Five hours later, they had combed the area near Tom and Nicole's house, watered their friends' backyard plants and bushes, and were now on their way to Marguerite's house, to catch the end of her birthday party, as promised.
Jack glanced sidelong at Hint as he drove. Would she leave him behind in the dust after tonight's meeting with whoever Derek Simpson was? He was probably the sort of man who wouldn't lose a dog. Gripping the steering wheel, he mentally throttled his rival.
"Whatever you're thinking I'm thinking, I'm not thinking it at all," she said, reading his mind.
"You're not? How do you know?" She was a cipher, with a way of saying things he didn't understand but that made his heart leap.
"I'm guessing. But I think I'm right."
"Do you mean you aren't going to hate me if we don't find Percy before Tom and Nic get back?" he asked.
"No, Jack, I won't hate you. They're going to be angry with both you and me. We're in this together."
"Aren't you going to secretly blame me?" Women did that, didn't they? Except that Annabel Sanford hadn't been secretive about blaming him for just about everything. Having attention deficit disorder, for starters.
"Jack, women secretly blame men for things all the time. There's nothing unusual about that."
"That wasn't exactly the answer I was hoping for." He gave her points for admitting what he already suspected about her sex.
"That was the real answer. I'll be secretly blaming you for lots of other things, too."
"Like what?"
"If I tell, it won't be a secret any more."
Suddenly, he understood feminine logic. It was logical, but sort of like fighting dirty. A man never knew what kind of weaponry the opposite side was using.
"It's better if I don't hear anyway, right?" How could he defend himself against her? Better to lay down arms, hold out his own, and hope she would walk into them.
"You got it." She smiled at him crookedly.
She'd been talking in the present tense. About the future. About what women sometimes do to the men they're involved with. It didn't sound like she was planning to disappear from his life.
"Let me ask you something," he said.
"What's that?" Her finger stopped winding the tendril of hair at the side of her face.
He took a deep breath and bit the bullet. "Who is this guy you're going to meet this evening?"
"Oh. Him." Her voice was steady. "He's someone I was supposed to meet in Punta Cana."
Her hair hid her face. Unfair.
"Uh-huh." So far, not reassuring.
"He… I… I had a meeting set up with him for Thursday, which I couldn't make." She looked over at him. "As you know."
"Yes. I prevented you from making it."
"No. Percy did. But anyway — he's coming to New York today and my cousin has set it up for me to meet him at seven."
"Huh." Was that supposed to be an explanation? Her inarticulateness charmed him less than it had earlier that day.
"I mean — it's business. I've been trying to get his attention for more than a year now."
"You have? What do you mean by business?" He gave her a level look then locked his eyes back on the road.
"He's seen parts of my portfolio. And he's interested. I need to show him the rest."
"Huh." The car swerved ever so slightly under his unsteady hands on the steering wheel. He'd seen parts of Hint's portfolio, too. And he was extremely interested to see the rest. As well as to not let any other guy see it. "What exactly do you mean by your portfolio?" he asked, trying to keep his cool.
"My drawings. You know, my fairy illustrations. Gnomes, elves, fairies — that sort of thing."
"Ohhh…" He let out a long exhalation. "Of course."
What a moron he was. She was a professional illustrator. What kind of portfolio had he thought she'd been talking about? There he was, reducing the woman of his interest to a sex object. He was no better than the next guy.
"He's the head of Story Tales Press. It's the biggest children's book publisher in the world. It's based in the UK, and I've been trying to get in with them for a long time."
"I get you," he said with relief. "So this is your shot at the big time, right?" He turned into his sister's driveway.
"Right. And I apologize for taking a few hours off from looking for Percy, but I need to catch him before he leaves town. He's British, and he almost never comes to New York."
"Don't worry, I'll hunt for the hound. You get your drawings in front of this guy. Once he sees them, he's going to hire you." And once he sees you, he's going to want you. But that was ridiculous. Were all men animals? Only some of them, some of the time. One was trying not to be, at that moment, with limited success.
Shutting off the engine, he turned to her in his seat. Her face was unexpectedly crestfallen.
"It'll be our last night to find Percy. Our last chance before Tom and Nicole get back," she said, mournfully.
"Don't worry, Hint. We'll find him." He wanted to hug her, but his mind told him to proceed cautiously until after her meeting with the Englishman later that day. He was glad to see she was thinking about the dog instead of the British twit. Then he pushed away further unreasonable thoughts and leapt out of the car to open the passenger door.
