The Stars Shine Down

Lara told Paul Martin about her decision to fast-track the hotel and the discussion she had had with the committee.



"They may have been right," Paul said. "What you're doing could be dangerous."



"Trump does it. Uris does it."



Paul said gently, "Baby, you're not Trump or Uris."



"I'm going to be bigger than they are, Paul. I'm going to put up more buildings in New York than anyone ever has before. It's going to be my city."



He looked at her for a long moment. "I believe you."



Lara had an unlisted telephone installed in her office. Only Paul Martin had the number. He installed a telephone in his office for Lara's calls. They spoke to each other several times a day.



Whenever they could get away in the afternoon, they went to Lara's apartment. Paul Martin looked forward to those trysts more than he had ever believed possible. Lara had become an obsession with him.



When Keller became aware of what was happening, he was concerned.



"Lara," he said, "I think you're making a mistake. He's dangerous."



"You don't know him. He's wonderful."



"Are you in love with him?"



Lara thought about it. Paul Martin fulfilled a need in her life. But was she in love with him?



"No."



"Is he in love with you?"



"I think so."



"Be careful. Be very careful."



Lara smiled. Impulsively, she kissed Keller's cheek. "I love the way you take care of me, Howard."



Lara was at the construction site, studying a report.



"I notice we're paying for an awful lot of lumber," Lara said. She was talking to Pete Reese, the new project manager.



"I didn't want to mention it before, Miss Cameron, because I wasn't sure - but you're right. A lot of our lumber's missing. We've had to double order it."



She looked up at him. "You mean, someone is stealing it?"



"It looks that way."



"Do you have any idea who?"



"No."



"We have night watchmen here, don't we?"



"One watchman."



"And he hasn't seen anything?"



"No. But with all this activity going on, it could be happening during the day. It could be anybody."



Lara was thoughtful. "I see. Thanks for letting me know, Pete. I'll take care of it."



That afternoon Lara hired a private detective, Steve Kane. "How does anyone walk away in broad daylight with a load of lumber?" Kane asked.



"You tell me."



"You say there's a night watchman at the site?"



"Yes."



"Maybe he's in on it."



"I'm not interested in maybes," Lara said. "Find out who's behind it and get back to me."



"Can you get me hired as a member of the construction crew?"



"I'll take care of it."



Steve Kane went to work at the site the next day.



When Lara told Keller what was happening, he said, "You didn't have to get involved in this. I could have handled it for you."



"I like handling things myself," Lara said.



That was the end of the conversation.



Five days later Kane appeared at Lara's office.



"Have you found out anything?"



"Everything," he said.



"Was it the watchman?"



"No. The lumber wasn't stolen from the building site."



"What do you mean?"



"I mean it never reached there. It was sent to another construction site in Jersey and double-billed. The invoices were doctored."



"Who's behind it?" Lara asked.



Kane told her.



The following afternoon there was a meeting of the committee. Terry Hill, Lara's lawyer, was there, Howard Keller, Jim Belon, the project manager, and Pete Reese. There was also a stranger at the conference table. Lara introduced him as Mr. Conroy.



"Let's have a report," Lara said.



Pete Reese said, "We're right on schedule. We estimate four more months. You were right about going fast track. It's all going smooth as silk. We've already started on the electrical and plumbing."



"Good," Lara said.



"What about the stolen lumber?" Keller asked.



"Nothing new on it yet," Pete Reese said. "We're keeping an eye open."



"I don't think we have to worry about that anymore," Lara announced. "We found out who's stealing it." She nodded toward the stranger. "Mr. Conroy is with the Special Fraud Squad. It's actually Detective Conroy."



"What's he doing here?" Pete Reese asked.



"He's come to take you away."



Reese looked up, startled. "What?"



Lara turned to the group. "Mr. Reese has been selling our lumber to another construction job. When he found out that I was checking the reports, he decided to tell me there was a problem."



"Wait a minute," Pete Reese said. "I...I...You have it wrong."



She turned to Conroy. "Would you please get him out of here?"



She turned to the others. "Now, let's discuss the opening of the hotel."



As the hotel grew nearer completion, the pressure became more intense. Lara was becoming impossible. She badgered everyone constantly. She made phone calls in the middle of the night.



"Howard, did you know the shipment of wallpaper hasn't arrived yet?"



"For God's sake, Lara, it's four o'clock in the morning."



