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“Dad?” Veronica and Vincent chorused.
“Uncle Alan,” Jessica added.
“Hey, everybody,” he called out.
“Where are you?” Melanie asked.
Alan Harte was a career diplomat in the State Department. He traveled the globe at the behest of the U.S. government. At any given time he could be called upon to travel across continents for weeks or months on end.
“Actually, I just landed at JFK. I’m here in New York for the next few months. Or so they tell me,” he added with a chuckle. “Thought I’d come out to the Harbor later today.”
“Of course! We’d love to see you. And you’re staying here,” his younger sister insisted.
“I’ll think about it, sis. I’m in New York but it’s not a vacation. I’m on the clock. Getting back and forth from the city to Sag Harbor may be a bit much. But I can certainly spend a couple of days there. I miss the kids. And you,” he added, his voice warming with affection for his sister. “And…I, uh, have a favor to ask.”
“No problem. What is it?”
“We’ll talk about it when I get there.”
“Can’t you give me a hint?”
“Let’s just say I may have a client for you.”
The Platinum Society was a family-run business that went back two generations. The current Melanie Harte made it three. Since its inception, well before Melanie’s birth, the first Melanie Harte was the consummate matchmaker. Legendary among her circle for pairing up just the right people, the first Melanie Harte realized that she could turn what came naturally to her into a business because she was being asked by everyone from college professors to executives to find them that perfect someone. But it was her daughter, Carolyn, who’d graduated with honors from Columbia University with an MBA in marketing and a BA in psychology, who took the mom-and-pop operation to the next level. She taught her daughter everything she knew, but it was Melanie who took the company platinum.
Melanie and the team put off discussing the new client, who was so eager to find a mate that he was willing to pay an extra twenty-five thousand dollars in addition to the standard fifty-thousand-dollar fee. That, to Melanie, was a red flag. She was glad they were temporarily putting that assignment on hold.
Meanwhile her nieces and nephew were busy trying to figure out who Alan’s client was.
“It’s probably some Secret Service guy,” Jessica said. “You know they don’t have time to find anyone.”
“Do they make enough money to afford us?” Vincent asked.
Melanie shot her nephew a look and bit back a smile. One thing she could say about Vincent, he kept his eye on the bottom line.
“I’m sure Alan told them what we require,” Melanie said. “But as you all know we can make an exception if the situation warrants it.”
“Aunt Mel, the last exception was in 1955 by your grandmother,” Jessica stated skeptically. She was the resident historian of The Platinum Society. She knew everything there was to know about TPS from the very first day to the present. She’d catalogued all of Grandma Harte’s notes and Aunt Carolyn’s floppy disks and created a comprehensive history and profile of the company, complete with successes, failures, marriages and births in a digital archive and Web site that included narratives, photo galleries, videos and podcasts. “But of course the decision is up to you, Aunt Mel,” Jessica added.
The trio looked at her and groaned good-naturedly.
“As soon as I can get all the details on our new client, I’ll get busy on a profile and run him through the database for potential matches,” Veronica said.
“Uncle Alan has some pretty cool friends,” Jessica said. “If he’s true to form, this assignment may be as much fun as it is lucrative.”
Melanie smiled. “I’m sure you’re right.”
It was nearing two o’clock when the black Range Rover pulled onto the winding driveway of the Sag Harbor mansion. Melanie spotted it from her ground-floor office window. She hopped up from her desk and darted out into the hallway.
“He’s here,” she yelled, quickly walking toward the door.
Veronica and Vincent emerged from the kitchen. Jessica bounded up the stairs from the indoor gym, a towel draped around her neck.
The smiling quartet stood in the archway as Alan Harte strode toward the door.
The word that always came to mind when describing her older brother was debonair. There was an air of almost old-world movie star power that radiated from the six-foot-three, two-hundred-and-twenty-pound hunk. An impeccable dresser, handsome, intelligent, well-traveled, funny and financially in the black, with a great job—Alan Harte was a single woman’s dream come true. But he loved his freedom, which had led to the demise of his marriage. As her former sister-in-law used to say, Alan may have said his vows to her, but he married his job.
“Always good to come home,” he said, softly kissing cheeks and hugging his son, who was the spitting image of his father.
Vincent took his father’s overnight bag and brief case, while his sister and cousin hooked their arms possessively through his with Melanie closing ranks.
“How long are you in town?” Veronica asked.
“I’m thinking a month or two, maybe longer. I’ll know in about a week.”
“Are you going to stay here for a few days at least?” Melanie asked, and with her question she realized how much she’d missed her brother.
Their sister Phyllis—Jessica’s mom—died during childbirth and their parents and grandparents had been gone for many years, so it was just the two of them to look after the next generation.
Alan draped his arm around her shoulder. “Actually, I was planning on staying through the weekend.”
Everyone cheered in delight.
“I do have a favor, though.”
“Sure,” Melanie responded.
Alan looked from one expectant face to the other. “I mentioned in my call that I had a potential client for you. Well, there’s a private party and reception at the American embassy…”
All eyebrows rose on cue.
“Black tie, invitation only.”
“Get to the good part, Uncle Alan.”
