until their transitions. After that, everything had been different. No more sun.
“Isobel was so proud of me. She hugged me and told me I had to do it again and again. But that was her. I never went out another time.”
“You miss her.”
“Every night.” Helania glanced at him. “You must feel the same way about your father.”
Boone shrugged. “I have certainly noticed his absence, that’s for sure.”
They started walking again, heading for the formal entrance with its bank of glass doors and silver and brass flourishes. Hanging above it all, there was the American flag as well as the ones for the State of New York, the United Kingdom, and Spain.
“Welcome to the Remington,” a uniformed doorman said with a brief bow.
“Thank you,” Boone answered as the human gave the revolving door a shove and Helania went through first.
Inside, the cavernous lobby was all black marble, gold and silver carpeting, and burnished metal fixtures. Seating areas clustered around the bases of broad square columns were like presents under human Christmas trees, and discreetly dressed staff whispered by as they attended to the hotel’s guests.
“Oh . . . wow.” Helania slowed again, her eyes lighting up. “It’s a palace.”
“This way.” As he took her hand, he felt the network of scars and wished he could have helped her bury her dead. “Remi’s is down here.”
Over in the far corner, there was a theater-worthy heavy velvet curtain with gold tassels, and as he drew her behind it, the first strains of jazz could be heard faintly. The staircase that was revealed was cramped, the marble steps worn in places where a century’s worth of feet had trod. On the glossy black walls, hundreds of framed, vintage photographs of flappers and dandies from the twenties and thirties were hung so closely together, they formed a mosaic of black and white tiles.
Down at the bottom, the mellow music was louder, and at the maître d’ stand, Boone slipped the gentleman a hundred-dollar bill and was rewarded with one of the best tables in the house, right in front of the small stage. He sat with his back to the trio who were playing so Helania could have the better view.
As she stared up in wonder at the piano player, the clarinetist, the guy on the bass, he felt something warm bloom in the center of his chest.
There was nowhere else on the planet he wanted to be. And the happiness he felt, the sense of connection and communion, was a shock that illuminated how lonely he had been.
For such a very long time.
* * *
Helania felt like she was under a heat lamp. And not in a bad way.
As she took off her parka and sat across from Boone, the sensual music wrapped them in an embrace, bringing them closer together than they actually were. The dim lighting and thoughtful staff offered little to no interruption, and even the small table, as well as the chairs that were tilted in, seemed to encourage the intimacy.
Before she knew it, plates of cheese with fruit appeared, and then heartier fare, a stew with meat and vegetables, which quite possibly could have been the best thing she’d ever eaten. Or maybe the company was the spice that turned a humble dish into a gourmet masterpiece: In spite of the fact that she often felt tongue-tied with other people, that was not the case with Boone. There seemed to be an endless array of topics for discussion, everything from favorite books and music, to current affairs, to happy childhood memories, shared along with the common bread basket.
It was all quite remarkable. And then even the dishes of dessert had been cleared, and they were still talking.
Running her fingertips over the belly of her wineglass, she stared into the chardonnay she’d been nursing . . . and wondered how the night was going to end.
“What are you thinking about?” Boone murmured.
Shaking her head, she was curious if he’d guessed that she’d been with a male before—and whether or not that was going to be a problem. He was obviously from the aristocracy, and there were a lot of rules for them. Well, there were rules for civilians, too. But Isobel had urged her to break out of her shell and get herself a male, and so she had done that about a decade ago. The relationship had lasted about a year and then fizzled, a social experiment that had failed in the lab.