Page 60 of The Chalet Girl
Chapter Thirty-Five
Lysander Steinherr sat at the desk in his expansive corner office at Manhattan’s most prestigious law firm, and looked out at the traffic on 8th Avenue. Taxis. Buses. Couriers.
‘What have you got for me?’ he asked, with intrigue, down the phone. There hadn’t been a manila envelope waiting on his desk, as he’d expected. In fact, Rico had been unusually slow in getting back to him on this. It had been nearly two weeks.
‘That’s the thing, boss. She’s clean as a whistle.’
‘Really?’ Lysander rubbed his smooth chin and looked at the family photo of him with his wife and son on the desk. Megan was clean as a whistle. She wore white dresses to the polo and had an all-American-girl smile. Blake was tanned with dirty-blond hair and a toothy grin. The three of them looked like they’d popped out of a Ralph Lauren ad. But Kiki?
‘I spoke to her former boss at the resort in Vegas. Accurate, professional, she had outstanding guest services… An exceptional employee, they said.’
Lysander remembered a comment his father made, when he got back from Vegas, Kiki now his wife: when his children protested at the shock news of their nuptials, he’d said his new wife was highly respected in Vegas, as wellas Monte Carlo, and they would extend that respect to her in Kristalldorf too.
‘Shit,’ Lysander said. ‘What about Atlantic City?’
‘They couldn’t remember her that well, so I did a historical dig into HR: never late. Never sick. A highly reliable croupier by all accounts. I spoke to a roommate from around that time. No dirt.’
‘And before then? She must have started earning before she was twenty-one…’ Lysander said, suspicious. Surely a woman that seductive knew her currency from a young age.
‘Good at school. Decent grades. Favourable yearbook reports, if nothing spectacular. She worked at a farm shop in Cherry Hill out of school. She was Miss Hoboken 2007. Honestly, boss, I can’t find nuthin’. Dad is a mechanic, mom is French– it’s how she works in Europe– and she works the cash register in a pharmacy… I mean obviously she married up, but there ain’t no dirt on her.’
‘Dammit.’
Lysander clicked his Cartier pen frantically and frowned. Surely there had to be something?
‘I mean, I’ll keep lookin’, boss, but I can’t find something if it ain’t there.’
‘OK thanks, Rico, appreciate it.’
Lysander hung up and looked out of the window. He was too good an attorney and too honest a man to fabricate anything. Maybe his dad would just have to pay off another wife.
Chapter Thirty-Six
On Emme’s third weekend in Kristalldorf, the Harringtons asked if she’d like to spend the Saturday on the slopes with them.
‘We’re going to Monte Rosa, we might even ski into Italy today, what do you think, Bill?’
He looked up from his newspaper and rubbed his eyes.
‘Yes dear.’
‘What do you think Emme?’
Emme wasn’t convinced Lexy wasn’t asking her for the childcare.
‘You know what, I won’t thank you,’ Emme said, graciously. ‘Unless you need me?’
‘No, you’re fine,’ Lexy said primly.
‘I need to make some calls home, I might go for a swim.’ She didn’t want to spend a potential day off with her wittering boss. Plus she wasn’t ready to ski in front of the family yet. She’d had two lessons with Milla now and her turns were still pitiful.
‘I might check out a spa.’
‘Oh, the one at the Steinherrhof is wonderful! Sooo relaxing,’ Lexy cooed.
Emme didn’t say she’d already been.
‘Great, thank you.’
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