Keeping His Promise (Year of the Billionaire Part 3) (6 page)

"This is known as the near west side. We'll pass through several miles of this before we
move a little more up market. The sixties and seventies hit this area hard. Chicago did not bend easily to desegregation and there was a lot of white flight."

We passed through a beautifully maintained park and on the other side, the condition of the buildings improved a good bit. When Tristan announced that we had reached Oak Park, I expected mansions, but what I saw were mostly quite middle class looking older homes. Earnest Hemingway was born in Oak Park and Frank Lloyd Wright had begun his career as an architect there. The Kings had bought one of his early masterpieces.

As we got further into the obviously most well to do area, the lots got bigger and the houses a little grander, but still nothing even I would have called a mansion. The streets were immaculate and there were majestic hardwoods approaching the peak of their autumn color. We pulled over to the curb in front of a two story brick house that I recognized as the 'prairie style' architecture that made Wright famous.

Tristan hadn't said more than 'uh-huh' and 'hmm' to any of my comments since we entered the village.
He sat in the car for many long moments before he spoke. "This is the century old 'Arthur B. Heurtley House'. It is a very good address."

"It's an amazing house. That brick work is fantastic." I marveled at the way Wright had woven bands of different shades of brick into the design. The whole building had a texture all its own.

"The main living area is on the second floor. My parents threw some great parties in the rooms up there. But my favorite place was my very own playroom on the lower floor." Tristan got out of the Bentley and came around to my side. He opened my door and took my hand. Then he leaned back against the car and drew me to him. I looked up at his face as he studied the house that rose from the expanse of green lawn in front of us.

"When Wright designed this house in 1902, he broke a lot of rules. The style at the time was the Queen Anne."

"Like the Victorian homes around here?"

"Yes, exactly. Wright did away with tiny rooms, he opened up the interior space with all those windows you see
, and by putting the living space on the second floor he gave a measure of privacy you don't get otherwise. Notice there aren't any curtains? None needed."

"Is this what gave you your yearning for the house in the woods that you described to me when we first met? The one designed with lots of glass so you could 'run around naked in the trees'?"

Tristan laughed out loud and I was happy to hear it. "You know, I never even thought about the connection, but I think you've hit on something. I can't believe I never thought about how this house influenced me."

"Well, I'm glad it did. Running around naked suits you. You should do it often."

"I intend to. You kind of like it, too, don't you?"

"More than I could have imagined."

"You should be naked as much as possible."

"But you seem to have so much fun dressing me up like your own personal doll."

"Only because society demands it."

"Society and the weather. It's a little chilly right now for naked."
I looked at the house. "That's a huge chimney on the roof. You must have had a massive fireplace."

"It was one of my favorite parts. I used to think it was magic when my mother would stand between the firelight and the moonlight coming in the stained glass windows."

I was hoping that the visit to the house would be more than a lesson in architectural history. Tristan took my hand and suggested we take a walk around the neighborhood.

"I . . .
" he started and stopped."I want to try to make you understand what happened after my mother died. But first, I guess I need to tell me how it was before."

I squeezed his hand. I didn't want to say a word for fear he might not continue.

"This neighborhood is mostly professionals. There are lots of doctors and lawyers. Mostly prosperous folks who want to live near enough to the city so that the commute isn't a killer. My mother was one of a few stay at home mothers left. She and a couple of other moms baked all the cupcakes, went on all the field trips, and always made sure that our classrooms had the best parties. I was so proud of her. Even as a little kid I knew how special it was to have her around. Plenty of my friends didn't see their mom until she got home from work at dinner time." He laughed and went on. "One time a friend had come over after school and Mom was cutting potatoes for French fries. She'd cut the potatoes and soak them in ice water and double fry them. God they were good. Anyway, this kid asked her what she was making. She said 'French fries'. The kid said 'That's not the way you make French fries!' Mom asked him how he thought French fries were made. He said 'You take the bag out of the freezer and then you bake them.' Can you imagine? The kid didn’t know fries were made from actual potatoes."

A breeze picked up and blew an eddy of leaves around our feet. The trees were so pretty. Not stunted city trees, but old country-looking ones. "I think fall is my favorite season. I guess I associate it with the excitement of going back to school. Summer was great for a while, but got hot and stale in the city after
July."

"Halloween was a real event around here. Mom made all my costumes. She'd take weeks to put them together. Other kids wore cheap plastic masks and those crappy mass market things. I'll never forget the year she made me a Teenage Mutant Ninja turtle costume. She hand sewed a padded shell out of green felt."

"Which one were you?"

"Michelangelo
. I liked the nunchucks."

I tried to imagine a carefree Tristan, nunchucks in hand, trick or treating down that perfect suburban street all decked out in a homemade turtle costume.

"Christmas was like a fairy tale. The house was decorated from top to bottom. There wasn't a room in the house that wasn't garlanded and every window had a candle in it. Of course, Santa always brought me everything I asked for and more. I guess I was a spoiled kid, but I don't think I acted like one."

"The Christmas of
. . . when my mother had the accident, the house was already full of the spirit. There were tons of presents under the tree, mostly for me. She'd always have a 'theme' for the wrappings. One year it was gold and silver, the next green and red. And one year she did everything in brown paper with dried flowers and string. I disapproved of that motif. It wasn't shiny enough for me."

