'You will come, won't you, Tony?' Charlie Wyatt asked.
Lucy said, 'Please do.'
They were ganging up on him. It was a challenge. He decided to accept it. 'I'd be d-delighted.'
'Good.' There was real pleasure on Lucy's face. And on Kate's.
If Lucy is planning to seduce me, Tony thought, she is wasting her time. The hurt done to Tony by his mother and Dominique had implanted in him such a deep distrust of females that his only association with them now was with high-priced call girls. Of all the female species, they were the most honest. All they wanted was money and told you how much up front. You paid for what you got, and you got what you paid for. No complications, no tears, no deceit. Lucy Wyatt was in for a surprise.
Early Sunday morning, Tony went down to the pool for a swim. Marianne Hoffman was already in the water, wearing a white maillot. She had a lovely figure, tall and slender and graceful. Tony stood there watching her cutting cleanly through the water, her arms flashing up and down in a regular, graceful rhythm. She saw Tony and swam over to him.
'Good morning.'
'Morning. You're good,' Tony said.
Marianne smiled. 'I love sports. I get that from my father.' She pulled herself up to the edge of the pool, and Tony handed her a towel. He watched as she unselfconsciously dried her hair.
'Have you had breakfast?' Tony asked.
'No. I wasn't sure the cook would be up this early.'
'This is a hotel. There's twenty-four-hour service.'
She smiled up at him. 'Nice.'
'Where is your home?'
'Mostly in Munich. We live in an old schloss—a castle—outside the city.'
'Where were you brought up?'
Marianne sighed. 'That's a long story. During the war, I was sent away to school in Switzerland. After that, I went to Oxford, studied at the Sorbonne and lived in London for a few years.' She looked directly into his eyes. 'That's where I've been. Where have you been?'
'Oh, New York, Maine, Switzerland, South Africa, a few years in the South Pacific during the war, Paris ...' He broke off abruptly, as though he were saying too much.
'Forgive me if I seem to pry, but I can't imagine why you stopped painting.'
'It's not important,' Tony said curtly. 'Let's have breakfast'
They ate alone on the terrace overlooking the sparkling sweep of the bay. She was easy to talk to. There was a dignity about her, a gentleness that Tony found appealing. She did not flirt, she did not chatter. She seemed genuinely interested in him. Tony found himself attracted to this quiet, sensitive woman. He could not help wondering how much of that attraction was due to the thought that it would spite his mother.
'When do you go back to Germany?'
'Next week,' Marianne replied. 'I'm getting married.'
Her words caught him off guard. 'Oh,' Tony said lamely. That's great. Who is he?'
'He's a doctor. I've known him all my life.' Why had she added that? Did it have some significance?
On an impulse, Tony asked, 'Will you have dinner with me in New York?'
She studied him, weighing her answer. 'I would enjoy that.'
Tony smiled, pleased. 'It's a date.'
They had dinner at a little seashore restaurant on Long Island. Tony wanted Marianne to himself, away from the eyes of his mother. It was an innocent evening, but Tony knew that if his mother learned about it, she would find some way to poison it This was a private thing between him and Marianne, and for the brief time it existed, Tony wanted nothing to spoil it. Tony enjoyed Marianne's company even more than he had anticipated. She had a quick, sly sense of humor, and Tony found himself laughing more than he had laughed since he left Paris. She made him feel lighthearted and carefree.
When do you go back to Germany?
Next week... I'm getting married
During the next five days, Tony saw a great deal of Marianne. He canceled his trip to Canada, and he was not certain why. He had thought it might be a form of rebellion against his mother's plan, a petty vengeance, but if that had been true in the beginning, it was no longer true. He found himself drawn to Marianne more and more strongly. He loved her honesty. It was a quality he had despaired of ever finding.
Since Marianne was a tourist in New York, Tony took her everywhere. They climbed the Statue of Liberty and rode the ferry to Staten Island, went to the top of the Empire State Building, and ate in Chinatown. They spent an entire day at the Metropolitan Museum of Art, and an afternoon at the Frick Collection. They shared the same tastes. They carefully avoided speaking of any personal things, and yet both were conscious of the powerful sexual undercurrent between them. The days spilled into one another, and it was Friday, the day Tony was to leave for the Wyatt Ranch.
'When do you fly back to Germany?'
'Monday morning.' There was no joy in her voice.
Tony left for Houston that afternoon. He could have gone with his mother in one of the company planes, but he preferred to avoid any situation where he and Kate would be alone together. As far as he was concerned, his mother was solely a business partner: brilliant and powerful, devious and dangerous.
There was a Rolls-Royce to pick up Tony at the William P. Hobby Airport in Houston, and he was driven to the ranch by a chauffeur dressed in Levi's and a colorful sport shirt.
'Most folks like to fly direct to the ranch,' the driver told Tony. 'Mr. Wyatt's got a big landin' strip there. From here, it's 'bout an hour's drive to the gate, then another half hour before we git to the main house.'
Tony thought he was exaggerating, but he was wrong. The Wyatt Ranch turned out to be more of a town than a ranch. They drove through the main gate onto a private road, and after thirty minutes they began to pass generator buildings and barns and corrals and guest houses and servants' bungalows. The main house was an enormous one-story ranch house that seemed to go on forever. Tony thought it was depressingly ugly.
Kate had already arrived. She and Charlie Wyatt were seated on the terrace overlooking a swirriming pool the size of a small lake. They were in the midst of an intense conversation when Tony appeared. When Wyatt saw him, he broke off abruptly in the middle of a sentence. Tony sensed that he had been the subject of their discussion.
'Here's our boy! Have a good trip, Tony?'
'Yes, th-thank you.'
'Lucy was hopin' you'd be able to catch an earlier plane,' Kate said.
Tony turned to look at bis mother. 'Was sh-she?'
Charlie Wyatt clapped Tony on the shoulder. 'We're puttin' on a whoppin' barbecue in honor of you and Kate. Everybody's flyin' in for it.'
'That's very k-kind of you,' Tony said. If they're planning to serve fatted calf he thought, they're going to go hungry.
Lucy appeared, wearing a white shirt and tight-fitting, well-worn jeans, and Tony had to admit she was breathtakingly lovely.
She went up to him and took his arm. 'Tony! I was wondering if you were coming.'
'S-sorry I'm late,' Tony said. 'I had some b-business to finish up.'
Lucy gave him a warm smile. 'It doesn't matter, as long as you're here. What would you like to do this afternoon?'
'What do you have to offer?'
Lucy looked him in the eye. 'Anything you want,' she said softly.
Kate Blackwell and Charlie Wyatt beamed.
The barbecue was spectacular, even by Texas standards. Approximately two hundred guests had arrived by private plane, Mercedes or Rolls-Royce. Two bands were playing simulta-neously in different areas of the grounds. Half a dozen bartenders dispensed champagne, whiskey, soft drinks and beer, while four chefs busily prepared food over outdoor fires. There was barbecued beef, lamb, steaks, chicken and duck. There were bubbling earthen pots of chili, and whole lobsters; crabs and com on the cob were cooking in the ground. There were baked potatoes and
