“Are there any messages for room twelve thirteen?” “No madam. There are no messages, at this time. However, Mr. Roberts has returned to the room.”
I thanked the front desk clerk for his help before turning and walking towards the hotel elevators. I was somewhat surprised by my own reaction to hearing that Frank was waiting for me upstairs. I was quite looking forward to seeing him again.
By no means could you describe Frank Roberts as handsome, but it was his little boy lost spirit that touched my heart. Whoever the first Mrs. Roberts was, she had left deep scars that needed healing.
The elevator doors opened on the third floor. I stepped out and walked slowly down the hallway with its deep red carpet bearing a gray fleur-de-les pattern. I knocked on the door before entering my shared hotel room. Frank answered the door wearing one of the hotel’s towels.
“You always answer your hotel door wearing nothing but a towel?” I asked.
“Honestly no, but I was praying it was you at the door,” he said. As I walked passed him into the room, I let my eyes sweep the length of his body, which was surprisingly firm. “Well, it seems your prayers were answered.”
“That was only the start of my prayers,” He leaned down and kissed me, letting the towel fall down around his feet. I returned his kiss reveling in the salt sweet taste of his mouth. I allowed him to pull me closer. I could feel the firmness of his body through my clothing. My knees weaken. As my will was giving way to his, a word – one single word – sprang into my over-heated brain, SAM. I began struggling to free myself from his arms. “It’s too soon. Sam has only been gone for two months. I can’t, not yet.”
I could see the disappointment in his eyes. Reluctantly, he freed me from his grasp. “All right, I understand, he said. How about I get dressed and we have some lunch.”
“Thank you for understanding.” I let my hand caress the roughness of his face. “Lunch would be wonderful, I said, looking away as he retrieved the towel from the floor.
After Frank left the room, I fixed myself a drink from the mini bar and dialed WKXR. It was eleven thirty a.m. in New York, and twelve thirty p.m. in Illinois. LaTanya our receptionist answered. “This is Mrs. Larson, LaTanya. Please put me through to Mr. Walker.”
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Larson, but Mr. Walker isn’t here. He hasn’t been in all day. In fact, he left word last night that he would be in New York.”
“David is here in New York”?
“Yes, ma’am, he is.”
“Do you know where he’s staying here in New York?”
“No ma’am. He didn’t leave an itinerary.”
“Thank you LaTanya.”
Confused, I dialed David’s mobile phone. A man, whose voice I wasn’t familiar with answered the phone.
“No. He’s here but he’s not feeling too well right now. Maybe you call him back later.”
The line went dead. I quickly checked the number I’d dialed against the number I had written in my address book. Correct number. I redialed. No answer. Now I was worried. Why hadn’t David mentioned, to me, that he as coming to New York? Feeling a bit irritated, I crossed the room and stood before the large picture window that offered a view of Bowery Bay. I stared off into the expanse as if by some miracle, I could summon him up.
I finished my drink as Frank stepped from the bathroom wearing a gray Ralph Lauren cashmere sweater and a pair of Brooks Brother’s jeans. Both of which I had a hunch he’d purchased on the way back to the hotel.
“Did you know David was here in New York?”