Sudden Pleasures (25 page)

“Oh, my God,” Ashley finally managed to gasp as she pushed him off of her. “I have never in my life had such incredible sex. Are we alive?”

“I think so.” He groaned and, reaching out, took her hand in his, bringing it to his lips to kiss. “You are an incredible woman, and I am so glad we found each other. I love you, Ashley,” he said. “I never thought to say that to a woman and mean it, but I love you, baby.”

“I love you too,” she admitted softly. “I never believed in fate before, Ryan, but I sure as hell believe in fate now. Only something like fate could have brought us together. It would appear that we are perfect for each other.”

They lay silently and quietly together on the rug before the fire for some minutes, and Ashley thought afterward that perhaps they even dozed off for a short time. Finally he said, “We’d better go upstairs, baby. I’m falling asleep with all that terrific exercise.” They didn’t bother to dress, because they knew that no one was about. Lina would be fast sleep in a guest room, and the Byrneses were at the other end of the house completely. Gathering their clothing, they hurried up the wide staircase, down the broad upstairs hall, and into their own bedroom suite, where they fell into bed, exhausted from their passion.

Ryan awoke earlier than the woman by his side. After showering and dressing, he kissed his sleeping wife and went downstairs to the kitchen to put on the coffee. To his surprise his mother joined him almost immediately. She had obviously been out walking.

“You’re up,” he said to her. “Good morning. Juice? We have orange, pineapple, and tomato.”

“Pineapple,” Lina said. “I can have orange any day.”

He poured it for her, handing her the glass.

“You are happy,” she said. It was a statement, not a question.

“I owe you one,
mamma mia
,” he said. “I love her.”

“You might not have,” Lina reminded him.

“Ashley says it’s fate,” Ryan told his mother.

Angelina Mulcahy smiled. “She believes in fate?”

“She didn’t, she says, until now,” Ryan answered.

“Fate is what brought your father and me together,” she told him.

“You were happy,” he said.

“We were content,” Angelina Mulcahy said candidly. “And no matter that he was Irish and I was Italian; we had much in common. A religion, a work ethic. But I never loved Finbar Mulcahy. I was fond of him, yes. But I never loved him.”

“But you had seven kids!” Ryan exclaimed.

“We both liked sex,” she said bluntly. “I know that isn’t something a mother should say to her son, but that’s the truth of it. Your father and I enjoyed a healthy sexual relationship. That was another thing we had in common. That and we wanted a family. We never meant to have seven kids, but your father wanted a son, and I kept having girls. And then after you were born we tried for another boy and got Francesca. That’s when we decided the pope be damned, and your dad started using condoms until I got through the change. Do you know how lucky you are, Ryan? You actually have fallen in love. It’s a blessing,
mio figlio
.”

“I never knew just how much until now, Ma,” he told her. “Want some breakfast? I make pretty good scrambled eggs. I learned from an expert.”

Angelina smiled. “Where is Ashley?”

“I’m letting her sleep,” he said. “Eggs?”

His mother laughed. “Yes, please,” she said. Then she grew serious. “Tell me, Ryan, does she love you? And will you give me grandchildren?”

“She loves me,” he responded, “and she says as soon as she gets these two new shops open and going, she’ll throw away her birth control pills. Haven’t you got enough grandchildren, Ma?” he teased her.

“I have grandchildren,” Angelina said. “But no Mulcahy grandchildren.”

“Ashley wants kids. Don’t worry about it,” he told her.

“The couple? They don’t work on Sundays?” Lina wanted to know.

“Sundays and Wednesdays are their days off,” Ryan said as he took eggs from the fridge and began breaking them into a bowl. “Hey, how long has it been since you and I had breakfast together, Ma?”

She smiled. “Give me the bacon, Ryan, and I’ll start to fry it up.”

Together mother and son fixed breakfast: scrambled eggs and perfectly cooked crisp bacon to be served with a plate of Mrs. B.’s mini cranberry-apple muffins that had been left in the pantry for them. When it was just about ready Lina filled a plate and gave it to Ryan.

“Take Ashley some breakfast before we eat. You have obviously worn her out.”

“She can keep up with me.” He grinned.

“Much too much information,” Lina told her son.

