'I hope so. I really do.' She looked up at Gia. 'Would you do me a favor, dear? Call the Mission and send them my regrets. I won't be attending the reception tomorrow night. '
'You should go.'
'No. It would be unseemly.'
'Don't be silly. Grace would want you to go. And besides, you need a change of scenery. You haven't left this house all week.'
'What if she calls?'
'Eunice is here to relay any messages.'
'But to go out and have a good time—'
'I thought you told me you never had a good time at these affairs.'
Nellie smiled, and that was good to see.
'True...quite true. Well, I rather suppose you're right then. Perhaps I should go. But only on one condition.'
'What's that?'
'You go with me.'
Gia was startled at the request. The last thing in the world she wanted to do on a Saturday night was stand around in a room full of UN diplomats.
'No. Really. I couldn't—'
'Of course you can!'
'But Vicky is—'
'Eunice will be here.'
Gia racked her brain for excuses. There had to be a way out of this.
'I've nothing to wear.'
'We'll go out and buy something.'
'Out of the question!'
Nellie pulled a handkerchief out of a pocket and dabbed her lips. 'Then I shan't be going either.'
Gia did her best to glare angrily at Nellie, but only managed to hold the expression for a few seconds before breaking into a smile.
'All right, you old blackmailer—'
'I resent being called old.'
'—I'll go with you, but I'll find something of my own to wear.'
'You'll come with me tomorrow afternoon and put a dress on my account. If you're to accompany me, you must have the proper clothes. And that's all I shall say on the matter. We shall leave after lunch.'
With that, she turned and bustled away toward the library. Gia watched her with a mixture of affection and annoyance. Once again she’d been outflanked by the old lady from London.
3
Jack walked in the main entrance of the Waldorf at six precisely and trotted up the steps to the bustling lobby. Despite a hectic day he’d managed to get here on time.
He’d arranged for analysis of the contents of the bottle he’d found in Grace's room, then had gone down to the streets and looked up every shady character he knew—and he knew more than he cared to count. No talk anywhere about anybody snatching a rich old lady.
By late afternoon he’d been drenched with sweat and feeling gritty all over. He’d showered, shaved, dressed, and cabbed over to Park Avenue.
Jack had never had a reason to go to the Waldorf before so he didn't know what to expect from this Peacock Alley where Kolabati wanted to meet him. To be safe, he’d invested in a lightweight cream-colored suit and a pinkish shirt and paisley tie to go with it—at least the salesman said they went with it. He thought at first he might be overdoing it, then figured it would be hard to overdress for the Waldorf. From his brief conversation with Kolabati he sensed she’d be dressed to the nines.
Jack absorbed the sights and sounds of the lobby as he walked through it. All races, all nationalities, all ages, shapes, and sizes milled or sat about. To his left, behind a low railing and an arch, people sat drinking at small tables. He walked over and saw a little oval sign that read “Peacock Alley.”
He glanced around. If the Waldorf lobby were a sidewalk, Peacock Alley would be a sidewalk cafe, an air- conditioned model
“A table, sir?'
A middle-aged maitre d'hotel was at his shoulder, looking at him expectantly. His accent was French with perhaps a soupcon of Brooklyn.
'I think so. I'm not sure. I'm supposed to meet someone. She's in a white dress and—'
The man's eyes lit up. 'She is here! Come!'
Jack followed him into the rear section, wondering how this man could be so sure he had the right party. They passed a series of alcoves, each with a sofa and stuffed chairs around a cocktail table, like tiny living rooms all in a
