If the Slipper Fits
On top of being a singularly hungry manhunter, the baroness was also one of the more unpleasant guests Lily had had to deal with in her tenure as concierge. So when she saw Kiki at the desk, she hurried down the hall to the elevator bank. She pushed the button and waited impatiently for the elevator to arrive. She took it to the second-floor kitchen to find someone to deliver the princesses’ food.
“Where’s Lyle?” she asked the chef. “I need him to deliver room service.”
Chef Henri shrugged broadly. “He has gone home with flu. Elissa and Sean as well. And Miguel is still in Puerto Vallarta on vacation.” He took his coat off the rack. “For that I have been here an extra hour myself. I’m going home.”
Henri was temperamental and the recent staff shortages had made him even more so. Lily had learned a long time ago not to argue with him. In truth, she preferred it when the other chef, Miguel, was on duty.
She sighed. “Okay. Do you know where I can find a cart setup so I can take it myself?”
He gestured vaguely toward the pantry. “Elissa made some up before she left.”
“Thanks,” Lily said, carrying the bags of increasingly chilly food over to the cart. She stopped and looked back at Henri. “Look, I know it isn’t the best method, but I have three steaks here that are getting cold. Can I stick them in the microwave to heat them up?”
Henri looked horrified. “You jest, surely!”
She shook her head. “Sorry, I’m not kidding. So, can I do it?”
He gave a dramatic sigh, then nodded. “The meat only. No more than thirty seconds.” He rolled his eyes. “But I am not taking responsibility for the end result.”
Lily smiled. “Merci, Henri. I appreciate it.”
“De rien.” He waved his hand and headed for the exit before she could ask any more potentially offensive questions. “Good luck.”
She needed it. When she got up to Princess Drucille’s room, she was ushered in by a small, mouse-faced girl with worried eyes.
Princess Drucille was leaning back on the chaise lounge, talking to her daughter and another woman. “I don’t care what he wants, he needs a wife, or else the entire monarchy will dissolve. And that would not suit me at all.”
Lady Ann nodded urgently.
“So, wait,” the other woman said, and Lily recognized her accent as south Jersey. “Is he or is he not engaged to this Lady Penelope?”
“Not yet,” the princess said crisply. “So if you know of any eligible debutantes, I would be open to meeting them. Your paper might be very interested in having you cover this in your column.”
“Search for a new princess.” The woman nodded with a gleam in her eye. “I like it.”
“And, at the end, he’ll almost certainly propose to Lady Penelope, and I promise you will be the first to know. It will be a Caroline Horton exclusive.”
Ah, Caroline Horton. The Page Seven gossip columnist for the New York Tattler.
Caroline stood and put her hand out. “You have yourself a deal, princess.”
It was obvious that Princess Drucille preferred more deference, but she accepted the woman’s hand anyway. “Remember to keep our conversation confidential.”
The girl who had let Lily in flashed her a nervous look, and Lily gave a silent nod and took a step back. When Caroline Horton started for the door, Lily moved back into the room as if she’d just arrived.
“Your dinner is here, Your Highness, along with the champagne and—” she gestured at the flower arrangement “—your flowers.”
Princess Drucille moved to the cart, and said crisply, “One of the salads and steaks is for Prince Conrad.”
Lily was confused. “It was my impression that he didn’t want to be interrupted.”
“Nonsense, he’s expecting you. Take it to him now before it’s cold.” The princess made a shooing motion with her hand. “Run along.”
Lily picked up the platter with the extra plate and headed for the door. It had been her distinct impression that Prince Conrad didn’t want to be disturbed, but if the princess said he was expecting her, Lily was not in any position to argue.
But when she got to his room, she found the prince had company in the form of Brittany Oliver, a Hollywood It Girl from a couple of years back. It was obvious he was not expecting her and that, moreover, she had committed the one sin she’d so confidently told him she wouldn’t: she’d invaded his privacy.
“I didn’t order this,” Conrad said, his voice tired, as if he’d expected just this kind of infraction from Lily.
Lily might have felt stung except that he was absolutely correct, he hadn’t ordered it, his stepmother had. “I apologize for the interruption,” she said sincerely, “but your stepmother said you were waiting for this.” Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Brittany Oliver repositioning herself on the sofa so that she was more clearly in view. “She said I was to bring it to you right away.”
