Cold Paradise

12

Stone was awakened by conflicting smells-one chemical, one culinary. He sat up in bed in time to see Callie enter his cabin, bearing a covered tray, kicking the door shut behind her.

“Smells good,” he said. “But what’s the other odor?”

“Paint,” she replied. “The painters finished their work last night, and all the windows in the house are open. The decorators and moving people are in there now, working like beavers.” She set the tray on the bed between them and whipped off the cover. “Voila!” she said. “Brie omelettes!”

Stone picked up a plate and dug in. “Fantastic!” He sipped some orange juice.

“We’ve got the yacht to ourselves this morning,” she said. “Thad has already made a lot of phone calls and had a business breakfast aboard and has taken a party into town for some shopping.”

“I can’t believe he’s putting that house together in a day,” Stone said.

“Oh, he’s had the designers shopping for a year. They’ve planned out every room, right down to the pictures on the walls.”

“It took me a year to get my house to that state.”

“You must not have been newly superrich,” she said.

“Good guess.”

“What are your plans for today?”

“Plans? Me? I never have plans. I just sit back and let you and Thad do it for me. I don’t think I’ve made a decision of any kind since I met the two of you. What do you have planned for me today?”

“Absolutely nothing. I plan to get some sun, do some reading and rest up for tonight.”

“Oh, that’s right. You’re going to be pretty busy, aren’t you?”

“Not if the caterers don’t want to get fired. They’re turning up at five, and I’ll show them the kitchens and where to set up. After that, they’d better not bother me because I’ll be partying.”

“Well, I think your plan for the day sounds good. I’ll join you, if that’s all right.”

“It’s all right,” she said. “By the way, do you need to rent a dinner jacket? I know a place.”

“Nope. I brought one, just in case.”

“Always prepared, aren’t you?” She finished off her omelette, took his plate, poured him a large mug of coffee and stood up. “I’ll get this stuff back to the galley, and I’ll see you on the afterdeck, later.”

“Okay.” Stone watched her go, then he got up, showered, put on a swimsuit, grabbed a terry robe from the closet and walked back to the fantail. Callie was already stretched out on a chaise, wearing only her bikini bottom, reading.

“Hi, want something good to read?”

“Sure.”

She tossed him a book. “I just finished it. It’s great.”

Stone looked at the book: Tumult, by Frederick James. “Oh, yes, I read some pages yesterday. Starts well.”

“Ends well, too. Enjoy.”

Stone read through the morning, broke for sandwiches and closed the book at five.

“Good?”

“Good.”

“Thad liked it, too. He had me send the author an invitation to the party tonight, but we never heard from him. I guess his publisher didn’t forward it.” She looked at her watch. “I’ve got to get over to the house and brief the caterers,” she said. “I’ll see you at the party.”

“Think I’ll have a nap,” Stone said. He went back to his cabin and slept for half an hour, then he shaved, showered and dressed in Vance Calder’s ecru raw silk dinner jacket, a silk evening shirt and black tie. He walked back to the house and through the central hallway, dodging frantic caterers and decorators, got into his borrowed Mercedes E430 convertible and drove into town. Shortly, he pulled up in front of Liz Harding’s house. He walked across the driveway, his evening shoes crunching on the pea gravel. The doorbell was set in an intercom box. He pressed it and it made a noise like a telephone ringing.

“Hello?”

“It’s Stone.”

“Oh, Stone. The door’s unlocked; let yourself in, and I’ll be down in a few minutes.”

“Okay.” She clicked off, and Stone opened the door and walked into the house. It was quite beautiful, Queen Anne in style, not terribly large, but made of good materials-marble floors, walnut paneling, beautiful moldings. He found the living room and continued to explore, ending up in a handsome little library with many leather-bound volumes. A small bar had been set up on a butler’s tray, and he poured himself some chilled mineral water, then he wandered around the room. A collection of silver-framed photographs rested on the mantel, and Stone inspected them. They were all of Liz Harding with a handsome, silver-haired man, clearly Winston Harding, taken in various cities and on various beaches.

“He was handsome, wasn’t he?” she said.

Stone turned and found her standing in the doorway, wearing a white silk dress and a gorgeous diamond necklace, with matching earrings. Her hair was blond again.

“Yes, he was, and you are very beautiful,” Stone said.

She came and gave him a little hug, careful not to muss her makeup. “And so are you,” she said. “That’s the most beautiful dinner jacket I’ve ever seen.”

“Thank you,” Stone replied. He decided to stop telling people that the clothes were Vance Calder’s, and to start taking credit himself.

“Would you like a drink before we go?” she asked.

“I think we’re already fashionably late,” he replied. “Why don’t we just go to the party?”

She took his arm, and he led her out to the car.

“Drive slowly,” she said. “The hair.”

“I like it blond.”

“So do I. It’s my natural color.”

“I remember.”

“Stone!” she said, laughing and blushing.

“That wasn’t what I meant, but I remember that, too.”

“You’re awful.”

“I know.”

“Still, we had some good times, didn’t we? You were getting over a girl, as I recall.”

“And you were helping.”

“I did what I could,” she said.

Stone drove slowly through the town and finally turned into the driveway of Thad Shames’s house. Or tried to; there were half a dozen cars ahead of him. Music wafted through the open windows. Finally, he gave the keys to a valet and extracted Liz from the car. He was beginning to think of her as Liz by now. They walked through the open doors of the house and into the living room. A big band was playing Rodgers amp; Hart at the other end, and people were dancing.

“How spectacular!” Liz said. “I mean, in spectacular good taste!”

“It certainly is,” Stone agreed. “Would you believe that twenty-four hours ago, this was an empty, unpainted house?”

“No, I would not,” she replied. She sniffed the air. “Still, there is that faint odor.”

Stone spotted Thad Shames across the room, towering over his guests. “I think there’s someone over there who’d like to see you,” he said, taking her arm and leading her across the room.

Shames spotted them coming and went to meet them, or rather, Liz.

“Well, hello,” he said, taking both her hands and kissing her on both cheeks.

“Will you excuse me?” Stone asked. They didn’t seem to notice, so he left them and made his way across the large room to where the bar had been set up on a long table. “A gin and tonic,” Stone said to the bartender.

“Coming up,” the bartender replied.

Stone saw Callie across the room and waved to her. She waved back, but seemed to have no interest in joining him.

“Here you are,” the bartender said.

“Thank you,” Stone replied, accepting the drink.

“You know,” a voice behind him said, “I think you may look better in that dinner jacket than the original owner did.”

Stone turned around and found Arrington Carter Calder standing there, looking gorgeous. Before she put her arms around his neck and kissed him, he could see, over her shoulder, Callie Hodges making her way toward them.