“Miss, the gentleman at the bar sends this with his compliments,” the waiter announced, presenting Gabrielle with a bottle of Peter Michael Point Blanc wine and a note. Gabrielle unfolded the cocktail napkin and saw what she assumed to be the giver’s name and phone number. She turned to the bar and returned the wave of Christophe Dylan, a popular and sexy soap-opera hunk.
“That’s no bottle of Ripple,” Felicia remarked with a whistle. “Point Blanc ninety-three—we’re talking eighty-five dollars a bottle in a place like this.”
“Shall I pour?” the waiter inquired.
“Please tell Mr. Dylan, thank you, but I can’t accept his generous gift,” Gabrielle replied, turning her attention back to the menu.
“Looks like a cold front has descended over the bar,” Lois said in jest.
“I can never decide what to eat,” Gabrielle admitted, ignoring her. Gabrielle was well aware of her reputation as an ice princess, and it was just fine with her.
“Everything is good here,” Felicia assured her, “particularly the lamb.”
“I don’t eat red meat anymore. I wonder what the specials are today?” She was stalling until the waiter arrived. With luck, there would be something she found appetizing among the verbal listing of today’s specials.
“Turn your menu over. They’re on the other side,” Lois said.
Time for Plan B. “Be right back.” Gabrielle excused herself and walked over to the table diagonally across from theirs. Sitting alone was a man, immersed in a copy of Advertising Age, totally oblivious to his surroundings. As Gabrielle got closer, her lips stretched into a smile.
“Excuse me. I’m sorry to interrupt, but what are you eating?”
“Veal medallions with lemon and capers in a Chardonnay sauce,” the man said, looking up from his magazine. A flicker of recognition registered in his eyes before he jumped up from his seat and warmly embraced the model. “Gabrielle Donovan!”
“Jack Hollis?”
“It’s been ages since I’ve actually seen you. I must say, your photos do not do you justice. You look wonderful!”
“Thanks. So do you.” It was true. He looked terrific.
“How have you been—other than busy?” Jack asked.
“Very well. And you? How’s business?”
“Good, though advertising is a strange new world.”
“I’d heard you’d closed your design firm a few years ago. Things are going well?”
“We’ve made a few inroads. Come join me. We can finish catching up,” Jack offered hopefully.
“I’m sorry, I can’t. I’m here for a business meeting.”
“Why don’t I wait for you, and we can have dessert together?” he suggested, determined not to let Gabrielle slip through his fingers again.
“Are you sure? We’ll be here at least an hour.”
“No problem. I just got served and I have plenty of work to keep me busy.”
“Okay then, you’re on.”
Jack watched Gabrielle return to her table and turned back to his meal, only to find he was no longer hungry. It had been a long time since the anticipation of spending time with a woman had caused him to lose his appetite. But, as Jack figured out years ago, Gabrielle was no ordinary woman.
“I’ll have the veal medallions with lemon and capers,” she announced to the waiter.
“I thought you didn’t eat red meat,” Lois said.
“Veal is the other white meat.”
“No, that’s pork,” Lois corrected her with a laugh.
“I swear, Gabrielle, we’ve eaten together at least fifty times over the years, and I have yet to see you order from the menu,” Felicia observed.
“You can’t tell what the food is going to be like just by reading it off the menu. I like to see what I’m getting,” Gabrielle replied, reciting her well-practiced explanation. “Besides, if you pick your tables right, you can meet some very interesting dishes,” Gabrielle added, smiling back at Jack.
“My, my, my, how things change. A minute ago you were blowing off Christophe Dylan. Now look at you, flirting with some stranger,” Felicia teased.
“First of all, Chris is a jerk; and second, that’s no stranger. I’ve known Jack Hollis for years.”
“As in the Hollis/Henderson Group?” Lois asked.
“Yes. He and his friend have a small advertising company.”
“He’s being modest. Jack and his partner Fritz Henderson are quickly becoming known as the Rogers and Hammerstein of the advertising world. Their firm is the talk of the block, and Jack’s one of the most sought-after art directors in the business,” Felicia informed her.
“Successful and fine. Is he single?” Lois asked.
