HISTORY HOTEL SORRENTO SEATTLE

The pianist encouraged her to sing along, and began playing the song suggested. A couple of numbers later, they segued into "Evergreen," my absolute favorite. When the song was finished, the room erupted into wild applause… None of us had realized that the lobby by this time was jammed with a hushed crowd of people. The impromptu concert went on for another 45 minutes, when we were finally able to extricate our ourselves and escape to our car, which had been waiting at the door all that time.

We kept in touch with Dehner Franks for a time, but lost track of him after a few years. Then, just last year, we saw a note to the Seattle times that he is now a famous performer, and was appearing in concert here in town. The memory flooded back of that magical evening in the Sorrento lobby.

I needed his help finding a dog that had been stolen while in my care. Nolan had retired as a private investigator and resisted helping me at first, but as soon as I filled him in on the details of my latest crisis, he decided not to turn away from the challenge. That was two weeks ago, our last phone conversation. Waiting in the Fireside Room of the Hotel Sorrento with a martini glass filled with cookies and a pot of Darjeeling tea, I was filled with anticipation. I felt elegant, and I wanted to hold that feeling for my first sight of Nolan. Lost in thought, I almost missed his arrival. Maybe it was my imagination, but it seemed like everyone in the room turned their attention to the door. Things seemed to happen in slow motion as he walked in. He smiled and noted a greeting to the people near the door. I stepped up to him, coyly, since we hadn't seen each other in about three years. He offered the casual embrace of a business associate. At least that was my view. I felt that I hid my disappointment well. What was I expecting, a movie embrace of war-torn lovers? Theme music? We made small talk about his long flight from Hawaii, and then it was time to start giving him the facts. I got the file folder and record book out of my bag and answered each of his questions about the dog and the people with whom he lived.

My take on our visit was that Nolan was trying to keep it formal and businesslike. We kept our conversation lighthearted and mostly on the task of finding Sheldrake.

By the time we finished hashing out the information, Nolan knew I was getting hungry. We retreated to the Hunt Club, and as we settled in comfortably, I remembered the things I loved most about Nolan, along with the reasons this visit would not have a romantic Hollywood ending.

It was clear to me that he was enjoying my company, but he had no illusions about his purpose. He remained my steadfast friend, and he'd come to help me at a time of need. Anything I read into a comment or gesture was my own projection. We talked twice during the week. He had been to shelters, kennels, vets, and a few parks. He showed the photos around stores, schools, and even had copies made and posted around town. It was in the latter part of the week that he called with the news; I was waiting for it.

"Hello," I answered the phone on the second ring, as not to appear too anxious.

"Hi, it's me. I have news for you. I found him, and he's fine."

"Really, I can't believe it! You found him? That's wonderful, I knew you would. Should I come over and get him?”

"Slow down. Why don't I meet you at the Sorrento tomorrow, and you can return him to his family?"

"That would be great! They will be so happy. Thank you so much. You've really come through. What a lifesaver you are."

I wanted to say more, but the words wouldn't come. The next day, I arrived at the Sorrento early and paced the lobby. The next thing I remember is Nolan and Sheldrake approaching the entryway. They saw me. Nolan dropped the leash. I bent down to make eye contact with Sheldrake, and he ran over to me. We were nose to snout, and that's when I realized that what I've read about Hotel Sorrento was true; it is the best place to kiss in Seattle.

The hotel was the Sorrento; the time was the last week in December 1967. I was, until the week before, a sophomore at the university of Washington, just now taking my first steps in what became a memorable life as a performer.

In 1967, Alaska Airlines created a company of singers and dancers to tour the west promoting Alaska as a vacation land. There were six singers, I recall, a couple of musicians and tech people, and two dancers: friended me.

I moved into the Sorrento that last blustery week of the year along with the rest of the company. We spent three weeks of long days rehearsing on the top floor, and lovely evenings in the piano bar, listening to Bob Banks sing while pretending to be old enough to consume the drinks we ordered.

I can't remember the room number, but to this day some 32 years later, I can see that sweet in every detail, unlike the hundreds of rooms I've occupied and forgotten since that time. (I do, however, remember one really horrible hotel in Dubrovnik, but that's another story.)

Eventually, our little company left the Sorrento to begin the tour. From there, I spent some years performing on TV and in theater before moving to New York, where I became a soloist with the Martha Graham dance company. After years of touring around the world, several years ago I moved back to the northwest—I came home.

I had celebrated my first "grown-up" New Year's Eve in 1967 at the Sorrento. I remember dining up in the ballroom, our rehearsal space magically transformed for a wonderful New Year's Eve party. I wore a flame, orange chiffon dress and drink champagne for the first time. When the opportunity arose to spend New Year's Eve 1999 at the Sorrento, I wanted very much to be there for the celebration. As I finish my career, it seems fitting that your lovely hotel has, in a funny way, acted as the book ends for my wonderful wild ride of a life as a professional dancer.