“We’ll talk in a moment when it’s more private. We’re here.” He nodded to an elegant pale stone building that looked like it was built in the early nineteen hundreds. It was very beautiful and elegant.
All traces of annoyance were gone now.Boy, he switched moods quickly.
The limousine pulled up to the curb. Vern got out and opened the door for Lance. Once again Lance held out his hand and assisted Tammy.
“I’ll get the bags sir.” Vern turned and went to the trunk of the car.
She stood staring up at the architecture. “It’s lovely.”
“I thought so too.”
Vern brought the luggage around and Lance dismissed him.
“Very good sir,” he said respectfully and went back to the car. The doorman came out of the building and proceeded to help Lance with the bags. “We’ve been expecting you Mr. Hartley. How was your flight?”
“It was fine.”
Tammy noticed the doorman was an older man, probably mid-sixties, and when he tried to help Lance with the bags, he stopped him, tipped him and picked them up himself.
“Thank you sir.” He smiled generously and made himself useful by opening the door.
Tammy didn’t even try and argue with him about her luggage this time knowing it was a waste of effort. He was going to do what he wanted anyway.
“Good day Mr. Hartley,” the concierge said from behind the counter as he walked by.
Lance nodded and made his way to the elevator.
Once inside, his removed a key out of his pocket, inserted it in the lock of the elevator and turned it. The light came on above the key to indicate Penthouse.
Tammy just didn’t know what to say. People treated him like he was royalty and he just acted so casual about it. Lance was confident, but he wasn’t a snob. He cared about people. It was obvious to her then, that money didn’t change everyone. He was in a different context here, and he was still the same Lance that worked the ranch with his own hands.
Soon the doors opened to the ninth floor and a private marble tiled landing.
“Good day Mr. Hartley,” said a woman’s voice in greeting.
“Hello Mavis,” he answered as he stepped into the gallery where a woman in a pink uniform with a white apron was waiting. She was slender and petite.
She was probably around forty, and had short curled black hair with a few grey streaks through it. She had a big smile for her boss.
“Would you please make up the spare room next to mine? We have a guest. Tammy—” he looked at her.
“Easler.” She finished knowing he was asking which name she used. “My grandmother’s maiden name on my father’s side. I changed it.” He already knew Easler was her last name, but hearing Van Allen, probably made him wonder how to address her back in her home town around people she knew. So, she settled it.
He nodded not needing and explanation.
“May I?”
Tammy looked back at the housekeeper who indicated to the suitcase. “Certainly.”
She picked it up and smiled at her. “I’ll have your room ready in twenty minutes ma’am.”
“Thank you.” She felt like she was a terrible burden now. Lance had proffered himself for her, and now he was putting her up.
The woman left.
“I feel guilty. I can stay in a hotel.”
He shook his head. “None of us would have that. I have plenty of room.”