“Very. And based on his reputation as a ladies’ man, plans to stay that way for a long time,” Felicia replied.
“I thought he was gay,” Gabrielle remarked.
“Girl, don’t you read the papers? He’s in and out of “Page Six” all the time. Jack’s considered the heir apparent to JFK Jr.’s recently abdicated throne. How do you know him?” Felicia asked.
“He dated Stephanie.”
“I’m sorry, but I can’t see Jack Hollis with Stephanie, not with her funky little attitude,” Lois remarked. It was common knowledge that Lois and Stephanie disliked each other. The two had managed to carve out a shaky truce in the office, but when she and Felicia were together, Lois didn’t pull any punches.
“All right, Lois, that’s enough,” Felicia suggested tactfully.
“You’re right, slamming an employee in front of a client is a no-no, but Gabrielle knows the deal. She lived with the woman.”
“Yes, and she still has to work with her.”
Not for much longer if I have any say-so, Lois thought. Stephanie Bancroft was one associate Wilcot and Jourdan could definitely do without.
“Speaking of work,” Felicia continued, “Jonathan Demme is shooting a new movie, and he has a small part he swears you’d be perfect for. I think it’s a great opportunity. I talked it over with Lois, and she agrees. She’s also willing to represent you if you’re interested.”
“But I’ve never acted before,” Gabrielle said lamely.
“Once upon a time you never modeled before, and now look at you. You’re at the top of the heap,” Felicia remarked.
“Modeling is one thing. Acting is an entirely different matter,” Gabrielle said.
“It’s just a small part.”
“How much dialogue would I have to learn?”
“That I don’t know. I’ll tell you what, I’ll call and have the script delivered. We’ll decide later.”
“I’ve already decided. I’m not interested,” Gabrielle replied resolutely. She was intrigued by the idea of acting, but acting meant scripts, and scripts meant reading. Gabrielle was unwilling to take the risk.
“Why don’t you take a few days to think it over?” Lois suggested.
“I don’t have anything to think over. Just tell him thanks, but no thanks. Well, ladies, if our business is concluded here, I have a date for dessert.”
“I’m not gay. I have never been gay, nor do I have any interest in being gay anytime in the future,” Jack announced with a chuckle.
“I’m sorry. I had to ask,” Gabrielle explained, relieved that she hadn’t offended him.
“Where did you get an idea like that?”
“Stephanie,” they answered together, before breaking up with laughter.
“I guess she was much more pissed off than I thought,” Jack said.
“And then some. I’m glad to hear it isn’t true.”
“Oh, it’s definitely not true, and it is my sincere hope that I have the chance to prove it to you one day,” Jack said, giving Gabrielle one of his promise-laden smiles.
Over tiramisu and coffee, the two caught up on each other’s lives. Jack filled Gabrielle in on the milestone events these past three years, mainly the start-up of his successful business, and Gabrielle entertained him with war stories from the fashion front. As he chewed on the last bite of his dessert, Jack was struck by his good luck that the elusive Ms. Donovan had reappeared just when things were becoming dreadfully dull with his current arm piece, Corona, a twenty-year-old pop star on the rise.
“Do you believe in kismet?” Jack inquired, turning on the Hollis charm.
“Kismet?”
“You know, fate. I believe that life is predetermined. That what is supposed to happen will,” he explained with a flirtatious smirk on his full lips.
“For example, the two of us meeting up like this again?” Gabrielle asked, returning the smirk.
“Yes,” Jack answered, locking eyes with hers.
At that moment the waiter approached, breaking the tension that had suddenly engulfed the room. While Jack tallied the check, Gabrielle took the opportunity to study this man who with every passing minute was becoming more and more appealing. From his hair to his smile to his body—if she had to come up with one word to sum up the physical attributes of Jack Hollis, it would be “magnificent.”
“Gabrielle?” Jack called out, interrupting her thoughts.
“Sorry, I was having an out-of-body experience,” she joked weakly, trying to hide her humiliation at being caught staring.
“I see,” he answered, amused by her obvious embarrassment. “Are you psychic as well?” he asked, helping her out of her chair. “Can you tell me what I’m thinking right now?” Jack challenged as he drew his magnificent hands through that magnificent hair and smiled that magnificent smile.
