When David asked her what she wanted, she’d come up with the wildest thing she could think of. “I’d like to ride a motorcycle with a man wearing black leather.”
When David said, “I’ll ask your mother about that,” she’d tossed a pillow at him.
But then came the morning of her sixteenth birthday. Her mother received an emergency call from someone Ariel had never heard of and she’d left for the day. “When I return this evening, we’ll have a cake,” her mother said, pulling on her gloves. “And there will, of course, be a gift.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Ariel said. When her mother turned her head, she’d stuck her tongue out. One of the maids saw and had to run from the room to keep from laughing.
An hour later, David called and said, “Put on your cheapest clothes and wait for me,” then hung up. Ariel didn’t want to be bossed around by him or her mother, but his manner was so odd, she’d obeyed. When he showed up, she had on cotton trousers, a cotton shirt, and her tennis shoes.
David walked into the small sitting room wearing black motorcycle leathers and carrying two helmets under his arms. “Are you ready?” he asked.
“For what?”
He nodded toward the window. Under the porte cochere was a huge black-and-silver motorcycle.
Now, curled up in the quilt, Ariel remembered that perfect day when she and David had spent the day riding the motorcycle. He’d packed the saddlebags with sandwiches, fruit, colas, and a tiny bottle of peach wine. “I shouldn’t,” she said, laughing.
“I didn’t know you could ride a motorcycle,” she’d said, her arms around his waist.
David had just laughed.
Until today when she’d been a businesswoman, her sixteenth birthday had been the most exciting day of her life. Riding across the bridge, her hair flying from under the helmet, holding onto David, the feel of leather on her cheek.
Still standing in the bedroom doorway, Ariel cleared her throat. She stood there, silently, wearing the cotton nightgown and robe set Phyllis had lent her. David was reading a two-day-old newspaper in bed and paid no attention to her. She looked around to see what he’d been doing in the little closets, but there was no sign of anything having been moved.
“You were great today,” she said.
David didn’t look up. “Thanks. So were you.”
“Sorry about telling them you were gay.”
“That’s okay.” He still didn’t look up. “It kept some of the women off me.”
She looked at him, at his perfect profile. He’d taken a shower and his hair was still damp. He had on jeans and a clean white T-shirt the owner of the dress shop had given him. “Do women usually get on you?” she asked softly.
His eyes still on the paper, he grinned. “Sure. A real nuisance. All over me all the time. Why?”
She didn’t answer his question because she didn’t know how. “I’m going to bed,” she said, then waited for him to say something. But what? she wondered. Please stay?
David said, “Good night. See you in the morning,” as he turned a page.
When she was out of the room, David went to the bathroom, turned the shower on cold and held his head under it. Being alone in an apartment with a ready-for-bed Ariel was more than he could take. He hadn’t dared look at her for fear he’d leap on her. The day spent around halfdressed women had nearly pushed him over the edge.
When he left the bathroom, a towel draped around his neck, he looked at her bedroom door. It was slightly open and her light was on. If it had been any other woman on earth, he would have seen that as an invitation.
But not Ariel, he thought with a sigh. Three times today he’d thought he should give up on her. Over twenty years of unrequited love was more than enough for any man. He should get a girl who looked at him as Sara did.
Even as he thought it, David smiled. Sara was the kind of woman who’d say, “Whatever you want to do is okay with me.” David knew himself well enough to know that with a wife like that, he’d achieve nothing in life. He wasn’t like R. J. Brompton, a man who was a force against nature. David had been given too much in his life and his mother’s tears and calls of “don’t leave me” tended to make him stay in one place. But with Ariel …
David smiled at the thought. There’d be no ambition in the world too big for Ariel. President? Sure. King? Even better.
He shook his head to clear it. Now
was not the time to think of his ambitions. He hadn’t told Ariel, but today he’d encouraged the women to talk as much as possible. They were sickened and angered by the way the local government frequently arrested their few tourists, but they had the attitude that there was nothing they could do about it. Judge Proctor owned many of the fishing boats, as well as holding mortgages on many houses. People who went against him found themselves on the streets, with no job and no house.
“One of you must be rich,” one of the women said today, then hiccuped. David had persuaded the owner of the dress shop to serve wine to the women who were waiting their turn with Ariel.
David had just smiled, but he realized that all of them, except Sara, were rich. And Sara was too, but she didn’t know it. For all that her grandfather had disowned his daughter when she’d married the redneck Johnson, he didn’t disown his grandchild. Braddon Granville was David’s mother’s attorney and he also managed the estate of Sara’s mother. David had helped Miss Pommy with her accounts many times, so he knew that when Sara turned thirty, she would inherit millions.