Too Damn Rich (42 page)

Because Burghley's—not Christie's or
Sotheby's, but Burghley's!— would be conducting this sale! That had
been agreed to over lunch.

That was why Sheldon D. Fairey was so bloated
with triumph.

The abrupt bleating of his private line
pricked his pleasure's balloon. Certain it was his wife calling, he
picked up on the second ring. "Yes?"

"Sheldon! Sweetie!"

The voice at the other end was all purrs and
bright tinkles and most definitely not his wife's.

"It's Dina!"

Oh, Christ, he thought, feeling his testicles
shrivel. And to what, he wondered, do I owe the displeasure of this
call?

"Mrs. Goldsmith," he acknowledged warily.

"I'm not disturbing you, Sheldon? Am I?"

Damn right you're disturbing me! he wanted to
snarl. Naturally, he voiced nothing of the sort.

"Because if you are in the middle of
something," Dina went on magnanimously, "we can talk later."

Dina showing concern? His internal alarms
went on full alert. This kinder, gentler Dina was way out of
character.

"Of course you're not disturbing me," he lied
smoothly. "Not a'tall."

"I'm so glad! You are well, I take it?"

"Fine, thank you," he said. Now flashing red
lights had joined the klaxons screeching inside his head. "And
you?"

"Oh, you know ...
comme ci, comme ca
.
But overall quite well, I suppose." Dina cut right to the chase.
"Sweetie, the reason I'm calling is—I need your help!"

"Y-yes ... ?" he said cautiously, wishing he
were still lunching with Leonard Sokoloff or ...

... or better yet, that he was halfway around
the world somewhere, on a desert island, perhaps, or in the
Himalayas—any place, so long as it was out of reach of the long arm
of Dina Goldsmith.

"The problem," Dina explained, "is this. You
see, Robert and I are looking for a house in the country. He's set
his sights on Connecticut, while I prefer the Hamptons. I'm not
sure he realizes how boring the country can be."

"Oh, very boring," Fairey assured her,
feeling a terrible premonition coming on.

"Well, then I spoke to Becky V ..." Dina
paused, obviously to make certain the exalted name sank in. "...
and you'll never guess what she said."

He shuddered to think. "No ..." he said
softly.

"She suggested I take Robert to New Jersey.
Somewhere in the hunt country. She assured me it's so quiet there
that one weekend will cure him of the country once and for
all."

"Hmmm," he murmured noncommittally.

"Becky also told me you have neighboring
estates."

Fairey put a hand over his face and shut his
eyes. Dear God, he thought. What hath Thou wrought?

"Yes," he admitted in a whisper, "we do."

"Anyway," Dina continued, "I was wondering if
we might impose upon you one of these weekends. Just to get a feel
for the area. You know ... so we can drive around? Look at places?
So Robert can see for himself just how boring it is?"

His mind was racing. Imposing! For a weekend!
Good Lord, he had to head her off—and now, before she got any more
ideas.

"I'm afraid our place is ... well, quite
shabby, Mrs. Goldsmith," he said quickly. "My wife rides, and the
stables are in better condition than the house." He forced a jovial
laugh. "I'm afraid you'd absolutely hate it."

"Never mind me," Dina said inexorably. "So
long as Robert hates it, that's all that matters."

He couldn't believe this! Bad enough that he
had to put up with the Goldsmiths in New York. But in the country?
In his very own house?

"You do see, sweetie?" she went on. "Unless
my Robert finds it horribly dull and horrendously boring—and he
must!—I'll end up somewhere

in Litchfield County instead of Southampton.
And the moment I saw the house I found there, I knew it had my name
on it. You see? Sweetie, my happiness is in your hands! You must
help me make Robert see reason!"

He gulped, visions of Dina's bullying and
Robert's uncouth manners and smelly cigars tainting the purity of
his weekend sanctum.

"I-I'm really not sure my wife and I can be
of much help," he murmured stiffly.

"Oh, but you can, sweetie! You can! Now, what
do you say to ... the weekend after next?"

The what—! His mouth gaped at her audacity.
"I ... I'll have to check with my wife," he said.

"
Naturellement!
That goes without
saying."

"I'll let you know what she says."

"You do that." Dina paused. "And
Sheldon?"