****
"Uncle Jack, what happened to your eye?" Marguerite shrieked, the moment she saw him.
Hint stepped to one side to make way for Jack to embrace his niece, who had torn herself away from a gaggle of small girls playing musical chairs.
"Sweetie, it's nothing. I just got hit. Happy birthday, Maggie May!" He lifted the little girl up over his head as she giggled and screamed, her gaze fixed on the black and blue shiner on the left side of his face.
"Is that a black eye? Who gave it to you? Did Annabel do that because you yelled at her for canceling our Broadway date?"
Hint couldn't help but laugh. She could well imagine the likes of the patrician blonde she'd studied the day before, hauling off and punching a man who'd ruffled her feathers. Had his ex ever hit him? She'd guess if she had, it might have been for bringing the wrong color flowers or dressing inappropriately for some society event she had arranged for them to attend. But what had Marguerite meant by Annabel canceling their Broadway show date? She watched Jack raise an eyebrow at his sister before bending down to address his niece.
"No, Peanut, it wasn't a woman who did this to me. It was a—" He paused dramatically. "—bad guy."
"A real life bad guy? Wow. How did you meet him? Did you beat him up?" As Marguerite quizzed her uncle, her parents came out to greet them.
Jack's sister Bibi silently appraised his injury then looked at Hint. "Hi, how are you? Did my brother get fresh with you?"
"Not exactly." Hint laughed, the heat rising in her face. It hadn't just been Jack who'd gotten out of hand the evening before, thinking of the purple and green scarf. Au contraire.
"Let's put an ice pack on that. Matt?" Bibi turned to her husband, who was studying Jack's face. He looked impressed. "Can you get the ice pack from the freezer?"
Matt returned momentarily with an ice pack in the shape of a bunny rabbit.
"That's my boo boo rabbit," Marguerite told her uncle.
"Thank you, Funny Bunny. Now get back to your games. I want to see who wins musical chairs."
Marguerite turned back to her friends as her father started the music again.
Jack sat down on a folding chair lined up against the wall and motioned to Hint to join him. She sat, automatically taking the ice pack from his hands and pressing it against his left temple. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Marguerite's father give his wife a significant look. After a minute, Bibi came over to Jack.
"What's this I hear about Marguerite's date to go see a Broadway show getting canceled?" he asked his sister.
"Actually, it's not canceled," Bibi said. "It's just that Annabel can't make the date. She called this morning to say something had come up and she'd be out of town on the date she purchased the tickets for." She shrugged, giving Jack a look as if to say, 'What did you expect?'
"Why would she buy tickets for a date she couldn't make?"
"She said something totally unexpected had happened — or maybe she used another word."
"Let me guess," Jack said, sounding sour. "Something marvelous?"
"Exactly. How did you know?" Bibi rolled her eyes. "She said something marvelous had happened and an opportunity had come up she couldn't pass on."
"Of course you asked what it was," Jack continued, knowing his sister would have pressed for details.
"Well, yes. I did. It was more or less girl talk. You don't care, do you?"
"No. I don't." he said, enunciating each word clearly. "But I'll bet Marguerite did. What did you tell her was the reason she canceled?"
"Well, I didn't exactly say. I just told her someone else would be taking her instead."
"So what is the reason?" he asked.
Hint blanched. Jack seemed a little too interested to know the details of his ex-girlfriend's social life not to care. She steeled herself for whatever lay ahead.
"She said she'd been invited to some benefit in the Hamptons, and it was a must-do event," Bibi told him.
"I'm surprised she wasn't already going," he commented.
"She said she'd wanted to, but when she got back from Europe in April, it was already sold out."
"Give me a break." Jack snorted. His mouth curled up at the corners, as if laughing at some sort of private joke.
Hint suddenly wondered if this had anything to do with the man she had directed to Annabel the afternoon before at the Stanhope café bar. Impossible. It was inconceivable that a man the commanding blonde had just met might have invited her to such a fancy society event. Then again, thinking of Annabel in her red dress, tail feathers drooping, maybe not. Careful to keep a neutral expression, she caught his eye.
"Something funny?" she asked.
"Just history repeating itself," he said.
"Yours?" She couldn't help herself. She needed to know. If it was time to re-route her emotions, she could do it. She had done it before with Tim. With Jack, she already knew it would be harder, even though they had only known each other a short time.
"No." He looked directly at her. "Not mine. Someone else's, who's no longer a part of mine."