Gabrielle felt a rush of warm blood invade her face. She knew exactly what he was thinking. It had nothing to do with psychic intuition. It was much more basic than that. She threw back her head and released a throaty laugh. Gabrielle knew exactly what he was thinking, because, after all, great minds think alike.
“Learning lines will be no problem. I’ll help you,” Bea told Gabrielle.
“I’m just not interested in acting right now.”
“Look at all those child actors who can’t read yet. They still manage. Somebody helps them memorize their script.”
“That’s the point, Bea. I’m not a child.”
“What about Lois and Felicia?”
“They’re disappointed, but they understand, not like Stephanie. Even though she tried not to show it, she was pretty mad about me refusing to let her write my authorized biography.”
“Trust me, you haven’t heard the last of this. I have a feeling that if Stephanie really wants to write this book, she’s going to keep on hounding you until you give in.”
“She can try, but the answer will still be no. Until I can read my own biography, nobody else is going to write it.”
“Are you thinking about trying tutoring again?” Bea questioned.
“Yeah. I was thinking of hiring a private tutor. You know, someone who will come to me in secret. What do you think?”
“I think it’s a good idea, as long as they sign a confidentiality statement. But I don’t see how you can fit it in right now, not with this calendar shoot and swimsuit special coming up,” Bea responded, hoping that her argument made sense.
“I suppose you’re right,” Gabrielle agreed. “I’ve somehow managed to keep things together this long. I guess tutoring can wait a little longer,” she added, resigned to the fact that she might never learn to read.
“I’m proud of you, Gabrielle. You’ve been through an awful lot in your short life. You’ve been dealt some rough blows, but you just keep moving on and up.”
“I’ve been given a lot of good things, too, even if they didn’t always last,” Gabrielle said softly in a reflective afterthought.
“Are you talking about Doug Sixsmith?”
“It’s not what you think. I’m over him, though not as quickly as he obviously got over me. It’s pretty apparent that he just didn’t love me the way I thought he did.”
The sad look on Gabrielle’s face only added to Bea’s guilt for writing the letter that terminally severed their relationship. When she had sent Doug the note, under Gabrielle’s signature, telling him that their relationship was over and to never contact her again, Bea honestly felt that she was doing the right thing. Doug had hurt Gabrielle terribly with his wild accusations. He didn’t see the effect his hateful words had on Gabrielle for weeks after their breakup. She sat around her room like a zombie, not eating, not sleeping, not working. Doug Sixsmith had nearly destroyed Gabrielle, and though Beatrice could still see a shadow of pain lingering behind those lovely blue eyes when something reminded her of him, Gabrielle was well on her way to forgetting him.
That’s exactly why Bea didn’t pass on any of Doug’s phone messages or give her his letter when it arrived in the weeks following their breakup. Bea didn’t care how sorry he might be or how much he claimed to love her and want her back; Gabrielle had had enough hurt and heartache at his hands.
“Hi, John,” Gabrielle said into the receiver that linked her apartment with the front desk downstairs. “How nice. Please send them up.”
“Visitors?”
“No, flowers, and I think I know from whom.”
“Oh?”
“I have a feeling these are from Jack Hollis. I ran into him at lunch today. We had a nice talk,” Gabrielle said as she opened the door. When she returned, she was carrying five dozen pink roses artistically arranged in a crystal Orrefors vase.
“Would you read the card to me, please?” Gabrielle requested, putting the flowers on the dining-room table.
“ ‘Thanks for making dessert so sweet. Let’s get together soon to continue our kismet adventure. Love, Jack.’ What’s this about a kismet adventure?”
“It’s just a joke,” Gabrielle said, smiling at the memory.
“I haven’t seen you smile like that in a long time, young lady. Is there something going on here that I should know about?”
“Not yet, maybe not ever. I like Jack, but I guess I’m still a little gun-shy.”
“I know Doug hurt you very badly,” Bea said, putting her arms around Gabrielle’s shoulders. “But one day, when the time is right, you’ll fall in love again. I promise.”