Cloud Waltzer Read online

  “May the winds welcome you with softness.” Archer intoned the words of the Balloonist’s Prayer with a gravity befitting its lovely sentiments. “May the sun bless you with his warm hands. May you fly so high and so well that God joins you in laughter and sets you gently back into the loving arms of Mother Earth.”

  Meredith was so moved by the lilting simplicity of the prayer that she barely noticed the sound of a cork popping behind her. It was impossible, however, to ignore the chilly trickle of liquid down her back and the burst of a camera flash as Phil upended a champagne bottle over her head and Marie recorded the event.

  “I christen thee, Balloon Novice,” Phil laughed as Meredith whirled away from the escaping champagne.

  “Don’t waste the bubbly,” Carl warned, taking the dark bottle from Phil and tipping it into his mouth. The crew members shared the champagne, all drinking from the bottle. Meredith was toweling her hair dry with the sheet when the bottle reached her. She took a sip. Archer popped open a second bottle.

  “To solar ballooning,” he said, raising the bottle in a toast, then passing it to Meredith. Her second swig of champagne seemed to contain all the exhilaration of the last few hours. It bubbled up in her like the frothy liquid she was imbibing and escaped in a giggle she couldn’t suppress.

  “What’s so funny?” Archer asked, moving to her side as the rest of the crew adjourned to the Jeep to search for the plastic cups Phil maintained were hidden within.

  “Everything.” The word rolled out on a merry note of bemusement. “I mean, don’t you think this is a fairly comical scene? Here we all are, off in the middle of a dusty mesa, up to our knees in tumbleweeds, lizards, and jackrabbits, passing around bottles of French champagne and toasting solar ballooning. And here I am wrapped up in a sheet, with champagne drying in my hair. It’s not even nine in the morning, and I’m bombed.”

  “May I say,” Archer commented, leaning closer, “that you make an adorable drunk.”

  “You may say anything you like, particularly when I have my recorder turned on.”

  What a changeable woman, Archer thought, wondering if it was the alcohol that had rubbed away her cool professional facade and exposed the life-loving vulnerability he saw now in the face turned toward his. Or was this too a facade that would be gone with the intoxication of the moment? He remembered how she had felt in his arms. How content he’d been with her nestled there watching the world pass beneath them like pieces of half-forgotten dreams. He’d felt more peaceful, more right, than he had in longer than he cared to think about.

  What was it about her that provoked such a response? he wondered. Her face gleamed in the sunlight. With her straight blond hair cut in blunt bangs across her broad forehead and her eyes creased shut in merriment, she looked like a blond Chinese child, if such a child were possible. He couldn’t imagine her maneuvering her way around Wall Street or managing the portfolios of major corporations. Yet he knew she had and, more important, knew that she could. There seemed to be irreconcilable differences between what she was, what she had been, and what she appeared to be now. Even less easily understood was the way she affected him. He wanted nothing more at that moment than to kiss this enigmatic woman, and he was damned if he truly understood why.

  “Archer,” a slightly petulant female voice called out. He looked away from Meredith sharply.

  “Yes, Courtney, what is it?”

  Meredith glanced at the approaching woman and recognized Archer’s receptionist. She had chosen to remain in the truck rather than join in the post-flight festivities.

  “Nelson is on the truck phone. He’s been waiting for you at the office for fifteen minutes. There’s been more trouble at the mine.”

  “Tell him I’m on my way.” He turned back to Meredith, but she spoke before he could.

  “I enjoyed the flight more than I can tell you,” she said, expressing her gratitude simply. “When can we start the interview? I imagine I’ll need a few sessions to get everything I need.”

  Archer held up his hands to indicate how helplessly full they were. “The rest of the day is going to be insane. How about tomorrow? I’ll call you when I get back to the office to let you know what’s on the Fiesta agenda.”

  “Whatever’s convenient for you,” Meredith agreed, the champagne and balloon flight having left her far more tractable than usual. She hastily scribbled her phone number on a scrap of paper and handed it to Archer.

  “Good,” he said, hurrying off after his retreating receptionist. Then, pausing, he turned to face her. “Later on this week we’ll be launching the solar balloon.”

