Everything to Gain and a Secret Affair (51 page)

“All right. Thank you.”

“We'll all have it,” Frank added. “And let's take a look at the wine list, please, Antonio.”

“Si, Signore Peterson.” The waiter nodded and departed.

Vanessa pushed back her chair and said, “Excuse me for a moment,” and left the table, heading for the ladies' room.

Bill leaned over and said to Frank, “So, what do you think of her?”

“She's lovely, and you were right, she's not a bit flaky. In fact, I think she's a very nice young woman, one who's rather serious by nature.”

Bill said, “I like her.”

“It's more than
like
, Bill, that's too soft a word.”

“What do you mean?”

“You're bowled over by her, and you're going to get involved with her. She with you.”

“I'm not so sure.”

“About yourself? Or her?”

“Both of us.”

Frank smiled broadly, and a knowing glint entered his black Irish eyes. “Oh Bill, my boy, take my word for it, you are heading for the big one here. She's irresistible to you, has all the things you love in a woman. As for her, she can't take her eyes off you. She's intrigued, flattered by your interest in her, and she hangs on to every word you say.”

“I think you exaggerate.”

“Trust me, I don't. I've got eyes in my head, and I've been watching you both for almost two hours now. You're both trying to hide it, but you're falling for each other.”

“I wonder who that Italian is? Giovanni?” Bill muttered.

“We can't very well ask her. Anyway, she's not wearing any rings, at least not a wedding ring, only that crested signet on her little finger.”

“But that doesn't mean anything these days. And she does spend a lot of time here, she said so.”

“That doesn't mean anything either, Billy. I'm telling you, that young woman—” Frank stopped as Vanessa glided up to the table.

The two men rose, and Bill helped Vanessa into her chair.

Once she was seated, she smiled across at him, and said, “You reminded the waiter you'd ordered a main course last night. Not a turkey?”

“Of course it's a turkey. I ordered a traditional Thanksgiving dinner for us, and fortunately they were able to oblige. After all, that was your condition, Vanessa.”

She stared at him for a long moment, and shook her head slowly. Her eyes twinkled mischievously when she finally murmured, “But I was only teasing. I never thought for one moment that you'd find a turkey in Venice . . .”

Bill stared at her.

Vanessa's touch was featherlight as she rested her hand on his arm. “You see, I
wanted
to spend Thanksgiving with you . . . with or without a turkey.”

W
hat Francis Peterson had predicted finally came to be.

Bill and Vanessa fell in love.

As Bill said much later, they probably did so on Thanksgiving night at Harry's Bar, although it took them several days to acknowledge their feelings.

During the Thanksgiving weekend they got to know each other better. In fact, they were a threesome, since they spent Friday and Saturday with Frank.

For these two days Vanessa became their guide, showing them places in Venice that not even Bill, the Venice aficionado, knew about. These were small, unique art galleries, museums and churches off the beaten track, bars and cafés known only to the
Venetians themselves, shops where the best bargains were to be had.

At Bill's insistence, she took them out to Murano, where she did much of her work. They went to the island by
vaporetto
, a water taxi that took only seven minutes to get there.

Bill and Frank both wanted to see her designs, and so they visited the ancient glass foundry where her glass pieces were hand-blown. Both men were impressed by her stunning designs, her talent and creativity, and they realized she was a true artist.

That evening, at her request, they escorted her to a cocktail party given by an old friend of hers from her student days, who owned a palazzo on the Grand Canal situated diagonally across from the Gritti Palace. They needed a gondola to get there.

The two newsmen found the slightly ramshackle palace an amazing place, and were fascinated by its many treasures. Carlo Metzanno, their host, was an interior designer, and he had given the massive, centuries-old palace a great deal of style and elegance. As he showed them around, he explained the provenance of many of the art objects, paintings, and antiques. Prominently displayed were several extraordinary pieces by
Vanessa. These were fluid, sinuous, and impressive.

The three of them stayed at the cocktail party for an hour, mixing with a colorful group of people including a couple of local artists, a famous French movie star, a playwright from London, and an American architect.

When they left the palazzo, the same gondola that they had hired for the evening took them to the Giudecca, the narrow sliver of an island across the Canale della Giudecca. Vanessa had invited them to dinner, and she had booked a table at Harry's Dolci, the charming and intimate “little sister” of Harry's Bar. After their meal they strolled over to the Hotel Cipriani for espressos and stregas before going back to Venice in the gondola. “We've become the three musketeers,” Frank said as they took their seats, settling back to enjoy the ride to the Gritti Palace. “We're now old pals.” Bill and Vanessa laughed, and Bill said, “I think that's swell.”

Bill had planned what he termed “an adventure” for Saturday night. Once again, a gondola was hired for the evening, and this carried them down the narrow winding backwaters of Venice until they arrived at an old house that looked like a hole in the wall. It
turned out to be a marvelous family restaurant, one Bill knew well, which was a popular eating place favored by Venetians in the know.

It was a gay evening filled with bonhommie. They laughed and joked, exchanging a lot of amusing banter. A considerable amount of genuine affection flowed between them. The two men had grown quite close to Vanessa, and she to them.

“Here's a toast, then,” Frank said as the dinner drew to a close. “To dear friends—old and
new.
” He clinked his glass of red wine to Bill's glass and then Vanessa's. Smiling at her genially, he added, “You're a good sport, kid, the way you've put up with us. Especially
me
, with all my questions. I've enjoyed being with you for the last couple of days. You've been like . . . a breath of fresh air.”

