Never Too Rich (12 page)

“
I shouldn’t wonder.” Liz sniffed
virtuously. “But he couldn’t be more embarrassed than I
am.”

“
Liz, if you will let me
explain—”

“
What’s to explain? I saw what he
was doing, Mrs. de Riscal. To tell you the truth, I’m not all that
certain I can ever face him again.”

“
I cannot blame you for feeling
offended, Liz, really I cannot.” Anouk’s eyes flicked regularly to
the doorway behind her, in case anyone strayed within earshot. “I
know what you saw must surely have come as a shock ... all the more
so since you have been so devoted to Antonio for so many years.
However, I know you are a fair woman. Please, I urge you: try to
understand him. He is so talented, so . . . so special. I know he
has this . . . weakness . . .” She sighed. “What I am trying to
say, Liz, is this: it takes a special mind to be as creative as
Antonio is. But sometimes creativity has a darker side to it.
Antonio’s does, I know. But he fights that side of himself; truly
he does. I am afraid, though, that he . . . sometimes
slips.”

“
He
slips?”
Liz stared at
Anouk in disbelief. “Is that what you call it? Well, I’ll tell you!
From the impression I got, I wouldn’t doubt it if he slips
regularly.” She took a fortifying wheezy breath. “And I don’t think
I can work for him any longer.”

“
Liz!” Anouk feigned shock. “Surely
you cannot be serious. You know how fond Antonio is of you! Why, he
counts on you to make everything run smoothly. Without you, the
business would be a shambles.”

“
Well, he should have thought about
that before.”

“
Look at it this way,” Anouk said
calmly. “If Antonio were . . . oh . . . addicted to cocaine,
wouldn’t you try to help him recover?”

A playwright’s instinct for drama told Anouk she’d
said just enough. In the cocooning silence of the gallery, she
could almost hear Liz’s tortured mental gears protesting:
Scandal .
. .
sodomy
. . .
sin . . . scandal
.
. .

Anouk reached out and held both of Liz’s hands in
her own. “I
know
you would be there to help Antonio in that
case, Liz,” she said softly. “And I believe you will find it in
your heart to help him in this one also. You are more than his
secretary, you know. You are part of the organization. Almost part
of the
family.”
Tilting her head, she looked beseechingly
into Liz’s eyes. “Please, give Antonio another chance before you
judge him too harshly, Liz. That is all I ask.”

There was a long silence. “Well, I suppose the past
twelve years count for
something”
Liz said finally. She
heaved a sigh and added quickly, with a wag of a forefinger, “But
mind you, if I ever walk into that situation again ...” Her chin
was thrust resolutely forward and her eyes were hard.

“
Oh, but you won’t!” Anouk
positively purred, the relief in her voice genuine. She embraced
Liz and gave her a hug. “I knew I could count on you, Liz! And I
know you’ll be discreet, as always. Now, we’d better get back. The
others are probably arriving.”

They went back upstairs together, Anouk smiling and
chatting like they were the best of friends. God, she was thinking
with a shiver of revulsion, I hate having to suck up to this
miserable peasant of a woman!

And as far as Liz was concerned, Anouk de Riscal was
one two-faced, lying bitch.

“
Didn’t that lady behind the
jewelry counter who asked me where I got my earrings just freak you
out?” Hallelujah asked as she and Edwina breezed out of Bergdorf
Goodman, lavender shopping bags in tow. A just-purchased pair of
upswept 1930’s-style movie-star sunglasses perched atop
Hallelujah’s nose, completely hiding her eyes. “I am too
cool.”

“
You are too slow, and we’re going
to be late for the memorial service,” Edwina pointed out, her
anxious eyes sweeping Fifth Avenue in search of a taxi. She made a
mouth of frustrated impatience. Fifth Avenue and Fifty-seventh
Street was thronged with Christmas shoppers and there wasn’t an
empty cab in sight. She glanced back at Hallelujah. “If I hadn’t
dragged you out of there, we would still be wandering around on the
sixth floor.”

“
Well, I was dying for the Victor
Costa stuff,” Hallelujah admitted. “I am in a totally acquisitive
mood. Didn’t you think that green number would look great on
me?”