  “What’s her name?” Meredith had to raise her voice to travel the distance that had sprung up between her and Archer.

  “The balloon?” he asked, putting his hand to his forehead to shade his eyes as he stopped for one last glimpse of this puzzling Meredith Tolliver. “We’re calling her Cloud Waltzer II.”

  Chapter 4

  Wear something long and slinky.” That directive coming from any other man would have been intolerable, Meredith thought as she flipped through her closet in search of something that might meet those specifications. But Archer Hanson’s order, delivered a few minutes before, delighted her as much as the prospect of going to the Balloon Ball with him did.

  “Balloon Ball,” she whispered, letting a champagne giggle leak out at the whimsical redundancy of it. She’d told Archer she’d have to check her wardrobe before giving him a definite answer. The answer in her heart, though, was a definite “yes.”

  Thor, curled up as usual on her bed, looked up peevishly at his mistress and her uncharacteristic outburst.

  “Oh, go back to sleep, you grump. Something I don’t understand and never want to end is happening in my life and I intend to enjoy it.”

  The cat kneaded a spot on the spread like a human sleeper fluffing up his pillow, then closed his perpetually bored eyes.

  One by one, Meredith eliminated the few dressy outfits she had in her closet. They were all too stodgy, too drab, and far too conservative. They clashed discordantly with the sunny, rhapsodic mood glowing within her. Her mood dimmed momentarily as she remembered that her checking account hovered at an anemic two-figure sum and that she still hadn’t paid her electric bill. She clearly couldn’t afford to buy anything.

  Euphoria bubbled up through her anew with her next thought. There was one thing she just might be able to wear that certainly wasn’t either stodgy, drab, or conservative. But did she dare? She didn’t allow herself time to ruminate on the question. Instead, she flung open a drawer and pulled out a rippling bit of floor-length finery. Technically, it was a nightgown, but Meredith had never worn the shimmering, peacock blue gown without thinking it fine enough for a debutante ball. Yes, she decided, she would do it. As if signaling her decision, the phone rang.

  Meredith’s heart stopped in the frolicking course it had been running since that moment when Archer had gathered her into his arms. Could he be calling so soon? She took several deep breaths and cleared her throat to rid it of the high-pitched giddiness that was tightening it.

  “Hello.” She was reasonably happy with the casual, warm tone she struck.

  “Mer, that you? Sounds like you’re coming down with a cold.”

  Chad. Meredith’s heart sank. She should have known it would be him. He always waited until lunchtime to call her. Theirs had never been a late night phone call relationship. “No, Chad, I’m fine. How are you?”

  “Can’t complain, Mer, can’t complain. Have you checked the Journal today? Echelon’s going through the roof,” he said, referring to the Wall Street Journal and to the mutual fund he managed for Meredith’s father. “Remember those utilities you told me to stay away from? Well, we’re getting an eighteen and a quarter return on them. What do you think about that?”

  “That’s terrific, Chad.” Meredith could barely pretend interest in the financial banter that was the basis for all communication between her and Chad.

  “Well, you
don’t sound like it’s terrific. I thought you’d be pleased, Meredith. It’s not easy, you know, doing my job and managing most of the portfolios that you left behind too.”

  Meredith felt the veins and muscles within her skull compress. They pulled tight and began to ache. “Chad, don’t let my father overload you.”

  “Easier said than done. Some of us aren’t free to just run off to New Mexico. Which brings me to the point of this, and every other call I’ve made for the last six months: When will you be returning?”

  “And as I’ve told you every time you’ve called for the last six months, maybe never.”

  “Maybe never.” Chad laughed as if she were joking. “By the way, your mother asked me to ask you how much you weigh now.”

  The dull headache abruptly broke into a thudding gallop. “My mother asked you to ask me?” she repeated disbelievingly.

  “You know how your mother is.”

  Meredith did. All too well. Julianna Tolliver was a fragile china doll of a woman who somehow managed to manipulate those around her into doing her dirty work while she sat back playing the part of the saintly martyr. “Tell her that my weight is fine,” Meredith answered, straining to keep the annoyance out of her voice.

