Chapter 20

The long dining room table was set with a white, embroidered tablecloth and thin, white china with gold edges. Seating was assigned by small cards with our names on them. The setting was more formal than usual, in honor of our guests. Mrs. Dodge was at the end of the table closest to the kitchen entrance while Mr. Dodge was at the opposite. The baron and baroness were seated on one side of the table, with the baron next to Mr. Dodge, while Johnny and I sat opposite, with the daughter in between. I sat at Mr. Dodge’s right, facing the baron.

Stanley and Simon served the first course of smoked salmon flown in from Scotland, with small points of white toast, along with a cold Sancerre. It was delicious. Mr. Dodge and the baron were discussing some business ventures in Europe. I simply looked on until the lady on my right leaned over and whispered in my ear, “I’m pregnant.” I wasn’t sure I heard her right, so I turned and looked at her in surprise.

She laughed. She had a nice laugh. “Oh, I’m not, by the way…just in case you were wondering. I said that to get your attention. My name is Brunhilde. My friends call me Bruni. You seemed elsewhere when we met a few minutes ago, so I wasn’t sure it registered. Did it?”

“No, not really. I was distracted. Thank you for the reintroduction.”

“You’re very welcome.”

“I’m Percy. In case you missed it.”

“I know.”

I glanced over at Johnny, who was in a discussion with the baroness and his mother. “I’m glad that’s settled,” I said to Bruni. “Do you often accompany your parents on visits?” I had no idea what to say to her, so that seemed fairly safe. Up close, she was frighteningly beautiful.

She looked at me with brilliant eyes that seemed amused at my awkwardness. “If I had said yes and left it at that, what would you have done?”

“I suppose I would have continued with ‘Did you grow up in this country or in Europe?’”

“I would have said, ‘Both.’ But you didn’t ask. How about I make an observation, and you comment on it?”

“Okay.”

“I noticed my father doesn’t seem to like you very much.”

“I’m aware of that. I’m not sure he likes very many people, least of all a friend of the family.”

“You see? This is much more fun than small talk. We’ve moved from the merely social to the more relevant. It’s much better, don’t you agree?”

“Perhaps, but you didn’t answer my question.”

“Was it a question?”

“It was a comment, but the question was implied, as I think you know.”

“It was, but I prefer the direct approach by saying what you mean. It saves time.”

We were interrupted by the next course, which was Scotch broth. I put my attention on the soup. Dagmar was a master and I a faithful follower. I finished before Bruni, and on a whim, I leaned over as she was lifting her spoon and whispered, “Will you marry me?”

The spoon dropped with a sharp clatter, interrupting the other conversations at the table. All eyes turned toward her as she picked the utensil out of her soup and apologized to the table. Conversations resumed, but I noted that the baron’s gaze seemed to linger a bit longer on both of us before he returned to Mr. Dodge. Bruni turned toward me with a look that did not bode well for our future happiness.

I headed off the explosion by whispering, “You did say you preferred the direct approach, and marriage usually precedes pregnancy, does it not?”

She continued to look at me directly, as I watched her mind weighing possible responses. Finally, she laughed. I could learn to like that laugh. She leaned closer and said, “You’re very bad. I suppose I deserved that. Shall we call it even?”

“Even it is. So, back to my implied question: does your father dislike most people or only select ones?”

She looked at me again for a long moment and replied with one word: “Both.”

She turned away to converse with Johnny.

The honeymoon was over. It was just as well. I needed time to think. Her presence was only slightly south of overwhelming, and she knew that. I reckoned she had broken more hearts than most people had had ordinary conversations. I had definitely gotten a reaction on the marriage proposal, although what it meant I couldn’t say at this point. She was extraordinarily good-looking, obviously intelligent, and an unknown factor in a host of unknowns. I resolved to be very careful. Falling in love with her would be all too easy and very dangerous. If only I could convince my racing heart.

The baron interrupted my thoughts. “You find my daughter attractive?”

“Yes, she favors her mother.”

The baron laughed. “I see you’ve recovered. That’s good. Resilience is always an important aspect of trading. You were a trader, yes?”

