Christopher Smith - Fifth Avenue

He came down the stairs and found Carlos, their butler, adjusting a flower arrangement in the entryway. He had worked for the Redmans for nearly twenty years.

“Any idea where Leana is, Carlos? She’s not in her bedroom.” He had a feeling she might be sitting by the pond behind the stables. It’s where Leana went when she wanted to be alone.

Carlos looked surprised. “She left last night, Mr. Redman, before you and Mrs. Redman returned from Manhattan. I thought you knew.”

“No,” George said. “I didn’t know. Are you aware that she’s moving out?”

He nodded. “She left yesterday. I offered to help carry her bags to her car, but she insisted on doing it herself. Before she left, she told me that she would send for the rest of her things tomorrow. She asked me not to touch anything until then.”

Although Carlos would not tell George this, Leana also had hugged and kissed him goodbye. She told him how much he had meant to her over the years. She said that she felt closer to him than to her own father.

“Did she say where she was going?”

“I asked, Mr. Redman, but she wouldn’t say.”

“You’re positive?” George said. “Did she mention Manhattan?” It would be a place to start looking if she had.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Redman. She didn’t.”

George sighed. “Tell me if she comes home. And if I’m not here when she comes-if she comes-see if you can find out where she’s living. Leana’s always trusted you and it’s important that I know.”

“Of course-and Mr. Redman?”

“Yes?”

“This is none of my business, but I’m worried about Miss Redman. She wasn’t herself when she left here last night.”

This was new. In all the years George had known Carlos, he couldn’t remember a time when he ever involved himself in a family matter.

“How wasn’t she herself?”

Carlos was silent a moment, the memory of seeing Leana when she returned from the party still fresh in his mind. He had been in his room reading when he heard the front door slam shut. Curious, he had slipped into his black alpaca jacket and went to the entryway. There he found Leana, leaning against the door, her clothes tousled and damp from the rain. Her hair wet, stringy. Her face…

“Carlos?”

The man made his decision and said, “It was her face, Mr. Redman. It was bruised and swollen. There were marks at her throat, her eyes were nearly shut and she was bleeding from her mouth. I checked her car, thinking she’d had an accident, but it was fine. I think she was beaten.”

Leana awoke with a start. Someone was pounding on her bedroom door. She lifted her head from the pillow and winced, the sudden movement causing pain to course through her neck, shoulders and back.

She sat up in bed.

Tried to sit up in bed. The movement took unexpected effort and Leana soon found that her entire body ached. Eric, she thought.

She laid back down and turned to look at the clock on the bedside table. The red digital numbers were nowhere to be found. Neither was her bedside table. Puzzlement went through her. And then she remembered.

She wasn’t in her bedroom. She was in a suite at The Plaza Hotel.

Last night, before leaving home, she phoned The Plaza and reserved one of the permanent suites Redman International kept for visiting guests. It was here that she would stay until she found an apartment of her own.

The hammering on the door intensified. Leana struggled into a seated position and listened. The sound was coming from the next room. Faintly, she could hear a man’s voice. “Open the door, Leana. Now.”

She felt a chill. It was her father. But how? She had told no one she was here. How did he find out? And then she knew. She was escorted here last evening by the hotel’s manager, a friend of her father’s. Although he hadn’t mentioned her appearance, the look in the man’s eyes reflected his concern. Leana made him promise not to tell her father that she was here. She didn't want to deal with George and Elizabeth until the time was right. She had hoped the man would keep silent longer.

The pounding stopped and Leana heard what sounded like the jangling of keys beyond the locked door. She stood, glimpsed her reflection in the full-length mirror opposite her and turned away.

As she crossed the room, pain shot through her legs and lodged in her hips. Leana moved through it. She would not let her father see what Eric did to her.

Her back was to George when he stepped into the bedroom. There was a silence and Leana could feel George’s hesitation, sense the frown on his face as he glanced around the room.

Last night, she unpacked only one of her suitcases. The other two-and some clothes-cluttered the middle of the room.

“What’s going on?” he asked. “What is this?”

Leana was standing at one of the bedroom windows and, in the reflection of the glass, she could see George standing behind her, his hands on his hips. They were as alike as two separate people could ever hope to be. They shared the same blue eyes, the same black hair, the same stubborn temperament. She wondered now, as she often did, how two people so alike could never have grown close.

“Answer me,” George said. “What is this?”

“What does it look like?” she said. “I’ve moved out.”

“Mind telling me why?”

“I’m sure you’ve spoken with Celina. You tell me.”

“All right,” George said. “Your sister says you slept with Eric. She says you planned it so she would catch you two in bed together. Is that true?”

The tone of his voice said it was and Leana bristled. Couldn’t he at least have given her the benefit of the doubt?

“I asked if that was true.”

“As a matter of fact, it isn’t.”

“Which part?”

“Both parts.”

“I think you’d better explain yourself.”

Was it really so difficult for him to believe her? “There’s nothing to explain,” she said. “Eric and I did nothing. I didn’t set Celina up.”

“Bullshit,” George said. “Celina saw you two in bed together. She spoke to your friend from security. He identified you as the one who gave him that message. Now, admit it.”

She whirled on him. “I’ll admit nothing,” she said. “And I don’t give a shit who that man described. It wasn’t me.”

And then she saw the look of surprise on George’s face and realized what she had just done. In her anger, she had revealed what Eric had done to her.

For a moment, George could only stare. The bruises were dark and they crisscrossed Leana’s swollen face. Her upper lip was cut. Her tan had all but disappeared.

“Jesus Christ,” he said.

Leana turned away from him, suddenly angry with herself. How could she have been so stupid? How would she ever explain this to him?

“He did this to you, didn’t he?” George said.

Leana started to walk past him, toward the open door. As much as she wanted to, she could tell her father nothing. Eric’s threat was still fresh in her mind. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said.

“Yes, you do,” George said. As she passed, he grabbed her by the arm and twisted her around so they faced each other. “Tell me the truth. Eric did this, didn’t he?”

“You’re hurting me,” she said. She tried to release herself from him. “Are you going to rough me up too?”

He loosened his grip on her arm. “Just tell me the truth. Don’t lie to me.”

“So, I’m a liar now? Let go of my fucking arm.”

But George wouldn’t let go. “Why are you protecting that son of a bitch? Tell me what happened. What did he do to you?”

Leana wrenched her arm free and backed away from him. “He did nothing to me. All right? Nothing. Now, leave it alone.”