'You don't know about Maybelle, do you?'
'She has many, many diplomas,' Mallory said grimly.
'She has many, many sections of Texas land, too,' the girl said. 'She inherited them when her husband died.'
'How big's a section?'
'How would I know?' the girl said. 'But it's a lot of acres, and some of them are right outside of town. In fact, they kind of sneak into the town. Pretty far into the town.' Her grin was widening, and now she was just a cute, nice girl who was really, really good with makeup.
'Which town?'
'Dallas.'
'Ah-h-h.'
'Yeah, and the ones out in West Texas where Maybelle actually lived were so full of oil they weren't good for much else.' She giggled.
'Oil,' Mallory breathed out another 'ah-h-h.'
'I'm talking a lot of oil. Maybelle said it got 'right depressin' livin' with the smell.'' The girl laughed outright. 'I told her that was the kind of depression I didn't need Wellbutrin for.'
'So… I guess she has a charge account here, and she just…'
'The salespeople get a little orientation session on Maybelle when they start working at Bergdorf's,' the girl said. 'Maybelle takes, we add it up and send it up to bookkeeping, bookkeeping talks to her accountant and her accountant sends money. Everybody's happy.'
Mallory was reduced to muttering inanities like, 'I see. Uh-huh. Umm.' She thanked the girl for the information and was pulling herself together to drift away when the girl said, 'I put some instructions in the bag. I'm not sure you were paying attention while I was doing your face.'
'Thank you,' Mallory said. 'I wasn't.'
'Well, don't worry. Any problems, come back to me. I can fix the little stuff,Maybelle can fix the big stuff.'
'You really think so?'
A mysterious expression settled over the girl's face. 'I'll bet you a Pink Pearl lip gloss when that president she's counseling gets reelected.'
8
Feel sexy. Mallory was still obsessing on the idea as she took the escalator up from the cosmetics level to the first floor. There she paused, thinking, making a plan. Until that magical moment she began to feel sexy inside, how was she going to make any headway with Carter? Maybe she needed a prop, just the way Carter needed that pen to worry between his fingers as if it were a cigarette. She walked slowly toward the front doors on Fifth Avenue, thinking what that prop might be, and remembered the mistletoe she'd admired on the Christmas floor at Bloomingdale's. Bergdorf's would surely have mistletoe, too.
Mallory found the elevators and went to the eighth floor, stepping out into another fantasy world of heavily decorated trees on which everything was for sale, trees and all. And there, hanging in a doorway, was a ball of mistletoe that was, if anything, bigger, greener-and more expensive-than the mistletoe at Bloomingdale's.
A few minutes later, she owned a ball of mistletoe. Seen from a different perspective, she owned something from Bergdorf's she'd actually paid for.
As soon as she stepped through the door of the suite, she discovered that she and Carter also owned a Christmas tree. It was a tiny, live tree in a beribboned terra-cotta pot, and someone had placed it on the small round table they could use for dining if they ever dined in. She assumed it was a special holiday courtesy of the St. Regis until she noticed the gift card.
'From a friend,' it said. 'May your Christmas wishes come true.'
Probably one of Carter's women, she thought despondently. It smelled nice, though. Her mother's trees didn't smell at all. Nothing in her mother's house smelled of anything but bleach, ammonia or baking soda, the thrifty housewife's cleaning supplies. The Christmas tree, dutifully put up one week before Christmas and taken down on January 1, was, of course, fake.
She wondered what Maybelle would make of her mother's book. She'd know soon, because anything Maybelle thought was bound to come out of her mouth, and sooner rather than later.
With a sigh for what might have been, she lined up her new makeup on the marble counter in her bathroom and opened the mistletoe box. The ball of greenery came with its own little hanger, so she dragged a chair over to reach the archway that led to her bedroom door.
Then she hesitated, thought a minute, playing out the scene in her head. It would look too obvious if she backed him up toward her own bedroom door, so instead, she dragged the chair over to the arch that led to his bedroom door.
Who said she didn't need to travel with a tool kit? Newly grateful for her mother's wisdom, she went to work. It wasn't easy to install the hanger in the woodwork, and it was entirely possible the hotel would charge her for damages, but she reminded herself again that for the moment, money was no object.
It looked beautiful up there, and with the tree, the suite had taken on a wonderfully Christmassy air.
Now she could focus on the case until Carter came home. Assuming she could see through her eyelashes.
'Interest rates are falling, the after-tax spread between munis, corporates and treasuries is narrowing dramatically and I personally feel this trend is going to continue.'
'Uh-huh,' Carter said. He was having sweetbreads tonight at a downtown restaurant-Chanterelle-because Mallory's sweetbreads had looked good the night before. These were the best he'd ever eaten. Brie's conversation, on the other hand, was not lighting his fire.
'We're expecting some very attractive new offerings from municipalities across the country. Highly rated, Carter, and in your tax bracket-' she frowned with apparent concern '-you really should be thinking of investing in them.'
'Uh-huh.' He was starting to wonder, as he had with Athena, what had made him think Brie might be the woman he'd want to settle down with. She was gorgeous as well as dedicated to her job, and serious, which was a fine quality in a long-term woman. He just hadn't remembered quite how serious. He speared the last bite of sweetbread. They were just great, the high point of the evening.
'I could make a call to your broker in the morning,' Brie said. 'In fact, I'd really like to establish a relationship with your brokerage firm. All their clients ought to get on this bandwagon fast.'
'Hardy and White,' Carter said.
'What?'
'Hardy and White, my brokerage firm in Chicago. Take them, they're yours.'
'I thought you were just taking depositions.' Her eyes narrowed a bit. He guessed that was why he'd put her on his list of wife prospects. She'd shown an interest in the law.
'We are,' he said as the waiter cleared plates away and proffered dessert menus. 'But the evidence has revealed certain ramifications, potentially ruinous ramifications, that-'
'I'll have the creme brulee and an espresso,' Brie said briskly to the waiter.
'Same here,' Carter said in a hurry, because her mouth was already poised for her next attack.
'Who should I ask for when I call Hardy and White?'
'Dan Whitcomb,' Carter said. 'Now, these ramifications have to be addressed before we find ourselves in a crisis situation with no way back to-'
'I'm sure you can find a minute in the morning to pave the way for me with Dan Whitcomb,' Brie said, scribbling on her organizer screen.
'I'll do it first thing,' Carter assured her earnestly. For a single phone call he could buy his soul back and go home to find out what Mallory had been up to tonight.
It seemed a small price to pay.