“My late father’s wife says a great many things that are best ignored.” His eyes narrowed, and his jaw tightened. “This is an excellent example of one.”
“I’m sorry,” Lily said. “But it’s my job to not ignore the wishes of our patrons, so when she said—”
“I told you I wished to have privacy.”
“Yes, I realize that, but when your stepmother—”
“My late father’s wife.”
“—told me you wished to have dinner…. But since that is clearly incorrect, I’ll take it away.”
For just a moment, Lily thought she saw a spark come into his eye. “If I refuse this now, you’ll have to return it to Drucille and Ann, is that right?”
Lily kept her face impassive, even though she would rather have eaten wasps than return to Princess Drucille’s room tonight. “Yes.”
He kept his eyes on her for another moment before taking the platter from her. His mouth curved into the slightest smile. “That will be all,” he said, setting it down on the foyer table. “Thank you.”
Lily nodded and was turning to leave when the actress on the sofa spoke.
“Um, excuse me? Waitress?”
Lily turned to face the woman. “What can I do for you?”
“I think there are photographers outside. Wanting to take my picture…?” She gestured airily toward the window.
Lily stood in place. “Really?”
The girl gave an exasperated sigh. “Can you look?” She gave a completely false laugh and looked at Prince Conrad. “You know how they are. Always looking for a story about me.”
Lily went to the window and looked out. There was no one there. The occasional car drifting past served as the city equivalent to crickets chirping. “I don’t see anyone,” she said.
Brittany scrambled to her feet. “You don’t?” She rushed in an unbecoming fashion to the window and looked out, her face falling when she saw no one. “But I told them…” She looked at Conrad. “I told my people to keep them away and I guess they did. That’s good.” She cleared her throat delicately and said, “Would you excuse me for a moment while I go…powder my nose?” She headed toward the bathroom, but Lily noticed she stopped for a moment to take her cell phone out of her purse.
Lily watched her go, then turned to Conrad. “Will that be all?”
He was looking in the direction of the window, and had obviously not seen Brittany take her phone. “Have there been photographers out there tonight?”
“Not that I’m aware of.”
“To your knowledge has anyone on the staff made it known that I arrived early?”
“Not that I know of.”
“Hmm.” Again he looked in the direction of the closed bathroom door, then back at Lily. “Please hold all of my calls this evening.”
“Certainly. Is there anything else?”
“No.”
“All right. If you need anything, touch Zero on the telephone keypad and ask for the concierge.”
“Would that be you?”
“I’m one of them.”
“Then shouldn’t I be able to ask for you by name?”
“Well…sure…but I might not be here. If I’m not, anyone else will be able to help you.”
“Conrad!” Brittany called and she stepped gingerly from the restroom.
He glanced at her, then back at Lily and said, “Thank you.”
Lily left thinking Prince Conrad looked like a man who would have better taste than to fall for a pretty but vacant starlet. On the other hand, maybe there weren’t a lot of men who would take substance over appearance.
And if Prince Conrad’s reputation was even half true, he was not a man who was out for substance.
She looked at her watch. It was a few minutes past midnight. She had to be back here in six hours. There was, once again, no point in going home. Especially with several staffers out with the flu.
It was to be another night in the back office. She sighed. Fortunately, the office was as comfortable, if not more so, than the rooms at the Montclair. Gerard wanted only the best, and it didn’t matter if it was the best bed for a guest room, the best sofa for the office, or the best garbage can for the alley. He wanted the best, and that was what he got.
Lily stopped at a supply cabinet and took out a light blanket, then went to the office and lay heavily on the sofa. It felt good to get off her feet. Really good.
She didn’t know how long she’d laid there—it felt like seconds but it might have been an hour or two—when the telephone rang. She roused herself from the sofa and went to the desk. It was an in-house call, relayed by the switchboard to the front desk. She picked it up and tried to sound as if she were awake.
“It seems there has been a security breach,” said a voice she recognized as Prince Conrad’s.
