Out Of Love Part 3

20.

"Where are we going for lunch?"

"I haven't decided, but you'd better bring your raincoat when you come downstairs."

"Why can't we just eat in the hotel restaurant?"

"Because I haven't been to New York in eight years. I want to see more than just the airport and the hotel."

A knock at the door announced their breakfast delivery.

Carmen hurried into the bedroom and shut the door while Cathy dealt with the waiter. Emerging moments later in a thick, white terrycloth robe, she took a place at the small table and spread her napkin on her lap.

"Get out and see things while you're here. I want you to have a good time, Cathy," she said hopefully.

"It isn't going to make me want to travel with you."

"But you can see how much I need you here. And there's the trade show in June. You can bring Hank. Maui . . . beaches . . .

palm trees."

"Airplane over the ocean . . . nowhere to land."

Carmen sighed and removed the aluminum cover from her plate. Underneath was a bowl of yogurt and granola. "I was so hoping for bacon and eggs."

"I know. Aren't you lucky I was here to save your arteries from certain death?"

"Excuse me," Judith said, putting forth her best smile. "I was wondering if there was a way you might be able to print a new nametag for me. This one has my name spelled wrong." Her last name was spelled O-'-S-H-A-E.

The woman's retort was surprisingly rude, even to a New Yorker. "It's spelled exactly the way it was submitted."

Judith usually avoided confrontation, but she didn't appreciate the implication that she was an idiot who didn't know how to spell her own name, especially with so many people standing 21 nearby. "Actually, not in this case. See, I have the printout from when I registered on the Internet." As she spoke, she unfolded her registration information alongside the errant nametag. "As you can see, the nametag is different."

"Well, I can't print another one. You'll have to hand-write it,"

she said curtly, handing over a label and black marker.

Judith forced another smile. "Thank you very much. May I borrow those scissors too?"

The woman pushed them across the table without making further eye contact. "Who's next?"

Judith slid sideways to the far end of the table, where she carefully printed an E and an A in block letters. Then she cut them out and plastered them over the last two letters on her nametag. She was trying to slide the label back into its plastic holder when a woman she didn't recognize approached her.

"Sorry, do you need this marker or the scissors? I'm finished."

The woman stared at her as if studying her face. Her nametag was hidden behind a leather folder she held to her chest.

"No, I just wanted to say h.e.l.lo and introduce myself. I'm Cathy Rosen, from The Delallo Group." She smiled broadly and held out her hand.

"Judith O'Shea. At least I will be when I fix this." She held up her doctored nametag with one hand and shook Cathy's with the other.

"Is this your first convention?"

"No, my second. I went to the one in Boston three years ago." She couldn't help but notice that Cathy seemed intensely interested in her reply.

"I missed that one. Was it a good one?"

"It was nice, but there's nothing quite like having one in your hometown."

"Oh, they'd never have one of these in Chicago. Not s.e.xy enough."

"I hear Chicago's a wonderful city."

22.

"I think so, but then I'm biased. Say, since you're from around here, maybe you can recommend someplace nearby that would be good for a working lunch."

"I know there's a great Irish pub around Park and Thirty-Ninth. But I've heard the hotel restaurant is nice too. I'm supposed to meet someone there to talk business. I guess he thought it was a good place for something like that."

"Well, thank you. We may check it out. It was very nice meeting you, Judith. Maybe we'll see each other again this weekend."

"I hope so, Cathy."

Judith watched with curiosity as the woman walked away. It wasn't unusual for convention-goers to be friendly as they networked with one another, but few seemed as genuine as Cathy Rosen.

23.

Chapter 3.

"I need a table for eight, please."

Judith smiled as she recognized Cathy at the hostess stand. So she had decided to eat here in the hotel after all.

The hostess studied the layout as she collected a handful of menus. "I can have something in about five minutes."

"That's all right. We're not all here yet," Cathy answered, glancing back again to the busy hotel lobby.

"What's the name?"

"The Delallo Group."

Judith wondered if Carmen Delallo would be part of Cathy's lunch group. Several people were cl.u.s.tered together with Cathy at the entry, but Judith didn't recognize any of them as the company head, at least not as she was pictured in the session guide.

Probably everyone at the ATP convention knew Carmen Delallo, if not personally, then by reputation. Each year, her 24 company put out a syndicated study of lifestyles and travel behaviors that predicted all the hot new destinations and amenities. Agencies used it as a roadmap for marketing and advertising, and swore by its recommendations. Myrna used to say it was as if Carmen had a crystal ball.

When Myrna ran the agency, Rainbow Getaways subscribed to TDG's annual marketing guide, but Todd killed that budget item as soon as he came on board and discovered that Conover's report was less expensive. It was also useless as anything more than an ad-buying tool, Judith thought, but Todd rarely let facts come into play once his mind was made up.

"Carmen, over here!" Cathy waved through the crowd, and the rest of her party bustled forth. "I hope this is okay. I didn't think anyone would want to go out in the rain."

The impeccable Carmen Delallo stood out in the crowd.

Judith had always been a sucker for Mediterranean women, but Carmen took the look to a whole new level. She had the characteristic olive skin and onyx eyes, and her wavy collar-length hair was so dark it seemed indigo. She also possessed elegance and grace that came only to women who were certain of their strength.