  “She says it’s been a long time since you’ve sent a picture of yourself. She’d like to have one.”

  “You mean,” Meredith corrected, “she’d like proof that I’m not lying. I’m afraid that both of you will just have to take my word for it that I don’t look like something you could use to scare crows with.”

  “Come on, Mer,” Chad whined. “You’re not being fair. You know I believe you. All I’m doing is delivering your mother’s messages.”

  “Tell her to use Western Union if she has messages she wants delivered,” Meredith snapped. She instantly regretted her retort as Chad’s aggrieved sigh hissed through the receiver.

  “I’m sorry. I know you’re only interested in my welfare,” she said, and in a way it was true. Chad had always been very solicitous of her, sticking with her right through the worst of her bout with anorexia. The problem with it all was that it was so foreordained, so programmed. When bright, handsome Chad Allbrook, graduate of Exeter and Yale, had come to work for Tolliver Investments, Meredith’s father had moved him into the office next door to hers, displacing a senior member of the firm to do so. When she and Chad had started dating, Meredith had felt that, as usual, she was simply responding to the tug of the strings held by her father.

  “Gotta run, Mer. Give your mother a call. She worries about you. We all do.”

  “Well, don’t,” Meredith started to say but Chad had already hung up. Wearily, all the effervescence of a few moments before now gone flat, she picked the rich blue gown up off the bed. What had she been thinking of? she wondered. She couldn’t wear this in public. She trudged back to her closet and found a perfectly reasonable little black dress. She looked about as exciting as Mother Hubbard in it but, she reminded herself sternly, it was the only appropriate thing she had to wear. She couldn’t go out in a nightgown, even one that didn’t look like a nightgown. She simply couldn’t. She’d have to either look like a frump or not go. And not going would probably mean not getting the story, which would ultimately mean surrendering and returning to Chicago.

  She decided to go, but the happy anticipation that had glowed within her now cooled to a darkened lump. Meredith shooed a disgruntled Thor off her bed and slid beneath the covers. She escaped from the headache, disappointment, and tangled emotions caused by Chad’s call by falling into sleep.

  When the phone rang, Meredith was certain that only a few minutes had passed and that Chad was calling back. She groped for her phone and muttered a groggy greeting into it. The voice that responded jolted her into abrupt consciousness.

  “Hello there, Balloon Novice Tolliver. Sounds as if you’re exactly where I’d like to be at this moment. Starting the day off with a champagne breakfast is not the key to maximum energy or efficiency, is it?”

  Meredith chuckled a nervous laugh as she struggled to collect herself. The sound of Archer’s voice alone had unsettled her enough, then his casual comment about wishing he were in bed had thoroughly flustered her. Could he have meant with her? Whether he had or not didn’t matter; with the first word he spoke his presence was as palpable to Meredith as if he were stretched out beside her. “Hardly,” she answered. “I wanted to thank you again for initiating me into the wonders of ballooning. It was an incredible experience.”

  “It was for me too,” Archer responded in a tone that told Meredith that ballooning had little to do with his enthusiasm. “Have I given you enough time to decide if you’re coming tonight?”

  “I’d planned on it.” A touch of gloom dampened Meredith’s ebullience as she caught sight of the black dress she would be wearing.

  “Wonderful.”

  Could she be imagining things or did she actually hear a note of relief in Archer’s response?

  “It starts at eight. I’d suggest dinner except that I’ll be tied up negotiating a labor contract with my mine workers. Tell me where you live and I’ll pick you up as soon as I can tear myself away. I don’t imagine it’ll be much after eight.”

  Meredith glanced around at her tiny apartment and a stab of panic pierced her.

  “Why don’t I meet you somewhere,” she quickly volunteered. “Where’s the ball going to be held? I’d hate to have to make you drive out to pick me up and then backtrack in again.”

  A moment of silence followed. Meredith knew that Archer was trying to figure out how to respond to her odd suggestion. It didn’t matter, though, how odd he thought she was, she couldn’t allow him to see where she lived.