Lily was on alert immediately. A security breach? Had someone broken into his room? Threatened him? Her mind raced from one horrible possibility to another. “What is it?” she asked, as calmly as she could. “Should I call the police?”
“No. It’s reporters. They’re outside.”
“Huh?” She quickly put on her professional voice. “I’ll have security get rid of them.”
“I don’t care so much about that. What I really need is for you to find a way to get my guest out of your hotel undetected. As quickly as possible.”
Lily tried to put the pieces together but was still too fuzzy-headed to manage. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what you mean.”
“My guest, Ms. Oliver,” he said pointedly. “She needs to leave. And you need to make it happen without anyone seeing her go. Contrary to your previous assertion, there are photographers outside and I don’t want pictures of her leaving my hotel in the papers tomorrow.”
Chapter Two
“I’ll be right there.” Lily hung up the phone and muttered an oath. She was not in the mood for this, no matter how rich, famous, or powerful the guest was. She was not in the mood for it.
Lack of sleep was really getting to her.
She stalked to the front of the building, where a group of about five photographers with large cameras stood, looking bored or tired, smoking cigarettes and eating doughnuts.
She braced herself, then went outside. “What are you doing here?”
“We got a call that Brittany Oliver’s here with Prince Conrad of La-dee-dah Land,” one of them said, stubbing out his cigarette on the entry gate. “So, what’s the story, they an item?”
“I have no idea who you’re even talking about,” Lily said. “But I do know that you’re making our guests feel rather uncomfortable.”
“Look, lady,” another said to her, “we’re just trying to do our jobs, just like you. Brittany Oliver’s old news, so maybe this was all set up by her publicist, but we know Prince Conrad is in town for some UN event, and he’s hot right now. So, forget Brittany Oliver. Is Prince Conrad here or isn’t he?”
“I’ve never even heard of him,” Lily responded, in a voice so sincere she almost fooled herself.
The photographer narrowed his eyes and looked at her for a moment before saying, “You’ve never heard of the Playboy Prince of Beloria?”
She shrugged. “Sorry.”
“His father died a few weeks ago, so he’s here to host some charity ball, then accept some award for his father at the UN. You’ve heard of the United Nations, haven’t you?”
She gave a tight smile. “Vaguely.”
“So the guy’s pretty important in those circles. And word is, he’s staying here because this is where his father used to stay, back in the days when this was a happening hotel.”
“Then the word is wrong.” She refused to take the bait about the hotel not being what it used to be. “But you’re welcome to back off a little bit and take all the pictures you want of the place.” She tried to smile, but it came off as more of a smirk. “It’s really beautiful, isn’t it?”
He watched her for a moment, then said to his companions, “She looks like she’s on the up-and-up.”
“I don’t know,” another one said. “If he is there, it’s her job to tell us he’s not.”
Lily sighed. “Listen—like I said, you can do what you like off the property. If you publish pictures with the hotel’s name, so much the better. But you cannot stand here and do it because you are making my guests uncomfortable.” She smiled sweetly. “Please don’t make me call the police.”
“Forget it,” said the lone woman in the pack. “I’m not waiting here all night to take pictures of Brittany Oliver, no matter who she’s with or how many silly girls are ga-ga over him.”
Several of the others began to put their equipment away.
“Thank you,” Lily said to them.
“I’m not budging,” one of them said. “A shot of His Royal holier-than-thou-ness is worth a hell of a lot more than a shot of the inside of my apartment.”
This caused a small rumble of agreement among them. Lily knew that arguing further at this point would make her look suspicious, so she shook her head and said, “Just make sure you stay back from the property, then, or I will call the police on you for loitering.”
She went back into the building trying to formulate a Plan B. By the time she got back to Prince Conrad’s room, she had decided that the best place to hide a person—especially in a case like this—was right out in the open.
“How about if you put on a hat and coat, and we simply have one of the employees pick you up in his private car and drive you back to your hotel?” she suggested to Brittany.
“Aren’t the photographers looking for me?” Brittany asked, in a way that made Lily think that a “no” would have been far more upsetting to the actress than a “yes.”
“Yes,” Lily conceded. “Which is why, when you walk right out, they won’t even look at you. They’ll be looking for you to be smuggled out with the laundry or some other such nonsense.”