"I can't really remember exactly how my father told me or what happened that night or even the next few days. I don't know what happened to Christmas that year, either. It seemed I went from one life to another without a transition. I was probably in shock and I'm sure I was very depressed, but no one ever took the time to comfort or council me."

"My father, who was never a very warm and fuzzy man, withdrew even more. I wandered around the new apartment lost and lonely and . . ." He stopped and I could see he was fighting back tears. "Nobody cared."

I pulled him against me and felt him breathe deeply, fighting for composure. It was so sad, so wrenchingly sad to think of the empty, cruel world his life had become.

"I became angry. At the world, at my father, and, unfairly, most of all at my mother for leaving me. I was just a kid." He shrugged helplessly. "I became an overachiever in school, desperate to get my father's approval. It never materialized."

"As the years went by, I learned to rely only on myself. I avoided any kind of relationship that could possibly lead to being abandoned again."

We sat down on a bench and watched the sparse traffic for a few minutes. It was so painful to hear his story that I was tempted to tell him to stop. I couldn't because I needed to hear what he had to say. He had revealed part of the puzzle, but I wanted the whole picture. How had he conquered his fear? How had he reached a point where he was once again vulnerable enough to love?

"By the time I reached Wharton, I had become nearly as cold and unreachable as my father was. There had been a couple of girls. I was a healthy young man, after all." He grinned a little impishly then. "I'm still healthy, aren't I?"

"Yes, Tristan, as a woman, I can certainly attest to your . . . vigor. More than healthy."

"I developed a bit of a reputation as a player. But, in all fairness, most of the girls I met weren't interested in much more than sport fucking anyway.
We all pretty much had our eye on the prize. By the time I was in the MBA program, the women I met were just as driven as the men. Domestic bliss was a very low priority."

"But something . . .
someone changed that." I said softly.

"Elsa and I graduated together. We were friends. I had all the start-up capital I wanted. My father is not generous in his affection, but money is different. I had enough cash at my disposal to do pretty much whatever I wanted."

"I started the firm and hired several of the stars of the class to work with me. Elsa was one of them."

Tristan looked tired. He wasn't used to this kind of conversation and I could see that it was draining him. "Why don't we take a little break? I don't know about you, but I could use a bite to eat."

He looked relieved. "Thanks. I'd appreciate that. I know a place I think you'll love."

Six

We headed out of Oak Park and through some more of the urban landscape. I was surprised when the countryside was soon all around us.

"This is just an illusion," Tristan told me. "This green belt we're driving through is surrounded by dense suburbia. It just happens that parts have been kept clear."

"It's a beautiful drive. Where are we headed?"

"To another place from my youth. A very happy place." He turned off the parkway onto a long drive that eventually led to the entrance to Brookfield Zoo. "This is one of the world's greatest zoos. I loved coming here as a kid, but in the last twenty years, there has been so much progress. The animals aren't caged up in sad little spaces, here the habitats are incredible."

"How did you know I love zoos?" I was delighted. There wasn't much I'd rather do than spend the beautiful afternoon seeing lions and bears and apes.

"
Our wild monkey sex was a clue." He reached over and tweaked one of my nipples, causing them both to instantly come to attention. I thought a break from the heavy morning was a good idea. Playing at the zoo was a great way to take a break. "It won't be gourmet dining, but we can get a decent sandwich here. We'll have to decide which animals to see. We can't possibly do the whole place in a few hours."

When we got to the gate, we studied the map and decided to go to the "Great Bear Wilderness" first. I have always had a fascination with polar bears and Tristan told me Brookfield had one of the finest exhibits of the great white beasts in the world.

"This zoo has been around since the thirties. My mother used to come here with her family. She told me that her older brother would always bring marshmallows to throw to the polar bears, who apparently have a sweet tooth. She said he would throw whole bags of them into the exhibit just to watch the bears tear the packages open and gorge on the sugar."

"Obviously, in this day and age, that isn't allowed
anymore."

"Better for the bears, I guess, but it sounded like fun to me."

We hopped on the 'motor safari' and wound our way through the vast park. The gardens and fountains were a treat in and of themselves. Autumn chrysanthemums filled every available flower bed and lent their own brilliance to the russet and gold palette of the day.

The bears didn't disappoint. We laughed like children watching them play. Viewing from the underwater lookout, the grace of the big animals under the
surface was marvelous and delightful to watch. The grizzlies looked as ferocious as their reputation and they, too, cavorted in their own personal water park.

We walked over to the wolf exhibit where visitors can get into a concealed blind and observe the pack.

"It isn't hard to spot the alpha male, is it?" Tristan remarked as the obvious leader passed by.

I put my hand behind him and pinched the tight cheek of his ass. "No, he's standing right beside me. The 'king' is hard to miss."

"I'm glad you recognize that," he answered with mock superiority. "We don't want there to be any question about who is number one, do we?"

"Oh, absolutely not," I agreed. "I never forget 'he who must be obeyed'."

"See that you don't." He inclined his head and looked regally down his nose at me. I stuck my tongue out at him. "You'll pay for that later," he growled into my ear.

"I hope so."

We stopped in at the penguin exhibit. The tuxedoed birds seemed to have endless energy for play and never tired of sliding on their bellies into their cold, clear pool.

'
Baboon Island' was next. We stood across the moat from them making fools of ourselves with the rest of the humans trying to attract their attention. Making monkey noises, Tristan stood behind me and began picking at my hair as if grooming me like the animals were doing.

"You're crazy," I laughed at him.

"Crazy about you, my little simian siren."