“But I have to!”

“Just tell me where you want me to drop you off. I’m not a travel agent.”

Lorraine pulled out her cell phone. She tried to dial information but all the circuits were busy. “Ohhh. My life is falling apart.”

“Lady, we’re getting close to the other side of this bridge. You gotta tell me where to go. Driving through town in the dark with no traffic lights is not my idea of fun.” He paused. “But who knows? Maybe I’ll make some extra bucks tonight. People will be desperate for cabs. So where to?”

“The Sapphire”

“Fancy shmancy,” the driver muttered under his breath.

They slowly crossed into a darkened Manhattan. Cars were hesitantly crawling through the streets. People were pouring out of restaurants. Headlights from the cars provided the only source of light. It was like they were in a movie, but Lorraine wasn’t paying much attention. She was busy reapplying her lipstick and carefully touching up her face, aided only by the light of her compact. It was something she could have done in her sleep.

The driver had turned up the volume of the radio again and listened to the reports. “Can you imagine that?” he asked Lorraine, not expecting an answer. “A lightning strike leads to this mess.”

When they finally pulled up to the Sapphire, the doorman waved them on. “I wouldn’t bother. They’re all booked up. It’s chaos in there,” he said with a bored expression.

Lorraine squealed in despair.

“Shhhhh,” the driver said, as he cocked his head toward the radio. “Listen—”

“…yes, that’s right, folks. We just got word that the Treetops Hotel on Central Park South, which was scheduled for a grand opening in two days, is opening its doors tonight. Employees were there making final preparations for its first guests. Now you could be one of them! The manager claims they want to come to the aid of the citizens of New York. Those citizens who can cough up at least a thousand dollars a room. But they have a state-of-the-art generator that is sure to cool your jets…”

“Take me there!” Lorraine cried.

“You’re going to pay that much for a room?” the driver asked incredulously.

“My soon-to-be-ex-husband will foot the bill.”

“I better get a good tip.”

Fifteen minutes later the cab pulled up to the marbled entrance of the Treetops. There was already a line at the registration desk in the lobby. A local TV reporter with a camera crew was covering the story of the luxury hotel welcoming hot and tired victims of the blackout. Lorraine was only too happy to be interviewed. The sight of a camera temporarily took her mind off her problems.

“I just returned from doing a play in London,” she cooed. “I feel as if I’m in a play right now. The airlines lost my luggage—”

“They lost your luggage?” the young reporter asked with great interest.

Lorraine laughed and tossed her head back. “Can you imagine? I’m telling you, it’s all just too much…”