“
First of all, it’s intended for
someone a little bit older than you,” Edwina said, once again
craning her neck for a cab, “and second, I wouldn’t think something
that conservative was your . . . ah . . . style.”

“
It would be, with torn lace
stockings and a pair of shocking-pink leather gloves . . . or maybe
they should be zebra print? I mean, can’t you just see
it?”

With a quick glance at her daughter Edwina said,
“Quite truthfully, I can’t.”

“
Ma!” Hallelujah cried, pointing.
“A cab!”

Edwina’s head swiveled back around and she spied the
cab sailing toward the curb. Goodwill toward her fellowman was the
farthest thing from her mind as she also spied three different cab
thieves jumping forward to grab it out from under her. “Oh, no, you
don’t!” she snarled, and with the battlefield tactics of the
native-born New Yorker, she shouldered them aside and grabbed hold
of the opening back door and stood there, her booted feet planted
aggressively apart, her eyes flashing their menacing “dare-me”
message. It was a fighting stance, one she had learned long ago.
The mean city streets were no place for Greer Garson manners.

Daunted by her ruthlessness, the cab thieves backed
off.

“
Way to go, Ma!” Hallelujah said
admiringly.

“
It’s Darwinism, kid,” Edwina said
in her best Humphrey Bogart voice.

Hallelujah laughed, and just then a boy her age with
short brown hair and Coke-bottle-thick horn-rims jumped out of the
cab, nearly knocking the shopping bags out of her hand.

“
Way to go, spaz!” Hallelujah
yelled.

“
Sorry,” the boy murmured, blushing
and looking away while he waited for the second passenger to settle
the fare and get out.

Half a minute passed, and when the passenger still
remained in the cab, Edwina tapped her foot impatiently. “How long
does it take to pay a cabbie, anyway?” she demanded of the air just
as a rich Bostonian baritone reverberated from inside the
vehicle.

“
Goddammit to hell, man, what do
you mean, you don’t have change for a twenty? I’m certainly not
going to give
you
twenty dollars for a two-forty fare. What
do you take me for? Some out-of-town hick?” Snapping fingers
clicked five times. “Come on, cough up the change.”

“
I already told you, I ain’t got
change, mister!” the cabbie shouted. “ ‘Sides, you blind? See that
decal on the door? The one that says ‘Driver not required to change
bills over ten dollars’?”

“
Oh,
Christ,”
Edwina growled
from between clenched teeth. “Just what I need! I get the only
available cab in Manhattan, and then what happens?”

“
Hey, Les,” the man called out from
inside the cab. “Got any change on you?”

The kid with the horn-rims beside Hallelujah shook
his head. “Just the twenty you gave me this morning, Dad,” he
squeaked.

“
Damn.”

But Edwina had already unslung her shoulder bag and
was digging furiously into it. “I’ve got change!” she called out
quickly, holding up four fives.

The passenger ducked out, fished the bills from
between her fingers, and handed her the twenty with a flourish.
“You’re a lady and a scholar,” he said warmly. A rakish grin
electrified his face, saving it from being criminally handsome and
giving him a vaguely piratical air. Then his head disappeared back
inside the cab, only to slowly reappear, eyelids blinking. “My
God,” he said softly under his breath, looking up at Edwina. And
then he said louder and more forcefully, “Eds? Eds
Robinson?
I don’t
believe
it!”

Edwina stared down at him as though she was
dreaming. It couldn’t be true, she told herself rationally, trying
to still her runaway pulse. Bumping smack dab into one’s first love
after all these years—and on a street corner—was the stuff of fairy
tales, not real life.

“
Well?” he demanded. “Are you just
going to stand there staring at me like you’ve seen a ghost? Or are
you going to say hello?”

“
Hey, mister, time’s money,” the
cabbie was complaining. “Will ya pay me and get out so I can pick
up another fare?”

Like an automaton, the passenger shoved all four
five-dollar bills at the cabbie and got dreamily out of the taxi,
never once taking his eyes off Edwina.

From the sidelines, Hallelujah watched her mother
and the stranger with an air of bored superiority. She couldn’t
believe it. Her mother, who just half a minute earlier had been
ready to commit homicide for a cab, had been transformed into a
speechless, openmouthed schoolgirl. It just wasn’t like her. Nor
was letting two women dash in front of her, jump triumphantly into
the cab, and slam the door.

