Foxy Roxy Part 31

"Okay."

"Do you have a preference?"

"No."

She scanned the menu for a long time, nibbling the nails of her left hand.

Henry put down his menu. Arden looked sleekly blond tonight, with her hair pulled back in a ponytail and some kind of exotic textile thrown around her shoulders, hippie style. She was definitely more presentable than she had been earlier. But her foot jiggled incessantly, and he noticed all her cuticles were red. The front of her hair was cut in long bangs, which she tended to use as a screen.

He decided he'd chosen the right person to question concerning Quentin's plan for Monica and the situation with Julius's will. Henry planned to pop Arden like a cork.

After a few minutes of watching her obsess about the menu, Henry said, "I recommend the chef's choice. It's always an interesting culinary experience here."

"Okay. I like adventures."

She flattened her menu on the table and looked straight at him, a sign she had gathered her courage. "So what's this all about, Henry?"

His only mistake might have been the choice of restaurant. In Rizza's, there was always a waiter swooping in to refill gla.s.ses or a busboy slipping dishes away. The tables were tightly packed, too, with snippets of conversation flying around like mosquitoes. The tempo of the place was busy, but maybe that would work in his favor, Henry thought. If the atmosphere were too intimate, Arden would be even more nervous.

He leaned across the table. "I was delighted to see you this morning. You looked all grown up."

She linked her hands in her lap. "I am."

"So maybe we should get better acquainted."

With a brave tilt of one eyebrow, she said, "Now that I'm legal, you mean?"

He smiled genuinely. "You're beautiful, Arden. And polished now."

"You liked me pretty well when I was a kid."

"You were tantalizing."

"So you're a gentleman these days? That's the way you want to play it?"

"How would you like me to play it?"

The wine steward leaned over their table then, asking about drinks, so Henry ordered a bottle without any fanfare. The exchange gave Arden a chance to think things over.

When the steward went away, she said, "I always liked you, Henry. And I was flattered that you picked me to-well. But all my aunts and cousins said you were looking for a way to marry into the family, and after we-after that time we were together, I worried that I'd made a big mistake. So I went away. You're hard to resist, you know."

"It's a relief to hear your side of things. After you left town so suddenly, I feared my lovemaking wasn't up to snuff."

Her color changed. "How would I know? I'd never-well, I was ashamed of myself for getting seduced in a closet, so I ran away."

"It was more of a dressing room wasn't it? I remember a lot of hanging ball gowns and a very comfortable sofa. I'd had a little too much champagne at your uncle Julius's wedding to Monica."

"And then you had that allergic reaction to the champagne." She smiled shyly, but then Arden's face clouded, perhaps recalling the less appealing details of their tryst.

Gallantly, Henry said, "I remember how lovely you were. And deceptively mature. After I realized you were underage, though, I knew I'd made a grave mistake."

He also remembered a very messy interlude-not at all his usual conquest. It had been a low point for Henry-a clumsy attempt to seduce the least objectionable of the Hyde women, but a lapse in judgment nevertheless. With careful strategy, he might make amends tonight, though.

A waiter brought crusty bread and a dish of olive tapenade, and then came the water gla.s.ses. While the quiet flurry of service continued, Henry tried to keep the conversation rolling.

He said, "Julius seemed very happy at that wedding. He and Monica both."

"I can't believe he's dead." Arden fiddled with her silverware. "I keep thinking he'll walk into a room and say something funny. I really miss him."

"He loved you very much, I'm sure."

"Who didn't he love? He had a lot of joie de vivre. Okay, except maybe Dodo."

"Despite all evidence to the contrary, I think those two were actually very fond of each other. You shouldn't take their arguments to heart."

She glanced up to gauge his sincerity. "Uncle Julius never had anything nice to say about her."

"That was a game between them."

"Do you think so?"

"I know so."

Arden did the peekaboo with her bangs again. "That's actually very nice to hear."

The wine came, and they ordered food. Henry asked her about Florence and she babbled awhile. Gradually, she relaxed and became animated. From years of strategic dating, Henry had come to recognize that the best companions were women who knew how to get a man to open up about himself. But Arden talked and talked.

She talked so much that eventually he realized why. Between courses, she excused herself, and when she returned to the table, she was so radiant that the man at the next table got up to help her with her chair.

Arden leaned into the candlelight, refreshed by whatever she'd snorted in the bathroom. She was smiling at last. "I'm having a good time. I didn't expect that."

"Why did you come out with me if you didn't think you'd have a good time?"

"I don't know. It was like a dare, I guess. But I think I like you, Henry."

"You don't have to sound so surprised."

She laughed. "Monica likes you, too. But my dad? Not so much."

Henry split the remains of the bottle into their winegla.s.ses, glad that she had brought the conversation around to where he wanted it. He signaled for a second bottle. "Why is that?"

Smothering a giggle behind the long fingers of one hand, she said, "Maybe Daddy doesn't like another rooster in the henhouse. I saw the way Monica looked at you. So did Daddy."

