row. The paintings on the wall added to the warm, comfortable atmosphere. They turned into a wing and were approaching its end when Jack saw her.
He knew then why there had been no hesitation on the part of the maitre d'hotel, why there could be no mistake. This was The-Woman-in-the-White-Dress. She might as well have been the only woman in the room.
She sat alone on a divan against the rear wall, her shoes off, her legs drawn up sideways under her as if she were sitting at home listening to music—classical music, or maybe a raga. A wine glass half full of faintly amber liquid swirled gently in her hand. She bore a strong family resemblance to Kusum but was younger, late twenties, perhaps. She had bright, dark, wide-set, almond-shaped eyes, wide cheekbones, a fine nose dimpled over the flare of the left nostril where perhaps it had been pierced to set a jewel, and smooth, flawless, mocha-colored skin. Her hair too was dark, almost black, parted in the middle and curled at the side around her ears and the nape of her neck. Old-fashioned but curiously just right for her. She had a full lower lip colored a deep glossy red. And all that was dark about her was made darker by the whiteness of her dress.
The necklace was the clincher, though. Had Jack the slightest doubt about her identity, the silvery iron necklace with the two yellow stones laid it immediately to rest.
She extended her hand from where she was seated on the couch. 'It's good to see you, Jack.'
Her voice was rich and dark, like her; and her smile, so white and even, was breath taking. She leaned forward, her breasts swelling against the thin fabric of her dress as it shaped itself around the minute nipple-bulge centered on each. She did not seem to have the slightest doubt as to who he was.
'Ms. Bahkti,' he said, taking her hand. Her nails, like her lips, were a deep red, her dusky skin soft and smooth as polished ivory. His mind seemed to go blank. He really should say something more. 'I see you haven't lost
That sounded good, didn't it?
'Oh, no. Mine stays right where it is!' She released his hand and patted the cushion next to her. 'Come. Sit. We've much to talk about.'
Close up, her eyes were wise and knowing, as if she’d absorbed all the wonders of her race and its timeless culture.
The maitre d’hotel did not call a waiter but stood by quietly as Jack took his place beside Kolabati. It was possible that he was a very patient man, but Jack noticed that his eyes never left Kolabati.
'May I get m'sieur something to drink?' he said when Jack was settled.
Jack looked at Kolabati's glass. 'What's that?'
“Kir.”
He wanted a beer, but this was the Waldorf. 'I'll have one of those.'
She laughed. 'Don't be silly! I’ll bet you prefer beer.'
“Well, yes. But only two kinds.”
“Which are?”
“Foreign and domestic.”
She laughed again. “Do foreign.”
'Okay. Corona—no lime.”
What he really wanted was a Rolling Rock.
'Very good.' The maitre d’hotel finally went away.
'How'd you know I like beer?' The confidence with which she’d said it made him uneasy.
'A lucky guess. I was sure you wouldn't like kir.' She studied him. 'So...you're the man who retrieved the necklace. It was a seemingly impossible task, yet you did it. I owe you a debt of undying gratitude.'
'It was only a necklace.'
'A very important necklace.'
'Maybe, but it's not as if I saved her life or anything.'
'Perhaps you did. Perhaps return of the necklace gave her the strength and the hope to go on living. It was very important to her. Our whole family wears them—every one of us. We're never without it.'
'Never?'
'Never.'
Full of eccentricities, these Bahktis.
The Corona arrived, delivered by the maitre d’hotel himself, who poured the first glassful, lingered a moment, then wandered off with obvious reluctance.
'You realize, don't you,' Kolabati said as Jack quaffed a few ounces, 'that you have made two lifelong friends in the past 24 hours: my brother and myself.'
'What about your grandmother?'
'Her, too, of course. Do not take our gratitude lightly, Jack. Not mine. And especially not my brother's—Kusum never forgets a favor or a slight.'
'Just what does your brother do at the UN?'
Jack hated small talk. He really wanted to know all about Kolabati, but didn't want to appear too interested.
