The Gate House

So we sat in the shade of the patio and looked out into the su

Susan broke into my quiet moment and said, “We need to e-mail the children with this good news, and give them some calendar updates, and… well, maybe mention that they might see something in the newspapers about… us.”

“You should e-mail Carolyn about this good news. I’ve already e-mailed her about our possible mention in the bad news.”

Susan nodded, then said, “I’m sorry.”

“Subject closed.”

“All right. Then I’ll e-mail Edward…”

“And definitely tell him that Grandpa has blessed our marriage by handing over his trust fund to him. But don’t say too much about our possible appearance in the news.”

“All right. But you know that he and Carolyn will discuss this.”

“Fine. And we’ll answer their questions truthfully, but with a little spin.” I further suggested, “Call your parents and set up a date when they can visit Edward in L.A. They need to get to know their heirs better.”

She smiled, then said, “That’s not a bad idea.”

Again we sat in silence, enjoying and savoring the moment together. There are not many perfect hours such as this, especially on a day that had begun so badly, which made this moment all the more extraordinary.

Of course, in every Garden of Eden, there is at least one serpent lurking in the flowers, and we actually had two. The first had a name, and it was Anthony Bellarosa. We knew he was here, and we were avoiding him, and we even avoided speaking of him – at least for now.

The second serpent had no name, and it had recently slithered into the garden. But if I had to give it a name, I’d call it Doubt.

So, to kill this, before it killed us, I said to Susan, “What we did was an act of love.”

She didn’t reply, so I continued, “I never doubted your love, and I know that your heart was breaking.”

Again no reply, so I concluded, “And if we had to do it over again, we would do the same thing.”

She sat there for a long time, then said, “You didn’t even want to take his money. And I… I feel so venal, so compromised-”

“No. Remember why we did what we did. It wasn’t for us.” It was to screw William and Peter. And, of course, to see that Edward and Carolyn got their fair share of the family fortune.

“John, that might be true for you, but I’m not sure about me.”

“Don’t doubt your motives. Your father created an impossible dilemma.”

“I know… but, God, I felt that I was selling myself and betraying you, and giving up our love for-”

“Susan, I don’t feel that way, so neither should you.”

“All right… you’re a very loving and wise man.”

“I am. Have another beer.”

She forced a smile, then said, “I hope this never comes back to haunt us.”

I pointed out, “If we could work through what happened ten years ago, then this is nothing.”

“I love you.”

“That’s why we’re here.” I asked, “Where is the pizza guy?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never ordered a pizza in my life.”

“Well, we’ll fix that in the next twenty years.”

We sat and talked about London, and Paris, with maybe a side trip to the Loire Valley, as we’d done many years ago.

Susan’s portable phone rang, and it was the guard at the gate a

I got up, went through the house, and waited for him outside the front door. But as I stood there, I realized that it was moments like this, when you are least expecting it, that your world could suddenly explode – as it had for Salvatore D’Alessio.

I saw a small van coming up the driveway. I went back into the house, bounded up the stairs, grabbed the carbine, went down into my office, and looked out the window. The van stopped, and a young Hispanic-looking guy got out, retrieved the pizza from the rear, then ambled toward the front door. I mean, I wasn’t thinking that the pizza delivery kid could be a hit man, but it was just the act of me standing outside, with no one around, and Alhambra Estates five hundred yards away through the trees, that had spooked me for a moment. Well, that was good. Uncle Sal had been stuffing a ca

The doorbell rang, and I went to the front door. I stuck the carbine in the umbrella stand and opened up.

I looked over the pizza guy’s shoulder as we exchanged pizza for money, plus a nice tip, and I locked the door.

I can balance a pizza box on one finger, but I used my whole hand, and carried the box and the carbine out to the patio.

Susan couldn’t help but notice the carbine, and asked, “Do we really need that out here?”

“I hope not.”

I opened the box on the table, and the aroma wafted into my nose and engulfed my soul.

I sat, and Susan went inside, then returned with plates, napkins, knives, and forks. I explained that napkins were optional, and the rest of the stuff was not necessary.

I know that Lady Stanhope has eaten pizza – I’ve seen her – but she always approaches food like this with some trepidation and perhaps a little disdain.

I showed her how to flip the point back and bite it off, then fold the slice to stabilize it. I said, “It’s basic physics.”

So we sat there with our beers, and our pizza, and our rifle, and we had a nice lunch.

Susan confessed, “This actually tastes good.”

“And it’s good for you.”

“I don’t think so, but we can have this once in a while.”

I pointed out, “We could buy the whole pizza parlor.”

She laughed, then said, “Well, John, you saved the day, and I guess I owe you something.” She asked me, “Aside from the yacht, and unhealthy food, what would you like?”

“Just you, darling.”

“You already have me.”

“And that’s all I want.”

“How about a sports car?”

“Okay.”

I ate half the pizza – six slices – and Susan had a second piece, and we wrapped the rest for my breakfast.

Then we went to the bedroom to work off the pizza – sort of a victory lap – and pack for our trip. I had a whole wardrobe in London, so I just threw some odds and ends in my suitcase, and Susan saw this as an opportunity to pack more of her clothes in my luggage. She said, “I have some nice things in the basement that I haven’t gotten around to unpacking.”

Well, we could be gone a lot longer than three weeks, so I didn’t object.

After we packed our suitcases, we took a nap, then at about 5:00 P.M., I got up and said to Susan, “I’m going to run into Locust Valley for a few things. Would you like to come?”

“No, I have a lot to do here, but I’ll give you a list of what I need.”

So I got dressed and said to her, “Keep the doors locked, and don’t go outside.”

She didn’t reply.

I further advised her, “Keep the carbine or the shotgun near you. I’ll put the carbine in the umbrella stand near the front door.”

“John-”

“Susan, we have about” – I looked at my watch – “less than fifteen hours before we’re lifting off the runway. Let’s play it safe.”

She shrugged, then asked me, “What time do you want the car to pick us up for a seven-thirty A.M. flight?”

We’d have to leave for the airport at about 5:00 A.M. in the dark, so I replied, “We will take my rental car so that I can keep the carbine with us, and we’ll park the car in the long-term lot.”

“I’d really rather take a car service and avoid the hassle.”

“Me, too. But we need to take that final precaution.”

She didn’t look happy about that and said, “John, we’re going on vacation – not into battle.”

“Don’t argue with me, or I’ll call your father and tell him to straighten you out.”