"Yes, Mrs. Goldsmith?"

"Just remember, sweetie," she trilled. "One
hand washes the other!"

And with that, Dina rang off.

One hand washes the other ... The phrase
echoed endlessly in the chambers of his ears. One hand washes the
other ...

Its meaning was crystal clear.

"Damn that woman!" he screamed, beating on
his desk with his fists. "Damn her to eternal hell!"

Then, regaining his self-control, he jabbed
the automatic dial button of his home.

His wife did not pick up; the answering
machine did.

Swiftly he broke the connection and stabbed
the next button down, the number of her cellular phone.

A swift series of electronic tones. Silence.
Then one ring ... two ...

He could hear his breath ricocheting off the
mouthpiece, feel his fingers gripping the receiver as though to
break it.

Come on, come on ... answer it, dammit!

He had to talk to Nina. She always knew the
most plausible excuses. Maybe she'd be able to extricate them from
a weekend with the Goldsmiths ...

... from a weekend in
hell!

While her husband was suffering testicular
trauma, Nina Fairey was ordering an entire new riding habit at
Hermes. Cap, blouse, jacket, jodhpurs, boots—beaucoup bucks at any
equestrian supplier's. But at Hermes, a major investment.

Nina Fairey preferred to think of it as a
capital improvement.

Her order was being written up when the
cellular phone in her Kelly bag cheeped. "Excuse me," she told the
saleslady, taking out her Microtac and flipping it open. She
undipped a heavy bas-relief earring before lifting it and saying:
"Hel-lo-oh."

"Thank God! Nina. Where are you?" She could
hear the relief quavering in her husband's voice.

"At Hermes," she replied. "I told you I had
an appoint—"

"Yes, yes, yes," he hissed, cutting her off
in midsentence. "Listen, something's come up which can't wait. Can
you talk freely?"

Nina glanced around at hovering salespeople
and browsing shoppers. "N ... no," she told him, "not exactly. But
wait a moment." She pressed the hold button and looked at the
saleslady. "Is it possible for me to take this call in
private?"

"But of course! If madame would please follow
me?"

Nina was led past glass counters filled with
a display of bone china with toucan motifs, another with trellises,
pagodas, and butterflies, then riding tack and wood-and-leather
campaign furniture before being shown into a private office in the
back.

As soon as the door shut behind her, Nina
punched the hold button and lifted the phone. "Sheldon? You
there?"

An explosion of breath: "Yes!"

"We can talk freely now," she said. "Darling,
what happened? You sound beside yourself."

"What happened?" His laughter was ragged and
high-pitched, as if he was on the verge of hysteria. "Genghis Khan
happened, that's what!"

She rolled the gold earring between her
fingers. "I'm afraid I don't follow."

"Nina, for God's sake—the Goldsmiths have
happened!"

"Darling, what do you mean?"

"Didn't you hear what I said?"

"Sheldon, I'm not psychic. Will you stop
talking in riddles and be more forthcoming?"

"Okay. Okay! But you're not going to believe
this!"

She took a seat in a campaign chair. "Why
don't you try me."

"All right." She could hear the soughing of
his breath. "I come back from lunch, and what do you think greets
me?"

She was silent.

"—ringing phone. My private line, dammit! You
know how I guard this number, it's not even listed!"

Nina made commiserating noises.

"Anyway, who should it be but Dina Goldsmith?
God alone knows how she got hold of this number, though I'm not
surprised that she did— that ballbuster's capable of anything!"

Nina pressed two fingers against her brow to
forestall an oncoming headache. "Slow down, darling. Please. I
don't have the foggiest notion as to what's going on. Now then:
Dina called."

"Yes!" he shouted.

"Well, what did she want?"

"Would you believe, she invited herself to
... to our house in the country? Our house, goddammit!" he
sputtered, his voice rising feverishly in outrage. "Christ, is
nothing sacred anymore? Whatever happened to a man's home being his
castle?"

Nina remained calm. "And what did you tell
her?"

"What do you think? God knows, I tried to
turn her down graciously, not that that did any good."

Again a burst of mirthless laughter; she
recognized the telltale, strung-out vibrato of nerves stretched to
the breaking point.

"That woman doesn't know the meaning of the
word no!"

