Fortune Is a Woman - Elizabeth Adler [152]
Aysgarth’s Hotel ran at ninety percent occupancy and the restaurant was one of the most famous and popular in the city. Money was flowing into Annie’s personal coffers and she had good reason to feel pleased with herself. She worked hard; her guests needs came first; her hand-picked staff were well paid and happy; and she was already talking with the Mandarin about opening a second hotel in New York and another in Hong Kong.
She glanced affectionately at Francie across the tea table. She thought that for a woman in her early thirties who had gone through all she had in life, there wasn’t a single line on her face. She still wore her heavy blond hair long and pulled back in a chignon and she had become one of San Francisco’s smartest women, always immaculately turned out in clothes ordered exclusively from Paris, though she had never been there in her life. And though she owned few pieces of jewelry, what she had was impressive, like the rope of creamy nickel-sized South Sea pearls she always wore and the enormous Burmese ruby ring that matched her soft woolen dress.
“Quality,” was the way Annie would have described her friend, and she didn’t just mean the Yorkshire interpretation of “aristocratic,” but the deeper sense of Francie’s quality as a person. Annie knew that her days were filled with business meetings and her precious time with Ollie. Francie was a loyal friend and a loving mother; she gave everything she was to others and left little over for herself. But Edward Stratton was long gone and it was time for Francie to meet other people.
“Other men, you mean?” Francie retorted when Annie mentioned it to her. “You must be dreaming, Annie. You forget who I am. Who do you suppose would want to be seen with the notorious Francie Harrison?”
Annie sighed exasperatedly. “I’m still not sure it was a good idea, you living with the Mandarin—it only adds to the gossip.”
“Well, at least it gives them something concrete to talk about,” Francie said carelessly. “What do you suppose they hate most—that he is Chinese? Or that he’s a man?”
Annie shook her head and poured more tea. “You’ve given them a double-header.”
Francie shrugged. “Anyway, I’d better get back and check on Ollie and his homework.” She laughed, her eyes softening with affection as she thought of him. “You know him, he’ll do anything to get out of it.” As she kissed Annie good-bye she said, “Will you join us at the ranch this weekend? And no, I just don’t want to hear you are too busy again. This hotel takes up your entire life.”
“That’s the way I like it,” Annie replied firmly. “And I’ll think about the ranch, Francie. We’ve a full house this weekend, there’s the Republican Party meeting and you know how demanding those politicians can be.”
“Well, I can’t blame them for choosing to stay at Aysgarth’s. It must be the loveliest hotel in the world.”
Annie smiled modestly. “Oh, I don’t know, maybe in Paris there’s another.” She laughed and added, “But they’ll not beat my food, even in Paris.”
Francie walked back up the hill from Aysgarth’s. She hated taking her car for such short distances, and anyway she could use the exercise. It was seven-fifteen when she got home and the houseboy greeted her in the hall with the news that master Ollie had been summoned to see the Mandarin. Surprised, she telephoned the office and when there was no reply she assumed they were on their way home and went upstairs to tidy herself for dinner.
Fifteen minutes later she came back down, smiling as she smelled the delicious aroma of ginger and chili coming from the kitchen; the Chinese cook doted on Ollie and each night he prepared special dishes for him.
A few minutes later the phone rang. She was in her bedroom and she grabbed it quickly and said, “Ollie?”
The man on the other end of the phone laughed, a short ugly sound that held no humor. “Ollie’s here with me, Francie,” he told her. “Down