“Thank you, Marc. We love to dine out.” Charlotte took a sip of her champagne. Then she noticed that everyone was leaning forward in anticipation. Marc must be taking them to a very exclusive restaurant. “Where are we going?”
“I made reservations at the fanciest restaurant I could find. And I arranged a special dinner, just for you two. How does langoustes à la parisienne sound? Followed by canard à l’orange and maybe a little strawberries Romanoff with crème Chantilly and candied violets?”
Charlotte sighed. “That sounds heavenly. But where are we going?”
“Well, that presented a little problem, but I found the perfect place. Come on. Let’s go.”
Lyle looked around at the half-empty bottles of champagne. He knew how much this had set Johnny back and it was too good to waste. “You mean we’re leaving right now?”
“Right now.” Marc drained his glass and stood up. “Come on, everybody. You all know the plans.”
Charlotte and Lyle exchanged puzzled glances as they got up and followed Marc out the door. Johnny whisked them into a private elevator and seconds later they stepped out on the sidewalk in front of the casino.
“This way.” Marc led them to a silver limousine idling at the curb. “Charlotte? Lyle? Climb in. I’m sending you to the Ritz for a romantic dinner.”
“The Ritz?” Lyle frowned as the chauffeur held the door open for him. “Where’s that, Marc?”
“In New Orleans.”
“New Orleans? But . . . Marc!” Charlotte was so flabbergasted, she couldn’t think of what to say.
Darby laughed. “Jayne and I packed your things, Charlotte. Your suitcases are in the trunk.”
“That’s right.” Marc nodded. “You said you always wanted to go to Mardi Gras and this year you’re going.”
Charlotte looked confused. “But where will we stay? Lyle tried to get hotel reservations over three months ago and everything was booked solid.”
“I’ve got a little more juice than Lyle.” Johnny grinned at her. “I called in a marker from a friend of mine and you’re all set up in the bridal suite at the Orleans Hotel. What’s the matter, Charlotte? Don’t you want to go?”
Charlotte began to laugh. “Of course I want to go! But . . .”
“No more buts.’” Marc reached out to give her a hug. Then he shook Lyle’s hand. “Now climb in. The chauffeur has your tickets and you’d better hurry. Your plane leaves in an hour.”
Lyle opened the French doors and stepped out onto the private balcony. There was another parade passing in the street below, headed by a group of jazz musicians in white suits, and Lyle groaned as he heard the familiar strains of “As The Saints Go Marching In.” He’d always liked that song, but he was sure he’d heard it a hundred times since arriving in New Orleans. Mardi Gras was a perpetual party and Lyle was growing tired of celebrating. He felt like stretching out on the bed and going to sleep, but Charlotte was so eager to take part in the festivities that it wouldn’t be fair to disappoint her on their last night.
He stepped back inside the suite, shutting the doors on the music, and glanced at his watch. Charlotte was still in the bathroom, putting the finishing touches on her makeup. If she didn’t hurry, they’d be late for the costume party in the hotel banquet room. Lyle felt a little silly in black leotards, a black-and-white checkered tunic, and a hat with tassels and bells. But when he’d tried the harlequin outfit on this morning, Charlotte had convinced him that it was perfect for the occasion.
“Almost ready, honey?” Lyle sat down in the wing chair facing the fireplace and yawned. One more party and then he could go home and recover from this vacation.
The bathroom door opened and Charlotte stepped out. She was dressed in a powder-blue velvet dress decorated with lace and pearls. Tonight she had long, plump curls piled up on the top of her head. Since Charlotte’s hair had been short when she’d gone in to put on her costume, she had to be wearing a wig. “Well? What do you think?” Charlotte raised a blue velvet mask to her eyes and twirled around. “Do I look the part?”
“You look gorgeous, honey.” Lyle evaded the question. He wasn’t sure who she was supposed to be, but guessed it was someone like Marie Antoinette.
“Let’s go then.” Charlotte headed for the door and Lyle stifled another yawn as he followed. Ten more hours until he could catch some sleep on the plane. He’d never guessed that a vacation could be so exhausting.
There were several people on the elevator, and Lyle nodded to another harlequin, two devils, and a woman in a dark red velvet dress that looked a lot like Charlotte’s.
Charlotte frowned as she checked the other woman in the mirrored walls of the elevator and when her lips finally turned up in a smile, Lyle breathed a sigh of relief. Charlotte had decided that she looked better than the other woman.
The elevator descended slowly, and at every floor more people in costume got on. Lyle found himself holding his breath. The scent of mingled perfumes and colognes made him feel slightly dizzy.
As the elevator started down again, Lyle felt a hand in his pocket. About to yell that someone was stealing his wallet, he felt a burning pain just below his shoulder blades. He tried to turn to see what was jabbing him, but the elevator was so crowded he couldn’t move. Then, as his vision began to cloud, he heard Charlotte gasp in pain, and then everything went pitch-black.
TWO
Thief River Falls, Minnesota
Ellen Wingate sighed as her clamoring first graders went through the lunch line. Macaroni and cheese with chocolate pudding for dessert. Chocolate always made Billy Zabinski hyper, which was fine if he could run off some of that energy during noon recess. But today the wind was gusting and it was below zero.
“Miss Wingate? Billy’s playing around with my braids again!”
“Billy? I want you to sit here.” Ellen caught Billy just as he was about to dunk Tina Halversen’s long blond braids in his milk and moved him to another table.
“Are we gonna get out-thide today, Mith Wingate?” Tommy Barnes looked up from his plate and gave her a gap-toothed smile. Tommy was a dear child, freckle-faced with an unruly shock of bright red hair, and every time he lisped, he reminded Ellen of Ron Howard in The Music Man. Before she could answer, Billy Zabinski chimed in.
“Please, Miss Wingate? We’ve been real good all morning. Will you let us out?”
Ellen bit back her laughter. Billy made school sound like a prison and he did have a point. It was February in Minnesota, and for the second week running she’d had to amuse them after lunch. “I know you’ve been good, Billy, but it’s much too cold. We’ll have our recess in the classroom and I promise we’ll do something extra special.”
“We could play eraser tag,” Colleen Murphy suggested.
“Perhaps.” Ellen sighed. The last time they’d played eraser tag in the classroom, they’d tipped over a desk and Annie Benson had skinned her knee. It would be safer to read them a Dr. Seuss book, if Billy would shut up long enough to listen. “All right now, is everyone settled?”
Thirty-one heads nodded in unison and Ellen smiled. They were good kids, but a seven-hour school day was much too long without the regular breaks for recess. Actually, buttoning and snapping and zipping up thirty-one sets of winter clothes was a trial in itself. They waddled out onto the playground like little stuffed bundles for ten minutes, barely mobile until the bell rang and she had to go through the whole process again in reverse. The alternative was trying to have recess in the classroom without breaking either the furniture or their necks.