The vehicle screeched off.

“
I don’t believe this!” Hallelujah
exclaimed. “Ma, you let that cab get away!”

“
Cab? What cab?” If Edwina was
barely aware of Hellelujah, she was totally impervious to the crowd
of pedestrians flowing around the four of them like a school of
fish avoiding an underwater wreck. She was in a world inhabited by
two. “Well, bless my soul,” she marveled softly. “Unless my eyes
deceive me, it’s R. L. Shacklebury in the flesh. How long’s it
been, R.L.? Fourteen years?”

“
Fourteen, going on forty,” R. L.
Shacklebury said definitely. He flashed Edwina another of his
rakish killer grins. He still had great teeth, she could see, all
white and even.

He shook his head. “Imagine running into each other
on the street after all these years. It’s unreal.”

“
It
is
strange,” Edwina
agreed. She stared at him, her eyes taking a swift but thorough
inventory.

He was a tall man, slightly over six feet, and
slender. His skin was expensively tanned, his thick hair solid
pewter. But the gray did not age him. On the contrary, it suited
him. Gave him an aura of power and distinction. But then, so did
his carriage, his grooming, and his presence.

And, as if the lily needed gilding, he was
unpardonably handsome, in a rugged, solid-jawed, movie-star kind of
way. But not too rugged-looking either. His chiseled face was
warmed with crinkly laugh lines. Sensuous full lips. Irish-green
eyes that forever looked out at the world with ironic
amusement.

“
You recognized me right away,” she
said huskily. “I’m flattered.”

“
What—you thought I’d forgotten
you?” His voice sounded cheerfully shocked.

“
A lot of years have passed,” she
reminded him.

“
Have they? You’d have to convince
me. Looking at you, I’d say time stopped fourteen years ago. You
haven’t changed a bit.”

“
And you’re still the soul of
truth.” She laughed.

He joined her, enjoying the repartee.

“
So. What brings you to town?” she
asked more soberly.

“
I live here on and off now.
Officially, Boston’s still home, but I keep a place here too. Half
a town house, but the decorator insists on calling it a
pied-a-terre.”

Edwina caught Hallelujah eyeing R.L. speculatively,
and said, “Hal, your mother wants you to meet someone from her
sordid and remote youth. I know you’ve heard me talk about R. L.
Shacklebury; well, now you finally have the opportunity to meet the
face that goes with all the stories.” Edwina looked blearily,
delightedly happy as she made the introductions.

Hallelujah felt his firm pump of a handshake, and
then he placed his hands on the shoulders of the boy with the
horn-rims and pushed him forward. “And this is my son, Les.”

Hallelujah lowered her head so that she could look
the kid over from above the dark lenses of her sunglasses.

“
It’s short for Leslie,” the boy
said, holding out his hand to Edwina.

“
How do you do, Leslie?” Edwina
greeted solemnly, shaking it.

Les turned and held his hand out to Hallelujah.
“Hi,” he said. “I’m pleased to make your acquaintance.”

“
Yeah.” She didn’t even try to
muster a friendly tone. Maybe his father was handsome enough in a
square kind of way, but this little four-eyed geek was one person
she’d just as soon have nothing to do with. As far as she was
concerned, any kid of twelve or thirteen who tried to look like
somebody in a Ralph Lauren ad was definitely
weird.

Edwina looked pointedly at Leslie and then back at
R.L. “I take it you’re married, then?”

“
Divorced. And you?”

“
Chalk up another marriage to the
free-wheeling eighties.” She laughed. “I’m divorced
too.”

“
I’m sorry.”

“
Don’t be. It was for the
best.”

“
So we’re both single again,” he
marveled. His startling green eyes seemed to brighten in intensity.
“Listen, what do you say we all hop over to the Plaza? We can have
a drink for old times’ sake, and the kids can have a malted or
whatever it is kids drink nowadays.”

Edwina shook her head. “I’d love to, but we’ve
really got to run. We’re on our way to a friend’s memorial service,
and we’re running late as it is.”