The Suite Life (23 page)

“Alec and I have a lot of business going on where we're headed,” he said as we buckled up, “but what really excites me is that I get to travel with you, Sam.”

“You took the words right out of my mouth . . . Dad,” I said.

We each accepted a glass of champagne from the flight attendant, and I could see where Alec's joie de vivre originated when Giovanni continued.

“I can't wait until I take you to the Napa vineyard we took a large position in,” he said. “Putting a new management team
together at the merged firm is big, especially for my son. But being around grapes is my soul.”

I know all about feeding the soul.
“Connects you to your heritage, I suppose.”

“Exactly,” Giovanni said.

“You were born in Italy, right?”

“Came here as a young boy,” he said, and then pursed his lips. “With my brother.”

“You two didn't get along?”

“We were family, but my brother and I always had that Italian macho competition thing going.”

“Hmmm,” I said. “Sort of like Alec and Franco, I guess.”

“Right again, my smart new daughter.”

“What about your mom?”

“Passed away from smallpox when I was just a baby.”

I rested a hand on his. “That must have been pretty rough.”

“We all have our crosses to bear, child,” Giovanni said softly.

I know all about that, too.

“What did your dad do to feed his family?” I asked.

Giovanni brightened. “He boxed. Got pretty good at it, too. My brother and I called a truce to our private punching matches on the nights we got to go watch him.”

“I can see where the DeMarco sports heritage began,” I said, laughing.

“I love that my boys are so into the Yankees,” Giovanni said, “but I could do with less of the competition they've got going with professions and status.”

“Who gets where and who owns what.”

Giovanni smiled. “Right you are yet again. My sons are always jockeying for position in their respective roles of older brother and young upstart. Filomena and I are proud of them both no matter how high they climb, and all we really care about is for them being happy.”

Spoken like a true parent.
“That's how I want my child to be,” I said, surprising myself.

Giovanni beamed and I saw a hint of Alec's wide grin. “You trying to tell me something, Sammy?” he asked.
Only Mom and Grandma ever called me that.
“Making an announcement?”

“N-o-o, not at all.” I blushed.

Giovanni looked crestfallen but recovered quickly. “All in good time . . .”

Alec, fresh from a duck and goose hunting expedition in Montana, was waiting for us in the lobby bar at the San Francisco Luxe Regent Hotel. Still wearing his canvas Beretta pants and vest, and his calf-high boots, he had a blast for ten minutes impressing us with his skill at bringing down winged creatures.

Alec-the-tour-guide then went off on how plush the Luxe Regent hotels were, and added that he would love to own one of their apartments. I didn't ask what the tab for that would be. Since most of the sums Alec threw around were basically incomprehensible to me, I just decided to go with the flow, counting my blessings along the way. But that didn't stop me from worrying about money and wishing that we were saving some of it. Having grown up with nothing, I'd never stop fearing the loss of what I had gained.

At the end of three days of mixed business and pleasure, Malchek's man was confirmed as the new CEO of the merged specialty trading company, just as Alec had predicted. Ten of the major brokers and power players celebrated that night with a sumptuous dinner in a private room at the Drake Hotel. Only a couple of the men had brought their wives on the trip, but I would have felt just as alone if every one of them had, because Giovanni, who wasn't in the inner circle, hadn't been included, and Alec was far too preoccupied keeping things smooth as silk to keep close company with me. I smiled and kept silent as
usual, and set my heart on the three-day side trip to Napa Valley that was to begin the next morning.

Alec rented a black Mercedes convertible, and the three DeMarcos were all in high spirits as we headed north for the four-hour ride. Alec insisted on driving with the top down even though the early December air was chilly. Giovanni and I bundled ourselves against the wind.

We stayed at Auberge du Soleil, a spa resort, mostly made up of cedar and glass. Our private chalet was decorated in a style that merged quaint and cozy with New Age. The place was famous for fostering renewal in mind and body as well as in relationships, and the bright yellow and hot pink throw pillows that were scattered all around were full of positive energy. Alec must have caught some of it, because he was ebullient on the couple of private wine tastings we went to, and he couldn't have been more solicitous of me—both in and out of bed.

Napa Valley renewed my hope for a better future with Alec now that he seemed closer to his goal, the top of the Wall Street ladder. Sadly, however, what hope I had was pretty much dashed when he reverted to Wall Street mode almost as soon as our plane touched down at JFK. Somewhat deflated, I nevertheless did what I could to get into the holiday spirit. One of the best days I had was when Zosia showed up at the apartment with an armful of groceries. She would have dragged me by an ear into the kitchen if I hadn't agreed to assist her in baking honey cakes and rum
babka
and whipping up a hearty veal stew. It felt good to relax and laugh as we cooked, and I couldn't wait to present my husband with my first home-cooked meal.

As Zosia was leaving, I dragged her into Alec's study and grabbed a bottle of red wine from the hundred or so in racks along one wall. “I want you and your husband to enjoy this, Zosia,” I said, forcing her to accept it over strenuous objections.

