Man of Fortune

“We will see,” Tamara retorted.

Duncan lay on a cushioned chaise on the terrace outside his bedroom, bare feet crossed at the ankles. He’d taken a mental-health day.

The night before he and Kyle had gone over to Ivan’s house after they’d closed their offices. They’d ordered takeout while watching the baseball game. He and Ivan had overruled Kyle, who didn’t want to watch the Mets playing on the west coast, but after downing a few beers it didn’t matter who was playing or on which coast. It was after three in the morning when he and Kyle had got into a taxi to return to their respective homes. The game had gone into extra innings.

Within minutes of walking into his bedroom, Duncan fell across the bed and went to sleep. When he woke the sun was up, and he’d called Mia Humphrey to tell her he wasn’t coming in.

He wasn’t hung over, but it felt good to lie around and do absolutely nothing. There were times when he felt guilty because Viola Gilmore had practically browbeat him by telling him he would amount to nothing if he didn’t take advantage of every minute of the day. His aunt took him on what she’d called a field trip to several blighted neighborhoods to show him burned-out and boarded-up buildings, vagrants and drug addicts standing around aimlessly and men and women who carried all of their possessions with them and slept in doorways because they didn’t have a place to call home. Viola equated laziness with failure, and even at fourteen, Duncan knew he didn’t want to become a failure.

The ring of the telephone disturbed the quiet. Reaching over, he picked up the cordless without looking at the display. “Hello.”

“Hel-lo.”

He listened for the woman on the other end of the line to say something. “I think you have the wrong number,” he said after the seconds ticked off.

“Is this Duncan Gilmore?”

Duncan sat up straighter, trying to remember where he’d heard her voice. “Yes, it is. Who’s calling?”

“Hold up, playa. Don’t you recognize my voice?”

“Tamara? Is that you?”

“Yes, it’s Tamara. I…I didn’t expect you to be home at this time.”

“Is that why you called now? Because you were trying to avoid talking to me?”

A soft gasp came through the earpiece. “If I didn’t want to talk to you, Duncan Gilmore, I never would’ve called. In fact, I would’ve thrown away your business card.”

“But you didn’t, and I’m glad you didn’t.”

“Why, Duncan?”

“Because I want to talk to you.”

There came a pause. “What do you want to talk about?” Tamara asked.

“When are you available to have dinner with me?”

“I’m open, Duncan. Any day, any time.”

A frown formed between his eyes. “Did you lose your job?”

“No,” she said, laughing. “I’m on vacation.”

He smiled. “If that’s the case, then what are you doing tomorrow?”

There came another pause before Tamara said, “I have to check my calendar.”

“I thought you said any time, any day.”

“I did, Duncan. I was just teasing you.”

“So,” he crooned, “the doctor does have a sense of humor.”

“Only when she’s not working,” Tamara retorted.

“How long are you on vacation, Tamara?”

“Four weeks.”

Duncan whistled. “I suppose that’s enough time for me to make you laugh.”

“Hold up, numbers man. Don’t get ahead of yourself. I only agreed to one date.”

It was Duncan’s turn to pause. “You’re right. Forgive me for being presumptuous.”

“You’re forgiven, Duncan.”

“Thank you. I have to make a reservation, then I’ll call you back.”

“Where are we going?”

“Sailing.”

“Sailing?” Tamara repeated.

“Yes. I’d like to take you on a dinner cruise along the Hudson River. I can see the ship from where I’m sitting. We can eat, listen to music and, if you want, dance or just take in the view.”

There came a beat. “That sounds wonderful.”

“It should be fun. Give me your number and I’ll call you back.” Tamara recited her number, he repeated it to her. “Hang up, Tamara.”

It took Duncan less than ten minutes to book a reservation. A satisfied smile softened his features when he dialed her number. She answered after the first ring. “I’ll pick you up at six-thirty.”

“What time do we board?” Tamara asked.

“Boarding is at seven-thirty and the cruise is from eight-thirty to eleven-thirty.”

“What if I meet you at the pier instead of you coming down to get me?”

“No. I want to pick you up, Tamara.”

“How will you get here?”

“I’ll take a taxi.”

“Don’t. I’ll take a taxi to you. Please give me your address.”