can open a checking account right away.”
“Mike, I don’t—”
“It’s not Dee’s money,” he snapped. “When your mother died, she left a small insurance policy—fifteen thousand dollars. I stuck it in trust for you. Thank God I did . . . or I would have gone through that, too. With the interest and all, there should be close to twenty-two or twenty-three thousand bucks waiting for you. Now go buy out Bonwit’s and Saks.”
They walked down the street and stopped in front of the Pierre. Subconsciously they both looked up half expecting to see Dee at the window. Mike laughed. “She took another sleeping pill when I left. Besides, she rarely gets up before noon. Oh . . . here’s a key to the suite. You’re registered, so always check at the desk for your messages.”
She laughed. “Mike, you’re the only person I know in New York. So maybe you ought to leave me a message—”
“I don’t have to. I think you got it.” Then he turned and walked into the building.
Three
S HE WAS EXHAUSTED when she returned to the Pierre. It was almost four o’clock and she was carrying only one large box. And it hadn’t been easy to decide on that! She didn’t know what to wear to a dinner party with Dee. At Bergdorf’s, a saleslady told her midi skirts were in and mini skirts were out . But at noon, as girls poured out of office buildings on their lunch breaks, Fifth Avenue became flooded with minis and micro minis . On Lexington Avenue she saw Indian headbands, blue jeans, knickers, and long granny skirts. It was like a costume parade. She finally settled on the long patchwork skirt and red jersey blouse she saw on the mannequin in Bloomingdale’s window. The saleslady assured her it would fit any occasion.
When she walked into the hotel she stopped at the desk on a whim and asked if there were any messages. To her amazement the clerk handed her two slips of paper. Balancing the box under her chin and one arm, she studied them as she rang for the elevator. One had come at three, the other at three-thirty. Both asked her to call the same Plaza number and ask for Extension 36. She looked at the name on the message form. It was for her, all right. Suddenly she smiled. Of course . . . the Plaza number was probably Mike’s office.
When she came into the apartment, a maid was dusting some little jade elephants on the mantel. In the daylight the apartment looked even more beautiful. The sunlight mirrored itself on the silver frames that covered the top of the piano. There were so many pictures. She recognized a United States Senator,Nureyev, an Ambassador, and the remarkable face of Karla. She walked over and studied the childish scrawl in faded ink. “To Deirdre . . . Karla.” January stared at the high cheekbones, the fantastic eyes. The maid came over. “There are three princes on the left. And a Rajah.”
January nodded. “I was looking at Karla.”
“Yes, she’s very beautiful,” the maid said. “Oh, by the way, I’m Sadie. And I’m glad to meet you, Miss January.”
January smiled. The woman was in her mid-sixties and looked Scandinavian. Her light faded hair was pulled into a tiny skimpy knot and her face was clean and shiny. She looked spare, bony and strong. “Miss Deirdre told me to hang your things. I took the liberty of rearranging your drawer space. When do your trunks arrive?”
“They don’t,” January said. “There’s just what you saw. And now this new outfit from Bloomingdale’s.”
“I’ll press it out. Miss Deirdre is out now, but if you want anything, there is a button beside your bed. It connects with the kitchen and my bedroom out back. I’ll hear it wherever I am. And I didn’t know if you smoked, but I put cigarettes in all the boxes in your room. If you prefer a certain brand, let me know.”
“Thank you, no. I think I’ll take a bath and rest.”
“Be sure and ring if you need anything. I also left all the latest fashion magazines in your room. Miss Deirdre
“Mike, I don’t—”
“It’s not Dee’s money,” he snapped. “When your mother died, she left a small insurance policy—fifteen thousand dollars. I stuck it in trust for you. Thank God I did . . . or I would have gone through that, too. With the interest and all, there should be close to twenty-two or twenty-three thousand bucks waiting for you. Now go buy out Bonwit’s and Saks.”
They walked down the street and stopped in front of the Pierre. Subconsciously they both looked up half expecting to see Dee at the window. Mike laughed. “She took another sleeping pill when I left. Besides, she rarely gets up before noon. Oh . . . here’s a key to the suite. You’re registered, so always check at the desk for your messages.”
She laughed. “Mike, you’re the only person I know in New York. So maybe you ought to leave me a message—”
“I don’t have to. I think you got it.” Then he turned and walked into the building.
Three
S HE WAS EXHAUSTED when she returned to the Pierre. It was almost four o’clock and she was carrying only one large box. And it hadn’t been easy to decide on that! She didn’t know what to wear to a dinner party with Dee. At Bergdorf’s, a saleslady told her midi skirts were in and mini skirts were out . But at noon, as girls poured out of office buildings on their lunch breaks, Fifth Avenue became flooded with minis and micro minis . On Lexington Avenue she saw Indian headbands, blue jeans, knickers, and long granny skirts. It was like a costume parade. She finally settled on the long patchwork skirt and red jersey blouse she saw on the mannequin in Bloomingdale’s window. The saleslady assured her it would fit any occasion.
When she walked into the hotel she stopped at the desk on a whim and asked if there were any messages. To her amazement the clerk handed her two slips of paper. Balancing the box under her chin and one arm, she studied them as she rang for the elevator. One had come at three, the other at three-thirty. Both asked her to call the same Plaza number and ask for Extension 36. She looked at the name on the message form. It was for her, all right. Suddenly she smiled. Of course . . . the Plaza number was probably Mike’s office.
When she came into the apartment, a maid was dusting some little jade elephants on the mantel. In the daylight the apartment looked even more beautiful. The sunlight mirrored itself on the silver frames that covered the top of the piano. There were so many pictures. She recognized a United States Senator,Nureyev, an Ambassador, and the remarkable face of Karla. She walked over and studied the childish scrawl in faded ink. “To Deirdre . . . Karla.” January stared at the high cheekbones, the fantastic eyes. The maid came over. “There are three princes on the left. And a Rajah.”
January nodded. “I was looking at Karla.”
“Yes, she’s very beautiful,” the maid said. “Oh, by the way, I’m Sadie. And I’m glad to meet you, Miss January.”
January smiled. The woman was in her mid-sixties and looked Scandinavian. Her light faded hair was pulled into a tiny skimpy knot and her face was clean and shiny. She looked spare, bony and strong. “Miss Deirdre told me to hang your things. I took the liberty of rearranging your drawer space. When do your trunks arrive?”
“They don’t,” January said. “There’s just what you saw. And now this new outfit from Bloomingdale’s.”
“I’ll press it out. Miss Deirdre is out now, but if you want anything, there is a button beside your bed. It connects with the kitchen and my bedroom out back. I’ll hear it wherever I am. And I didn’t know if you smoked, but I put cigarettes in all the boxes in your room. If you prefer a certain brand, let me know.”
“Thank you, no. I think I’ll take a bath and rest.”
“Be sure and ring if you need anything. I also left all the latest fashion magazines in your room. Miss Deirdre
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