honor bar.
C HAPTER E IGHTEEN
Monkey Bar, Pittsburgh
Axel put down his club soda. There she was at last. His calls had been going straight to voice mail for the last half hour.
He watched her make her way across the crowded floor. Irritated as he was, he had to admit she looked great. Nor was he the only man in the room with his eyes on her.
She was wearing something bare and silky on top that fluttered over her curves like the delicate wings of a butterfly. The lights of the room lit her hair like a fiery halo, and her cheeks were aglow. He was reminded with sudden sadness of what he’d lost five years ago, and the pain in his back, which had been gone since the day before, returned.
She spotted him, took a step and went over like a sequoia, arms flailing as she fell.
He ran to her side and pulled her up. “Are you okay?”
“I am very fine,” she said, catching his shoulder with an air of companionability that surprised him. “Very fine.”
“You sure?” He looked her over, curious. “I’ve been trying to reach you.”
“There was a slight, er, development after you called. It took me a while to work my way through it.” She hiccoughed and covered her mouth. “Pardon
me
.”
Oh
boy
. Dress slightly askew, lipstick drawn beyond the lip on one side, telltale scent of Tanqueray in the air. “Please tell me you took a cab here.”
“I did. Came right to the front of the hotel for me.” She tried without success to snap her fingers. “So, are we gonna get this party started or what?”
“I wonder if we should get you a spot of dinner first, eh?” He led her back to the bar.
“That’s a fine idea.” She waved the bartender down. “Martini, please.”
“I was thinking food.”
“Loads of olives,” she amended.
“And a
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