The Twelve Apostles by William J Coughlin

Author:William J Coughlin [Coughlin, William J]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: G.P. Putnam Sons, Inc.
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

15

The muted bleat of the telephone awakened her. As in a dream, she was at first completely disoriented by the strange sound of the foreign telephone, and then by her room. Panic seized her until she finally realized she was in her bed at the Savoy.

Christina quickly sat up and looked at the other side of the big bed. It was empty. She then located the source of the sound and picked up the receiver.

“Yes,” she said.

“Mrs. Giles, this is John Forbes, Mr. Kuragamo’s London secretary. He asked that I call you.” His accent was very definitely upper-class British with just a hint of an effeminate inflection. “It’s two o’clock here, Mrs. Giles. Mr. Kuragamo asks that you join him for tea this afternoon.”

“What time?” She still felt as though she were half in a dream.

“Now, or tea time?” The man’s voice was civil, but there was a hint of exasperation.

“Now.”

“Two o’clock. In the afternoon, British time, Mrs. Giles. Allowing for the five-hour time difference, it is nine o’clock in the morning in your city of New York.”

“And what time is tea?”

“Four o’clock. Mr. Kuragamo asks that you join him downstairs. The Savoy is an especially lovely place to take tea.”

“In the restaurant?”

“No, madam.” Again the voice was just barely civil. “Tea is taken in the lobby. Tables are provided, and there’s chamber music to accompany tea.”

“That’s at four?”

“I presume that I can inform Mr. Kuragamo that you’ll meet him then?”

“Is he there? May I speak to him?”

There was a momentary pause. “I’m afraid he’s in conference at the moment, Mrs. Giles. I can see that he gets a message if you wish.”

“No, that won’t be necessary.”

“And you will meet him for tea?”

“Yes.”

“Very good.” She heard the click as he hung up. Replacing the receiver, Christina lay back on the smooth lavender sheets.

She wondered if she had dreamed it. She hadn’t been with many men: two young men, both college lovers, then Henry. There had been no one since, until now.

And the lovemaking itself had been dreamlike, too, although satisfying. Kuragamo was a powerful man, sure of himself. She had given herself completely.

She looked at the ceiling and wondered what was happening to her. It all seemed a blur: her break with Henry, the encounter with Kuragamo. She wished she felt the warmth of love for the tall Japanese, but her feelings were more complex, a mixture of affection and awe. She wondered if somewhere along the way she had lost the capacity to feel unreserved love.

She sat up and swung her feet over the side of the bed. She still felt loggy. Why hadn’t Kuragamo himself called? He’d always been so courtly. Perhaps he really was tied up in a meeting. His secretary had probably been trained to keep people away from him until he wanted to speak to them.

Even the bathroom had been built to preserve the period theme, old-fashioned in design but completely modern, including a shower. She enjoyed the sensation as hot water sprayed down from the golden shower head.

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