Olivier by Brenda Rothert

Author:Brenda Rothert [Rothert, Brenda]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Silver Sky Publishing, Inc.

Chapter Thirteen

Olivier

* * *

Daphne is beside me on the Palmer House elevator, so close I can feel the heat of her even though we aren’t touching.

“This was…one of the best nights of my life,” she says, her voice thick with emotion.

She reaches over and takes my hand, and I squeeze hers gently.

“Me too,” I tell her. “I’ve never enjoyed spending money on anything as much as I did tonight.”

The woman we found in the car tonight is named Jada, and I had her and her children picked up and taken to the Palmer House, where I instructed the manager to treat them like royalty. While they cleaned up and had room service delivered, Daphne and I went shopping for clothes and shoes for all of them. We got toys and books, too, and we were already back at the hotel visiting with Jada and the kids when it was all delivered.

Seeing them cry with happiness over having new shoes was humbling. I asked Hassan to send a doctor to see the youngest boy, Michael, who was feeling better already when Daphne and I left because of the Tylenol the doctor gave him.

As the hotel elevator doors open and Daphne and I step out, a concierge approaches us.

“Mr. Durand, is there anything else we can do to make your guests more comfortable?”

“I think they’re good for now, but please look in on them in the morning,” I say.

A man in a suit approaches us, smiling from ear to ear.

“Mr. Durand, I’m Matthew Curtis, the manager here. Is there anything I can do for you or your guests?” he asks. “Perhaps a room for you tonight, or a drink?”

I look at Daphne. “Anything you want?”

“No, thanks.”

Several people stopped close by are taking pictures with their camera phones. Daphne releases my hand, and my good mood slips away. She doesn’t make anything easy when it comes to us.

“We’re good,” I tell Matthew. “But please take good care of our guests. They’ll be here for several nights.”

“Yes, sir. Consider it done. May we have our driver take you home?”

Ben dropped me off at Safe Harbor earlier, but I insisted he take the rest of the weekend off and told him I can either take an Uber or drive myself places.

“Is Alfred sending the Batmobile?” Daphne asks me, her expression dead serious.

“The Batmobile is in the shop,” I say wryly.

Matthew doesn’t react, but I’m sure he thinks we’re a few fries short of a Happy Meal.

“A ride would be great,” I tell him. “We’re going to Miss Barrington’s place near Wicker Park.”

“Well, I am,” she says.

“We both are.”

“Olivier.”

I turn to look at her. “Daphne.”

“I don’t think—”

I stop her. “I need your help filling out that check to the Southern Poverty Law Center. You’ll have to remind me how much to send them.”

She reluctantly turns her lips up in a smile.

“Olidaph!” someone calls out from the group of bystanders with camera phones. “Can I get a picture with you guys?”

We pose for a few photos and

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