Roger Pearson and his wife, Yvonne, were having afternoon tea in their suite on the concierge floor of the Queen Charlotte. With a hefty frame, thinning light brown hair and eyes that crinkled when he smiled, Roger was outgoing and gregarious, the kind of person who made everyone feel comfortable in his presence. He was the only one who dared to joke with Lady Em about politics. She was an ardent Republican; he was an equally passionate Democrat.
Now he and Yvonne looked at the list of activities for the next day. When they saw that Celia Kilbride was slated to speak at two-thirty the next afternoon, Yvonne raised her eyebrows. “Isn’t she the one who works at Carruthers Jewelers and is involved in that hedge fund fraud?” she asked.
“That Thorne crook is trying to drag her into it,” Roger said indifferently.
Yvonne frowned in thought. “I’ve heard that. When Lady Em brings any of her jewelry in to reset or repair, Celia Kilbride is the one she sees. Brenda told me that.”
Roger turned his head to glance at her. “Then Kilbride is a salesperson there?”
“She’s much more than that. I’ve read about her. She’s a top gemologist and goes around the world selecting precious stones for Carruthers. She lectures on ships like this one to interest people with big bucks to invest in pricey jewelry.”
“She sounds pretty smart,” Roger observed, then turned to the television.
Yvonne studied him. As usual when they were alone, Roger dropped his hail-fellow-well-met demeanor and virtually ignored her.
She went back to sipping her tea and reached for a dainty cucumber sandwich. Her thoughts switched to the outfit she would wear tonight, a new Escada cashmere jacket and slacks. The jacket was in a black-and-white pattern and the slacks were black. The leather patches on the elbows of the sleeves gave the outfit the sporty look which was the dress code this evening.
Yvonne knew she looked far younger than her age, which was forty-three. She wished she was taller, but her figure was trim and the hairdresser had achieved exactly the shade of blonde that she wanted. Last time it had too much of a gold tint.
Her appearance was very important to Yvonne, as was her social status, the Park Avenue apartment and the house in the Hamptons. She had long ago become intensely bored with Roger, but loved their lifestyle. They didn’t have any children, and there was no reason why Roger should be expected to pay college expenses for his widowed sister’s three boys. Yvonne had been on the outs with his sister for years, but she suspected that Roger was paying the college bills for all of them anyway.
As long as that doesn’t interfere with anything I want, she thought, as she finished the cucumber sandwich and swallowed the last of her tea.