“After what you told me?” he said, laughing.

“I told you nothing that you did not already know, Ryan. If your father and I had not liked sex, you and your six sisters would not be here. You were not, after all, delivered by the stork, now, were you?”

He picked up the plate she handed him, along with a cup of coffee laced with half-and-half. “I won’t be long,” he said with a grin.

“If you are I will know what you are doing, won’t I?” Lina teased.

Laughing, Ryan hurried up the back staircase to take his wife her breakfast. Both his wife and mother were to be reckoned with. He was glad that they were friends.

T
hey were happy together. Ryan was working out a system of cameras that would allow his whole office and workshops to be viewed from his computer at home. He had decided to go into town only once a month for a day. If there was an emergency he would, of course, be available. And he was always available for clients. He had hired Bill away from the car service that had brought his family out to Egret Pointe in mid-October. And he had traded his sports car for a Town Car tricked out with every device he might need. Bill, a bachelor, was offered an apartment above the garages, where a chauffeur used to live when the house had employed a full staff. It even had its own small kitchen, but Bill could eat with the Byrneses, which he preferred to do most nights. He had the weekends off, as Ryan didn’t need him then.

Ashley had brought her new employees out to Egret Pointe, and with Nina’s help was training them.
Lacy Nothings
on the Upper East Side and in its suburban mall location would be ready to open on time. On the thirtieth of October, Suzette and Mrs. Babcock, along with their new staffs, departed Egret Pointe. Their stores would be ready for business on November first. Ashley was relieved to have everything going so smoothly. The new catalog, shot in August and mailed in late September, was already bringing in more early orders than she had anticipated.

She and Ryan had taken to eating together in the den now. The porch was closed up for the winter, and the formal dining room was just too big for a single couple. Byrnes set up a table in the den’s bay window, where they could watch the moon come up over the bay while they ate in the evening.

“I have to go to Venice next week,” Ryan told her one night.

“For how long?” Ashley asked him.

“Just a few days. An old friend, the Contessa di Viscontini, has found a wonderful seventeenth-century wardrobe in a small town over the Austrian border. It’s alleged to have belonged to a doge who was her ancestor. She’s had it brought to her villa in Venice, but she wants R&R to restore it and make any repairs that are necessary. I don’t trust anyone else to oversee the packing of this piece. If it’s authentic then it’s too valuable to leave in clumsy hands. So I’ll go to Venice and see to it myself,” Ryan said.

“I’ll go with you,” Ashley suggested. “The new stores are open as of last weekend, and Nina can handle the shop here, with Brandy coming in Saturday and after school. We haven’t had a real honeymoon. I can’t think of a more romantic place to have one than in Venice, and I’ve got the time now. Once the Christmas rush begins I’ll be too busy, and as I recall I did promise to throw away my birth control pills once the new stores were up and running. What if I get pregnant? I can’t take a honeymoon then.”

“November isn’t the prettiest month to go to Venice,” he said.

“Venice will still be Venice no matter the weather. The Piazza San Marco and the Campanile will still be there whatever time of year it is,” Ashley reasoned.

“Venice is one of my favorite cities,” he said. “I want you to see it first at its best, not in a month that’s apt to be cold and rainy.”

“What if it sinks into the sea before I finally get there?” Ashley wanted to know.

Ryan laughed. “Okay, I give up,” he told her. “You can come to Venice with me. I suppose you’re right. Venice will be Venice no matter what. And better with you. And we’ll be staying at the contessa’s villa. You’ll like Bianca. She’s a very cool lady.”

“Wouldn’t a hotel be better?” Ashley wondered.

“Nope, and besides, Bianca would never let us,” he replied.

“How do you know a Venetian contessa?” Ashley asked her husband.

“The summer I was sixteen, Dad took Mom, Deirdre, Frankie, and me to Venice. There was a great craftsman there, Paolo Venutti. My father wanted to learn his technique, and he took only one student each summer. Dad was on his waiting list, and that summer’s student canceled. Venutti called Dad, and the next thing I knew we were on a plane. Venutti arranged for us to rent the Conde di Viscontini’s guesthouse. He was old and sick, but he needed the income the rental would bring in, and they didn’t entertain any longer. His wife was much younger, I guess in her late thirties or early forties then. She welcomed us. She showed Ma where the best markets were, and how to get around the city easily. She found friends for Deirdre, who was twenty then, and really pissed she had to come with us, but my folks weren’t leaving her home alone, and the other sisters were all married. None of them wanted the responsibility for her. I don’t blame them. Dee was a pretty wild kid then.”