Alan chuckled. “That’s where your new client will be tonight. I thought it would be a great time to meet him, so I finagled invitations for all of you.” His voice lowered. His tone turned mockingly serious. “I presume you have something suitable to wear?”
Whoops of laughter echoed around the room.
Alan tossed his head back and laughed. Man, it was good to be home.
Vincent checked his Rolex. “What time do we need to be ready, and uh, can I bring Cherise?”
“I got you covered, son. Call that pretty wife of yours and tell her that the Hartes are partying tonight. A car will be here to pick us up at seven.”
All three women’s hands immediately reached for their hair at the same time.
“I’ll give Leona a call and let her know we’ll be at the shop in a half hour,” Melanie said quickly. After all, a woman’s crowning glory was her hair. She turned to her brother. “With all of the excitement you never told me who our potential client is.”
Four sets of eyes landed on Alan. “His name is Claude Montgomery. He’s the chief of staff for Senator Lawson.”
The doors to the conference room opened and the corridor filled with conversation. Some voices were raised in laughter, and others were low in muted discussions.
Claude loosened his tie. He veered off from the throng of suits that filled the hallway. He checked his watch. A three-hour meeting. Inwardly he groaned. Most of the time had been spent arguing points that had been debated for the past month. Typical Washington politics. He fully understood the frustration of the President and the American people. He was just as frustrated. No one else seemed to mind. It was business as usual on Capitol Hill. He strode down the hall, putting on his game face to deter even the most relentless lobbyist.
“Mr. Montgomery, these papers need your signature,” his secretary said, waylaying him. She carried a folder under her arm that bulged. Her smile was sympathetic.
He’d hoped to be able to sneak away under the radar, tie up some loose ends in his office and catch a plane to New York.
She quickened her step to keep up with him. “I know you have a flight to catch. I’ve tabbed the pages that you need to sign.”
They turned left and walked down another corridor lined with doors. Name plates identified the offices. His office was around the next turn. He opened the door and let her go in first. She crossed the room and stood in front of his desk.
Joyce had worked for him since he was named chief of staff for Senator Lawson. Six years. She knew him well, and that meant catching him when she could. She was a master at timing his entrances and exits. She was smart, discreet and damned good at her job, Claude thought. What he appreciated most was that she never wielded her sexuality. Joyce Holden was stunning. She was an exotic mix of East Indian and African American with a luminous honey-brown complexion, wide dark eyes and silky black hair that hung like a veil to the middle of her back. Her body rivaled a Victoria’s Secret model. He’d been hesitant about hiring her for all of those reasons. He didn’t need or want the distraction. But her professional demeanor dwarfed her allure. He gave her a chance and there wasn’t a day that he’d regretted his decision. They were co-workers, equals and friends. He wouldn’t be able to manage without her.
He took off his jacket. His stark white shirt appeared to gleam against his rich chocolate complexion. There was a line of women in D.C. who vied for Claude’s attention, Joyce thought. She placed the folder on his desk and opened it. What she admired about him was that he never mixed business with pleasure. In all the years she’d worked for him, there was never even a whisper of impropriety. He was often the topic of discussion among the female staffers. They all wanted her take on his availability and their chances with him. Her answer was always the same: “Set your sights elsewhere.” She was one of the few people that knew anything about his personal life and what had scarred him. Her loyalty and admiration of him would never allow her to share that knowledge.
“These are the staff reviews that you approved for this quarter.” She lifted them out of the folder and handed them to him one at a time.
As chief of staff he was responsible for more than one hundred employees who were part of Senator Lawson’s team, from file clerks to committee members. It was his job to know each and every one of them by name, their responsibilities and their ability to do what they were hired to do. He also took time to get to know them personally, their families, their long-term ambitions, their shortcomings and strengths. If the team looked good, Senator Lawson looked good. He had the senator’s ear and his complete confidence, and every member of the team knew that if they wanted to get ahead they needed to stay on the right side of Claude Montgomery.
“Long weekend coming up,” he said, glancing at the document in front of him. “Any special plans?” He scrawled his signature at the bottom. Joyce handed him the next file.
“Me and Luke and the kids are going to Seattle to spend some time with his parents.”
“How is his mother?”
She handed him another document. “Better. But she hasn’t been the same since the stroke.”
He glanced up and caught the unhappy look in her eyes. “I’m sorry. I wish there was something else I could do. I know it must be a real strain on Luke.”
“You’ve done more than anyone could ask. The therapist and home attendant that you got for her has made a world of difference and took a lot of weight off of Luke’s and his father’s shoulders. We can’t thank you enough.”
He waved off the sentiment. “If you need more time, just let me know. We’ll work it out.”
They pushed through the paperwork and finally closed the folder.
“Your flight leaves in an hour. I have the car waiting for you outside.”
He stood and grabbed his jacket from the back of his chair. She walked to the corner and handed him his briefcase on his way out of the door.
They walked out together.
“Try to enjoy yourself. I know how much you hate those gatherings.”
He groaned. “I’ll try.”
“Have a safe trip,” she said.
He walked out of the building and into the late afternoon breeze. “Thanks.” He waved goodbye and jogged down the stairs to the waiting Lincoln Town Car.
