Night Whispers
Page 50
"I'm sure you will," he dryly replied. "You'll have to handle invitations by phone. Tell everyone that you're calling for Carter and that the party is being given by him to introduce them to his daughter Sloan."
She nodded. "I'll need some assistance. There are two women in our San Francisco office who can be relied upon to issue a telephone invitation to a last-minute party and carry it off graciously. I could fax them the list, but the phone calls will all be long distance. Is that all right?"
"That's fine."
"There's one more problem: The people we invite will very likely jump to the conclusion that they're being called at the last minute to fill in the numbers and that they weren't on the original guest list. In that case, they will be offended and they will refuse."
Noah reached for the mail she'd opened and laid in a leather box on his desk. "Then tell them we've just discovered that the original invitations were never sent out. Blame the post office, if you want. Everyone else does."
Courtney swung her leg off the arm of the chair and stood up. "It sounds like yet another boring Palm Beach party. I'm glad as hell my name isn't on that list. You couldn't drag me to one of these parties."
Noah looked up from the letter in his hand. "Sloan specifically asked that you be invited. Please don't make me drag you to it."
Instead of being belligerent and balky, which Noah expected, she looked stunned. "Sloan invited me? You're kidding."
"No, I'm not."
"Then I suppose I really don't have any choice," she said in a martyred voice. "I mean, if I don't go, she'll be surrounded by nothing but incredibly boring people."
She started to leave, then turned back. "Noah?"
"What?" he asked without looking up from the letter he was reading.
"Why are you doing all this for Sloan? Why isn't Carter or Edith or Paris taking care of the party?"
"Carter is behaving like an arrogant son of a bitch, and Edith is too cheap and too old to be trusted with the decisions. Paris was willing to take it on, but she's brand-new at defying them and they'd both end up getting their way. If they don't throw a decent party and properly introduce Sloan, she'll never be able to hold her head up around here." It was several moments before Noah realized that Courtney hadn't left. Exasperated, he looked up and found her studying him, her head tipped to the side. "Now what?" he asked impatiently.
"That explains why they aren't doing it. It doesn't explain why you are."
Irrationally annoyed with her probing questions, Noah glared at her. "I don't know why," he said shortly. "I suppose I felt sorry for her because Carter was acting like a snob and talking about her like she's a poor relation. It ticked me off."
"She is a poor relation," Courtney pointed out simply. "And you are also a snob."
"Thank you," he said sarcastically. "Are you finished, or do you have some obscure point to make?"
"As a matter of fact, I do have a point to make," Courtney replied. "I saw this movie once, called The Carpetbaggers. In it, there was this rich guy who owned a big movie studio and he spent a fortune making a blond hooker into a major movie star. Do you know why he did it?"
"No, why did he do it?"
"Because he wanted to marry her, but first he had to make her important enough to be worthy of him."
"What the hell has that got to do with anything?"
Courtney shrugged. "It was just a thought."
"If you're implying that I intend to marry Sloan or that I give a damn what people think of her, you're wrong on both counts. Now, go away and let me work."
When she left, Noah reread the first paragraph of the same letter twice; then he tossed it onto his desk and leaned back in his chair, glowering at the field of bluebonnets in the impressionist oil painting on the wall across from him.
He didn't know why he'd forced the issue of Sloan's party when it was counter to his own personal objectives. Tonight, other men would meet her and find her as intoxicating to look at and as entrancing to talk to as he did. They'd recognize the same tantalizing qualities of unconscious beauty and laughing candor that intrigued him, and they'd sense that there was much more to her beneath all that. Considering that he already felt ridiculously possessive about her, the party was a hindrance.
He didn't know why he'd lost his temper with Carter or appointed himself her personal defender, except that there was something so open and unspoiled about her, a kindness and a gentle pride, that he felt absurdly protective of her even where her own father was concerned.
25
Paul was waiting in the foyer when Sloan came downstairs, ready to face what Paris happily described as a day of pampering. "I was going to drop you and Paris off and then do my errands," Paul told her, "but Paris said this beauty routine she has in mind for the two of you is going to take a lot longer than an hour or two, so I'm going to take my car, and you're supposed to ride with her. They've already brought the Jaguar around in front."
"I'll walk you to your car," Sloan said with a meaningful nod toward the front door.
Paris's car was parked in front of the porch, but Paul's car was a little further down the drive, and Sloan waited until they were standing beside it before she spoke. "There's a computer in Carter's office networked to his bank. Paris said I could use it, and she gave me her password."
"Don't get your hopes up. He's way too cautious to ever allow Paris to access his files or log onto the bank's computers," Paul said. "He'll have his own password."
"I know. I'm simply reporting what I learned to you."
"I'd like to have a copy of that list of names and addresses Paris gave Maitland for the party."
"I'll ask her for a copy," Sloan said. "I could honestly tell her that it would make a nice souvenir and help me remember everyone's names."
"Good." He glanced toward the front door as it opened. "Paris just came out of the house. By the way, in case you haven't figured it out yet, Maitland is the one who forced the issue of a party for you. I thought you might want to know."
"I could tell Carter wasn't eager to do it, but how could Noah possibly 'force' him to have a party for me if he was dead set against it?"
"You would have to have been there to fully appreciate how he accomplished it. I was impressed," he admitted.