Vanessa colored slightly, the flush rising from her neck to touch her face. Frank had teased her a lot, and now she was touched by his compliments, his unexpected courtliness.

“What a nice thing to say, Frank, thanks, and I've enjoyed
your
company.”

“I'm going to miss you both,” Frank went on, looking from Vanessa to Bill. “Most especially you, William Patrick. Battlefields are not the same without you.”

“I know,” Bill replied, his eyes focused on his best friend. “I'll miss you, too, but who knows, we may well be covering the same story in the next few months.”

“Could be,” Frank said. “I hope so.”

As they left the restaurant a short while later, Vanessa shivered and moved nearer to Bill, who put his arm around her protectively and drew her close against him.

Venice in winter, and especially in the evening, was mysterious, even frightening. The gondola glided down many dark waterways, heading for the Gritti Palace. Mist rose up from the murky canals, and there was no noise except for the slap of the oars as they hit the water. Everything was shadowy, eerie in the dim light.

On either side of the narrow waterways, buildings loomed up like strange inchoate monsters under the threatening sky. At times the mist was more like fog, thick and almost impenetrable. The dampness clung to them, seemed to penetrate their clothes.

The three friends stayed huddled in the gondola, shivering, fighting the cold, talking quietly until they reached the hotel.

“I'm glad we're back,” Vanessa said with another shiver as Bill helped her to alight at
the small dock in front of the Gritti Palace. “There are times when Venice at night frightens me, fills me with foreboding—” She cut herself off, feeling suddenly foolish. After all, she had two men to protect her, not to mention the muscular gondolier who looked like a prizefighter.

Since they each had their rooms on different floors, they said good night in the lobby.

Frank, who was leaving the following morning for Milan and then a direct flight to New York, kissed Vanessa on both cheeks. He gave Bill one of their customary bear hugs.

“See you, William,” he said nonchalantly, walking to the elevator. Suddenly, he paused, turned around, and looked at them both for a split second, the expression on his face unexpectedly serious.

“Take care of each other,” he said and disappeared behind the sliding doors of the elevator.

Bill and Vanessa remained standing in the lobby, staring at each other.

Vanessa's eyes were full of questions as she
murmured, “What an odd thing for him to say—” She stopped, her gaze still riveted on Bill.

“Not really,” Bill answered quickly. Then, after the merest hesitation, he went on, “You see, he knows how I feel about you.”

“How is that?”

“I'm very . . .
drawn
to you, Vanessa.”

She was staring up at him; she nodded. “I guess he knows I feel the same way.”

“You do?”

“Oh, yes, Bill.”

Bill inclined his head slightly. “So, Frankie
was
right. He sensed it from the beginning. He was quite positive he knew exactly how we
both
were feeling.”

“He's very astute.” She spoke in the softest of voices.

“He is. Do you want a nightcap? Or something hot, maybe? Hot lemon tea?”

“Not here, though,” Vanessa said.

“Your room or mine?”

“Oh yours, please,” Vanessa answered with a small, shy smile. “You have a suite, mine is nothing so grand.”

Putting an arm around her shoulder, Bill led her to the other elevator at the far end of the lobby. The minute the door closed, he did
what he had been wanting to do for the past three days. He took her in his arms and kissed her.

Vanessa kissed him back, and with such intensity he was momentarily startled. When the elevator came to a halt, they quickly pulled apart. As they stepped out, he noticed her flushed face. She was usually so pale.

Drawing a finger down one side of her cheek, he leaned into her and whispered, “You're burning up. Hot to the touch.”

She looked at him swiftly but said nothing.

With their arms wrapped around each other, they walked along the corridor to his suite. After letting them in, Bill closed the door with his foot. Shooting the bolt with one hand, he pulled her into his arms with the other. Once more they clung together, kissing with growing fervor.

Suddenly Bill held her away from him and said, “Let's take off our coats.” So saying, he helped her out of hers, struggled to shrug off his trench coat, and threw both on a nearby chair.

Silently Bill took hold of her hand tightly, led her into the adjoining bedroom and over to the bed. Vanessa seated herself on the edge
of it, all the time watching him as he bent down and took off her shoes, first one and then the other.

After kissing each foot, he slid his hand under her wide, flared skirt, stroking her leg, moving up until his fingers caressed her inner thigh.

“Bill?”

“Yes?”

“Let's get undressed.”

A half smile touched his mouth. With swiftness he rose, took her hands in his and pulled her to her feet, so that they were facing each other. Vanessa moved closer, placed her arms around his neck, kissed him on the mouth passionately. As she did so, he reached behind her and unzipped her wool skirt.

The skirt fell to the floor, lay in a swirl of purple at her feet. She stepped away from it, then swung back to him, her eyes focused on him with intensity.

Bill looked at her closely. What he saw surprised and pleased him. Her face was flushed, full of desire, and her silvery eyes brimmed with longing. For him.

Roughly Bill pulled her to him, bent his face to hers, and kissed her deeply. He slid his tongue into her mouth, let it graze hers,
and she did the same, exciting him more than ever with her fervor and unabashed desire. He felt the blood rush to his face; he was aroused as he had not been aroused for years. He wanted her so much, had wanted her for days, and now he felt as though he would explode. He had an enormous erection. He pressed himself against her; she bent to his will, letting her whole body flow against his.

Leaning away from her slightly, he looked down at her breast, touched it gently. How taut it was under the thin silk blouse. Fumbling, he undid the first few buttons, put his hand inside her blouse. He kissed her breast, then sucked on the hardening nipple.