The Daughter-in-Law (29 page)

“If that were true, why would I have turned down more money than I could ever hope to have in a lifetime?”

“I’m sorry,” Ben cut her off. “That’s not what I think, and it might not be important at all. It’s just that if we’re going to court...”

“It won’t go to court,” she snapped, and then seemed surprised at her own certainty. In a milder tone she added, “I think the Donners have much more to lose in court than I do.”

FORTY-NINE

J
ACK DONNER’S
voice on her answering machine was a raspy whisper, almost as if he were afraid to be overheard. “Hi! It’s me. Just thought we ought to get together . . . for that. . . little talk. I’ll try you later.” There was a long pause as if he were trying to think of something else to say. Then he clicked off.

He was right. They had to get together and be very clear on where their encounter was leading. If he wanted to say “a terrible mistake” and blame a lapse in judgment on too many drinks, she would have to take him at his word. At least his feelings of guilt might hurry a settlement. How tough a line could he take with a woman he had used? But if he really meant that he needed her, and that she was the most exciting person in his life, then they would be facing problems that would dwarf her own battle with Alexandra. The scandal wouldn’t be limited to the supermarket tabloids. And the property settlements in a three-way battle that pitted them all against each other might drag on for years. That wasn’t something she wanted to get into.

He called again, just after she returned from her meeting with Ben Tobin. Maybe he could stop by for a drink? Nicole checked the window to make sure the car that watched the apartment the previous night hadn’t returned. But then she considered that the two men might have settled in for the long haul, maybe in an apartment across the street. “Jack, let’s meet outside. Someplace public. I’ll tell you why when I see you.”

He picked the hotel where they had shared champagne, and met her there at 6:00.

It was a busy cocktail hour, and he felt sure they would blend invisibly into the crowd. And even if an acquaintance did spot them, what could be more innocent than taking his mourning daughter-in-law out for a drink? This time he didn’t play with the bubbly. He ordered his Scotch and she asked for a flavored martini.

“I’m being followed,” she announced, and then then she went through the turns and taxi changes. She had use on the way to their meeting, just to be sure no one was tailing her. Jack’s shock seemed genuine, although it was still possible that he was the one who had put detectives on her. Maybe to protect someone important to him. Maybe to keep an eye on a woman who was suddenly in a position to destroy him. Nicole took several minutes to describe her ride home from the Newport party, interrupted only by the arrival of their drinks. She told him how she had managed to escape the car, only to find it parked outside her apartment. “Who would be doing it?” She asked. “Could it be Alexandra?”

“Of course not,” he said instantly, but then he took a moment to reconsider. “At least I don’t think so. I know she’s been accumulating quite a dossier on you. You know, like getting hold of your yearbook. So she’s certainly been asking around. But having people follow you? She wouldn’t do that. It would leave her . . . vulnerable.”

“Jack, why does she hate me so? What’s wrong with the fact that Jonathan fell in love with me? Why does that make me evil?”

“I don’t know. Maybe she wanted him to fall in love with one of the girls from our own social set. Or maybe she didn’t want him to fall in love at all. She thought his money made him a target for all kinds of phonies. People who would win his confidence just so they could sell him the Brooklyn Bridge. Or marry him so they could clean up in a divorce. I guess it was natural that she would check you out. And then ...” He decided not to finish the thought. Instead, he lifted his drink.

“And then she didn’t like what she found,” Nicole said, finishing the sentence. She looked down sadly. “I guess I can’t blame her. I don’t like what she found either.”

“That was all years ago,” he said, coming to her defense.

“Still, it was pretty sleazy. Not the virtues she would expect in Jonathan’s choice of a wife.”

Jack shook his head. “That’s not it. The problem is that Alexandra has no experience. She’s never had to take chances in order to make something of herself. I took the chances. Coming to work for me was the only risk in her life, and even then the worst was behind me. I was starting to make money. And when she married me she was pretty sure that I was going straight to the top.