His answer was clear. If she'd learned anything from the past, she knew the only way to move forward was not to drag it into the present and lasso it around the neck of a brand new relationship. Loosening the noose, she pulled it off. Then she sat back and took a deep breath. She wanted to hear what Jack had to say and not some chorus line of ghostly Tims drowning out her ability to evaluate his words objectively. Not all men were like her ex-boyfriend, with his divided heart. In the next few seconds, she'd find out whether or not Jack was.
"Marguerite must be disappointed," he commented, turning back to his sister.
"Actually, she's not too upset," Bibi told him. "Annabel said we're welcome to use the tickets ourselves. She bought three of them for some reason." She narrowed her eyes as she looked at Jack. "We just need to figure out who's going to take her instead of Annabel."
"What are the dates?"
"They're for next Saturday, July 1st. It's a matinee. Matt's boss is having a barbecue we can't miss, so we're stuck."
"Looking for a volunteer?"
"Sure, bro." Bibi smiled at her brother, who then turned to Hint.
"You busy next Saturday?" he asked, resting his arm on the back of her chair.
"I… No. I mean, who knows?" she stammered, blood rushing to her cheeks.
"Will you join us? Marguerite would be happy, and it might be fun to spend a summer day in the Big Bad Apple. What do you say?"
Elation filled her heart. Jack was no second-guesser. Not only was it clear he no longer wanted to get back together with his ex, but he was ready to use tickets Annabel had unwittingly made available, to take Hint to see a Broadway show. She could almost taste the revenge in his mouth. It was sweet, perhaps as sweet as the feeling she now had knowing his heart was whole, with no piece of it still carrying a torch for his former girlfriend.
"Let me check my calendar, and if it's clear, then — yes," she said, trying not to look too excited. She told herself it was only an afternoon date with him and a little girl, but she knew it was more. It was Jack reaching out to let her know he wanted to see her again after Tom and Nicole returned. He'd just put his family on notice that he and Hint weren't just dog-hunting partners any more. She kicked herself for feeling so insanely happy with Percy still missing.
"It's decided then," Bibi said. "I'll go get the tickets."
Hint caught his sister's quick glance at Jack's arm, slung over Hint's chair, before she disappeared into the kitchen. Bibi was back in a flash and handed her brother the tickets, smiling at Hint over his head.
Half an hour later, the party was over, with the girls' parents arriving every few minutes to take them home. As Bibi distributed the goody bags, Marguerite whispered something to her mother then ran upstairs.
Hint enjoyed the festive atmosphere, but her mind was turning to her seven o'clock meeting. Butterflies rose in her stomach at the thought of presenting her best work to Derek Simpson in the informal atmosphere of a hotel lounge. Was it the right setting in which to make a professional impression? Since no other choice had been offered, she'd work with it. Nervously, she glanced at her watch.
"Need to get going?" Jack asked.
"Sort of. I've got to take care of a few things before catching my train." Decide what to wear. Figure out my hairstyle. Which jewelry. Which shoes. Did men slave over these details the way women did? It wasn't fair. She wanted to be judged on her work alone. But that wasn't how the world worked. She had only one opportunity to make a first impression. If it wasn't good, it would be her last.
"Okay, Bibi." Jack rose. "We're on our way. Tell the munchkin I enjoyed her party."
"She's getting something for you now." Jack's older sister gestured to the top of the stairs. "She's got a surprise for your goody bag."
"I can pick it up next time I see you. We've got to get going." Jack took Hint's arm to help her up from her chair.
"No, Uncle Jack. You need this now." Marguerite excitedly clattered down the stairs. Something small and black was scrunched up in one hand.
"What is it?" he asked.
Hint was curious, too.
"It's a secret." She quickly stuffed the black object into the goody bag her mother held out to her. "I got it at the Halloween Party at school last year. Don't look until you get home." She giggled. "It's something to make you look handsome with your black eye."
"You don't think I look handsome enough like this, Maggie May?" Jack feigned indignation, pointing to his bruised eye.
"You look like you got beat up. What happened, anyway? Tell me." She bounced up and down on the bottom step of the staircase.
"I'll tell you all about it next time we see each other. Right now, I've got to get Hint home."
Hint reached to take the two goody bags Bibi held out to them. One for Jack, one for herself. She was curious about the black object too, but she would respect the wishes of the adorable girl in front of her.
"How's it going with the dog hunt?" Bibi whispered to Hint as she ushered them to the front door.
"Not so great. We're running out of ideas."
"When are the owners back?"