"Sheldon, cool your heels. Let me think,
darling—"

"Well, you'd better think fast!" he snapped.
"Otherwise, we'll be stuck with her and that slob of a husband the
weekend after next!"

"Did she happen to mention why she wanted to
come?"

He filled her in on what Dina had told him.
"Not that her song and dance fools me," he said. "She's got some
other, more devious motive up her sleeve, though what it is I can't
begin to guess."

"Hmmm." Nina tapped her lips thoughtfully.
"The weekend after next ..."

"Yes! Nina, you've got to do something! Find
a way to wheedle out of this—"

"Sheldon! For God's sake, will you calm down?
This isn't the end of the world. In fact ..." She admired the wood
and leather campaign chair and smiled to herself. "... it could
very well be a new beginning. And definitely work to our
advantage."

"Nina! What are you saying?"

His voice had once again taken on that
tremolo of panic. She felt mildly irritated at having to dispense
the necessary antidote, but forced herself to be forebearing.

"Darling, I'm only saying that I have our
best interests in mind. Your career ... our social position.
Really. When you think about it, having the Goldsmiths out to
Somerset might not be such a bad idea—"

"Nina!"

"Darling, trust me. Now forget all this
nonsense and get on with your work. I'll take care of
everything."

"Nina—Nina! You are going to head them off!
Aren't you?"

"Sheldon, will you stop?" God, she hated it
when men whined! "I know what I'm doing."

"Oh, Christ ... !"

"Hush, darling. Need I remind you that
despite being neighbors, we never got past square one with Becky
V?"

"So?"

"So—" She crossed shapely, mocha-stockinged
legs. "—rumor has it that Becky V and Dina Goldsmith have become
thick as thieves, or at least allies of some sort. Therefore, it
stands to reason that the easiest way to enhance our own social
stature is by hitching our star to Dina's."

"Hitching our—Nina! Have you gone mad?"

"Not at all, darling, not at all." Smiling to
herself, Nina regarded her crossed leg and curled the pointy toe of
her caramel-colored high heel. "Opportunistic, perhaps. But crazy?
Definitely not. Now, I have got to get busy. Darling, I'll talk to
you later—"

"But—"

"Later, Sheldon," she said firmly. "Right now
I've got my work cut out for me. Just give me Dina's telephone
number so I can get back to her right away."

When Dina hung up, she felt the gratifying
afterglow of having wielded a small fraction of her considerable
power.

Ah, power. Can anything else compare?

Dina didn't think so.

But there'd be plenty of time to reflect on
her triumph. Right now she had more pressing matters on her agenda.
Calling Zandra, for one. Nina Fairey had, of course, extended an
invitation to the three of them— Robert, herself, and Zandra.

And, if everything went according to plan,
Zandra would be the next Princess von und zu Engelwiesen!

Not wasting another second, Dina dabbed out
the number of Burghley's Old Masters department. "Sweetie! It's
me!"

"Gosh, Dina," Zandra said lazily into the
phone. "Hullo!"

She was sitting behind her desk watching the
fax machine extrude a length of thermal paper into Kenzie's waiting
hands.

"I didn't forget my purse or something at the
restaurant, did I? I mean, I can be so horridly scatterbrained at
times ..."

"No, no," Dina assured her quickly. "Sweetie,
you didn't forget a thing."

"Oh, good. Sometimes, I believe I'd leave my
head somewhere if it weren't attached to the rest of me."

Dina laughed dutifully. "Sweetie, the reason
I'm calling is to invite you to the country the weekend after
next."

"The country! But, Dina, this comes as a
total surprise."

"I can count on you, sweetie, can't I?"

"I ... uh ..." Zandra tried to think. The
invitation was so unexpected that she was momentarily thrown. Did
she have any plans for that weekend? "Who else is going to be
there?" she asked, flipping the calendar on her desk.

"Oh, nobody of any consequence," Dina said
dismissively. "It's at the Faireys, and it'll only be them, Robert,
and the two of us. You know. Just an informal,
intime
little
weekend."

"I ... I don't know what to say!"

"Sweetie! You must say yes! If you don't, I
... I'll die of boredom and never, ever, forgive you!"

"Oh, Dina. Darling, I really need a minute
to—"