“How old was Frankie?” Ashley wanted to know.

“Fourteen, and the contessa found a few friends for her too. They spent more time at the Lido than anywhere else that summer. There was always an older woman, someone’s relative, with them to keep them out of trouble.” He laughed.

“And what did you do in Venice that summer?” She smiled at the thought of Ryan at sixteen.

“I explored the whole city. I even took Ma with me now and again. Sometimes I went with Frankie to the Lido. And the contessa taught me to speak Italian. In return I taught her English. It was a great summer, as I recall. I hated to come back.”

“You’ve been back since?”

“Three times. The first time was two years later, when Bianca’s husband died. My father felt the family should be represented, and so I was sent. The conde’s funeral barge, all decked in black, traversed the length of the Grand Canal and back again. I paid my respects and those of my family, and was on the plane again for home. And I’ve been back twice since, but the contessa was never there when I visited. I haven’t seen her in years. Venutti used to do all her restoring, but I imagine he’s dead now. I’m surprised she remembered us, but then R&R’s reputation is the best.”

“Will you take me for a gondola ride in the moonlight?” Ashley asked her husband. “And can we listen to a band concert on the Piazza San Marco?”

“I don’t think they do outdoor concerts in November,” he told her. “Next time we’ll go in summer. But even now there will be lots for you to see while I’m working, and yes, I’ll take you for a gondola ride, if I can find a gondola, but I can’t guarantee a moon.” Ryan chuckled.

“What do you mean, if you can find a gondola? I thought Venice was full of gondolas,” Ashley said. “If I go to Venice I have to ride in a gondola. You can’t say you’ve been to Venice if you haven’t had a trip in a gondola.”

“The gondolas hibernate nowadays,” he said. “And it is late in the year. But if the weather is good and there are still some tourists in Venice, then there will be a few gondolas to be had, and we’ll go for our ride,” he promised her.

“Is there an airport in Venice?” Ashley wanted to know.

“There are two, north of the city. When I went as a kid we flew to Rome, visited some of Ma’s relatives, and then took the train into Venice. I remember Frankie and me leaning out of the open window of the first-class carriage Dad had booked, and taking pictures as we came into the city across the lagoon. When we came out of the station we took the vaporetto, which is like a bus, to Piazza Viscontini, and then, lugging our suitcases, we walked the rest of the way,” he recalled.

“So how are we going? And do I have to carry my suitcase?” she asked him.

“There’s a direct Delta flight from the city to Venice. It’s a nine-hour flight. Book us two first-class tickets as soon as you can get us on the plane,” Ryan said.

They departed Kennedy two nights later. They had checked one bag each onto the plane. Ashley carried only her handbag on board, and Ryan brought nothing on the plane but a small book on Venetian furniture. They took off their shoes, which were carefully inspected, walked through a metal detector, put their footwear back on, and picked up the book and the handbag. They were then allowed to board. She was glad she didn’t have to do a lot of flying these days. It was getting to be more and more of a hassle.

Ashley had been surprised that there were first-class seats available, but it was an odd time of year to be going away for pleasure. And Thursday night wasn’t exactly a night for business travel. Their plane was a new one, with seats that turned into single beds. After dinner she and Ryan turned in, falling asleep holding hands. The steward woke them an hour before landing. Looking outside the windows, Ashley noted that it was a beautiful day. A stewardess brought them breakfast: scrambled eggs, croissants, and café au lait. They landed right on time.

Aeroporto Marco Polo was six miles north of the city. Claiming their bags, they boarded the shuttle bus that would take them to the dock. Ryan had booked a private powerboat to take them to their destination in the city. When they reached the boats they saw a young man holding up a sign that read, mulcahy, and they headed for him.

“Signore Mulcahy?” the man asked as they reached him.