“She never even met anyone like you. Half the people at our party were born with money. The other half had the connections to get to where money was being made. None of the men had to scramble through night school to get a degree. And none of the ladies ever waited on a table. Our sons start in the mailroom and then get promoted to vice president. Our daughters spend more on a pair of shoes than you probably paid for rent. How can she possibly understand what you had to go through? What you had to put up with?”

“But you understand?”

“Because I was there! I got scholarships to put myself through school. And I busted my ass to get my first customers. Believe me, it was no gentleman’s game. If someone wanted to dig into my past they’d find lots of things that I’m not proud of. There were a half dozen times when I could have been bounced permanently out of the business. There were even a couple of deals that could have gotten me sent to jail. So I understand that you can’t always tiptoe through the tulips. Sometimes you have to wade in the filth. I did what I had to do. So did you. So I’m not going to take cheap shots just because you posed for couple of pictures. Alexandra never had to pose. It’s easy for her to brag about what she never would have done.”

Her hand went over his, and Jack had no inclination to pull his away. Screw the onlookers, he thought, and if he had any close friends in the room, screw them, too. She was a wonderful young woman who had fought her way up just as he had. Why would he be afraid to hold her hand?

“You’re a brave man, Jack,” Nicole told him. “You’re taking chances all over again just to help me. No wonder I need you.”

He took another sip, this time for courage. “Can we . . . be together . . . tonight?”

“They may still be watching Jonathan’s apartment.”

“I have a place up on the East Side. There’s no one there.”

They finished their drinks and Jack paid the bill.

His place was a brownstone with the lowest floor sunk halfway below street level, and a flight of stone steps leading up to the parlor-floor entrance. It was wide open and furnished sparsely. An architect had erased the walls that created a row of rooms from front to back. A decorator had brought in minimalist furniture groupings in bright colors and then painted the walls in off-white. There was a fair-size art collection hanging in the front sitting area.
Certainly enough work to launch Pam’s gallery. The rear area was a library with walls of books, a giant screen television, and stereo stacks with private-label speakers. French doors opened out to a brick terrace that was covered with a vine-laced arbor. Between the two areas was a bathroom that could have been a Broadway dressing room. There was a vanity big enough for three women to tease their hair. The men had a separate door leading to facilities that Nicole could only imagine.

“Most of these places have been broken up into apartments,” Jack explained. He gave her a quick tour down the closed staircase to the kitchen and dining room, the pantry and wine cellar. He selected one of the dusty bottles and carried it back upstairs. Then he followed her up the open steps that led to the bedrooms and watched while she glanced into the front and back rooms and the private bath that joined each of the rooms. The front room, with twin poster beds, had a feminine feel and its bath was done in decorator tiles. The rear room was plainly Jack’s, masculine in chrome and light leather, with an enormous bed raised up on a step. The bathroom had a steam shower, a sauna, and a Roman shower in place of a tub. In a mirrored area there was a treadmill and a set of free weights.

He lifted the top of one of the night tables and swung out a miniature bar. There were wineglasses and the tools he needed to open and decant the treasure he had carried up from the cellar. A button on the stereo stack filled the rooms with a Beethoven adagio, vibrant in texture, but so soft that it could barely be heard. When he turned, he found that she was standing right at his side.

“I haven’t thought of anything except you,” he said. He leaned forward and kissed her lips over the tops of the wineglasses. “I can’t believe what’s happening to me.”

She put her hand on his shirt and stroked the curve of his shoulder. “I was afraid that you’d want to forget me. I don’t want to be a problem for you.”

He touched her hair. “I’m not thinking about problems. Just that I’ve missed you every minute since you left the party.”

She set down her wine. “Just give me a minute.” She brushed another kiss across his lips and then slipped into the bathroom.

He was already in bed when she returned, wearing his terrycloth bathrobe. “Not the most alluring costume I’ve ever worn,” she smiled.

“Yes it is,” Jack said. He pulled back the sheet and Nicole dropped the robe as she slipped into his bed.

Jack was gone when she woke up but he had left a note tucked into the corner of his bathroom mirror. “Sorry. The European calls start coming in early. There’s no staff in the house so you can stay as long as you like. I’ll call you.”

