She was great. The servicemen offered her money and she brought her fingers to her lips and suggested that they leave an extra tip for the waitstaff, who worked very hard. Even that brought applause.
Drew was next on stage, admonishing Suzette for the dust, and when she claimed there was none, he blew on top of a stack of books and enough dust started flying to bring about more laughter. The two did a song, played with the audience, and next out to join them were Liz and Doug. Liz was wonderful, throwing out phrases in Italian and German, being silly as she played with the audience. Doug pretended to have been just about everywhere, but had all his facts very obviously wrong.
Clay made his entrance, playing with every female he passed, managing to do so with such a caricature of a playboy that even the men whose wives or girlfriends he stopped to ridiculously seduce were laughing right along with the women. Stephanie gave him a few moments in the spotlight, then made her own entrance, admonishing him, but then stopping to muss someone's hair, sit on a lap, or simply stare at a man. She pretended to be so caught up in one of the servicemen that Clay had to come to get her.
They did their number, the group came out to argue about who really knew the world the most, and Doug did his best with a "what did it matter" speech—they were in Italy, on the water, in the sun, and wherever else any of them had been, the club was the finest place in the world.
The show ran an hour and a half. Much of it was bantering with the audience, asking questions about who was married, who was dating, where they all came from originally. The group was wonderful, eager to get in on the action.
When Stephanie pretended to teach Doug to bump and grind, their hapless audience "volunteer" put on a spectacular show himself, and they were all impressed, and the ad-libs flew because the guy could really dance.
It was near the end of the show when Stephanie was in the background as Doug and Liz did a question-and-answer session about marriage when she looked toward the rear of the café. She missed a beat, frowning. It was dark in the back, but she could have sworn, if only for a second, that she saw Reggie. But as she looked that way, the woman turned. She seemed to see someone, or something, that frightened her.
Because she bolted from the doorway, as if she were hurrying out before she could be seen.
It was Reggie… it had been, hadn't it?
"Well?" Clay was staring at her. She remembered where they were in the play.
" You can make a group sing louder than I can." She swung her little purse around and assessed the audience. "Oh, honey, I don't think so." She skipped down into the audience, picking on a young lieutenant. "Don't you think my half of the audience could sing much, much louder?"
"I'd be a soprano for you!" the man told her solemnly, causing a rise of laughter.
Soon, they were taking their last bows. Their audience was on its feet, clapping and laughing as they exited the theater. Waiters from the restaurant saw to it that the group filed out—not rushed, but moving along.
Back in the eaves stage left, Stephanie found herself lifted and whirled around. Drew was delighted.
Once again, they were on a high of excitement.
"It was fabulous! Who ever would have believed it!" Suzette exclaimed.
By then, Grant and Lena reached them. Again, hugs and kisses went around the group. Arturo burst in on them, and joined in the hugging and kissing. He had brought several bottles of champagne, and they were quickly popped.
"What an opening night! Wait until Reggie hears!" he said.
"You know, I could have sworn that I saw Reggie tonight, in the back of the house," Stephanie said, accepting a glass of champagne. "Did you see her—or the woman who looked just like her, Arturo?"
Arturo stared at her blankly. "Reggie, no. A woman who looked like her… no, I don't think I saw anyone like her."
"Grant, did you see who I'm talking about?" Stephanie asked.
He shook his head. "Sorry, my attention was on the stage."
Stephanie shrugged. "Well, anyway, there's someone here who looks an awful lot like Reggie. Maybe I'll see her again tomorrow."
"Strange," Grant said.
"What?" Stephanie asked him.
"Reggie is so unique, that's all," he said.
He was right. And still… she had to have seen someone who resembled Reggie to some extent. She felt a slight irritation. Reggie should have been here for tonight. The cast had really performed magnificently.
Laughter, champagne, and happy comments about each other's ad-libs and audience members continued for a while. Everyone was thrilled. But at last, they realized that they'd stayed backstage very late, and that there was a lot of work to do in the morning.
"Lena," Liz asked, "think you'll be taking your role back soon?"
"I hope so. But probably not tomorrow. And you were wonderful."
"Thanks," Liz said. "Well, we're going black on Sunday and Monday, so probably by Tuesday, you'll be ready."