Sloan lowered her voice as Paris approached. "Yes, but why would it matter to Noah if Carter didn't want his friends to meet me?"
She nodded. "I'll need some assistance. There are two women in our San Francisco office who can be relied upon to issue a telephone invitation to a last-minute party and carry it off graciously. I could fax them the list, but the phone calls will all be long distance. Is that all right?"
"That's fine."
"There's one more problem: The people we invite will very likely jump to the conclusion that they're being called at the last minute to fill in the numbers and that they weren't on the original guest list. In that case, they will be offended and they will refuse."
Noah reached for the mail she'd opened and laid in a leather box on his desk. "Then tell them we've just discovered that the original invitations were never sent out. Blame the post office, if you want. Everyone else does."
Courtney swung her leg off the arm of the chair and stood up. "It sounds like yet another boring Palm Beach party. I'm glad as hell my name isn't on that list. You couldn't drag me to one of these parties."
Noah looked up from the letter in his hand. "Sloan specifically asked that you be invited. Please don't make me drag you to it."
Instead of being belligerent and balky, which Noah expected, she looked stunned. "Sloan invited me? You're kidding."
"No, I'm not."
"Then I suppose I really don't have any choice," she said in a martyred voice. "I mean, if I don't go, she'll be surrounded by nothing but incredibly boring people."
She started to leave, then turned back. "Noah?"
"What?" he asked without looking up from the letter he was reading.
"Why are you doing all this for Sloan? Why isn't Carter or Edith or Paris taking care of the party?"
"Carter is behaving like an arrogant son of a bitch, and Edith is too cheap and too old to be trusted with the decisions. Paris was willing to take it on, but she's brand-new at defying them and they'd both end up getting their way. If they don't throw a decent party and properly introduce Sloan, she'll never be able to hold her head up around here." It was several moments before Noah realized that Courtney hadn't left. Exasperated, he looked up and found her studying him, her head tipped to the side. "Now what?" he asked impatiently.
"That explains why they aren't doing it. It doesn't explain why you are."
Irrationally annoyed with her probing questions, Noah glared at her. "I don't know why," he said shortly. "I suppose I felt sorry for her because Carter was acting like a snob and talking about her like she's a poor relation. It ticked me off."
"She is a poor relation," Courtney pointed out simply. "And you are also a snob."
"Thank you," he said sarcastically. "Are you finished, or do you have some obscure point to make?"
"As a matter of fact, I do have a point to make," Courtney replied. "I saw this movie once, called The Carpetbaggers. In it, there was this rich guy who owned a big movie studio and he spent a fortune making a blond hooker into a major movie star. Do you know why he did it?"
"No, why did he do it?"
"Because he wanted to marry her, but first he had to make her important enough to be worthy of him."
"What the hell has that got to do with anything?"
Courtney shrugged. "It was just a thought."
"If you're implying that I intend to marry Sloan or that I give a damn what people think of her, you're wrong on both counts. Now, go away and let me work."
When she left, Noah reread the first paragraph of the same letter twice; then he tossed it onto his desk and leaned back in his chair, glowering at the field of bluebonnets in the impressionist oil painting on the wall across from him.
He didn't know why he'd forced the issue of Sloan's party when it was counter to his own personal objectives. Tonight, other men would meet her and find her as intoxicating to look at and as entrancing to talk to as he did. They'd recognize the same tantalizing qualities of unconscious beauty and laughing candor that intrigued him, and they'd sense that there was much more to her beneath all that. Considering that he already felt ridiculously possessive about her, the party was a hindrance.
He didn't know why he'd lost his temper with Carter or appointed himself her personal defender, except that there was something so open and unspoiled about her, a kindness and a gentle pride, that he felt absurdly protective of her even where her own father was concerned.
25
Paul was waiting in the foyer when Sloan came downstairs, ready to face what Paris happily described as a day of pampering. "I was going to drop you and Paris off and then do my errands," Paul told her, "but Paris said this beauty routine she has in mind for the two of you is going to take a lot longer than an hour or two, so I'm going to take my car, and you're supposed to ride with her. They've already brought the Jaguar around in front."
"I'll walk you to your car," Sloan said with a meaningful nod toward the front door.
Paris's car was parked in front of the porch, but Paul's car was a little further down the drive, and Sloan waited until they were standing beside it before she spoke. "There's a computer in Carter's office networked to his bank. Paris said I could use it, and she gave me her password."
"Don't get your hopes up. He's way too cautious to ever allow Paris to access his files or log onto the bank's computers," Paul said. "He'll have his own password."
"I know. I'm simply reporting what I learned to you."
"I'd like to have a copy of that list of names and addresses Paris gave Maitland for the party."
"I'll ask her for a copy," Sloan said. "I could honestly tell her that it would make a nice souvenir and help me remember everyone's names."
"Good." He glanced toward the front door as it opened. "Paris just came out of the house. By the way, in case you haven't figured it out yet, Maitland is the one who forced the issue of a party for you. I thought you might want to know."
"I could tell Carter wasn't eager to do it, but how could Noah possibly 'force' him to have a party for me if he was dead set against it?"
"You would have to have been there to fully appreciate how he accomplished it. I was impressed," he admitted.
Sloan lowered her voice as Paris approached. "Yes, but why would it matter to Noah if Carter didn't want his friends to meet me?"