"Tomorrow." Hint noticed Marguerite listening intently.
"What have you done already?" the little girl asked, suddenly all grown up.
"We've looked all over their neighborhood," Jack cut in. "In Fox Meadow Park and downtown Scarsdale. We grilled a steak in Hint's backyard and wore our sweaty tee shirts, hoping to attract him to our smell."
"That was a good idea," Marguerite said.
"But it didn't work," Jack pointed out.
"Because you didn't do it in the right place," the little girl replied.
"What do you mean?" Hint asked.
"I mean you should have grilled the steaks and worn the smelly shirts in the dog's backyard, not yours."
"But we lost him in my neighborhood in Bronxville," Hint said.
"He'll try to go home," Marguerite explained. "You should hang out in the backyard of his home making yummy smells, not at your place. If he likes you a lot, he won't be scared to come out of the bushes when he smells the steak."
"Sweetie, you're a genius." Jack gave his niece a look of admiration. "That's just what we'll do."
"Do it tomorrow, before they get back."
"Thank you, Maggie May. You're no Peanut Brain, you know."
"I know, Uncle Jack. Now go home and try on the secret surprise I put in your goody bag."
"Bye, Sweetie Pie."
"Bye, Blackie Eye. Bye, Hint."
****
In the car, Hint turned to Jack. "Do you think she's got a point? I mean, about grilling steaks in Percy's own backyard?"
"I do. She's the smartest seven-year-old I know."
"What did she give you?" She reached for the bag in his lap.
"Uh-uh. Hands off. She said not to look until I get home."
Hint laughed. "You're superstitious?"
"Not really. But now that we're in our final twenty-four hours of looking for Percy, I'm not taking any chances. If Marguerite's throwing us some luck, I'm following every bit of advice she gives us, word for word."
"Your niece is magical."
"She's not the only one."
Hint warmed at Jack's compliment. Refreshed by the atmosphere Marguerite had created around them, with her ingenuous remarks, her secret surprise for Jack, and most of all, her adorable, unguarded self, Hint thought of her as a genuine pixie fairy.
They rode the rest of the way back to Bronxville in silence. Hint sensed an unspoken question emanating from Jack in her direction. But there was nothing she could do about it. Gathering her focus around her upcoming meeting, she moved into a world far away from him, as well as Percy. Only Marguerite stayed in her thoughts. The little girl had touched her heart.
The car pulled up outside her apartment building. She moved to jump out, but Jack's hand suddenly shot around behind her and grabbed her shoulder, turning her toward him.
"Hey," he whispered.
"Hey," she whispered back.
"Don't do anything I wouldn't do, okay?"
"Don't worry. I won't. I'll call you from the train on my way back to let you know what time I get in to Bronxville."
"Okay." His voice was husky. He looked as if he wanted to kiss her.
But she pulled away. A new idea was beginning to percolate, for which she needed a few minutes to prepare. She jumped out of the car.
"See you at the station," Jack yelled out his rolled down window.
Hint quickly went inside. An inspiration for a new drawing had begun to take hold of her. She wouldn't have time to do it before leaving. But the train ride into the city took thirty minutes. She'd sketched some of her best illustrations in less than twenty. She hurried into her home office, adding a blank sketchpad and some charcoal pencils to her bag.
All the decisions she needed to make about what to wear went onto automatic pilot as the idea in her head began to take root and grow. Without a second thought, she put on a black-and-white print wrap dress and a pair of black and gold, open-toed shoes.
She made it to the train station with ten minutes to spare. On the platform, she pulled out her sketchpad and began work on a new fairy character. Soon she added a second new character — a canine one.
The train pulled into the station, and she got on almost as if in a trance. Her fairy began to take on features recently familiar to her. With a few strokes of her pencil, a young girl's face took shape. Her blonde pigtails and sweet, engaged smile made her look lit from within. The dog at her side was small and bearded, with huge, soulful brown eyes.
Would sketching her characters into reality help her and Jack find Percy? Perhaps she'd picked up on some of the fairy dust Marguerite had tossed their way a few hours earlier. In their final twenty-four hours to find the dog, they needed every resource they could muster, including a dose of magic power. Little girls had it. Big people, not so much.
Thirty minutes later, the train pulled into Grand Central Station and its occupants spilled out. There were laughing, well-dressed couples; one nervous-looking man who looked as if he were about to meet someone on a first date; and a group of young women in their twenties ready to hit the town.
