white shirt with French cuffs. His cuff links were of gold with sapphires.
“Say hello to Mitch Berger, Teddy,” Les said.
Teddy paused from his playing to offer Mitch his hand. It was a very cold hand, the fingers long and smooth. “Glad to know you, Mitch.”
“You play beautifully,” Mitch said, because he did. Teddy had a touch so natural it was as if he and the piano were a single organism.
“Thanks much. You’ll have to come hear the whole gang this weekend. We’re playing at the cocktail mixer Saturday afternoon. We call ourselves the Night Blooming Jazzmen because all four of us have held on to our day jobs. Much better off that way, Mitch.” Teddy spoke with a wistful air, his voice tinged with loss and regret. “You should never, ever try to make a living doing the one thing you care about most. You’ll only get your heart broken. I came up a couple of days early at Norma’s invitation,” he added, with just enough emphasis on “Norma” to suggest some tension between him and Les.
If it was there, Les didn’t acknowledge it. Just beamed at the two of them, the genial host.
“Too bad you never got a chance to meet my brother, Paul,” Teddy said to Mitch, sipping from the goblet of red wine that was set atop the piano. “Big Paul was a living hero. Graduated top of his class at Columbia Law School, turned down every single big-money offer to go to work for the American Civil Liberties Union. Paul fought for the underdog. Tilted at windmills. Me, I just tilt at wineglasses. He dropped dead of a heart attack in 1992. Seems like it was just last week.”
“I’m sorry,” Mitch said.
“Say, Les, where were you in ’92?” Teddy asked him mockingly. “Still writing trenchant ad copy for Preparation H?”
“Something like that,” Les responded shortly, not wanting to mix it up with him, although it was obvious from his clenched jaw that he disliked the guy. Just as it was obvious that Teddy resented him for wooing and winning his beloved brother’s widow.
“The rest of the boys are coming up tomorrow, Mitch,” Teddy said, launching into a bluesy version of “Stardust.” “We’re a diverse bunch. We’ve got an eye doctor, an accountant, a pharmacist and me-I sell suits at Sig Klein’s Big and Tall Man’s store.”
“On Union Square? Sure, I know that place,” Mitch said, smiling. Sig Klein’s had been advertising on New York radio since Mitch was a little boy. Any number of second-tier Knicks big men had done spots for Sig’s over the years, going all the way back to Kenny “The Animal” Bannister.
“I’m surprised I haven’t seen you in there,” Teddy said, checking Mitch over with a professional eye. “You’re a good, healthy-sized boy.”
“I’m mostly wearing insulated goose down these days.”
“Still, I could fit the heck out of you. You ought to stop by, buddy.”
“Right now, let’s go get you a drink,” Les offered, clapping Mitch on the back.
“Will you join us?” Mitch asked Teddy.
“I’m fine right here, thanks. Any requests?”
“No Billy Joel?”
“No problem,” Teddy responded, chuckling.
“The family ne’er-do-well,” Les explained under his breath as he and Mitch moved back toward the entry hall. “Real, real sad case. Still lives with his mother in an apartment in Forest Hills. Never got married. Loses every dime he makes playing high-stakes poker. It was Norma’s idea to throw some work his way this weekend. She’s always felt sorry for him, I think. Aaron can’t stand him. Although, near as I can tell, Aaron can’t stand any of his relatives. Remarkably enough, the feeling is entirely mutual.”
Les was steering him toward the taproom when a rather pillowy woman in her sixties came bustling out of a service door and very nearly collided with them.
“Ah, here she is now,” Les said with a jovial laugh. “Mitch, have you met my lovely wife, Norma?”
“No, he has not,” Norma said briskly, swiping a loose strand of gray hair from her eyes. “A pleasure, Mitch. I’m sorry if I seem to be run ragged. It’s only because it so happens I am.”
