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68: Reflections
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2024-10-29 19:42:56The Blue Yonder swayed with the rolling waves as Andrew and Evelyn reached the swim platform and pulled themselves back aboard.
Holding the railing, she got her feet under her and stood. At the ship’s bow, Blink had set up a folding chair. With his fishing line thrown into the water and the rod tucked into his folded arms, he dozed in the warm sunshine, his feet propped on the bow railing.
“And you were worried he might swim over to the cave.” Andrew glanced down his straight nose at her, flashing a devilish smile.
“No,” she corrected softly, reticent to wake their captain. Though the sun was warm, gooseflesh erupted over her skin. “I was worried he’d know what we’d been doing. None of this convinces me otherwise.”
Reaching into the back of the boat, Andrew lifted a towel, one of two Blink had left there for them. Unfolding it, he wrapped it about Evelyn’s should
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“He looks particularly taciturn and even a little moody,” Evelyn said softly as they neared Blink who was carefully readying the ship for their final day of sailing.“There was a liberal amount of alcohol flowing around here and a bikini contest last night,” Andrew reminded her. “If he’s sullen and uncommunicative at all—which I must admit, will surprise me—it seems more likely it’s from a late night and a whopping hangover than anything else. I’m certain we’ve nothing to fear, darling.”Despite his reassurances, Evelyn’s anxiety didn’t lessen. Her head throbbed dully, compounding her discomfort, even though they’d imbibed only mildly, gone to bed early—particularly for them—and they'd both rested well. The crisp morning air studded with bird calls and singing should have set the precedent for a perfect day.
World of Tomorrow 70: The Brown Derby
“Mr. James,” said the Trust’s manager, “performing the duties of a bank teller are not entry-level responsibilities. When you asked me about an internship, I expected you were hoping for experience for you or another man of your acquaintance. Women really don’t belong in roles such as this. It requires a highly detailed mind and with the emotions they have, they’re not as trustworthy. They’re better suited as data clerks.”Outside the manager’s office door, a disappointed Evelyn attempted to catch Andrew’s eye, worrying the tip of her thumb with her teeth. There was no good that could come of this—if the man didn’t want her around, if he thought that way about women in general—then he would only make the time she spent here miserable, even if she did get to learn some things she might never have the opportunity to otherwise.A wicked green
World of Tomorrow 71: Lucky Charm
Evelyn was waiting at the Trust’s double front door before eight o’clock the following morning. She recognized the first of the bank tellers to arrive—a generally pleasant young man with bright blue eyes and blonde hair named Rupert. They’d met yesterday afternoon during her introduction and tour. Though their coloring was the only commonality they shared, the soft-spoken introverted man still reminded her of Lily. It started a little homesick ache in her heart. He nodded brusquely, inserting his key into the door’s lock, then met her polite smiling gaze. “Good morning. I’m afraid the bank lobby won’t open until ten.” As was wont to happen, as soon as he looked into her eyes, he froze. She waited until he came to whatever conclusion he was going to about her presence and intention, giving him a brighter smile as he flashed his. “I must apologize, ma’am. I’ve forgotten your name. I remember now that you toured the lobby yesterday afternoon.” He flushed a little in embarrassment. “It
World of Tomorrow 72: Meddling 2
Andrew was waiting in the Ambassador lobby, engrossed in the newspaper when Evelyn arrived after her first day of real work at the Trust. Having the opportunity to observe him, unnoticed and uninterrupted, she ambled towards him more slowly, enjoying the view. The man was impeccable. So much so that sometimes it was achingly difficult not to fawn. Still, that was the last weakness she’d ever allow herself. She had to be careful about inflating his ego as it was. Since they’d arrived in California, he’d taken to keeping his hair shorter, which allowed him to avoid styling it with pomade. Though she preferred it longer purely for the sake of winnowing her fingers through it, there was no denying the sun-kissed waves had an appeal all their own. In combination with his handsome features and that fine, kissable mouth, he set the gold standard for a spectacular looking man. Abruptly, he folded the paper down, doubtless having reached the end of the article he’d been reading, and glanced
World of Tomorrow 73: Revisited
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World of Tomorrow 74: Remnants
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World of Tomorrow 75: Backlash
Evelyn leaned on the sill of one of large drawing room windows, her forehead pressed against the glass. The intermittent rains and fitful breezes of the last week had become sustained downpours with whip-like winds over the course of the weekend in advance of a dark heavy line of clouds that hovered ominously on the distant horizon, but fortunately, hadn’t drawn nearer. “There’s flooding in the streets below,” she rasped through her bruised and swollen throat. On the sofa, Andrew flicked down the newspaper to look at her, uncertain he’d heard her correctly with her back turned and the noise of the storm outside. “Was that flooding you said, darling?” Despite the sheeting rain on the windows and the occasional wind-driven bursts, she could still see part of Wilshire Boulevard from their vantage on one of the uppermost floors of the Ambassador. There’d been warnings, of course—people urged to stay indoors. Still, a few vehicles eased their way down the flooding streets, wiper blades
World of Tomorrow 76: Eye Wall
Collapsed lightly atop Andrew’s chest with her weight supported on her knees straddling him, Evelyn passively allowed him to move her, tugging her out of the twisted tangled silken nightgown she wore. As she settled over him again, she squirmed and stretched to put her mouth to his ear. “Do you really consider undressing is wise?” Planting his heels, he arched his hips upward into a tabled position, sending a blissful rippling aftershock through her, originating where their bodies were still merged. Hearing her soft groan so close to his ear, he groaned in response, hurrying to slide his sleep pants down his hips before relaxing flat on the bed again. “I consider anything that keeps as much of my naked flesh directly against yours to be wise,” he replied with a chuckle, his lips close to hers as she'd done to him. Tipping his face to hers, he pecked a brief kiss upon her lips as he used his legs and feet to work his sleep pants the rest of the way down his long legs.
