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Authors: Mary Higgins Clark
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her soon. It was disturbing to her how pleased she would be if
he asked her to have dinner with him again. She had had dates with a number of men in these past few years and enjoyed them. But emotionally she had never felt the spark she experienced when she
was with Eric Bennett. On Sunday evening she and Katie went to a movie and had dinner at McDonald’s, Katie’s favorite restaurant. On Monday, Glady informed her that she had done a
number of preliminary sketches and chosen colors to show to “Sally,” as she referred to the Countess de la Marco. “It’s at nine thirty tomorrow morning,” she informed
Lane, “so be sure to be on time.”
“I’m always in before nine, Glady,” Lane said, amused, “and you know it. Or if you want, I could meet you at her apartment?” She knew that that would bring a
definite no. Glady liked the image of herself being followed by an assistant who was carrying sketches, swatches, and books of antique furniture and carpets.
“We’ll meet in the lobby,” Glady said crisply.
At nine fifteen the next morning Lane made sure she was in the Fifth Avenue lobby only to find Glady already there. They waited until twenty-seven minutes past nine, when Glady
asked the desk clerk to call the apartment of the Countess de la Marco and announce that Ms. Harper was here. Nothing about me, as usual, Lane thought. I might as well be invisible! It was a
typical Glady performance.
A male voice at the other end said, “Send her up, please.” The butler was waiting for them when they came out of the private elevator.
“The countess will receive you in the library,” he said, and led them down the hallway to the left.
“Receive us,” Glady muttered as Lane tried to hide a smile.
Countess Sylvie de la Marco was sitting on a red velvet couch. A pot of coffee and three cups were set on the long glass-top table in front of her. She did not get up to greet them, but her
smile was pleasant enough.
“How nice of you,” Glady said sincerely as the butler poured the coffee. But after having a few sips she got down to business.
“We will not be making any serious architectural changes,” she announced as she took the bag Lane had been carrying. “I estimate that the redecoration, including a few antiques
and artwork, will come in at about five million dollars. I have preliminary sketches of the rooms on this floor and how we will deal with them to create diversity, harmony, and understated
elegance.”
The countess went over the sketches, carefully examining them one by one.
Then Glady got up. “I suggest that we go over the sketches as we walk through the rooms. But first you need to take care of the contract and provide the two million dollars that is
required on signing.”
Lane observed that the countess did not even bat a false eyelash. “That will be fine,” Sylvie said. “I’ll meet you in the drawing room. But first I have an important
phone call to make.”
As they walked down the hallway Glady snapped, “What did you think when she referred to the living room as the drawing room?” Not waiting for Lane to answer, she said, “You can
bet your life that she learned that expression when she read some trashy nineteenth-century romance novel.”
For a long moment they stood at the door of the largest room of the apartment. “All that glitters is not gold,” Glady murmured to Lane with ill-concealed contempt. She studied the
ornate yellow brocade draperies with heavy gold-colored tassels.
“Oh, come on, Glady,” Lane protested. “She knows this place is tawdry, but that’s why she’s paying you a lot of money to redo it. Just think how pleasant she has
been to us this morning.”
As always, when she was crossed, Glady’s eyebrows shot up. “Lane, you must learn not to be so willing to think everyone you meet could be your new best friend. The countess has told
anyone who will listen that this place was decorated in such garish taste because her
he asked her to have dinner with him again. She had had dates with a number of men in these past few years and enjoyed them. But emotionally she had never felt the spark she experienced when she
was with Eric Bennett. On Sunday evening she and Katie went to a movie and had dinner at McDonald’s, Katie’s favorite restaurant. On Monday, Glady informed her that she had done a
number of preliminary sketches and chosen colors to show to “Sally,” as she referred to the Countess de la Marco. “It’s at nine thirty tomorrow morning,” she informed
Lane, “so be sure to be on time.”
“I’m always in before nine, Glady,” Lane said, amused, “and you know it. Or if you want, I could meet you at her apartment?” She knew that that would bring a
definite no. Glady liked the image of herself being followed by an assistant who was carrying sketches, swatches, and books of antique furniture and carpets.
“We’ll meet in the lobby,” Glady said crisply.
At nine fifteen the next morning Lane made sure she was in the Fifth Avenue lobby only to find Glady already there. They waited until twenty-seven minutes past nine, when Glady
asked the desk clerk to call the apartment of the Countess de la Marco and announce that Ms. Harper was here. Nothing about me, as usual, Lane thought. I might as well be invisible! It was a
typical Glady performance.
A male voice at the other end said, “Send her up, please.” The butler was waiting for them when they came out of the private elevator.
“The countess will receive you in the library,” he said, and led them down the hallway to the left.
“Receive us,” Glady muttered as Lane tried to hide a smile.
Countess Sylvie de la Marco was sitting on a red velvet couch. A pot of coffee and three cups were set on the long glass-top table in front of her. She did not get up to greet them, but her
smile was pleasant enough.
“How nice of you,” Glady said sincerely as the butler poured the coffee. But after having a few sips she got down to business.
“We will not be making any serious architectural changes,” she announced as she took the bag Lane had been carrying. “I estimate that the redecoration, including a few antiques
and artwork, will come in at about five million dollars. I have preliminary sketches of the rooms on this floor and how we will deal with them to create diversity, harmony, and understated
elegance.”
The countess went over the sketches, carefully examining them one by one.
Then Glady got up. “I suggest that we go over the sketches as we walk through the rooms. But first you need to take care of the contract and provide the two million dollars that is
required on signing.”
Lane observed that the countess did not even bat a false eyelash. “That will be fine,” Sylvie said. “I’ll meet you in the drawing room. But first I have an important
phone call to make.”
As they walked down the hallway Glady snapped, “What did you think when she referred to the living room as the drawing room?” Not waiting for Lane to answer, she said, “You can
bet your life that she learned that expression when she read some trashy nineteenth-century romance novel.”
For a long moment they stood at the door of the largest room of the apartment. “All that glitters is not gold,” Glady murmured to Lane with ill-concealed contempt. She studied the
ornate yellow brocade draperies with heavy gold-colored tassels.
“Oh, come on, Glady,” Lane protested. “She knows this place is tawdry, but that’s why she’s paying you a lot of money to redo it. Just think how pleasant she has
been to us this morning.”
As always, when she was crossed, Glady’s eyebrows shot up. “Lane, you must learn not to be so willing to think everyone you meet could be your new best friend. The countess has told
anyone who will listen that this place was decorated in such garish taste because her
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