Conrad smiled for the first time since Lily had been in the room. “You’re right. It’s a good idea.”
Lily was disarmed by his smile, and told herself it was because it was unexpected, not because he was so incredibly good-looking. “I think it will work.”
Brittany glanced back and forth between the two of them. “What if one of them recognizes me?”
“Then they’ll take your picture and speculate about your involvement with a man who may or may not be here,” Lily said simply.
This seemed to satisfy Brittany.
At the same time, it seemed to irritate Prince Conrad—he lowered his brow and his jaw tightened a bit, but he said nothing.
“Should I call Mike to bring the car around?” Lily asked, wishing to get this exercise over with.
“Let’s do it!” Brittany said, clapping her hands together. “This is going to be fun.”
Fun, Lily thought wearily. This “fun” was interrupting her valuable sleep time. “Okay, I’ll meet you in the lobby,” she said to Brittany. “It would probably be best if you stayed in the suite, Your Highness, so you’re not seen.”
“I’m not used to hiding.”
No, he was probably just used to hiding his dates.
“You should stay here, Conrad,” Brittany said. “If you come out and tell them we’re just friends or something, it will only fuel the fire.” It may have been a trick of the light, but Brittany looked hopeful.
He looked at her curiously for a moment, then shrugged. “Whatever you wish. Thank you for coming tonight. I enjoyed our meeting and I appreciate your help.”
Lily felt a little ill at this characterization of what was obviously a romantic tête-à-tête. More than that, she did not want to be here in the middle of things during their goodbye, but she was stuck.
“Me, too.” Brittany threw her arms around him and kissed his cheek, while pressing herself against him in a way that made Lily feel as if she should leave them alone.
Conrad pulled away first. “Please return and let me know when Ms. Oliver is safely on her way,” he said to Lily.
She sighed inwardly. Her time could be much better spent sleeping, but the guest was always the priority. “Very well,” she said to him. “I’m sure it will go without a hitch.”
She led Brittany down the hall and to the elevator. “We have several coats that were left behind a long time ago and never claimed,” she said. “You could use one of them to cover up.”
“I am not going to wear some stranger’s smelly old coat,” Brittany said haughtily. Suddenly her sweet and cooperative act was over. “No way. I’ve got my own coat.”
“Yes, you do,” Lily said, looking at the long, plush mink coat—probably real—that the actress was sporting. “I was just thinking that perhaps you would be less conspicuous in something else.”
The elevator arrived and Lily pulled back the metal gates and ushered the actress on board.
“At this point, if I’m recognized, I just can’t help it,” Brittany said, and the look in her eyes left no doubt that she was counting on being recognized and photographed. “Prince Conrad and I have much more…business…to do together, so we’ll just have to get used to the attention, I guess.”
Lily was fairly certain Brittany would make sure of that. “Your driver is right outside the front door,” she said, swallowing one or two sharp comments about Brittany’s intentions. Then, to ensure that the actress wouldn’t stall any longer, she added, “But I’m afraid I already see some photographers.”
“Really?” Brittany turned a delighted face to the night and Lily took the opportunity to bid her goodnight and return to the hotel.
She was down to a possible five hours of sleep, and that was if she fell asleep right now. Unfortunately, she had to go back to Prince Conrad’s suite first and assure him that his guest had gotten into the car safely.
She plodded back up to his suite, reminding herself with every step that this was helpful to Gerard and the hotel in general. The photographer had been right about one thing: once this had been a grand place, and very popular with royalty and dignitaries, yet since 2001 business had slowed down and, so far, it hadn’t really picked back up.
They had done promotions, and Romantic Weekend packages, and so on, but what they needed was something to make the hotel interesting again. Brittany Oliver wasn’t going to do that, of course, but maybe the dashing Prince Conrad could.
Lily would do everything she could to protect his privacy—she would always do her job the best she could—but that didn’t stop her from sort of hoping the photographers had gotten an interesting picture or two that could show up in celebrity magazines with a caption about the location.
She figured Gerard probably hoped the same thing, but neither one of them would ever say it out loud.
When she got to Conrad’s suite, and he opened the door at her knock, he looked nearly as tired as she felt.