Ada Geiger’s daughter spoke in a clipped, precise manner. And she most definitely had an English accent, which made sense since she would have been a little girl when Ada and Luther fled there in the fifties. Norma was plump, heavy-bosomed and rather slump-shouldered. She had soft, dark eyes and a kindly face, a face that once might have been very smooth and lovely, Mitch felt. Right now she just seemed worn and tired. There was a sheen of perspiration on her forehead, and her breathing seemed quite labored. Mitch could actually hear the air bellowing in and out of her lungs. She practically sounded like Choo-Choo Cholly trying to chug its way up a hill. Norma wore her gray hair cropped at the chin. She had on a dark blue cardigan sweater over a light blue turtleneck, blue slacks and red kitchen clogs.
“There will be a huge kitchen staff arriving tomorrow,” Norma explained to him. “But tonight, there is no one. Unless, of course, one counts Jory. As I do. She’s a gem. I’d be lost without her. I am accustomed to the grind, naturally. But it’s always just a bit harder when one’s mother is around. Especially my mother. She’s having a nap right now. She tires easily. Where’s Des? She is coming, isn’t she?”
“She’ll be along soon,” Mitch assured her.
Back in the Sunset Lounge, Teddy segued from “Stardust” into a heartfelt rendition of “More Than You Know.”
Norma seemed to melt as soon as she heard it, a fond, faraway smile creasing her face.
“Are you okay, dear?” Les asked, peering at her.
“Why, yes,” she replied, coloring. “Fine. I’ve just always loved this song.”
An efficient young woman with curly ginger-colored hair came barging through the service door. “We can plate the main course whenever you’re ready, Norma,” she announced.
“I’m afraid we’re still minus one, dear,” Norma told her.
“No problem. I can keep it warm.” She gave Mitch a quick, bright smile and said, “You must be our movie critic. I’m Jory Hearn. Welcome to the castle.”
Jase’s big sister was in her late twenties and not conventionally pretty. Jory had a bit too much bulldog in her chin, and her nose was a good deal broader and flatter than the beauty magazines would have liked. But she had creamy, lovely skin, an inviting rosebud of a mouth and an eager vitality that was very appealing. Jory was by no means a frail little thing. She was about five feet nine, big-boned and ripely, head-turningly zaftig. Her curves were hard to miss even in her sober dining hall uniform of black vest, white blouse and black slacks.
She was also available. Very available. Her eyes gleamed at Mitch invitingly.
“I just met your brother outside,” he said to her. “He seemed real nice.
Jory and Norma exchanged a confused look before Jory said, “Jase spoke to you?”
“He seemed a little quiet at first, but once we got going about the castle, he was very talkative.”
“Normally, our guests can’t get one single word out of him,” Les said. “They think he’s a mute. The little kids even call him Igor.”
“He’s a good, hard-working boy,” Norma spoke up. “And he takes wonderful care of this place. He’s just a bit delicate, poor thing.”
“Our mother died in childbirth,” Jory explained to Mitch. “And Jeremy died three days later.”
“Jeremy?”
“Our brother. Jase’s twin.”
“That must have been very hard for you,” Mitch said to her quietly.
“It’s still hard, sometimes,” Jory admitted, swallowing.
“Well, he sure seems to love this place.”
“Believe me, Mitch, we both do,” Jory assured him. “It’s round-the-clock hard work, but it’s rewarding. And it’s home. The drinks are in the taproom. May I pour you something?”
“No need to worry about me. I’ll manage.”
“Oh, I’m sure you will,” she fired back, showing him her dimples before she headed back to the kitchen, her hips moving with just a little extra oomph. Definitely for Mitch’s benefit. Although, as she passed on through the staff door, he couldn’t help notice that Les was missing none of the show.
If Norma was aware of this, she didn’t let on. Just said, “I’m still relatively new here myself. My brother, Herbert, ran the castle until 1993, when he was killed by a drunk driver. I had recently lost Paul. Aaron was off in