Standing just five feet away, Judith was instantly infatuated.

Bob Durbin suddenly pushed through the crowd and Judith straightened her stance, eager to get on with the next phase of her life, a new job with better benefits, bigger travel budgets and support staff.

"Hi, Mr. Durbin."

"Julia, sorry to keep you waiting."

"It's Judith. That's okay, I-"

"I'm afraid I'm not going to be able to keep our lunch date. I just ran into a colleague from Atlanta and he reminded me of something important we need to discuss."

Judith carefully masked her annoyance. If the a.s.shole was going to cancel, he could have done so twenty minutes ago. But 25 she couldn't let her irritation show. She needed to be polite and get this interview rescheduled. "That's all right. I understand.

Maybe we can . . ." Just like that, Durbin was gone. And to her supreme embarra.s.sment, Carmen Delallo was looking right at her and had probably overheard the whole brush-off.

Apparently, so had the hostess. "Table for one?"

"Fine," she grunted, following her to a row of narrow tables for two against the wall where one side was a padded bench facing the dining room and the other side a chair facing inward.

She hated having her back to people when she was alone, so she chose the bench, instantly regretting that she would now have to look at all the other diners. There she sat, feeling ridiculously conspicuous. She should have canceled her table and grabbed something from one of the vendors in the train station tunnel below the hotel. All she wanted now was to eat something fast and get out of there.

A large table was positioned on a riser across from where she sat, and that's where they seated The Delallo Group. All sharply dressed and carrying business folders, they looked like the smartest people in the room. No wonder people in the industry seemed to hang on their every word.

Alone against the wall, Judith was apparently invisible to Jose the waiter, who stopped first at Carmen's table to get their orders before ever nodding in her direction. When he finally made it over, she ordered food and drink all at once, choosing the tomato bisque because she thought scooping up a bowl of soup would be quick. When a raucous laugh erupted at Carmen's table, she looked up to see Cathy talking animatedly. That was the kind of atmosphere Judith wanted at work. Too bad she wasn't trained in research. She would just walk over there and introduce herself.

She laughed softly and shook her head. As if she would ever have the nerve to do something like that.

Thinking she would look less stupid if she appeared busy, she opened her convention packet. It was full of freebies-pens, 26 pads, calendar magnets-and marketing materials, such as the brochure from The Delallo Group. On the front was a picture of Carmen, her arms folded and her eyes boring into the camera.

The photo definitely did her beautiful features justice, but more important, it conveyed certainty. That's why people followed her around waiting for whatever information nugget she might share.

Judith's stomach filled with hope every time the door from the kitchen opened, but the staff in the back didn't seem to care she had ordered something simple. The Delallo Group was served first, sandwiches and salads, it appeared. It all looked good, especially the forkful of spinach salad Carmen was holding up . . . as if she were offering Judith a bite.

Judith felt her face grow red as she realized Carmen had caught her staring and was grinning directly at her. Nervously, she smiled back, afraid to be too obvious in case her eyes were playing tricks on her. She'd had enough embarra.s.sment for one day. When Carmen showed no signs of breaking off the gaze, Judith finally blinked and looked away, thrilled to see Jose headed her way with what looked like a simple bowl of soup.

Finally, she could eat and get out of there.

But just as Jose reached the table, the hostess called his name and he turned his head. Judith watched in horror as the tray tilted, the bowl slid across the plate, and rich, red soup poured down her jacket and into her lap. Immediately, she and the stunned waiter grabbed every linen napkin within reach to mop up the mess, but she was left with a red stain on her tan suit that looked like a map of North and South America. Every eye in the room was on her, no doubt waiting for her to tear Jose's head off.

But even in her frenzied state, she collected herself, knowing an eruption would only make matters worse.

The manager rushed over to take charge. "I'm terribly sorry, madam."

She saw Jose cowering as if he feared being fired on the spot.

27.

"It's all right. It was my fault. I stuck my foot out accidentally."

"We'll be happy to take care of the cleaning, and, of course, your lunch is on us."

Judith wanted to point out that her lunch was on her, but that was just too obvious. She wasn't even hungry anymore, but no way was she going to get up and walk out with everyone staring.

Miraculously, Jose brought the next bowl of soup immediately and she nursed it, waiting for all the people who had wit-nessed the disaster to leave. But The Delallo Group stuck around long after Jose cleared their dishes. Judith could hear Carmen giving each of her staff an a.s.signment of some sort.

Questions were asked and answered, and one by one the notebooks were folded and the staffers left the table. Only Carmen was left to sign the bill.

Judith plotted her strategy. When Carmen left, she would make a run for it, straight for the coatroom to get her rain jacket-which wouldn't begin to cover her ruined suit-and right out the front door. Attending the afternoon sessions like this was out of the question.

Carmen stood, but instead of heading for the exit, she walked over to stand in front of Judith's table.

"Hey, sorry about your accident."

Judith tried to smile, but failed miserably. "Just that kind of day, I guess."

"Yeah, I saw Bob Durbin break your lunch date. That was pretty rude of him if you ask me."