The Best Laid Plans by Sidney Sheldon

There was a chauffeur and limousine waiting for her at the curb. “Miss Stewart?”

“Yes.”

“Mr. Chambers sends his regards and asked me to take you to your hotel.”

“That’s very kind of him.” Leslie was disappointed. She had hoped that he would come to meet her himself.

“Mr. Chambers would like to know whether you are free to join him for dinner this evening.”

Better. Much better.

“Please tell him I would be delighted.”

At eight o’clock that evening, Leslie was dining with Henry Chambers. Chambers was a pleasant-looking man, with an aristocratic face, graying brown hair, and an endearing enthusiasm.

He was studying Leslie admiringly. “Todd really meant it when he said he was doing me a favor.”

Leslie smiled. “Thank you.”

“What made you decide to come to Phoenix, Leslie?”

You don’t really want to know. “I’ve heard so much about it, I thought I might enjoy living here.”

“It’s a great place. You’ll love it. Arizona has everything—the Grand Canyon, desert, mountains. You can find anything you want here.”

And I have, Leslie thought.

“You’ll need a place to live. I’m sure I can help you locate something.”

Leslie knew the money she had would last for no more than three months. As it turned out, her plan took no more than two months.

Bookstores were filled with how-to books for women on how to get a man. The various pop psychologies ranged from “Play hard to get” to “Get them hooked in bed.” Leslie followed none of that advice. She had her own method: She teased Henry Chambers. Not physically, but mentally. Henry had never met anyone like her. He was of the old school that believed if a blonde was beautiful, she must be dumb. It never occurred to him that he had always been attracted to women who were beautiful and not overly bright. Leslie was a revelation to him. She was intelligent and articulate and knowledgeable about an amazing range of subjects.

They talked about philosophy and religion and history, and Henry confided to a friend, “I think she’s reading up on a lot of things so she can keep up with me.”

Henry Chambers enjoyed Leslie’s company tremendously. He showed her off to his friends and wore her on his arm like a trophy. He took her to the Carefree Wine and Fine Art Festival and to the Actors Theater. They watched the Phoenix Suns play at the America West Arena. They visited the Lyon Gallery in Scottsdale, the Symphony Hall, and the little town of Chandler to see the Doo-dah Parade. One evening, they went to see the Phoenix Roadrunners play hockey.

After the hockey game, Henry said, “I really like you a lot, Leslie. I think we’d be great together. I’d like to make love with you.”

She took his hand in hers and said softly, “I like you, too, Henry, but the answer is no.”

The following day they had a luncheon date. Henry telephoned Leslie. “Why don’t you pick me up at the Star? I want you to see the place.”

“I’d love to,” Leslie said. That was what she had been waiting for. There were two other newspapers in Phoenix, the Arizona Republic and the Phoenix Gazette. Henry’s paper, the Star, was the only one losing money.

The offices and production plant of the Phoenix Star were smaller than Leslie had anticipated. Henry took her on a tour, and as Leslie looked around, she thought, This isn’t going to bring down a governor or a president. But it was a stepping-stone. She had plans for it.

Leslie was interested in everything she saw. She kept asking Henry questions, and he kept referring them to Lyle Bannister, the managing editor. Leslie was amazed at how little Henry seemed to know about the newspaper business and how little he cared. It made her all the more determined to learn everything she could.

It happened at the Borgata, a restaurant in a castle-like old Italian village setting. The dinner was superb. They had enjoyed a lobster bisque, medallions of veal with a sauce béarnaise, white asparagus vinaigrette, and a Grand Marnier soufflé. Henry Chambers was charming and easy to be with, and it had been a beautiful evening.

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