Her Man Friday(76)
Author: Elizabeth Bevarly

Inhaling a deep breath—the last she would take as Schuyler’s secretary—she strode purposefully to the bar on the other side of the expansive room. And, seeing Janey Kimball standing nearby wearing her usual straw chapeau and dainty gloves, not to mention a lilac gown that was positively gossamer, Lily decided to try flexing a little muscle.

"Janey. Darling," she said. "Fix me a martini, would you?"

Without turning her head, Janey dropped her mouth open in outrage at the suggestion—nay, the command—that she should perform a service for someone other than herself. Then she jerked her head around to look at Lily, and whatever words she had been about to utter were squelched before making themselves known. She swept her gaze over Lily from head to toe, then up again, then down again, and then fixed on her face for some moments. And then, almost imperceptibly, Janey nodded.

"All right," she said, surprising Lily. She pivoted around to the bar. "I suppose I could do that."

Miranda Kimball, too, seemed to notice something different about her son’s secretary, because she crossed the room in a graceful, and abundant, flow of purple satin, pausing to stand in front of Lily. But she said nothing at first, only gazed in steady perusal at the woman she had scarcely heeded before.

Then she tilted her head to the left a bit and said,

"What was that, Joan?" After a brief pause, she smiled and nodded. "Yes, I think so, too. Lily does look divine tonight, doesn’t she?" Then, to Lily, she added, "Miss Crawford thinks you have a very powerful aura about you this evening. And you do. It’s very… potent."

Well, Miss Crawford would know, Lily thought.

Janey extended a martini to her then, and she took it with a quick nod of thanks. She was about to respond to Miranda’s comment, when she suddenly felt the presence of an aura that was infinitely more important, infinitely more potent. She sensed, more than saw, Leo enter the dining room, and when she turned to gaze at him, her heart nearly jumped out of her throat.

Because, like his friend Eddie Dolan, who stood at his side, Leo was dressed in the most elegant, most sophisticated—most erotic, most sexy—tuxedo that Lily had ever seen. His hair was slicked back dramatically, as if he had just stepped from a fabulous forties film, and he had a white rose affixed to his lapel. It was identical to the one Mr. Dolan wore in his own lapel, so Lily was certain it was Leo’s friend who was responsible for the adornment, and not Leo himself. Added to that, he seemed in no way comfortable in the formal attire, and that, more than anything else, made Lily go hot all over with her love for him.

He had a lot to atone and apologize for before the night was over, she reminded herself. But gosh, he was awfully cute.

The two men strode forward—Mr. Dolan with considerably more finesse than Leo—but she scarcely noticed the other man at all. As they drew nearer, Leo lifted a hand to the black tie at his throat, tugged at it viciously, and muttered something to his friend that sounded like, "I still can’t believe I let you wrestle me into this penguin suit."

"Mr. Dolan," she said, extending her hand toward him, deliberately excluding Leo from the greeting just to tick him off. The gesture worked really, really well, too, because he frowned and refused to look at her. "I’m so happy you could make it this evening." She turned to Leo then, as Eddie Dolan’s huge hand swallowed hers. "And you brought Mr. Freiberger—or whoever he is—with you. How nice."

Leo was still trying to wrangle his tie when he glanced up at her, then back down at his tie, then back up at her again. Immediately, his fingers stopped worrying the length of black silk, and he narrowed his eyes at her suspiciously. He, too, dropped his gaze downward to survey her, then back up again, inspecting her attire and her… aura. Or something. But instead of being impressed by what he saw, as the others so clearly had been, he frowned.

Before he could remark, however, Janey Kimball forced her way into the small group and eyed Eddie Dolan with much interest. "Can you spell onomatopoeia?" she asked him without preamble.

To his credit, Mr. Dolan seemed not to be at all surprised by the query. He furrowed his brow and rolled his eyes upward for a moment, as if concentrating very hard. Then, "Nope, sorry," he said. "I can’t."

Janey brightened some. "Do you know what it is?"

Again, he seemed to think hard before answering. "Yeah, my Aunt Peg suffered from it real bad. A couple doses of Pepto-Bismol always cleared it right up, though. But she was a great old broad, Aunt Peg, in spite of her affliction."

Janey’s smile in response to that, Lily noted, could have lit up eastern Pennsylvania for the next two millennia. "Lily," she said, "aren’t you going to introduce me to our guest?"

Lily made the necessary introductions, marveling at how Mr. Dolan, too, seemed inordinately eager to make Janey’s acquaintance. Then the two of them strode off toward the bar, leaving Lily to contend with Leo on her own.

"You look wonderful," she told him, unable—and unwilling—to keep her feelings to herself on that score. A wave of uncertainty washed over her, though. In spite of recognizing this man, she was beginning to feel as if she’d never really met him at all. "I just wish I knew who you really are," she added softly.

His expression revealed nothing of what he might be thinking. And all he said in response to her assertion was, "Yeah, well… that makes two of us. And you don’t look so bad yourself," he hurried on before she could comment on his remark. He didn’t sound much pleased by his observation, however. "Different, though," he continued, scanning her from head to toe again. "I just can’t say exactly how."

Ah, well, she thought. He’d figure it out soon enough. Hey, he was a smart guy, after all.

"Is your name really Leonard?" she asked.

He winced, but nodded. "Yes. My name really is Leonard. But, please, call me… something else."

"Well, then, how about Mr. Freiberger?" she asked, not quite able to mask her sarcasm entirely. "Could I call you that and still be correct?"

"No," he told her.

"Because that’s not really your name, is it?"

"No."

"And you’re not a bookkeeper, either, are you?"

"No."

When he didn’t volunteer the information she was so inexpertly skirting around, Lily asked him flat out, "Who are you then? Really? And what brought you to Ashling to begin with?"

"That’s a question I’d like to have answered myself."