Within moments he was reclining against the lush interior upholstery of the car and speeding through the streets of D.C. Before long the iconic images of the White House, the Washington Monument and the Capitol building became smaller until they disappeared in the distance.
He leaned back against the soft leather and closed his eyes. Getting out of town and back to his home in Westchester was always something that he looked forward to. It was an opportunity for him to unwind and shed the rigors and stress that confronted him in his life in Washington. Unfortunately, the demands of the job didn’t allow him to get home as often as he would have liked. That reality pricked him more so today. Rather than roaming the cozy rooms of his home, listening to music, maybe catching up with a friend or taking his bike out for a spin along New York’s highways, he was going home to get ready for a stuffy black-tie dinner. The very thing he worked at not doing—at least as much as he could.
He had Alan Harte to thank for this one, he thought, as he followed the line of boarding passengers and took his seat in coach. Alan could convince the devil to change his ways. He smiled to himself.
They’d been friends for years from Claude’s early days of doing community work back in his home state of Louisiana. Alan was newly divorced and climbing up the ranks at the State Department. They’d met during an education forum in Baton Rouge and had been friends ever since. It was Alan who’d introduced him to Senator Lawson.
They tried to get together as often as they could, but with Alan’s constant traveling and Claude’s busy schedule it was often difficult. So when Alan strong-armed him into attending an embassy event, he relented for old times’ sake. He’d said that it was high time that Claude had a woman in his life—not that Alan ever would again—and that his sister Melanie was the one who could make magic happen.
Claude had no real interest in a permanent relationship. At least he didn’t think he did. But in the weeks leading up to today the notion began to take shape in his head. When he looked at his life, it was a complete success. He had what most longed for. Yet, there were times when the loneliness of his life hit him. Like today, when Joyce talked about her husband and kids and visiting relatives during the brief time off. Most days he didn’t miss that kind of thing. But more often than he cared to admit he’d begun to long for a life that he’d almost had—once.
He fastened his seatbelt and opened his copy of The Washington Post. He turned to the arts and entertainment section.
The captain announced that they were next in line for takeoff and they should be landing at New York’s LaGuardia airport on time.
He folded the newspaper on his lap, leaned back and shut his eyes. Might as well catch a quick nap, he thought. He had a long night ahead of him. As he drifted off into a light sleep he wondered fleetingly if Alan’s sister was as good as he claimed she was. He’d always spoken of her in such glowing terms, and curiously enough in the years that he and Alan had been friends, Claude had never met Melanie.
He’d seen pictures and he’d often wondered if she was as attractive in person. There was something about her smile and her eyes that drew him. And he often wondered with the business that she was in if there was a man in her life. He’d never ask Alan anything like that, so it was ironic that their first meeting would be with her in the role of matchmaker for him.
He was the last person to even think about using a dating service, but Alan insisted it was much more than that—and he’d guarantee a wonderful outcome.
“Then why don’t you use it?” Claude had asked after Alan had all but browbeaten him into attending the gala and meeting Melanie.
“First of all, I’m family. That would be like winning the sweepstakes grand prize and being an employee of the company that sponsored it.”
Claude just looked at him, shook his head and chuckled. “Whatever, man. I’m only doing this because we’re friends.”
Alan slapped him on the back. “You won’t regret it. Promise.”
That remained to be seen, Claude thought as he finally put his key in the door to his Westchester home. It remained to be seen.
Chapter 2
Melanie had been to her share of high-class soirees—from Paris to the Caribbean, rubbing elbows with athletes, billionaires, movie and television stars, corporate moguls and media-shy executives. But it was always a treat to be in the company of real power, the political machine that made the decisions about everything from health care to appointments to the Supreme Court. There was an unmistakable energy that emanated from the men and women in politics that could be found nowhere else in the world. For Melanie, it was a definite turn on.
Tonight the party was being hosted by the newly named American ambassador to Spain, which decidedly influenced the evening’s décor, entertainment and menu.
Alan escorted his small entourage through security and took them into the grand ballroom. When Alan said black tie, he wasn’t kidding. The men were decked out in tuxedos, some with tails and cummerbunds. The women perfectly complemented their escorts’ attire in cocktail dresses and evening gowns. But it was the jewelry that competed for attention, sparkling from ears, wrists and throats with enough joint wattage to light up the heavens.
Melanie preferred cocktail dresses over full-length gowns. She had great legs and used every opportunity to show them off. Tonight she’d chosen a bronze Vera Wang dress that was so close to her natural skin tone that she almost appeared naked were it not for the rhinestone appliqué that framed her décolletage. Her stilettos, in a matching color, accentuated her five-foot-nine height. The dress hugged her upper body, dipped dangerously low in the back and flared from the waist to just above her knees.
A trio of Spanish guitarists played in the background as the wait staff, outfitted in traditional dress, moved in and around the well-heeled crowd.
“You probably know a lot of these people,” Alan said as he and Melanie made their way across the room, nodding and smiling at familiar faces.
Vincent had taken his wife, sister and cousin to get drinks while Alan and Melanie mingled.
