When their helicopter landed in Davos, a chauffeur met and drove them to their suite at the Royalton. They were considered, in Davos parlance, a “power couple.” Michael’s assistant had enrolled them in their sessions the day before, and Michael was leading one of the hottest panels.
Michael began sorting through invites to private parties. “Ha, ha! Your friend Fran Rich and his wife Brownie…what kind of a name is that…cordially invite us to a reception tonight honoring Jimmy Carter, the two George Bushes, and Bill Clinton. You interested?”
“No way,” Christy said, shuddering at the memory of that arrogant asshole and his snobby wife. “What do you say we go for a run, then hail a sleigh, drink champagne, and make out?”
“Mmm. That sounds perfect, Beegee,” Michael said, kissing his bride and unbuttoning her sweater.
On Wednesday, Christy and Michael attended sessions together. That evening they were invited to the power-couple dinner at the Luhof Castle in the next village. As they drove up, Christy felt like she was in a movie. They entered through a thirty-foot stone arch lit with candles, and uniformed guards stood at arms. The castle had been converted into one of the finest restaurants in Switzerland. Once inside the cozy room with candles flickering against the ancient walls, a maître d’ led them to their table.
Christy was mortified when they were seated with Fran Rich and his wife, Bronwen “Brownie” Rich. Brownie had a pleasant face, but her body was as squat and soft as Christy remembered from the co-op interview. If you didn’t know that her maiden name was Biltmore, you might wonder what a man like Fran ever saw in her. When Francis Rich, banker, met Bronwen Biltmore, heiress, sparks flew. Brownie found Fran to be handsome and brilliant. Fran found Brownie to be loaded and connected. A merger was struck, and two daughters later, Brownie was Parent Association president at the Colby School, secretary of the co-op board at 830 Fifth Avenue, and founder of the Golden Latchkey Foundation. Brownie’s hands were far too full to stand by her husband’s side as he entertained clients and networked about town, not that Fran seemed to mind. This time, however, Brownie had decided to accompany Fran to Davos.
“I’m Brownie Rich, and this is my husband, Fran. I’m sure you remember Fran,” Brownie said in a formal, clipped tone.
“Hi, I’m Christy, and this is Michael. I guess you don’t remember me. I applied for an apartment in your building once.”
“I’m sorry. I don’t remember. We get so many applicants,” Brownie said, avoiding Christy’s eyes.
“Right,” Christy said, looking at Fran, who winked at her like they shared a secret. Michael caught the eye signal, and she felt him stiffen.
“We missed you both at our reception last night. Did you have something more important to do?” Brownie asked.
“We had some personal business that couldn’t wait,” Michael said, instinctively claiming his territory, putting his arm around his wife. Christy adored how romantic he was. Brownie looked scandalized. Fran eyed Christy up and down as if he was trying to remember what she looked like naked.
“So, are you enjoying married life?” Brownie asked, seemingly oblivious to the testosterone dance going on under her nose.
“It’s wonderful. We’re so happy,” Christy said, trying to make reassuring eye contact with Brownie and find out how much she knew.
“I suppose you’ll be quitting your company soon,” Brownie sighed knowingly. “Being the CEO’s wife is a full-time job what with the entertaining you have to do, the running of the house, maintaining your looks, being the brains behind the man.”
Christy decided Brownie didn’t know about her and Fran.
“I’d never want Christy to give up work,” Michael said, reaching under the table, taking her hand. “I find it exciting to be married to a woman who puts herself out in the world instead of one living through her children. Been there. Done that. No offense, Mrs. Rich.”
“Well, I love having a wife like that,” Fran said, giving Brownie a peck on her thin, chapped lips. He was a man who could not help but compete.
“For God’s sake, Francis, I’ve told you a hundred times not to do that in public. It’s inappropriate for someone of your station,” Brownie snorted. But she looked a little surprised and pleased.
“I can’t keep my hands off her,” Fran said.
“I don’t blame you,” Michael said, barely suppressing a grin.
“Brownie, I think the choice you’ve made is admirable,” Christy added, trying to smooth over her husband’s blunt honesty, one of the qualities she found most appealing about him.
“Well, if you ever have children, you’ll change your mind,” Brownie declared.
“That’s not in the cards for us. Done that, too. I love my daughter, but raising a family is something I would only attempt once,” Michael said.
“And your bride feels the same?” Brownie asked.
“Absolutely,” Christy said. And she meant it. She couldn’t imagine how life could be sweeter. For the first time, she had a protector and a playmate who could not only keep up with her but could actually inspire awe in her.
Brownie pressed on. “Yes, but if you knew what it felt like to raise a child, to educate her, to give your heart and soul toward the betterment of her school, you would never say that.”
Michael spoke softly. “Mrs. Rich, I think it’s great that enriching the lives of your kids and volunteering at their school gives your life meaning. I just think a lot of these rich kids are spoiled brats. I worry more about the ones who have never had a shot.”
“But that’s just Michael’s opinion. Neither of you is wrong,” Christy added, wondering what ever happened to small talk.
Brownie pursed her lips and said nothing. To everyone’s relief, a waiter arrived to take orders. Christy and Michael asked for fish, knowing they would be facing many rich courses. Brownie and Fran went for beef. The lights