“Has she gone?” he asked, without preamble.
“Yes, she left several minutes ago. I don’t think there were any photographers there.”
“Good.” He met her eyes, sending shivers down her spine with his cool blue gaze. “I appreciate your discretion.”
“I’m only doing my job.”
“What, exactly, is your job anyway?”
She was thrown by his question. “I’m the concierge.”
“Yes, you said.” He nodded. “But I’m not used to the workings of such a small hotel. Does it mean, as at larger hotels, that you are charged with doing whatever is in your power to make sure your guests are comfortable and happy?”
“Within reason,” she said cautiously, lifting an eyebrow in question. Something told her he was headed toward something she wasn’t going to be entirely comfortable with.
“I believe, miss—” He raised a questioning brow.
“Tilden. Lily.”
He looked genuinely puzzled. “Tildenlily?”
“No.” She smiled. His English was flawless, but hers, she was often told, was too fast. “Lily Tilden.”
“Miss Tilden,” he said, as if rolling fine wine over his tongue. His voice, the low timbre, the faint accent, was magnetic. It was the voice of a hypnotist. “I’m afraid you may be in for some trouble, Miss Tilden.”
She swallowed hard. She was embarrassed to admit, even to herself, that this man made her feel nervous. Lily never got nervous. “Oh? How so?”
“My father’s wife can be—how do I say it?—demanding. You will get little rest while she’s here, I’m afraid. I’d like to offer you my apologies up front.”
“Well,” Lily wasn’t sure how to respond, “thanks for the warning. I guess. But I can handle it.”
“Indeed.” He gave a shrug, as if to say I warned you. “Good luck, Ms. Tilden.”
She smiled. “Sounds as if you think I’ll need it.”
He smiled back, a dazzling movie-star smile. “Where my father’s wife is concerned, we all need some luck.”
Lily started to go, then stopped and turned back. “I don’t mean to be impertinent—”
He raised an eyebrow and looked so amused that she nearly lost her train of thought. “Please do.”
She went on, a little disconcerted, “Well, Princess Drucille spoke with great authority when she said you were expecting me to bring your dinner to you, but apparently she was…incorrect.”
He nodded, and continued to look amused as Lily ran the risk of hanging herself.
“My question is this—if, in the future, she should give any of the staff instructions where you’re concerned, should we assume…” She paused, unable to come up with a nice way of saying “She’s not to be taken seriously” or “She’s full of it.”
“If I require something, I’ll ask for it directly,” Conrad supplied, finally letting Lily off the hook. “Otherwise…” He shook his head. “Don’t take another’s word for it.”
Her shoulders sagged in relief at his comprehension. “Good. I’ll let the staff know.”
He nodded solemnly. “I’d appreciate it. If someone arrives at my door every time Drucille wants to use my name, I’ll never get any peace.”
Chapter Three
To the surprise of no one, especially Lily, all of the late edition papers carried a mention of Brittany Oliver and Prince Conrad the next afternoon. There were photos as well, but none clear enough to identify the hotel. Lily had decided not to point it out to Gerard, but it didn’t matter, he saw it himself.
“It would have been nice,” he said, closing the paper and setting it aside. He sighed and raked a hand through his thick gray hair. “I don’t know how much longer we’re going to be in business if things don’t get better soon.”
Lily’s heart ached to see this man she cared for feeling so down. Gerard Von Mises had worked hard all his life. In all the years Lily had known him, he had never missed a day at work. Yet now it was beginning to feel as if it was all for nothing, and she hated to see how despondent he looked.
“Things will pick up,” she said, as she’d said hundreds of times before. But she, like Gerard, was losing faith.
It wasn’t for herself that she was concerned. She could get a job almost anywhere, and had often toyed with the idea of living overseas, in Europe or Japan.
But this was Gerard’s life, and he’d put his whole heart into it. Every detail of the hotel had his fingerprint on it, and Lily couldn’t bear the idea of that disappearing.
“I’m sure they will,” Gerard said, effectively closing the book on the conversation. “It will be all right. It always has in the past.”
Lily glanced at the register, and at the number of empty rooms, and simply said, “Yes.”