Elise was in heaven. Bradford was everything she’d been hoping for: successful; her age; attentive; funny. And he really seemed to like her. She’d woken up that morning to find a dozen roses being wheeled in on a breakfast cart, and while he was going to be out at the regatta all day, he’d left her explicit instructions to get a massage or a facial and to charge it all to his room.
Feeling much less groggy than she had the first time she’d woken up in his room, Elise nearly hopped out of bed and threw on the dress she’d been wearing the night before, slipping her feet into her sandals and pulling her hair back with a clip that she’d left on the bathroom counter. With Bradford gone for the day, she only had so many hours to get herself ready to see him again, and on top of that, she had a bit of detective work to do.
In the lobby, Elise made a beeline for the front desk. “Good morning,” she said to the woman who was tapping on the keyboard of a computer and wearing a name tag that said Celine. “I was hoping you might be able to help me.”
Celine’s fingers stopped moving and she gave Elise a measured, professional smile. “Yes, of course. How can I help, ma’am?”
“I’m staying with Bradford Melton,” she said, leaning into the desk so that she could lower her voice, “and I was hoping to reach out to his adult children back home and start to plan a surprise party for when we get home. Do you think you could give me some of the information you have on file? Maybe an emergency contact?” She had lain in bed for a bit that morning, already imagining that he would have put his daughter Michelle, whom he’d told her all about, down as an emergency contact. After all, wasn’t that what grown daughters were for?
Celine gave Elise a long, lingering look that made her feel as if she’d shown up to the front desk naked instead of simply in her wrinkled dress from the night before and not wearing any makeup.
“Well,” Celine said, clearly weighing the happiness that a surprise birthday party might bring to an important guest like Bradford against the breach of policy she’d be committing by giving a disheveled woman his personal information. Her face betrayed the slightest distaste at Elise’s appearance before she turned back to her computer. “Okay. I guess I can see what we have on file.”
“Thank you, honey,” Elise said, setting her purse on the counter and lacing her fingers together as she rested on her elbows and waited. She glanced around the lobby and took in the fresh flowers that were replaced daily, the way the marble floors shone in the morning light, and the studied glamour of the women already dressed in tennis whites and pool cover-ups over expensive swimwear. She touched her hair in its clip and prayed to god that she wouldn’t catch a glimpse of her puffy eyes or pale cheeks in the polished brass door of the elevator on the way to her own room.
“I really shouldn’t do this,” Celine said, her eyes flicking around the lobby as if someone might be watching. She took a pen and a notepad and scratched some information on the paper quickly, tearing it off and sliding it across the desk. “But here is his emergency contact information. It’s Michelle Melton in Connecticut, and he’s given this phone number and email address.”
A warmth spread through Elise’s body as she folded the paper in half and slipped it into her purse. She gave Celine a winning smile. “Thank you so much. I know he’s going to be surprised and he’s going to love this.”
Celine looked like she already regretted taking part in the whole thing. “Good. Great. Have a wonderful day.” She was already back to her tap-tapping on the keyboard by the time Elise had turned and started the walk across the lobby—the Walk of Shame, as it was known, given that she was still in last night’s smudged mascara and a dress that smelled of stale perfume and sweat, most likely looking like she’d been up to exactly what she had been up to. Maybe she should take up Bradford’s offer after all and get a facial or something in the spa.
But no, she thought, pushing the button for the elevator three times as if that might make it move faster. There will be plenty of time in the future to live like a queen. The elevator dinged and the door opened, giving Elise the exact reflection of herself in the mirrored elevator that she’d hoped to avoid.
“Before anything,” she said aloud to herself, alone in the elevator as the doors slid shut, “coffee and a shower.”
Douglas Rittenhour had been the love of her life, without question. Elise had met Doug at a Fourth of July party in her best friend’s backyard when she was twenty-one, and nothing had ever been the same. Doug was tall, owned his own small business, had a booming laugh, and was just as gregarious as she was. Together, they were the couple everyone wanted to invite to a party. Over the years they’d raised two daughters, opened three more businesses together, and traveled the world. His death had left a hole in Elise’s life that no amount of lunches with friends, no cruises with her sister, no man could ever fill. Until now. It was just her luck that she’d met Bradford her first night on St. Barts, and that he was everything she’d been hoping for.
Mind you, there had been gentleman friends over the years; a woman of Elise’s appetites needed companionship and someone to go out on the town with. She’d never liked sleeping alone, and over the twenty years since Doug’s death, she’d taken vacations with other men, gone to concerts and plays, eaten at some fabulous restaurants—but she’d always been careful not to take anything too seriously. It wasn’t until recently that she’d realized how much she needed a man. A good man. One with resources and connections. Like she’d told Lucy on the first night of this trip, a woman needed someone she could count on.