Mr. Dodge looked like he was about to interrupt but held back.

“Yes, Johnny and I partnered a while back.”

“Not now?”

“No, we ended our partnership. I now do forensic accounting out of Los Angeles.”

“Too many losses, I suppose. It’s a hard business.”

“Yes, it can be — and it was.”

“Perhaps you can give me your card. I could always use another person to count my money.” He laughed at his joke, if it was a joke.

“I’m not an accountant or bookkeeper, per se. I investigate where money goes and where it comes from, particularly as it applies to legal matters. My clients are attorneys.”

“I see. Like an office detective.”

“More like an analyst. People who wish to hide either the sources of funds or where they stash them can be extremely sophisticated and creative. I discover what they have done, how they did it, and when.”

Bruni had leaned closer to me, even though she was still talking to Johnny.

“You’re right. Criminals are some of the smartest people I’ve ever met. Good luck with that.”

The baron asked Mr. Dodge a question, but as he did so, Mr. Dodge gave me a wink before turning back to the baron.

The next course was served — a series of pâtés with different sauces that were a delight to taste. This was followed by sorbet.

The baron ate with pleasure and complimented Mr. Dodge on having a cook of such outstanding competence and sophistication. He was enjoying himself, if only because he was no longer frowning. I looked about the room. Mr. Dodge was his usual unruffled self, attentive and completely present. Mrs. Dodge and the baroness were engrossed in conversation on some subject that only they were interested in, while Johnny looked to be in oscillating states of excitement and reservation, both of which were evident in his body language as he moved closer to Bruni one moment and then shifted away the next. Judging from the amount of wine he had consumed, the battle was heavy-going. I knew how he felt.

I turned to my left and listened to Mr. Dodge and the baron discuss yield curves and economic situations around the world, while another part of my mind tried to sort out what was happening here. I felt that we, myself included, were under scrutiny, but for what ultimate purpose, I hadn’t a clue. Bruni handled herself with a sophistication and ease that was inconsistent with a young woman in need of a match. I was willing to bet that she had already fielded several offers of marriage from some very qualified applicants. There was no ring on her finger, and one hadn’t been removed recently either. There was no telltale indentation or change in color. I tended toward paranoia. I drank more wine to shake the mood and noted Stanley’s presence. He stood like a statue in front of the passage to the kitchen. When a glass became half-full, he moved ghostlike to refill the glass. He never looked at the company directly but at a point in the distance.

I had once studied black widow spiders because they fascinated me. With many dangerous creatures, one gets a sixth sense of their existence before they make themselves known. Black widows, however, are a psychic black hole. They have an ability to mask themselves completely. Stanley on duty was the same. One never noticed he was there, but he was all the same, listening and observing.

The meal drew to a close. The ladies went to the drawing room, while the men moved to the library. Bruni, I noted, looked miffed at being segregated, but that was the rule of the house, and for once, I was only too pleased that it existed. Johnny looked relieved as well. He and I followed the older men.

“Well, what do you think?” I asked, unable to contain myself.

“Yikes. Conversing with that girl is like wrestling with a man-eating shark — an awfully attractive one, mind you.”

“Tell me about it.”

“She definitely gets the heart racing. I kept remembering that fortune-teller predicting the end of the world if I should marry. That was all that kept me and all living things from certain death.”

“Well, I beat you there. I already asked her.”

“No!”

“Yes.”

Johnny stopped in his tracks and asked, “What did she say?”

“She dropped her spoon, and after a brief honeymoon, we ended up divorced.”

“Well, you do move quickly, I must say. I think that was the fastest romance on record.”

We had reached the library door.

“Too true. But something bothers me — only I can’t put my finger on it.”

Johnny slapped me on the shoulder and said, “Something always bothers you, Percy, but I thank God for paranoid friends! They stimulate the mind. Let’s grab some good spirits, smoke a fine cigar, and sing the praises of male company. After that, we’ll look up Stan the man, and have a chat. Perhaps he has some information that will help. But first, we need to refresh ourselves from our brush with Circe personified. What say you?”

With my wholehearted agreement, we entered the library.