Wayward Son (5 page)

“Yes, indeed,” the assistant assured. “We’re now in the Palatine foyer. Walk straight ahead to the great hall, which you will see on your left. Then continue a little farther toward the balcony. The second door on your right leads to the master library.”

“Thank you, Ms. Meier. Perhaps we’ll run into each other again a bit later on.”

“You’re welcome. I’d love to chat with you about your work at the Getty. By the way, the unveiling ceremony is scheduled for seven o’clock sharp.”

It did not escape Amanda’s notice that her new acquaintance was the niece of architect Richard Meier, who had scored a sensation with his design for the Getty Center in Brentwood a dozen years ago.

While still in the foyer, she paused to inspect the gladiator ice sculptures. The Colosseum theme was plain, but to what purpose? Amanda’s curiosity was piqued.

She made her way to the master library and could see Dr. Walker exiting from it through beautifully carved double doors. Before they closed, she could make out detailed ancient maps mounted on one of the room’s walls. Dr. Walker slid the old-world retaining bar across both doors, as though to say that only he was important enough for admittance to that room.

“That rat, he must have slipped in there for a quick look for himself,” she thought, “just so he could have an opening gambit with Luc Renard.”

“Right on time!” Dr. Walker beamed. “And you’re looking lovely, Amanda. Let’s track down our quarry. I’ll do the introductions.”

Amanda fell dutifully into step alongside her boss. They retraced half the route to the foyer, and then turned right to enter the great hall.

This was a cavernous space on the scale of Louis XIV’s Versailles. The length of half a football field, the room was sixty feet wide and forty feet high, with a barreled vault ceiling and a patterned granite floor. Although drapes still hid the murals, she quickly calculated how much manual labor—let alone imaginative design—would be required to decorate such a space. Even the wealthy bankers of Renaissance Florence, the Medici, might have paused before they offered patronage for this project.

Dr. Walker’s purposeful stride soon led them to Luc Renard, who stood at the ceremonial dais, surrounded by technicians. After a brief pause, he broke free and extended his hand.

“Dr. Walker! Welcome to Villa Colosseum.”

“It is a privilege to be here on such a momentous occasion, Mr. Renard. May I present one of our brightest stars at the Getty, Ms. Amanda James?”

Luc Renard turned to Amanda. He stared at her eye to eye in her high heels, which lofted her several inches above Walker. For several seconds Luc admired her stunning good looks, then flashed a precise, gleaming smile and extended his hand.

“What a pleasure,
Doctor
James! I am so glad you were able to join us.”

Amanda returned the smile. Inwardly, she was gratified at Renard’s obvious mention of her credential in front of her superior. Luc’s grip was warm and confident.

“I have often seen your beautiful house, Mr. Renard. But never the inside. I surf about half a mile down the coast near Little Dume Beach.”

“Indeed? I hear it’s a popular break.”

“Well, maybe a little
too
popular. That’s why I go there very early in the morning.”

Cocktail chitchat, thought Amanda somewhat impatiently. Although she did wonder what it would be like to be the lady of this house and married to a man as powerful as Luc Renard. His appearance was a bit unsettling, though. Why was he wearing dark sunglasses indoors? “Never trust a man who doesn’t show you his eyes,” her mother had often said. Did Luc want her here as just another Getty sycophant like Walker?

“Dr. Walker,” Luc turned and looked down at the department head. “I wonder if you would excuse us? I have some matters I would like to discuss with Dr. James in private.”

Archibald Walker’s jaw dropped. He was being dismissed, there was no doubt, but to protest would have been futile. Was Renard going to put the moves on Amanda? What could these “matters” be? She had never met Renard, as far as Walker knew. However, he now remembered that Amanda
had
given a Getty Villa tour to some of the tycoon’s top Japanese executives a year ago. They must have been impressed enough to tell Renard about her.

A practiced smile, blending complicity with flattery, creased Walker’s lips.

“Of course. I will hope to see you after the unveiling.” Dr. Walker disappeared into the crowd, but not before replacing his empty martini glass with a fresh one from a steward’s gleaming silver tray.

