“Were you in the film industry? Nikki never mentioned that.”
“I wasn’t. After business school I got hired by a big investment group to be their man in Europe. My job was to find small hotels to buy and remodel as elite boutiques, basically copying Relais et Chateaux. I’ll tell you, it was a plum job. In my twenties, full of my own bullshit, bopping around Italy, France, Switzerland, West Germany—that’s what they called it then—all on an expense account. You sure you don’t want a soda? Beer, maybe?” he asked hopefully.
“No, thanks,” said Rook. He noticed the wet ring on the coaster beside Jeff’s chair and it saddened him to see how badly he longed to put a fresh glass on it.
“Anyway, one of our investors also put money in films, and he took me to this incredible cocktail party the famous director Fellini threw. There I was with big movie stars like Robert Redford and Sophia Loren. I think Faye Dunaway was there, too, but all I cared about was the hot American girl near the bar, playing Gershwin while everybody ignored her and drank free champagne. We fell for each other, but Cindy and I were both traveling a lot. We got more serious, though, and I started to work my itineraries around wherever she was doing her thing.”
“Playing at cocktail parties?” Rook asked.
“Some. Mostly she’d be spending a week here or a month there as live-in music tutor for rich families at their ritzy vacation homes. Like I said, a waste of a gift. It all would have been so different …” A somber quiet fell, punctuated by a rattle of thunder and rain plinking on the windowsill.
Nikki said, “We should probably head back.” She started to rise, but Rook had other ideas.
“Was she scared of the spotlight, maybe?”
“No way. I blame Nicole. The party girl. Every time I felt like I’d finally convinced her to get serious again, Nicole showed up like the devil on her shoulder, and, next thing I know, Cindy’s off to St. Tropez, or Monaco, or Chamonix, paying her way by selling her talent cheap.” He turned to his daughter. “Things got better when you came along. We had the place in Gramercy Park, your mom settled down into raising you, and loved that. She loved you so much.” When he said that, some of the old Jeffrey Heat found his face and Rook could see in it the same jawline he saw in Nikki’s whenever she smiled.
“It was a very happy time,” she said. “For all of us.” Then she reached for her keys.
“Those things don’t last, though, do they? When you turned five she went back to the old habits. Tutoring kids of rich New Yorkers, sometimes gone weekends with their families or keeping strange hours, nights even. And never talked to me about it. Said she needed her independence and just did her thing. Shut me out.” He paused as if making a decision, then said, “I never told you this, but I even got paranoid your mother was having an affair.”
Nikki shifted the keys to her right hand. “OK, well, maybe this isn’t the time and place to get into this.”
Rook asked, “Did you ever tell the police you suspected that?” and caught a slight elbow from Nikki. He ignored it. “Seems they’d want to know.”
“I didn’t mention it.”
“Because you had already divorced?” This time the elbow came a little sharper.
“Because I already knew she wasn’t.” He closed his mouth and sucked in his cheeks. Then he continued, with his lower lip trembling. “This is awkward for me, especially after what happened.” Nikki slid forward on the couch and reached a hand to rest on his knee. “I’m ashamed now—but I hired a private detective to, um, follow her.” And then, regaining himself a bit, he added, “Came up with nothing, thank God.”
Lightning struck with a simultaneous cannon crash in the woods behind the condo complex, hurrying their jog back to the car. When they got in, Heat checked her cell phone and found a text invitation from Don, her combat trainer. “Whip yr ass 2nite? Y/N.”