CHAPTER 19
CHAPTER 19
Ian waited until they had finished the afternoon session before he went back out to the rear wall again, a sweat-stained towel wrapped around his neck. He dialed Kari’s number and waited. When the phone rang and rang, without an invitation to leave a message, he grew worried.
Then a sleepy voice said, “Hello.”
“Kari?”
“Ian?”
“Did I call at a bad time?”
“What time is it?”
“Almost five. Kari, what’s wrong?”
“Indrid was here. I started painting. I fell asleep, and now I’m due at the neighbors for dinner in an hour. Why are you calling?”
“Oh, nothing. I was just wondering if you’d like some company.” He smiled at the gathering dusk. “But that was before.”
“Before what?”
“Before I heard you’ve been working. Can I see?”
“I never let anyone see my work like this. Never, never, never.” He was fairly certain he heard a smile in her voice. Then she said softly, “I suppose . . . if you really want.”
“I do. So much.”
“It’s just . . .”
“What?”
“The painting is about you.”
He steadied himself on the stone wall. “I actually don’t know what to say to that.”
“My neighbors have a friend. Her son is an artist. They want me to meet them. Why don’t you join us for dinner?”
“I’d love to. But are you sure I’d be welcome?”
“They were at Castaways when you played with the actor.”
“Connor Larkin.”
“They’d be thrilled to bits.” The smile in her voice was clear as the sunset. “But they’ll probably ask you to play for your meal.”
* * *
When Ian started back toward the studio, Danny’s crew were packing away their gear. Connor waved a farewell from his car and pulled through the open gates. Ian hurried home to shower and change. He waited until he was through town and heading south to make the call.
“Ms. Kerkorian’s office,” the receptionist said.
“It’s Ian Hart. I’m sorry to be calling so late. Could I set up a time to speak with Kiki tomorrow?”
“Hold please.”
Which was why Ian had phoned. This close to the festival’s opening, it was unlikely Kiki would stop working before midnight. The phone clicked twice. Then, “You just saved me a dime.”
“What’s up?”
“Your new attorney, Megan. She’s impressed me. Which doesn’t happen often. Especially with lawyers.”
“I’m glad to hear it. I like her,” Ian said.
“Is she your new manager?”
“I haven’t thought beyond the festival, Kiki.”
“Well, maybe you should. You could do worse.”
“I’ll definitely take that into consideration. What were you discussing?”
“No time. Ask her. What do you need?”
“Two quickies. First, I’m concerned about people coming to the second event, expecting to hear classical music, and being disappointed.”
“Already covered with your lady lawyer. We’re billing this as a night of soft jazz. Show tunes, hits from the fifties and sixties, like that. Anyone who wants a refund is welcome. Which isn’t happening.”
“How can you be certain of that?”
“Ian, darling, there is nothing that attracts a Miami crowd like fresh scandal.” A pause. Then, “We’re thinking of shifting you to the main hall.”
He could come up with only “Oh.”
“Naturally, your attorney is demanding a second pound of flesh.” Kiki was clearly enjoying herself. “What else, dear? I’m due on a conference call with Israel Saban. Please tell me you’ve been in contact with the conductor.”
“One of the most difficult conversations I’ve had in years.”
“You deserve nothing less. Go on. Point two.”
“I would like to coordinate things so I can stay at the same hotel as a friend.”
“Oh. Is that what they’re called these days? Does this friend have a name?”
“Kari Langham.”
“Should I know her?”
“She’s an artist. Kariel.”
A silence. “It’s not nice to plant your boss on the floor.”
“She’s staying at the Ritz Carlton. Can you book me a room there?”
“You do realize this is Miami in the high season, dear.”
That was good for a pause. “You’ve never called me that before. Dear.”
“A slip of the tongue. Forget it happened. I’ll do what I can. Must run. Bye.” A pause, then, “Dear.”