  “I really don’t mind, Meredith,” he said in a deep, even voice that hinted at the kind of firmness that she knew to be a critical element in the makeup of an entrepreneur of his caliber.

  “No, no, I wouldn’t hear of it. Don’t they usually hold these kinds of events in your convention center downtown?”

  “I’d hardly call it my convention center, but yes, that’s where it’s going to be.”

  “Great, that’s midway between your office and my apartment. I’ll just meet you in the lobby outside the ballroom.”

  “Meredith, I don’t like the idea of your walking through a downtown parking lot after dark. Please, I would love to come and pick you up even if you live in Santa Fe.”

  Meredith attempted a light laugh, but it sounded false and strained with desperation. “No, it’s better this way. Less trouble,” she added vaguely.

  “All right, Mystery Woman, we’ll do it your way, just so long as you’re in that lobby tonight. You’ll love the ball. It’s always an extravaganza of color.”

  Meredith imagined herself in her plain black dress; she would be the little mudhen among the peacocks. “Archer, I don’t think that . . .”

  “Sorry, Meredith, I’m going to have to run. The delegation from the Antonito mine just came in. I don’t want to keep them waiting. I’ll see you at eight in the lobby. I’ll be the guy with the rose between his teeth.”

  And for the second time that day, Meredith was cut off short. She didn’t get the chance to tell Archer that she couldn’t come that evening. She rolled away from the phone and toyed with excuses. She could call back and leave a message saying she’d come down with something highly contagious and frequently terminal. Something like . . . stage fright. With an exasperated snort, she identified the malady afflicting her and its cause—terminal timidity. She flung the covers away and jumped out of bed. She didn’t flee Chicago to end up hiding out in Albuquerque, running in terror at the first hint of emotional involvement.

  She picked the gossamer-light gown up off the floor. She was going to that ball, dammit, and it wouldn’t be as the proper little Chicago mudhen. She was going as a peacock in peacock blue.

  * * *

  The evening was cool. Meredith pulled her parka more closely around her as she prowled the parking lot for a space as
close as she could get to the entrance of the convention center. As she was locking the car, she realized how gauche her bulky parka looked over the brilliant blue gown. She shrugged off the down jacket and tossed it back in the car. Goose bumps would look better.

  The convention center was an elaborate complex of enormous meeting rooms, boutiques, restaurants, and the main ballroom. The lobby soared ten floors above Meredith’s head as she entered. Her gaze instantly fixed on Archer. He was looking down at his watch. Meredith hesitated and moved into the shadows as he glanced up, searching the doorway. She watched him, astounded by the surge that quickened her pulse. How, she wondered bleakly, could she have ever mistaken him for a spoiled rich kid? An air of command and assurance that could never be simply inherited encircled him with its golden aura. He wore it with the same offhanded elegance he wore his custom-tailored tuxedo. She felt her nerve slipping away. She was way out of her league with a man like Archer Hanson and it frightened her. She wanted to run and would have except that he was already striding purposefully in her direction. If she didn’t step forward, he would catch her trembling in the shadows. She moved back into the light.

  “There you are,” he exclaimed. “I was heading out to the parking lot to try and intercept you.” He stopped speaking and simply stared for a moment that grew so long that Meredith felt her cheeks start to flame. His gaze was frozen by the mesmerizing blue of her gown. Slowly it traveled up along the classically simple lines to the draped neckline where the drooping folds of fabric curved over her breasts. “You look spectacular,” he whispered, moving to her side so that only she could hear his words. “Of course, you could make a nightgown look like the height of elegance.”

  “You’re looking pretty spiffy yourself,” she joked, trying to divert him from pursuing his last comment any further.

  With a warm laugh, Archer slipped a muscle-corded arm around her shoulders and guided her toward the ballroom.

  Just as it dominated everything else during the ten days of the Balloon Fiesta, balloon-acy reigned inside the ballroom. A flock of scaled-down, helium-filled balloons hovered over the festivities. Beneath them, exactly as Archer had promised, was a dazzle of color as women swept by in their long dresses. Linen-covered tables scattered around the edge of the dance floor looked like giant silver dollars shining beneath the flicker of candlelight.