“
Si
, Ryan Mulcahy
e
Signora Mulcahy,” Ryan said.

“I speak English, signore. I’m Pietro. Let me take your bags.” Reaching for them, the boat captain quickly stored them. Then he helped Ashley into his vessel, followed by Ryan. “I like to practice my English, signore, if you don’t mind. It helps me with the tourists in the summer,” Pietro told them. “I know the signore speaks Italian, for the contessa has said so.”

“You know where we’re going then?” Ryan inquired.

“Palazzo di Viscontini, signore,
si
!”

“I take it this isn’t a vaporetto,” Ashley said, smiling at her husband.

“No. This is first class,” Ryan replied with a grin. “The weather is good?” he asked the boat’s captain.

“You have brought the good weather with you, signore,” Pietro replied. “They say for the next week we will have sun. Unusual for November.”

Out in the open water the boat sped its way across the lagoon. Ashley could see the city ahead of her. It looked like something out of a fairy tale, all gold, blue, and with terra cotta roofs. “Where are the gondolas?” she asked Pietro.

“There will be a few still out,” he answered her. “Most have been put away for the winter. Not many tourists come to Venice in the winter months, signora.”

As they drew closer to the city, Ashley was delighted to see a variety of boat traffic suddenly surrounding them as Pietro slowed down to keep pace with what was definitely a traffic pattern. Ryan pointed out a vaporetto which was the Venetian method of public transportation. Ashley could see it was crowded with rush-hour traffic.
What a fun way to commute if you had to commute
, she thought. There were other powerboats such as the one they were in. There were barges carrying all manner of goods, but the one that fascinated her was unloading fresh vegetables and fruit at what was obviously a marketplace. They stopped once to allow a boat that was marked as an ambulance to speed by. Everything seemed to use the water here. Finally their boat slowed and turned down a narrow canal. Beyond the buildings on its corner there were trees and gardens on either side of the waterway.

“Canal Viscontini,” Pietro said. “It is very special. Even the great palazzos on the Grand Canal do not have this, signora. In the great days the two buildings that we have just passed served as warehouses for the di Viscontini. Like all the seigneury families, their wealth came from trade. To have such a private garden in the midst of the city is unheard-of, and the contessa could gain a great deal of money if she would sell.”

“But she will not,” Ryan said with a small smile.

“Ah, you know the contessa well, then,” Pietro said.

“I stayed with my family in her guesthouse one summer when I was a boy,” Ryan said. “She taught me Italian, and I taught her English. Look there, Ash. It’s the guesthouse.” He pointed to a charming mini villa in the middle of the contessa’s gardens. “And look ahead of you. Here is the palazzo. God, I don’t think it has changed at all.”

“Very little changes in Venezia, signore,” Pietro remarked as the powerboat came to a stop beside a stone quay. He tied the vessel to an iron ring in the stone and, climbing out, reached down to help Ashley, and then Ryan. “I will bring your bags,” he said.

The door to the palazzo had opened, and a woman came forward to greet them. “Ryan?” She was a beautiful, small woman with flawless skin and red-blond hair cut in a short, fashionable bob. “Ryan! I cannot believe it is you!
Dio mio
, you are taller than Finbar himself, aren’t you?” She reached up as he bent and kissed both of her cheeks. “Welcome back to Venice,
cara
!” Then the contessa turned and smiled. “You are Ashley, Ryan’s bride. I am so glad that you have come. While Ryan fusses with my wardrobe and scolds me about dry rot, you and I shall sightsee. You have never been to Venice, have you? I recognize the look on your face. It is the look that everyone gets who comes for the first time.” She kissed Ashley’s cheeks. “Welcome! Now come into the house with me, and we’ll get you both settled. Have you eaten?” She linked her arms in theirs.

“On the plane, yes, thank you,” Ashley said. A palazzo! She was staying in a palace. It was so beautiful. As the boat had come up the little canal she had studied the elegant building ahead of her. It was of red brick that had been worn by wind and weather until it was a rich rose color. It was three stories high, with colonnades and arches. The wide stone quay that they walked across was dotted with great terra-cotta pots filled with rosebushes and ivy. It had obviously not been that cold in Venice yet, for some of the bushes were still in bloom.