She showered, dressed, and then went down through the house to the kitchen. She made coffee and toasted a muffin that she ate standing over the sink. All the while she kept thinking of Jack and the unexpected complications that he was loading onto her life. Not that his advances were unwelcome. For one thing, he was handing her a knife already pointed at his heart, compromising his ability as a negotiator. How could he be anything but generous to a woman who could ruin his life simply by revealing their affair? He was also a doting companion and a surprising lover. If his interest in her were genuine, then joining him in his globe-trotting lifestyle would be glamorous and exciting. It would also be the ultimate victory over Alexandra.

But there was always the danger of discovery. Little mistakes like the note he had left on the mirror, or the coffee grounds she had almost left in the pot. Or the people who had tried to follow her, most likely Alexandra’s investigators. Sooner or later they would succeed in following her, regardless of her twists and turns. If Alexandra walked in on them then her position as Jonathan’s widow would be fatally compromised. And the probable divorce battle between Alexandra and Jack could tie up the Donner estate for years.

What she needed was to get the negotiations finished, take her settlement and get started on her new life. Jack’s interest in her would encourage him to be generous, and if he wanted to see more of her, so much the better.

She looked carefully from the top of the front steps. The street was lined with parked cars but there was no one in any of them. Pedestrians marched by purposefully without sparing her a glance. She felt safe hailing a taxi, but still kept glancing out the back window to be sure no one was following. When she reached her apartment she was relieved that the suspicious sedan was nowhere in
sight. She glanced up at the building across the street. There seemed to be no one in any of the windows.

At the lobby desk there were no messages, and she was relieved that no one had been asking for her. She relaxed in the elevator and had no apprehensions when she opened her door and turned to lock it behind her.

“Hello, Nicole!”

FIFTY

S
HE WHEELED
away from the door and was stunned to see Jimmy Farr standing in her living room. “Jimmy ...”

He smiled. “You don’t seem happy to see me.”

Farr had shed the trappings of his past. At one time he was open silk shirts with medallions on heavy gold chains, and rings big enough to serve as brass knuckles. Now he was in an olive-colored summer suit, a button-down collar, and a conservative tie. The teased wave of his hair was gone; it was now cut short with an Ivy League part.

“I’m happy to see you,” she lied. “And surprised. You don’t usually show up until there’s money to be had. I’m still the penniless widow.” She walked past him into the living room, and glanced around in search of the leg-breaker who had always accompanied Jimmy. There was no one else there. “Where’s Steve?” she asked, referring to the bodyguard.

“In Attica,” he answered with a chuckle. “He went out on his own but didn’t do very well.” He made a great show of taking in the apartment with its obviously expensive furnishings and decorations. “Not nearly as well as you seem to have done. This place must have set you back a bundle.”

“It’s my husband’s apartment,” she answered, “and it’s still tied up in his estate.” She walked into the kitchen. “I’m going to put on a pot of coffee. Would you like a cup?”

“A drink would be better,” he answered stepping behind the bar. Then he raised his voice to reach the kitchen. “I heard about your husband. Tragic! I want to express my sympathy.” She didn’t answer.

Farr carried his whiskey and soda into the kitchen and leaned on the counter beside her. He raised her chin with a casual finger and slowly studied her figure from top to bottom. “I’ll bet he died a happy man. You must have brought a lot of joy into his life.”

She pulled away, took down a kitchen mug, and poured her coffee, feeling his eyes on her every second. She sat at the breakfast table and gestured for him to take a chair. “What do you want, Jimmy?” she asked.

“Want? Me? Don’t be silly, Nicole. I just stopped by to pay my condolences and to congratulate you on your newfound fortune. You’ve come a long way from posing in that bed in Tommy Hilbur-ton’s garage. What did you get for those shots? Five hundred?”

“Three,” she answered. “And once he didn’t pay me.”

“And I’ll bet the escort service wasn’t much better. By the time everyone took his cut there couldn’t have been much left for you ...”