Elise walked through her hotel room in her robe, feeling clean and awake after her shower. She stood at the open windows that overlooked the balcony and held her shoulders back, head high. She felt regal. Having the interest of a man with Bradford’s money, influence, and power made her feel somehow whole again. There had been times in her forties and fifties where she’d assumed that was all over for her; that no man with sex appeal or money would ever be interested in her again when he could have a woman half her age. And men could have that—make no mistake—there was never a shortage of young vixens ready to flaunt everything they had at a man with money. It was frustrating to watch women who still belonged in the shallow end of the pool do a swan dive into the deep end, sweep through the water like sharks, and scoop up all the floating men.
But now…Elise ran her hands over the heavy fabric of the curtains that hung floor-to-ceiling at the windows, feeling like a queen looking out over her kingdom. Now she had Bradford, and she’d do everything in her power to show him that she was what was missing from his life. Her years of party planning, dinner organizing, and family wrangling had served her well as she prepared for this next role, and now, for the first time, she felt ready to truly be with someone again. The memory of Doug was a happy one, but after twenty years, it was just that—a memory.
As she got ready for the day ahead, Elise thought of the times that her daughter had tried to talk to her about the future. There had been that weekend they’d spent together at a spa for Elise’s sixtieth birthday, when Nina had brought up finances and life expectancy and how worried she got just thinking of her mother in old age, unable to afford proper care. As Elise had looked into her daughter’s young, hopeful, unlined face, she’d wanted to reach out and slap her. Not to be cruel, but to wake her up. She wanted to shout: “You’ll be old one day, too, you ripe, gorgeous girl! One day you’ll be divorced or widowed and staring into the gaping hole of your own future, so don’t you tell me what being old without means looks like!” But instead, she’d simply smiled at her beloved oldest child and given a single nod. “I know you worry about me, sweetheart, but you don’t have to,” she’d said instead.
After all, she worried about her own finances enough for the both of them. When Doug had passed away unexpectedly he’d left a life insurance policy, of course, but in the past twenty years, that had helped pay for her kids to go to college and had paid off the mortgage. There might have been a cruise or two with her sister, and a down payment on a late model Mercedes, but really, nothing crazy. The money had just vanished, as money is wont to do.
Over the years Elise had worked as an office manager and an executive assistant, but she was tired; the other women she knew who volunteered and took part in the community the way that she did were either retired, or happily ensconced in homes paid for by their wealthy husbands. She was ready to retire into the role of full-time wife and to focus on sumptuous meals, upcoming vacations, holidays. It was time to put her worries behind her.
Sitting in front of the lighted vanity mirror in the bathroom, Elise leaned in close and applied her eye makeup. She imagined Nina coordinating with Bradford’s daughter Michelle to make sure that the wedding between their parents went off without a hitch. Maybe it would take place in a rose garden. Or on a beach. Maybe the children would stand up and give speeches about how happy they were for their parents. Certainly the ring would be substantial—not that Elise minded too much for carats when she was more worried about stability—and the honeymoon would be romantic. Perhaps they’d travel somewhere on Bradford’s yacht. Or fly to the Maldives and rent one of those gorgeous huts that sit over the clear blue water.
Elise stood, blinked, examined her face, and deemed it worthy. Quickly, she dressed for the day and put the important things into her purse: room key, credit cards, phone, lipstick, the piece of paper with the information Celine had written for her at the front desk. There was no time to waste.
In the lobby, she was directed to a back room where three computers were available for guests to use. It was empty. Elise chose one, slipped on her reading glasses, and then sat and contemplated the desktop for just a moment: where to go? Which icon to click? Ah, Google Chrome—there it was. She opened her email and started a new message.
Hello, Michelle! I hope this message finds you well, and I hope this doesn’t catch you unawares, but I know that we don’t have much time to work with here. My name is Elise Rittenhour, and your father and I met in St. Barts. We’ve been spending quite a bit of time together, and oh my! He’s a fabulous man, isn’t he?
This might be terribly forward of me, but I’d really like to start planning a surprise birthday party for him, as I know his big day is just weeks away! I currently live in Texas, but I’ll be flying in for the event, of course, and I’d love your help to get it underway. Can I count on you? Do you think he might like a big party, or a small one? Perhaps something with a yachting theme? I’m open to all suggestions at this point!
Please feel free to email me back any time—I’ll be with your father a lot this week, so calling or texting would be more difficult.
Best wishes and I can’t wait to meet you!
Sincerely,
Elise
With a satisfied smile, Elise re-read the email. It was perfect. Not too pushy, and it was clear that she was totally enamored of Bradford. She wanted Michelle to feel unthreatened, but also secure in the knowledge that her father had found a good, solid, capable woman. She hit send and then logged off. It was time to get out and enjoy the day.