Luc turned his full attention to his beautiful guest. “Amanda, permit me to address you by your first name. I have heard so much about you. It is especially serendipitous you are here tonight for the unveiling. Are you familiar with the works of Giovanni Genoa?”

“No, Mr. Renard, I can’t say that I am.”

“Please, call me Luc. I first met Giovanni several years ago at an art show in Rome. I found his work so compelling that I asked him if he would consent to create a series of large-scale murals for Villa Colosseum. Happily, he accepted. Mr. Genoa is comparatively unknown in the art world, but tonight you will see what a brilliant discovery I have made.”

“The scale of the paintings is exceptional. I can’t wait to see them,” she said.

“That, of course, will be the evening’s pièce de résistance. But there is another reason that your presence here tonight is so gratifying. I have just returned from a brief trip to Tokyo.”

“How did you like Japan?”

“I’ve been there many times. Renard Enterprises has publishing and entertainment interests all over the world. I must say, though, that Japan is one of the more agreeable destinations on my travel docket.”

With a gesture, Luc ushered Amanda away from the podium and toward the end of the great hall that led to the balcony.

“Let’s have a look at the sunset. Here at Point Dume it rivals sundown on the Bay of Naples.”

With a start, Amanda thought of Juan Carlos and the nuovi scavi.

Out on the balcony, one of the orchestras was in the middle of a Cole Porter medley. Luc gestured to the conductor to reduce the volume a bit. Polberto approached to take drink orders. They both requested Chardonnay.

“Try the Kistler Sonoma 2006,” suggested Luc. “It’s rather fine. Gains velocity on the finish, as they say.”

“Excellent choice,” she agreed as Polberto hurried away.

Luc continued. “I should tell you why I went to Japan, Amanda. A week ago, one of the company’s most talented—and I may say most valuable—employees suffered a stroke. For fifteen years, Foster Benedict has hosted one of our most popular TV shows,
Exposed
. It’s a celebrity thing. Has had a lot of support in Asia and Europe. Also from the
estancias
crowd in countries like Argentina. Viewership is growing steadily.”

“I am not familiar with it,” admitted Amanda.

“It doesn’t matter. The premise is simple—like a televised
People
magazine. Japanese people want to hear about, and look at, American celebrities. It’s an escape from their daily routine.”

“So now what will you do to replace Mr. Benedict?”

“That’s where I think you can help. Last year, my Tokyo publishing executives were at the Getty Villa on a reward trip to L.A. They told me that you spoke Japanese fluently when you gave them a private tour. Apparently, there were no Japanese-speaking docents available that day, and you were graciously volunteered by Dr. Walker to show the group around.”

Amanda recalled the brusque phone call from Walker ordering her to drop everything and head over to the Villa’s main entrance.

Luc continued, “I must also admit to having snuck into a lecture you gave last fall. It was the same night as a Getty Trust board meeting, when I presented them with a $25 million matching-donor check. I briefly listened to you speak about the library at the Villa dei Papiri. The lecture was in the Getty Center auditorium, you remember? You had every man’s attention in that room, as well as the jealousy of most of the women!”

Luc chuckled flirtatiously, while Amanda wondered how to acknowledge his praise.

“Since then, I have inquired about your background. Dr. Walker has shared your credentials with me and told me a great deal about your foreign language skills. You lived in Japan?”

“Yes, I graduated from high school in Tokyo. We lived there for two years.”

“How’s your Japanese these days?”

“Better than average for an American, I suppose,” Amanda smiled.

“You are too modest. I’m sure you could thrill our Japanese viewers.”

“Are you suggesting…?”

“Yes, I want you to go to Japan. Your looks, your poise—and above all, your intelligence—make you ideally suited to replace Benedict as host of the show. Of course, Walker has no idea of what I have in mind. You would have to leave the Getty. But think of the opportunities opening up for you with your own TV show!”

While Luc spoke, Amanda’s thoughts flashed back to her teenage years. She had to admit that she’d admired the celebrity lifestyle, and even fantasized about living it one day. As Luc’s soothing words flowed on, she daydreamed about his offer until Polberto returned with the wine.

“The formula is easy to master. I predict you’ll catch on within a week. Walker says you’re a quick study for every assignment you’ve ever had at the Getty.”