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“Stop, Peter!” Sarah exclaimed, whirling to face behind her. She shot her brother an angry glare. “Peter, for pity’s sake, don’t throw dirt clods at your sister,” Andrew called over his shoulder, shifting his swaddled, sleeping son from his right shoulder to his left as they walked the long, tree-lined drive that led to the James’ estate, perched with its back on a bluff overlooking the Pacific Ocean. Gulls rode the ocean updrafts in the afternoon sun above the glistening water, occasionally diving when something of interest caught their eye. On the opposite side of the tree-lined drive, his wife’s tiny orchard of glossy-leaved oranges in full bloom left a sweet scent drifting over the drive on the warm, salty breeze off the sea. Not far away, Evelyn's gated garden was growing lush with upright stalks of corn, twined in the loving arms of pole beans with the wide leaves of squash spreading in a carpet at their feet along the ground in one row. In another, her tomatoes were already d
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The dancing had worked like a charm. For a couple of hours. Andrew had managed to get just shy of another couple hours on top of that, burning time off the afternoon by alternating between listening to the orchestra rehearse, dancing, and finally, by slipping a bribe to the broadcasting staff to show Evelyn their equipment set-up and to take their sweet time about it. After that, she’d become too fretful to do much beyond distractedly, which had quickly spoiled the ballroom option for both of them. They’d retired to their drawing room, taken afternoon tea, then Evelyn’s pacing had begun again in earnest. He had to admit, watching her as she combed through her drying hair at the dressing table, it might be time to worry about Will a little. It was going on eight o’clock. Late by any business standard, but certainly well past the time when most diners catering to the kind of clients they’d seen at the DeBaliviere Diner and Waffle House would be visiting
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World of Tomorrow 133: Black Tuesday
The hotel’s ballroom was a gently baroque style. Its elegant space was replete with all manner of luxuries one would expect of a high-profile hotel, no matter where one might visit in the world—custom paneled with artfully etched-mirror and plaster walls, gold-leafed accents and intricate crown moldings. Above the near-magical dancefloor, which was lit from below, hung in the decorative ceiling, a ponderous crystal chandelier lit the warm wooden dancefloor beneath it. Along the periphery, undulating balconies supported by Corinthian pilasters gave an air of classicism to the space, but one not overly staid. These generous galleries provided seating for those who had only come for a meal, to watch the dancing or to listen to the orchestra. They’d dressed for a late dinner, but though the orchestra played, their music broadcast exactly as Evelyn had always dreamed of experiencing, she and Andrew hadn’t danced. In fact, they hadn’t stayed much longer than
World of Tomorrow 132: Miserable Monday
“The Coronado was built, and I believe is now run, by Preston Bradshaw,” Andrew advised more than an hour later as their cab pulled away from the curb at the train depot. “He graduated from Columbia with my brother, Russell. The two were quite good friends as I recall. My father introduced him to Stanford White in New York City where he worked before returning to St. Louis. He’s responsible for the monumental hotels on Lindell Boulevard. The Melbourne and the Coronado at midtown and the theatre district. And opposite, near the Central West end, the Chase and the Forest Park hotels were also his commissions.” “Did you know him?” Evelyn asked, closing her burning eyes and resting her head against his shoulder. “Is that why we’re staying at the Coronado?” She left unspoken the reminder that the Coronado Hotel, in particular the hotel’s famed Caprice Club, was where they’d found Charlotte to serve Andrew’s divorce paperwork after their tip-off from the Princes in Los Angeles.
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