Sold on a Monday - Kristina McMorris Page 0,36

to a spot called the Royal. No other details, but it was enough.

Lily bid her thanks and, with little thought, hurried to hail a cab. She was compelled by the sense of running down a lead. Or, if being honest, by the prospect of seeing Ellis.

In the weeks following his abrupt move to New York, her mind had often wandered as she worked at her desk. She would imagine herself on some corner in Philly, or eating lunch at Franklin Square, where their paths would cross in a vision cut short by the chief’s bellowing of her name. A few times, she even came close to phoning the Tribune to alert Ellis when a letter arrived about one of his old features. But the excuse would have been shamefully transparent, she feared, dooming their conversation to an awkward end. Plus, as the months went by, there was Clayton to consider.

Yet here she was now, in the neighborhood as it were, impulse trampling logic. It was a tendency of hers that historically led to trouble. Still, she succeeded in barring the thought until the doorman of the Royal, stationed atop the alleyway stairs, permitted her entry and shut the door, sealing her in. It was then that she observed the guests at the end of the sconce-lit hallway. In the coat-check area they were arriving or leaving as couples.

And it occurred to her: What if Ellis had brought a date? This was assuming he had even made plans here tonight. What a ridiculous gamble.

Lily gripped her purse, debating on turning back. But then she recalled the letter. She had come this far already. What could a glimpse possibly hurt?

Retaining her coat, she proceeded through the entrance framed in burgundy velvet drapes. The main hall held an elegant world of diners, waiters, and candlelight. It resembled the wedding reception in that way, but with less stuffiness and livelier music.

“Good evening, miss.” A shapely blond woman in a glittery dress stepped out from behind her black podium. “You meeting someone?”

“Yes. Well…possibly. I’m looking for an old friend. I’ve been told he was here. Or might be, rather.”

The woman appeared dubious. In a place like this, celebrity patrons surely drew nosy fans. “I’d have to check with the table first. Make sure it’s not a problem.”

“Of course.” Lily should have been more specific. “I normally wouldn’t intrude, but I’m only in town for the night, and I was really hoping to at least—”

“What’s the name?” The hostess was already gazing down at the reservation book.

“Reed. First name: Ellis.”

“Ah, sure.” The woman looked up, her tone promising. But then she shook her head regretfully. “I’m afraid his dinner guests wrapped up early, and Mr. Reed had another engagement.”

He was gone. It took Lily a moment to grasp this, to accept the finality of her efforts.

She glanced at the bustling supper club. If only she could have come sooner, or knew where he went next. She regarded the hostess. “Mr. Reed didn’t happen to say…” Oh goodness, she was being irrational now. “Never mind. Thank you all the same.” She managed a partial smile before treading toward the draped entry.

Really, the outcome was a blessing. Come morning, she would be back on a train, common sense restored. Any memories of some youthful romantic yearning would soon dissolve into the practicality of her life.

“Wait a sec.”

Lily slowed. She turned to find the hostess closing in with a gauging look. “Just promise me you aren’t some old steady aiming to spy on the guy.”

Lily was puzzled at first, then adamant. “No. Definitely not. Just a friend.”

The woman gently smiled, her lips red and glossy. She tipped her head. “Then follow me.”

• • •

In a blink, Lily became a mouse in a maze. She scampered behind the hostess, winding through the kitchen, where cooks were stirring and frying and plating food for frenzied waiters. A mixture of spices rode the air scented with boiling carrots and sizzling steaks.

“Through here,” she said when Lily paused, questioning the destination. “A shortcut.”

To what, Lily had no inkling. But she hazarded to follow her guide into the storage room. Behind stacked barrels marked as flour waited a narrow staircase. Apprehensive, Lily trailed down the steps. A single light bulb hung overhead.

At the base stood a metal wall. The woman knocked and waved at a small hole, and magically the barrier slid open. A brawny Italian allowed them passage. Lily had just edged past him when a swirl of voices caught her ear.

The hostess

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