The Daughter-in-Law (11 page)

“I want you to give a damn. I have to know that you believe me.”

Jonathan turned away. “Okay. I’ll renounce my inheritance so that we can be filthy poor. Let’s get out of the limo and take a cab. Or better yet, he can drop us off at the subway and we’ll honeymoon in a rooming house on Rockaway Beach.”

“Don’t make fun of me,” Nicole snapped. “Do you think I like being investigated? Am I supposed to ignore your mother’s suspicions?”

“Nicole,” he said, serious for the first time since they left City Hall, “I come with the fortune. I spend money like there’s no bottom to the barrel because I’ve never seen the bottom. So, instead of spending it on foolish things, I’ll be spending it on you. Why does that make you mad?”

“Because even if you didn’t have the money—”

He put a finger to her lips. “If I didn’t have it I’d probably throw myself off a tall building, because I wouldn’t know how to live without it. So, you’ll just have to take me the way I am . . . filthy rich . . . strikingly handsome ...”

She laughed genuinely and leaned back into his arms.

“Good,” he said. “This is where you belong. Now, can we just forget all this talk about taking a subway? I have bigger plans for the rest of the day.”

Nicole recognized LaGuardia Airport ahead, and saw the driver moving to the exit lane. “We need a plane to get to heaven?” she
asked. But the car turned away from the passenger terminal and took the road that curved around the field and led to the private plane gates. The driver jumped out and began handing their luggage to a porter. Jonathan led Nicole through the waiting area and out onto the taxiway. A twin-engine jet, much bigger than an executive jet, was waiting.

“What is this?” she asked suspiciously before she started up the steps.

“An airplane,” he deadpanned. He started her up toward the open door where a waiter in cutaway attire was standing. The waiter greeted her with a slight bow. “Mrs. Donner,” he said, showing that she was expected. “And Mr. Donner. I trust the drive over wasn’t too difficult.”

“Better than the subway,” Jonathan answered. Then he ran into Nicole who had stopped short as soon as she turned into the cabin.

“Oh, my God,” she breathed.

“Like it?” he asked.

The plane, normally fitted out with seats for a hundred passengers, had been turned into a luxury suite for just a few. There was a full kitchen, a stocked bar with swiveling stools, a media area with theater seats in front of a five-foot television screen, a bumper-pool table, an intimate dining room, and then a cluster of soft chairs and ottomans that formed a living room. There were flowers on every table, champagne in ice buckets, and a wedding cake hung from the overhead so that it wouldn’t be tipped during the takeoff. The windows were covered and the lights were dimmed. Strings were playing over the sound system.

“I don’t believe it,” Nicole stammered.

He took her arm and led her through the cabin. “Wait until you see the bedroom!” He opened a door to the last third of the plane.

The bed was round, set in the center of the space, beneath a matching mirror hung from the ceiling. It was at least eight feet across, and covered with a white satin comforter and oversize black pillows. A black negligee, invisible except for the seams, was tossed casually at the edge. There were two night tables, one rigged with enough electronic controls to pass for the mixing board in a recording studio. The walls were a brocaded white fabric, and the floor a black shag.

“How cozy,” she chided. “Is this your debut as an interior decorator?”

“Is it too subtle?” Jonathan wondered.

“It looks like an altar for sacrificing virgins.”

He went to the control panel. “Watch this!” The lighting dimmed and then went through a range of colors. Stereo sounds seeped through the wall coverings. The bed rotated so that it could face any one of three television monitors, and a nicely stocked bar rose up from the floor.

Nicole lifted the nightgown and held it up to herself. “I don’t think this will fit,” she said.

“Does it really matter?” he asked with his eyebrow arched. Then he pushed past her and opened a door that was hidden by the brocade. “The bath,” he announced.

The Jacuzzi was nearly as big as the bed, a black tub set into white tile. Shower nozzles aimed in at it from every angle. The wall above the double sinks was entirely mirrored. The toilet and the bidet were behind a privacy wall.

She looked at him curiously. “Is this one of your toys?”

“What? The Jacuzzi?”

“The whole flying whorehouse. You couldn’t have done all this since yesterday.”

