Christy tried to protest, but she couldn’t get a word in.
“You have no clue what you’re getting yourself into,” Michael said. Suddenly, he stopped himself. “You know, Beegee. I keep forgetting. You’re an Olympic champion. You started your own company. I should never underestimate you.”
“Right, and I landed you, too!” Christy said. “Don’t forget that.”
“And you talked me into taking Renata,” Michael added. Then he smiled. “Colby won’t know what hit them.”
Fifth Avenue Fracas
Christy and Michael were having their late candlelit dinner, a ritual that began soon after they met. It gave them time to relax and talk freely. Renata had been fed earlier in the kitchen by Yok Wah, who fussed over her and convinced her to eat soba noodles and seaweed despite the child’s insistence that she was allergic. Renata would not be joining them. Christy was determined to show Michael that nothing would change with a child in the house. They would still have their special dinners. Tonight they were eating on the terrace, where warming lights surrounded the table. They had views of Central Park and Fifth Avenue. Yok Wah padded out and served the first course, shrimp in lobster sauce.
“Thank you for what you did today,” Christy said to Michael.
“I did it for you,” he said.
“Not for Renata? Not even a little bit?”
Michael focused on his shrimp.
“So you didn’t mean what you said today, about being the father she never had?”
Michael topped off Christy’s wine and poured some for himself. “Not really, Beegee.”
Christy’s face twitched ever so slightly.
“Honey, I told you how I felt from the beginning. I’m not letting myself get close to her. I’ll be there when you need me, though.”
“Thanks for all your help getting her into Colby.”
“You’re welcome. But…”
“Hmm?”
“Don’t depend on me to be there for her. I don’t think I can do that.”
“I won’t, I know.” Christy went over and kissed Michael. “I love you.”
“Love you, too.”
Christy decided to change the subject. “God, it feels good to be back at the office. I never appreciated my job the way I do now that we…I…have Renata. I used to be able to focus on the company. Now, I have to worry about her care, too.”
“Children are a lot of work,” Michael said. “There’s no way around that.”
“I know, and I’m off-loading as much as I can. Everything’s being outsourced. Nanny, driver, cook, decorator, therapist. They’re reporting to Eve. I made her president of the Renata division.”
“What about you? Weren’t you supposed to nurture her? Isn’t that why we didn’t send her to boarding school?”
“Nectar’s the primary nurturer, but I do my share. Eve schedules bonding activities into my calendar. I think Renata’s feeling secure. We’ll know for sure after she meets with Dr. Perlmutter, the psychiatrist Katherine recommended.”
Michael nodded thoughtfully. “Whoever heard of raising a kid this way? Reminds me of how Suzanna managed my hospital stay. But you’ll figure it out, you always do.” He pushed his chair back, then leaned over and gave Christy a kiss, conversation closed. “I’ll be in the library going over the contracts on seven-seven-seven.” Michael was referring to 777 Madison, his new corporate headquarters.
“I can’t believe you’re closing tomorrow. I’ve been so busy I lost track of the days.”
“We took your advice and hired Tai Beck Long for the design. It was a great recommendation, Beeg.”
“Glad I could help. They’re amazing.” Christy gave Michael a long, tender kiss. “Marla will be here at eight-thirty. Don’t forget.” Marla had been Christy’s masseuse for more than ten years. Since then, she had garnered clients like Ron Perlman and Michael Bloomberg, and had even been flown to an island off the coast of Africa by Georgio Armani. Christy joked with her that if she hadn’t married Michael she might not have continued to make the cut. Marla always laughed, but Christy wondered. All the support people she knew in Manhattan seemed to rank themselves on their clientele. And there were so many big shots in the city; it was tough to keep your place on the list. In the old days, Marla would screen boyfriends for Christy. She had a mean deep massage, and if a guy wimped out, Marla let Christy know he hadn’t passed the test. Marla discounted a few of them on basic grounds of aura. With Michael, Christy didn’t even need to ask.
Back in the library, Michael was muttering to himself as he read through the documents for the next day’s meeting. “I should have gone to law school,” he said as he tried to digest the dense legalese.
“Mr. Drummond, Mr. Drummond, come quickly, hurry!”
Michael put his papers down and turned his attention to Renata, who was jumping up and down in the library doorway. She appeared to be having some kind of fit. “Renata, you’re really not supposed to be in this part of the house.”
“I know, but this is an emergency!” she yelled.
“What’s the problem?” he asked calmly.
“Come now, NOW. It’s life or death,” she said.
“Is it Christy?”
“No, it’s Mr. Ng. He’s kidnapped Mrs. De Mille’s cat, you know, Mr. Koodles. He’s threatening to kill him. Mrs. De Mille is crying.”
“Of course,” Michael said. “Mr. Koodles.”
“Come on, Mrs. De Mille needs you.”
“Can’t you get Christy or Neck…Necklace, Necktie, Nectar? I’m working here…”
“Mr. Drummond, we need a MAN,” Renata said. “This is a kidnapping. HURRY.”
Michael stood up and languished behind the child as she dashed through the apartment, her long black curls trailing behind. He looked around for Christy, but she had disappeared.
They took the stairs down one floor. Mrs. De Mille stood outside of Mr. Ng’s apartment in a thin blue cotton housecoat, the kind ladies wore in 1955. Her salmon-colored hair was up in pink sponge rollers. There was a bald