"It's ninety days to the opening of the hotel. We can't open a hotel without wallpaper."



"I'll check it out in the morning."



"This is morning. Check it out now."



Lara's nervousness increased as the deadline grew closer. She met with Tom Scott, head of the advertising agency.



"Do you have small children, Mr. Scott?"



He looked at her in surprise. "No. Why?"



"Because I just went over the new advertising campaign and it seems to have been devised by a small retarded child. I can't believe that grown men sat down and thought up this junk."



Scott frowned. "If there's something about it that displeases you..."



"Everything about it displeases me," Lara said. "It lacks excitement. It's bland. It could be about any hotel anywhere. This isn't any hotel, Mr. Scott. This is the most beautiful, most modern hotel in New York. You make it sound like a cold, faceless building. It's a warm, exciting home. Let's spread the word. Do you think you can handle that?"



"I assure you we can handle it. We'll revise the campaign and in two weeks..."



"Monday," Lara said flatly. "I want to see the new campaign Monday."



The new ads went out in newspapers and magazines and billboards all over the country.



"I think the campaign turned out great," Tom Scott said. "You were right."



Lara looked at him and said quietly, "I don't want to be right. I want you to be right. That's what I pay you for."



She turned to Jerry Townsend, in charge of publicity.



"Have the invitations all been sent out?"



"Yes. We've gotten most of our replies already. Everybody's coming to the opening. It's going to be quite a party."



"It should be," Keller grumbled, "it's costing enough."



Lara grinned. "Stop being a banker. We 'll get a million dollars' worth of publicity. We're going to have dozens of celebrities there and..."



He held up his hand. "All right, all right."



Two weeks before the opening, everything seemed to be happening at once. The wallpaper had arrived and carpets were being installed; halls were being painted and pictures were being hung. Lara inspected every suite, accompanied by a staff of five.



She walked into one suite and said, "The drapes are wrong. Switch them with the suite next door."



In another suite, she tried the piano. "It's out of tune. Take care of it."



In a third suite the electric fireplace didn't work. "Fix it."



It seemed to the harried staff that Lara was trying to do everything herself. She was in the kitchen and in the laundry room and in the utility closets. She was everywhere, demanding, complaining, fixing.



The man whom she had hired to manage the hotel said, "Don't get so excited, Miss Cameron. At the opening of any hotel, little things always go wrong."



"Not in my hotels," Lara said. "Not in my hotels."



The day of the opening, Lara was up at 4:00 A.M., too nervous to sleep. She wanted desperately to talk to Paul Martin, but there was no way she could call him at that hour. She dressed and went for a walk.



Everything is going to be fine, she told herself. The reservation computer is going to be fixed. They'll get the third oven working. The lock on Suite Seven will be repaired. We'll find a replacement for the maids who quit yesterday. The air-conditioning unit in the penthouse will work...



At six o'clock that evening the invited guests began to arrive. A uniformed guard at each entrance to the hotel examined their invitations before admitting them. There was a mix of celebrities, famous athletes, and corporation executives. Lara had gone over the list carefully, eliminating the names of the freeloaders and the hangers-on.



She stood in the spacious lobby greeting the newcomers as they arrived. "I'm Lara Cameron. So nice of you to come...Please feel free to look around."



Lara took Keller aside. "Why isn't the mayor coming?"



"He's pretty busy, you know, and..."



"You mean he thinks I'm not important enough."



"One day he'll change his mind."



One of the mayor's assistants arrived.



"Thank you for coming," Lara said. "This is an honor for the hotel."



Lara kept looking nervously for Todd Grayson, the architectural critic for The New York Times, who had been invited. If he likes it, Lara thought, we have a winner.



Paul Martin arrived with his wife. It was the first time Lara had seen Mrs. Martin. She was an attractive, elegant-looking woman. Lara felt an unexpected pang of guilt.



Paul walked up to Lara. "Miss Cameron, I'm Paul Martin. This is my wife, Nina. Thank you for inviting us."



Lara gripped his hand a second longer than necessary. "I'm delighted that you're here. Please make yourself at home."



Paul looked around the lobby. He had seen it half a dozen times before. "It's beautiful," he exclaimed. "I think you're going to be very successful."



Nina Martin was staring at Lara. "I'm sure she will be."



And Lara wondered if she knew.



The guests began to stream in.