Jonathan began to laugh. Then, while trying to control his hysteria, he assured her that he wasn’t the owner. “It belonged to some Hollywood guy who did porno films. He ran into prostate problems so he had to sell it.”

“And you bought it?”

“No. I leased it just as it was. The only change I made was to remove the video cameras from behind the mirrored ceiling.” She looked skeptical. “Honest,” he assured her. “Business tycoons rent this thing for executive travel. Getting there is half the fun.”

“They bring their wives?” Now Nicole feigned skepticism.

“Whatever,” he answered. “I just thought that you’d never had a proper courtship. So I wanted to do something . . . extravagant!”

Nicole laughed, wrapped her arms around his neck, and kissed him. “You succeeded. This is wonderfully extravagant.”

“You’re sure you wouldn’t rather have a rooming house in Rock-away? A squeaky old bed with a john at the end of the hall. Because
I could just cancel this ...” She kissed him full on the lips, her mouth open and eager. He pulled back. “We could just pick up our luggage and find a subway station ...”

She covered his mouth with hers.

They got serious during the takeoff, and kept their seat belts on during the climb-out. But once they were at altitude, the honeymoon began. Their waiter popped a cork and poured champagne, served with caviar. Then he led them to the table where he served sautéed Dover sole and poured a chilled Graves. He returned with fresh strawberries and a sauterne for their dessert.

It was while she was tasting the sugary berries and the sweet wine that Jonathan produced the small pale box from Tiffany. He went down on one knee just as the cabin filled with the heartbreaking strains of a gypsy violin. “Nicole, will you marry me?” He popped the top of the box. “Before you answer, I want you to know that this ring is not intended to influence your decision.”

Her eyes flashed childlike amazement.

“In fact,” he went on, “if it’s too big for your populist taste I’ll take it back and get something smaller.”

It was a blue-white five-caret diamond, oval cut with a dozen facets in a solitaire setting.

“But it has to be returned in twenty-four hours, so we’ll have to turn this thing around ...”

She silenced him with a kiss, and then led him to the bedroom. Nicole lifted the negligee from the bed and carried it into the bathroom. “Don’t go away,” she said as she closed the door. Jonathan tore off his clothes and left them where they fell. He went to the control panel, dimmed the lights adding just a hint of red, and turned the bed so that it was facing the bathroom door. Nicole stepped out modeling the gown that provided just enough coverage to be wildly provocative.

“What do you think?” she asked, doing her best imitation of a runway model.

“I think we can sell a lot of those.” His voice cracked as if he were about to choke.

“Do you like the way it moves?” She pirouetted, letting the bottom hem spin over her legs.

He swallowed with difficulty “I’m not sure. Do that again.”

She did, spinning in the other direction. “Maybe it’s too revealing. Do you think I should send it back?”

He groaned. “I think if you don’t get into bed right now, I’m going to start without you.”

Nicole slid under the comforter and took Jonathan in her arms. “Oh,” she whispered. “You did get a head start.”

His hands slipped up along her body and then poked out from under the bedcovers. The negligee landed softly and vanished into the black carpet.

They were entwined in the Jacuzzi when the butler tapped on the outer door and cleared his throat.

“Come in!” Jonathan offered.

“No, don’t!” Nicole yelled. She started out of the tub and then thought better of it. Instead, she slinked down into the water until it covered her up to the chin.

Jonathan laughed at her modesty, climbed out and wrapped himself in a towel. He crossed the bedroom and peered out around the edge of the door.

“The pilot wishes to inform you that we’re in the landing area. He wonders when you’ll be ready to return to your seat.”

“Tell him to take it around a few more times. Maybe another half hour.”

The butler nodded. “Very good, sir.”

Nicole was still under the water. “What did he want?”

“Oh, the landing gear is stuck. We have to get into our parachutes right away. No time to dress and dry off.”

For an instant she looked shocked. Then she began to laugh. “Wouldn’t that do it? Parachuting into Manhattan stark naked. I can see the pictures of us wrapped in the chutes as the police drag us out of Central Park.”

“We’re not back in New York,” Jonathan told her.

“We’re not? Isn’t this the heaven you promised me? I thought this was a flight to nowhere?”