"She's in a very emotional place right now. She can't be held accountable for her actions. Besides," he added with sideways smile, "she's too old for me. Surely Quentin sees that."

"I think he sees a rich widow and an opportunistic younger man making goo-goo eyes at her."

"I do nothing of the sort!"

"You do it with subtlety, of course. Just like you're flirting with me tonight."

"I'd have to be dead not to flirt with you, Arden. You've grown up so nicely. But really, we're just friends, aren't we?"

"Oh, yes," she said quickly. "Just friends."

Henry figured the time was right to lean across the table. "I'm actually glad to see your father so protective of Monica. Especially accompanying her to see Dorothy. That must have been brutal."

"Yes, brutal," Arden echoed.

"It doesn't take a genius to see the whole family is distraught about Julius. But-true to form-they're trying not to show it, right? Everyone uses their own special coping mechanisms."

"Yes." Arden picked up her fork uncertainly. Her buzz was fading, so he guessed it had been cocaine in the bathroom.

"It's hard work sometimes," he said. "Playing referee in a complex family. That's your role, isn't it?"

"Yes," she said, although it was clear the idea had never entered her head until now. "Daddy's especially putting a lot of pressure on me."

Henry contrived to appear concerned. "Oh?"

"Trying to make me take a job with Hyde Communications. Maybe that would be easier."

"Easier than what?"

If he wasn't mistaken, she looked frightened. But the second bottle arrived, and it took a few moments for the cork and tasting ritual. By the time it was over, Arden looked more strained and anxious.

Henry filled her gla.s.s nearly to the rim. "What are you working on at the moment?"

Arden's head must have been fuzzy indeed. "I'm creating a master list-an inventory of Dodo's art collection for Daddy to present to the insurance company. At least, I'm trying to. Monica gave things w.i.l.l.y-nilly to museums. And G.o.d only knows what Uncle Julius did. Daddy asked me to try piecing together a list-a complete inventory. I'm the only one who can do it. Tomorrow I have to go back through Monica's tax returns to find out what she claimed as charitable deductions, and who knows what's been stored away."

"There must be hundreds of items."

Another waiter appeared with a water pitcher. But he bobbled it, and water went splashing across the tablecloth. "Oh, wow. Sorry, dude." He had two small folders pinned in the pit of his arm, and he pulled them out. "Dessert, anyone?"

Henry used his own napkin to mop up the worst of the water spill. "I've never known a woman who didn't want to end a meal with a taste of chocolate. Or what about the baklava? I understand it's excellent here."

Arden shuddered. "Oh Lord, not baklava! Nothing Greek!"

"The apple tart instead?"

"Okay." She handed the menu back to the waiter. "One apple tart, two spoons, please."

"Coffee?"

"Espresso."

"Espresso?" the waiter said. He was a callow kid with a black eye.

"Yes, two espressos," Henry said firmly, annoyed and ready to be rid of the intrusion. "And the apple tart. That's all."

"Yeah, sure. Okay."

When the blasted waiter departed, Henry counted to ten and then gently prodded Arden back on course. "Did you mention your inventory to Dorothy today? I imagine she's the real expert on the family collection."

"I didn't have a chance. Daddy had business to discuss with her."

"What sort of business? Julius's will, I suppose?"

"Oh, yes, his will and Dodo's will and I forget who else's will. You know all about that stuff, I guess?"

"It's my job. Did Quentin discuss changes in Dorothy's estate planning? Now that Julius is gone?"

"He wanted to talk to Dodo about the amendments to her will."

Henry felt his stomach go cold. "He knew? About amendments?"

"I guess so. Daddy wanted to know what the changes were. Whether the steel mill was in play, because the city will pay millions for it now."

"Did Dorothy tell him?"

"She didn't know about any changes. She said if Uncle Julius had been scheming, it must have backfired. Daddy wondered if maybe you were in cahoots with Julius." Arden rested her elbow on the table to steady her grasp on her winegla.s.s. "That's what he said. In cahoots."

"Did he?" Henry said.

"Something wrong?"

"Not a thing." Henry managed to smile. "You mentioned the art collection."

"Oh, yes. I'm doing the inventory. But I can't find the most wonderful piece of all. My grandmother's Achilles."

"Her-?"

Arden slurped more wine. "A marble sculpture of the Greek warrior. He's magnificent. He was standing in the garden before I went to Florence. But now he's missing."

"I don't remember any Greek warrior."

"No? Out by the pool. He had one raised arm." She lifted her own hand as if to hold a spear.

Henry forced himself to sound calmly intrigued. "Did anyone else notice he's missing?"

"I think he might have been sold or given away or maybe stolen." Arden lowered her voice confidentially. "But I talked to someone who may know where he went. She came out of the blue, asking me about Greek antiquities. In Pittsburgh, of all places! How strange is that? At the exact time we're missing a rare statue, what are the chances? It can't be a coincidence."

"Who was this person?"

"A kid, really. A girl. Smart, but just a kid."

"Name?"

"Sage. Isn't that a pretty name? Sage Abruzzo."