Alec's mood was pretty flat when he arrived home, but he
perked up considerably at the prospect of some home cooking. He immediately went over to the pot and pulled out a healthy chunk of veal with his fingers. “Wow, this is good,” he remarked with more enthusiasm than I'd heard from him in a long time. Then, after taking off his jacket and loosening his tie, he headed into the study to pick out a wine to go with our dinner. Two minutes later, however, he was back in the dining room with a huge frown furrowing his brow.

“The '62 Rothschild isn't where I left it,” he said. “Can you shed some light on the subject?”

Uh-oh.
“I think I gave it to Zosia by mistake, Alec,” I said. “I wanted to thank her for cooking with me. I didn't realize it was special. All those bottles look alike to me.”

“Of all the fucking wines there, you really picked a doozy, Sam,” Alec said, seething. “That was a five-thousand-dollar bottle of some of the best grapes ever grown on this planet.”

I thought steam was going to come out of his ears and I had no one to stick up for me.
I'm alone in this, too.
“I'm sorry, Alec,” I said. “I didn't know. I thought it was just a bottle of wine. Do you want me to try to get it back?” I asked, and knew instantly that there was no way Alec would allow me to do that.

“You must be out of your mind,” he said, turning away.

I guess it wouldn't be a good idea to mention that he throws around five-thousand-dollar wads like most people do singles.

“Listen, Sam,” Alec continued. “Just do me a favor and ask me the next time you want to give away anything of mine—especially when it's something you don't know anything about.”

Although I wasn't in the mood to go anywhere the next day, I had to get ready for a luncheon. Our fight last night had me rattled, as did my realization that I'd now missed my period two months in a row. At least it was a benefit sponsored by Too Many at Risk, a charity. If anyone could relate to disadvantaged children it was Samantha Bonti. But I couldn't get Alec's outburst
out of my mind, even as I listened to the speeches, ate my poached salmon, and wrote out a check for a thousand dollars, and it didn't help that he came home that night, just after eight, in a totally foul mood.

After giving me a perfunctory kiss, he tore off his jacket and tie and stomped into his study, spraying the air with homophobic slurs about his various rivals. For the next half hour I could hear bangs and muffled grunts through the closed door. Finally, from my position curled up in the corner of the sofa, I heard him curse one last time and slam down the phone several times.

Unbelievably, when he emerged, his scowl had been replaced by a boyish grin.

“I was asked to join the board of the Too Many at Risk foundation,” I ventured, taking advantage of this miraculous transformation.

“That's great,” Alec deadpanned. “It'll give you something to do. So what's for dinner?”

I was nowhere near ready to fly solo at the stove. “I picked up sushi on the way home.”

“You should take some cooking lessons from my mother,” Alec said. “Or at least call her and ask for some of her recipes.”

I served what I had on hand and we ate mechanically. Alec was civil but still distracted during dinner, so I let my mind wander. I understood that it wasn't easy to become a self-made millionaire, let alone a billionaire, and I was all for striving and achievement, but not at the price of disturbing the peace—the peace of one's soul or the peace of a relationship with a soul mate. I worried that Alec's job was getting to him, and I prayed that his volatility was a normal part of what he was going through and that it would dissipate when he had achieved what he wanted.

We shuffled off to bed after dinner and watched some TV until Alec said he had just thought of something and picked up
the phone on his bedside table to call Victor. That call ended better than the last one in the study had, since Alec slammed the phone down only twice, creating enough breeze to ruffle the top page of my manuscript, which, luckily, was held together with a sturdy rubber band.

“I can put that away until you have more time, Alec,” I said softly.

“No, don't do that,” he said, slumping into his pillows. “I'm sorry, Sam. I've just been too exhausted after what I've been going through at work.”

“There might be something else coming along for you to devote some energy to,” I said, opening the drawer of my night table and taking out the narrow plastic stick I'd placed there a few hours before.

“What the hell is that?” Alec asked, looking confused.

“It's a home pregnancy test,” I said, getting his immediate attention. “I'm pregnant, Alec,” I went on, searching his eyes with all the hope I could muster.

“Oh my God, Sam, that's great!” he exclaimed with genuine pleasure, and I was never so happy to see that jumbo grin. “I have you, I have the best job in the world, and now I have a baby!” It seemed that he couldn't get the words out fast enough, which was all right with me since I was totally speechless. “I don't want anything to change when you have this baby. We'll still travel and enjoy life. Our child will become part of our world, not the other way around.”

“I'm happy that you're happy, Alec.”

“You better believe it. I can't wait to start a family in that new apartment I've been eyeing.”

Words didn't fail me then. “You want us to move? Is that really necessary?” I asked, knowing the answer before the words had left my lips.

“This place won't do,” Alec said, his boyish face filled with wonder. “Not for where I'm going. Moving up in address goes hand in hand with moving up the financial ladder, Sam.”