by Amber Polo Excerpt At eleven o’clock that night, as instructed, Rebecca waited on the bench closest to the creek near the front of her cottage, curious to meet the man with the great voice and beautiful handwriting. Unfortunately, that particular bench was the only one beyond the reach of the hotel security lighting. She felt strange sitting in the dark in her black business suit.… Above the flow of water over river stones, Rebecca heard noises from the hotel kitchen. She turned and in the dim light watched a man in a white coat approach. She sat straighter and was about to stand to greet him when she recognized the senior wine steward carrying a tray. “Miss Dumaurier. A gentleman requested this for you,” he said with a formal bow, but a knowing smile. “What gentleman?” “The gentleman said, ‘If the lady asks, tell her an admirer.’” The waiter placed a delicate crystal wine glass and a linen napkin on the small wooden table next to the bench, announcing, “Champagne, 1988 Krug Clos du Mesnil.” He added, “Our finest,” to be sure she understood, then turned and retreated up the path. Rebecca lifted the wafer-thin tulip glass to her nose and inhaled the distinctive smell of the legendary wine, allowing its bubbles to tickle her nose. A sip, just a sip. This was a business meeting. Yet, she couldn’t deny herself a taste of the most expensive champagne ever imported. “Excellent,” she whispered. “I am so happy that you like it,” said a deep, very male, voice behind her. Startled, she began to turn, but the voice she recognized from the phone message said, “No. Rebecca, please stay where you are. For now.” “Not turn around? Who are you?” she asked, trying to identify that spicy smell. “Please call me Max. I left a telephone message for you.” “Yes, but why can’t I see you? I’m not used to business meetings in the dark.” He laughed. “Much business is conducted that way. My dear, you enjoy your champagne and I will tell you my story.” “This is so weird! I mean...irregular.” For a moment she considered asking Little Rebecca more about this Max, but refused to give in to the bossy voice. “Perhaps, a little romantic?” His voice, like warm honey, made her heart beat faster. She ignored the heat, which felt a lot like desire. “Your message suggested a copyright dispute. Tell me the facts.” “Ah, of course, business first. Well then,” he sighed. “I wrote a...let us say...a book. An unscrupulous editor obtained possession and after cutting, adding, and totally distorting my meaning and intent, published it.”… “I am the author. Will you take my case?” the velvety voice asked. She felt breath warm on the back of her neck. She had to see him. She didn’t think she could prevent herself from turning around one more minute. “Yes,” she whispered. “Good. The deal is made. I will deliver the documentation to you, soon. But now...” Rebecca felt a hand rest on her shoulder, cool and strong. A shiver of excitement ran through her body. Unconsciously, she leaned toward his hand, deepening the touch. He released her and brushed the back of his hand lightly against her neck and cheek. His voice trembled. “Enjoy your champagne, Rebecca, my dear.” She turned. Fine hairs stood away from the back of her neck. Trees rustled in the evening breeze and the creek bubbled past. That spicy sweet smell lingered in the air, but no one stood behind her. On the table beside the wine glass lay a perfect long-stemmed red rose. |
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