“Aren’t there other qualified candidates for this position?”

“Yes, frankly, there are. But I don’t want them. I want
you
. It’s our chance to reinvigorate the show, give it a beautiful host who speaks our audience’s language, and expand that audience even more. It’s all about ratings.”

“I’m flattered that you think I have the potential, Mr. Renard…er, Luc. I can’t believe this, though. I’m supposed to be going to Italy tonight,” she stuttered.

“Ah, yes, Walker mentioned that. Something archaeological?” Luc inquired whimsically as he sipped his Chardonnay and continued to admire her from behind his designer sunglasses.

A muffled warning rang in Amanda’s mind, and she decided to downplay the matter. “Yes. It’s no big deal, but I’ve got an old friend over there who thinks I can help him with a small project.”

The sun now kissed the horizon in a blaze of color. Luc smiled broadly and removed the sunglasses to reveal his hazel eyes that sparkled in the evening glow. Amanda thought him quite handsome now that she could see his face, although she still could not quite place his accent.

“Amanda, I have amassed a personal fortune making tough decisions. Respectfully, I am pointing out that this is your chance to achieve financial security. I can’t offer you the job straight out, but I can say that our senior people in Tokyo, many of whom you have already met, will interview you with the deck stacked in your favor. How much would you make five years from now if you stuck with the Getty? Eighty or a hundred grand? This position has a signing bonus of $150,000, plus a starting salary of $350,000 for year one and up to half a million in year two, depending on the ratings. The opportunities for growth are limitless. We
need
you.”

Luc moved slightly closer to her. “And I know you can do it.”

Amanda had no idea how to reply. She sipped her wine and made a show of looking out at the sunset. “This is very unexpected, Luc. I am flattered, as I said, but you will have to give me some time to think about it.”

“My dear, time is one thing we have very little of. Can we meet here on the balcony in an hour, after the unveiling ceremony? Let’s say seven forty-five. We’ll discuss it more then.”

Although taken aback, Amanda didn’t want to refuse. “Perfect,” she said.

“And by the way,” Luc added before departing, “I believe I’ve seen you surfing the break.” He motioned to a telescope mounted on the balcony railing. “I know you’ll miss that in Tokyo, but during your eight paid vacation weeks I’ll make sure you have opportunities to get to some of the greatest breaks in the world.” Luc pointed to the surf below. “Think Fiji, Indonesia, Phuket!”

He winked conspiratorially, and then he was gone, with a silent Polberto in tow.

Amanda lingered on the balcony. How bizarre life could be! For the second time in a single day, she had been urgently entreated to leave home for foreign ports. What could be made of Luc Renard’s offer? She had no obvious media qualifications for the job. Up to now, Amanda had lived in a highly credentialed world. The BA led smoothly to her doctoral program. The PhD was the driver’s license of academia. Was it possible that Renard was steering her to Tokyo based primarily on her looks and foreign language ability? And how much did he really know about her, anyway? Perhaps Luc just needed an attractive blonde who spoke fluent Japanese—rare, yes, but not impossible with his resources, Amanda considered.

She strolled over to the telescope he had pointed out. There was still enough light to see the break plainly, and she could make out the figures of several sundown surfers catching their last waves of the day. Curious about the scope’s power, Amanda stared through the eyepiece.

The vista was a blur. The lens was cracked. She looked up again at the surfers and determined there was no way a person could make out anyone’s face from this distance. “How did he know it was me down there?” she asked herself.

It was ten minutes to seven. She could kill some time by celebrity watching in the great hall, which was filling up with hundreds of guests, or she could take a peek at the rest of the grounds. She decided to check out the inlaid pool, which was visible from the balcony, with its candles and delicate flowers floating in small, colorful containers.

Amanda descended a curved flight of marble stairs. She smiled at an elderly couple holding hands as they climbed in the opposite direction. She thought how lucky those two were to have each other and grow older together. Would her life ever take that path?

For such a large mansion, the pool was surprisingly intimate—roughly the size of a standard lap pool, she guessed. The party was so well attended that many of the guests had spilled out of the villa and sought more open space in the pool area. Waiters circulated with trays of drinks and hors d’oeuvres. Laughter and lively conversation filled the air.