"I hope," Lena said. She stared at Liz, then gave her a hug. "Thank you. You were a godsend!"
"Let's just be thankful you're doing so much better. I've had fun," Liz said.
They started out the backstage doors to the beach.
"Hey!" Grant said, suddenly somber. "Let's not forget the stick-together rule here."
"Right!" Drew said. "Okay, Grant, I take it you're escorting Stephanie. Clay, you'll walk Liz to her place.
I'll get Lena back safe and sound, and Doug, that leaves you with Suzette."
"Sorry," Doug grimaced at Suzette.
"Hey, you're like a knight in shining armor, okay? Good night, all." She caught Doug's tie, and started walking him.
"Good night, everyone," Stephanie said. She walked ahead of Grant. At her door, she paused.
"You know I won't go away," he said softly.
She opened the door, and let him follow behind her. She walked into the kitchen, trying to be casual.
"You know, I'm not sure that I thanked you for all you've put in."
"It was nothing, ma'am."
"But seriously, you came here because of your fascination with archeology—the old, the ancient, and the Crusaders and knights."
He didn't answer her right away. "I think I'm here because I had to be here."
She felt a slight chill. "I don't know what you mean."
"I can't explain. And it doesn't really matter." There was something more that he could have said, but she knew Grant; he had decided he'd said enough.
"Grant, I'm still very worried about you," she murmured.
"And there you go, backing away again. In a thousand years, Stephanie, I would never hurt you," he told her.
She sighed. "You've talked about something strange going on here. But Maria was killed by animals—that's what doctors, men of medical science, had to say. And Gema… well, the wolves would have had to have packed up for her. So there has been a very tragic occurrence, but nothing so terribly strange, Grant."
"Um. Right. Well, I'm not leaving, so where do you want me sleeping?"
She realized that she might be acting as strangely as he was, pulling him close one minute, pushing him away the next.
There was still something about the way he was acting… his thought processes, even, that was very, very scary.
But that minute, in the seclusion of her little kitchen, it didn't matter. He was there. She was there. And when she was with him…
Same as always. She felt that she breathed him in, that she drowned within him.
She poured a glass of water and drank it quickly.
"Steph, where am I sleeping?"
"Wherever you want," she told him, setting the glass down. She started up the steps to the bedroom, and a slight smile of anticipation teased at her lips.
As she walked, she began shedding clothing, leaving her shoes on the first step, casting her shirt off to lie on the fourth step, then her skirt on the seventh, her bra on the ninth.
At the loft landing, she skimmed out of her jeans and thong. She turned back, and saw that he was mounting the steps in the same fashion, loafers on the second step, shirt on the fifth, jeans on the eighth.
She met his eyes, and the night became electric. She let out a little cry as he reached her, swept her up, and caught her lips with fierce passion as his stride brought them both crashing down in the bed.
Night…
There were no dreams. Only the reality of him.
When she heard the knock, Suzette assumed that Doug had come back to say something; she had barely gotten in her cottage when she heard the sound.
She opened the door.
"Suzette."
She heard her name. It was like the sweetest caress, a sound that touched and evoked and hypnotized.
She heard the sound, a pleasant breeze that wrapped around her, soft as me brush of a flower petal. And then she saw the man.
She was dimly aware that he had no right to be there, certainly not at that time.
Then she heard the whisper of her name again.
"May I come in?" he asked.
"But… of course," she whispered.
And it seemed that the night wrapped around her.
Carlo Ponti met Grant in the restaurant at the breakfast buffet. He was frustrated, and yet excited.
"We've been asked to hold back again," he explained to Grant, "but there was a piece of metal armor that Heinrich had found before all this happened, and we sent it off to the museum to be studied. I just got a call back this morning, and the markings definitely indicate the house of de Burgh. And if that is the case, I believe we will shortly discover the remains of Conan de Burgh himself."
"That's wonderful," Grant said.
"Yes, we will be able to piece together a bit of history, prove what occurred here. And, of course, every time we are able to do something like this, we make the area more historical, and more exciting. I've been talking with the Discovery Channel, and they are interested. It's all more than we might have hoped.