An hour later Lara was standing in the lobby when Keller rushed up to her. "For God's sakes," he said, "everyone's looking for you. They're all in the ballroom, eating. Why aren't you in there?"



"Todd Grayson hasn't arrived. I'm waiting for him."



"The Times' architectural critic? I saw him an hour ago."



"What?"



"Yes. He went on a tour of the hotel with the others."



"Why didn't you tell me?"



"I thought you knew."



"What did he say?" Lara asked eagerly. "How did he look? Did he seem impressed?"



"He didn't say anything. He looked fine. And I don't know whether he was impressed or not."



"Didn't he say anything?"



"No."



Lara frowned. "He would have said something if he had liked it. It's a bad sign, Howard."



The party was a huge success. The guests ate and drank and toasted the hotel. When the evening was over, Lara was showered with compliments.



"It's such a lovely hotel, Miss Cameron..."



"I'll certainly stay here when I come back to New York..."



"What a great idea, having a piano in every living room..."



"I love the fireplaces..."



"I'll certainly recommend this to all my friends..."



Well, Lara thought, even if The New York Times hates it, it's going to be a success.



Lara saw Paul Martin and his wife as they were leaving.



"I think you really have a winner here, Miss Cameron. It's going to be the talk of New York."



"You're very kind, Mr. Martin," Lara said. "Thank you for coming."



Nina Martin said quietly, "Good night, Miss Cameron."



"Good night."



As they were walking out the lobby door, Lara heard her say, "She's very beautiful, isn't she, Paul?"



The following Thursday when the first edition of The New York Times came out, Lara was at the newsstand at Fortysecond Street and Broadway at four o'clock in the morning, to pick up a copy. She hurriedly turned to the Home Section. Todd Grayson's article began:



Manhattan has long needed a hotel that does not remind travelers that they're staying in a hotel. The suites at the Cameron Plaza are large and gracious, and done in beautiful taste. Lara Cameron has finally given New York...



She yelled aloud with joy. She telephoned Keller and woke him up.



"We're in!" she said. "The Times loves us."



He sat up in bed, groggy. "That's great. What did they say?"



Lara read the article to him. "All right," Keller said, "Now you can get some sleep."



"Sleep? Are you joking? I have a new site picked out. As soon as the banks open, I want you to start negotiating a loan...."



The New York Cameron Plaza was a triumph. It was completely booked, and there was a waiting list.



"It's only the beginning," Lara told Keller. "There are ten thousand builders in the metropolitan area - but only a handful of the big boys - the Tisches, the Rudins, the Rockefellers, the Sterns. Well, whether they like it or not, we're going to play in their sandbox. We're going to change the skyline. We're going to invent the future."



Lara began to get calls from banks offering her loans. She cultivated the important real estate brokers, taking them to dinner and the theater. She had power breakfasts at the Regency and was told about properties that were about to come on the market. She acquired two more downtown sites and began construction.



Paul Martin telephoned Lara at the office. "Have you seen Business Week? You're a hot ticket," he said. "The word's out that you're a shaker. You get things done."



"I try."



"Are you free for dinner?"



"I'll make myself free."



Lara was in a meeting with the partner of a top architectural firm. She was examining the blueprints and drawings they had brought.



"You're going to like this," the chief architect said. "It has grace and symmetry and the scope that you asked for. Let me explain some of the details..."



"That won't be necessary," Lara said. "I understand them." She looked up. "I want you to turn these plans over to an artist."



"What?"



"I want large color drawings of the building. I want drawings of the lobby, the corridors, and the offices. Bankers have no imagination. I'm going to show them what the building is going to look like."



"That's a great idea."



Lara's secretary appeared. "I'm sorry I'm late."



"This meeting was called for nine o'clock, Kathy. It's nine-fifteen."



"I'm sorry, Miss Cameron, my alarm didn't go off and..."



"We'll discuss it later."



She turned to the architects. "I want a few changes made..."



Two hours later Lara had finished discussing the changes she wanted. When the meeting was over, she said to Kathy, "Don't leave. Sit down."



Kathy sat.



"Do you like your job?"



"Yes, Miss Cameron."



"This is the third time you've been late this week. I won't put up with that again."



"I'm terribly sorry, I...I haven't been feeling well."



"What's your problem?"



"It's nothing, really."



"It's obviously enough to keep you from coming in on time. What is it?"



"I haven't been sleeping very well lately. To tell you the truth, I...I'm scared."