Hint's adrenaline raced with the excitement of the crowd. She sprang up the staircase of the lower level of Grand Central Station into the Great Hall. There the energy level increased, with tourists and out-of-towners all strolling toward their Saturday night destinations. Anticipation hung in the air.
Exiting the station, she breathed in the fine, summer evening and walked west on 44th Street toward the West Side.
Within ten minutes she was outside the Algonquin, the hotel that had hosted Dorothy Parker's renowned literary salons of the 1920s. She smiled, thinking what a great dress rehearsal her afternoon at the Stanhope had provided for the evening's meeting.
Straightening her posture, she tossed back her hair and breezed through the revolving door. When she came out the other side into the hotel lobby, a vision of Audrey Hepburn danced in her mind's eye, directing her movements. She wove through the lobby, her head held high. Her neck felt at least two inches longer, willed to extension by sheer mental concentration. She would knock the socks off Derek Simpson. And that would be before he'd seen any of her illustrations.
****
After dropping off Hint, Jack drove home dejectedly. Leftover wounds from his days with Annabel Sanford were itching, threatening to re-open. She'd bounced him around like a yo-yo. There had been all sorts of business meetings with businessmen, some of whom had turned into boyfriends the moment she'd sniffed out sizeable bank accounts. He'd been left behind in the dust more than once, only to be picked up and brushed off after Annabel's latest monkey business had ended badly, and she'd come sniveling back to him. He wasn't playing that game again. He wanted to be a hero, not a chump. But his thoughts were less than heroic at the moment, imagining Hint with some English twit in a hotel. At least she wasn't meeting him in his hotel room.
Then he thought about it. What if she got to the hotel lounge and the jerk wasn't there? She would call up to his room, and he might say he was expecting an important call. Could she come up while he waited for it? She would say no, and he would say what a shame, because he couldn't get away at the moment, perhaps they could meet another time. It would be Hint's last chance to win business from him before he left town. Who knew what she would do? Jack knew the ploys of his own sex all too well. If there was anything he could do to protect her from being taken advantage of, he would.
At a red light, he glanced down to investigate the contents of Marguerite's goody bag. He pulled out the black cloth object she'd mentioned. An elastic string was attached. Holding it up, he laughed out loud. Marguerite had given him an eye patch, probably left over from a Halloween pirate's outfit.
The light changed, and he accelerated. There was something about his niece that invariably lifted his spirits. Was that what children did to adults? Or was it just Marguerite? He loved her in a trouble-free, lighthearted way. Was it possible to love an adult woman the same way?
Thoughts of Derek Simpson crossed his mind and blackened his mood again. He was being unreasonable and unfair. Gripping the steering wheel tightly, he imagined the Englishman's head between his hands. He twisted it viciously.
By the time he got home, his mind was made up. He ripped off his shirt, dropping it on the hallway floor on his way to the bedroom. Rummaging in the depths of his closet, he pulled out a black jacket and a black-combed cotton shirt, both Italian. He rarely wore either of them, but the occasion warranted it. He was going into Manhattan.
Showered, shaved, and dressed in under twenty minutes, he tried on the eye patch. The effect was startling, but dashing. If he wore it with confidence, it would be perfect for what he had in mind.
With five minutes to spare, he sat down at his computer, fed a sheet of card stock paper into his printer, typed a few lines, then hit the print button. When the sheet came out, he used a paper cutter to create eight homemade business cards, which he stuffed in his jacket pocket.
The drive back to Bronxville passed quickly. He couldn't take the train from Pleasantville because he had told Hint he would pick her up at the Bronxville train station. Checking the schedule, he saw the next Manhattan-bound train would come at half past six. He guessed Hint had taken an earlier train, to make her seven o'clock appointment. But he wasn't taking any chances. When the train pulled into the station he slipped into the end car and held an unfolded newspaper up to his face, checking out the other occupants of the car. No Hint, only a large crowd of Manhattan-bound Saturday evening revelers. Sighing with relief, his body relaxed for the first time in hours. He was a man with a plan, not a chump who'd been dumped. Patting the eye patch in his right jacket pocket, he wondered how the rest of the evening would unfold if Hint was true to her word and spent it with him, as planned.
Briefly, he thought of Percy. He mentally apologized to the schnoodle, explaining that he was a very close number two priority. Male to male, he knew the dog would understand. Tonight was a big night, and he would make his best efforts to ensure nothing stood in his way, not even lost dogs and Englishmen.
Just a business contact, right? He gritted his teeth. He'd heard that line before.