“No,” he answered. “I think we’re somewhere ...”

Nicole scampered out of the tub. “Where?”

“I don’t know,” he teased. “I’ll have to ask the pilot.”

They landed in the darkness. During the descent Nicole had picked out a few pinpoints of light, and one cluster that might have
been a small city. But when they touched down there were no runway lights that she could see, and when they rolled to a stop there was no sign of a terminal. Her first hint came when she stepped out onto the ladder that had been rolled up to the plane’s door. She felt a blast of heat and a heavy dose of tropical humidity.

“Africa?” she asked. Jonathan didn’t answer.

They were loaded into an old van and driven down a short road to a seawall, where the few lights she could find were matched by rippling reflections on the surface. A workboat bobbed at the dock, more a lifeboat than a cruiser, with a cuddy cabin too small to house comfortable amenities. Nicole let herself be helped onto the dock, took off her shoes, and stepped aboard in her stocking feet. Jonathan helped cast off the lines before he jumped aboard and snuggled up next to her.

“Quite a comedown from your earlier efforts,” she teased.

“The
QE2
was already taken,” he answered. They turned out to the open water and headed into the darkness.

“The Amazon?” Nicole asked.

“No, but you’re getting closer.”

It was half an hour later when the engine slowed. The captain stood with his hand still on the tiller, and stared over the port bow. Nicole followed his gaze, but could find nothing.

“We’re there!” Jonathan announced

“Where?”

“Heaven. Just like I promised.”

“I don’t see anything ...”

He pointed. “That faint white line. It’s the surf. The water lapping up on the beach.”

She squinted. And then the line emerged as the boat drove closer. The engine sound dropped another few decibels. Off to her left, a red light blinked. Then, behind it, came the outlines of a dock, actually a line of pilings with a boat bobbing alongside. She watched as the scene came into focus. They were making a landing at an open wooded dock and a walkway that connected to the beach. Jonathan jumped over and fastened a bowline. The captain handed up their luggage. Then he came ashore and helped carry the luggage up to the beach. Halfway along the gangway, Nicole spotted the cottage that was set back no more than fifty feet from the water’s edge. Another wooden walkway crossed to the cottage porch.

The captain did a bellboy routine, lighting the oil lamps and throwing open the French doors. As the rooms came to life, Nicole found herself smiling.

“Like it?” Jonathan asked, anxiety sounding in his voice.

“I love it.”

The porch was bare wood planking, with a hammock hung between the posts that supported the roof. The sitting room was decorated with driftwood, with dark rattan furniture and sea grass accents. The bathroom had an outdoor shower, and the bedroom, again furnished in dark rattan, had a deep, soft bed, as big as two king-sizes put together.

Jonathan sighed with relief, pressed a handful of bills into the captain’s hand and waited on the porch until he saw the launch pull away. The he joined Nicole who was in the process of learning the kitchen. “It’s wonderful,” she said. “You thought of everything.”

“They did,” he admitted. “All I did was order the honeymoon package. A week of undisturbed privacy with just enough provisions so we don’t starve to death.”

She came close so he could put his arms around her. “It will only take me a second to find that black negligee.”

“It doesn’t have to take that long,” he suggested.

She awoke to find that her honeymoon cottage was on a tiny cay, a sandy beach edged with a mangrove forest. There was a dive boat bobbing at the dock.

“Belize?” she said when he told her where they were. “We’re in Belize?”

“No, this is part of the barrier reef off the coast. Not only is it the world’s most private place for shameless sex, but it’s also the scuba-diving capital of the universe.”

“I don’t scuba dive,” she said in a tone that indicated shameless sex was another matter.

She was resting in the crook of his arm as they swung gently in the porch hammock. They were both exhausted from lovemaking that had been wildly physical and imaginatively varied. Even though their hands were exploring, neither of them was anxious to start over again.

“Alexandra and Jack will never find us here,” she allowed.

“Oh, yes they will. Jack could find the Holy Grail.”

She sat up abruptly. “You didn’t tell him where we were going?”

“No, but I told him that I was going and wouldn’t be back for quite some time. Just in case he noticed that my office was empty.”

“When did you tell him?”