"Scared of what?" Lara asked impatiently.



"I...I have a lump."



"Oh." Lara was silent for a moment. "Well, what did the doctor say?"



Kathy swallowed. "I haven't seen a doctor."



"Not seen one!" Lara exploded. "For God's sakes, do you come from a family of ostriches? Of course you've got to see a doctor."



Lara picked up the phone. "Get me Dr. Peters."



She replaced the receiver. "It's probably nothing, but you can't let it go."



"I have a mother and brother who died of cancer," Kathy said miserably. "I don't want a doctor to tell me I have it."



The telephone rang. Lara picked it up. "Hello? he what?...I don't care if he is. You tell him I want to talk to him now."



She replaced the receiver.



A few moments later the phone rang again. Lara picked it up. "Hello, Alan...no, I'm fine. I'm sending my secretary over to see you. Her name is Kathy Turner. She'll be there in half an hour. I want her examined this morning, and I want you to stay on top of it...I know you are...I appreciate it...thanks."



She replaced the receiver. "Get over to Sloan-Kettering Hospital. Dr. Peters will be waiting for you."



"I don't know what to say, Miss Cameron."



"Say that you'll be on time tomorrow."



Howard Keller came into the office. "We have a problem, boss."



"Go."



"It's the property on Fourteenth Street. We've cleared the tenants out of the whole block except for one apartment house. The Dorchester Apartments. Six of the tenants refuse to leave, and the city won't let us force them out."



"Offer them more money."



"It's not a question of money. Those people have lived there a long time. They don't want to leave. They're comfortable there."



"Then let's make them uncomfortable."



"What do you mean?"



Lara got up. "Let's go take a look at the building."



On the drive down, they passed bag ladies and homeless people roaming the streets, asking for handouts.



"In a country as wealthy as this," Lara said, "that's a disgrace."



The Dorchester Apartments was a six-story brick building in the middle of a block filled with old structures waiting for the bulldozers.



Lara stood in front of it, examining it. "How many tenants are in there?"



"We got sixteen out of the apartment. Six are still hanging on."



"That means we have sixteen apartments available."



He looked at her, puzzled. "That's right. Why?"



"Let's fill those apartments."



"You mean, lease them? What's the point..."



"We're not going to lease them. We're going to donate them to the homeless. There are thousands of homeless people in New York. We're going to take care of some of them. Crowd in as many as you can. See that they're given some food."



Keller frowned. "What makes me think this isn't one of your better ideas?"



"Howard, we're going to become benefactors. We're going to do something the city can't do - shelter the homeless."



Lara was studying the building more closely, looking at the windows. "And I want those windows boarded up."



"What?"



"We're going to make the building look like an old derelict. Is the top floor apartment still occupied, the one with the roof garden?"



"Yes."



"Put up a big billboard on the roof to block the view."



"But..."



"Get to work on it."



When Lara returned to the office, there was a message for her. "Dr. Peters would like you to call him," Tricia said.



"Get him for me."



He came on the phone almost immediately.



"Lara, I examined your secretary."



"Yes?"



"She has a tumor. I'm afraid it's malignant. I recommend an immediate mastectomy."



"I want a second opinion," Lara said.



"Of course, if you wish, but I am head of the department and..."



"I still want a second opinion. Have someone else examine her. Get back to me as soon as possible. Where is Kathy now?"



"She's on her way back to your office."



"Thanks, Alan."



Lara replaced the receiver. She pressed down the intercom button. "When Kathy returns, send her in to me."



Lara studied the calendar on her desk. She had only thirty days left to clear out the Dorchester Apartments before construction was scheduled to start.



Six stubborn tenants. All right, Lara thought, let's see how long they can hold out.



Kathy walked into Lara's office. Her face was puffy and her eyes were red.



"I heard the news," Lara told her. "I'm so sorry, Kathy."



"I'm going to die," Kathy said.



Lara rose and put her arms around her, holding her close. "You're not going to do anything of the kind. They've made a lot of progress with cancer. You're going to have the operation, and you're going to be all right."



"Miss Cameron, I can't afford..."



"Everything will be taken care of. Dr. Peters is going to see that you have one more examination. If it verifies his diagnosis, you should have the operation right away. Now go home and get some rest."



Kathy's eyes filled with tears again. "I...thank you."



As Kathy walked out of the office, she thought, No one really knows that lady.