Fifth Ave 01 - Fifth Avenue (73 page)

“And when will that be?”

Louis lit another cigarette and, for an instant, his face glowed in the fiery globe. “Tuesday,” he said.
 
“When we bury the rest of them.”
 

BOOK FOUR

CHAPTER
FORTY-NINE

“It
really
is
special
,”
the
Realtor
said.
 
She was standing
in
the
center
of
the
large,
empty
foyer and
her
voice
echoed
off
the
stark
white
walls.
 
“As you know,
apartments on
Fifth
are rare,
especially
in
the
50s and 60s.
 
And this is a
penthouse, which obviously further amplifies its appeal.”
 
She
let a silence go by
.
 
“
If you want to make a statement and live on Fifth Avenue, this is the place to do so
.
 
Few in the city are better.”

She allowed the man a moment to take in the space.

“Let’s take a tour,” she said.

The
apartment was
large
and
airy.
 
It comprised
two floors and boasted
sweeping
views of
the
city.
 
I
t
was completely
white throughout--white walls, white
carpets,
white
woodwork,
white
marble
floors in
the bathrooms,
white
fireplace
in
the
library,
everywhere
white, white, white.

“From what I hear, the owners
are arty, eccentric
types,”
the
Realtor
said
as
they moved through
the
living
room
and stepped
into
the
dining area.
 
“They’re
old
money
from
Iceland
and
word
has
it
that
they
missed
their country so much
that
they
surrounded themselves
in white, in
a
sense
giving
them the
illusion
of
being lost
in
a blizzard.”

“You don’t say?”

She caught the sarcasm and couldn’t help a laugh.
 
“It’s what we’ve been asked to say.
 
Whether it’s true, I can’t say.
 
But I can confirm that the apartment was featured this year in Architectural Digest.”

The
man
walked down
a
bright hallway
and stepped
into
the
library.
 
She followed
.
 
“This is
my favorite
room
,” she said.
 
“
The windows sell it.
 
That’s a true New York view.
 
You easily could fit two-hundred people in here for entertaining.
 
And at night, it’s magnificent.
 
With that backdrop, you can imagine how beautiful it is in here
.
”

The man moved to
the
far
set
of
windows.
 
Hands clasped
behind
his back,
he
looked
across
53rd
Street
to
the
city’s newest hotel.

The woman
stepped
behind
him.
 
“And then you have that,” she said.
 
“The largest hotel in New York.
  
Four
thousand
rooms,
all of
them booked
for
the
weekend.
 
Tonight
is the
opening night
party.
 
You’ve heard that
Leana
Redman is managing the hotel?”

“Didn’t she just bury her sister yesterday?”

“She did.”

“And now she opens that hotel tonight,” he said.
 
“That’s a pretty quick recovery, wouldn’t you say?”

The woman didn’t say.
 
“
Do
you
like
the
view?”

“Very
much,” he said.
 
“But
I
wonder
if
I
might
see
it
at
night?”

“Of
course,”
she
said.
 
“I
could
show it
to
you
tomorrow evening.”

“No,”
the
man
said.
 
“I’m
leaving
the
country
tomorrow morning.
 
I
won’t
be
back
for weeks and
you may
have sold
it by
then.”
 
He turned away
from
the
window
and
looked
at
her
.
 
“I’d
like
to
see
it
tonight.
 
And,
if
the view is as spectacular as you say it is, it’s likely that I’ll just write
you
a
check
for
the
full amount.”

The woman
kept her features neutral, but her mind was working
.
 
After calling
in
a
number
of
favors,
she
had secured
an
invitation
to the opening
of
The
Hotel
Fifth.
 
She
had spent
a
fortune on her
dress and almost as much on having
it tailored to
her
body.
There
was
no
way
she
could
show this
apartment
tonight.
 
The connections she could make tonight were invaluable.

And
yet this
apartment had been on the
market
for months.
The
asking
price
was
$25
million.
 
Because
of the recession, here was the
first
person
in
weeks
to show genuine
interest
in
it.
 
She couldn’t lose this sale, for professional and personal reasons.

The man
was
watching
her,
waiting
for
a
response.
 
“If
it’s
a
problem,”
he
said,
“I
can
always
look
elsewhere.
 
I really need to wrap this up today.”