Imperfect Strangers

CHAPTER 43

Sandy and Cara sat in first class, sipping a glass of wine before lunch, bound for the West Coast. He spread out the Wall Street Journal and showed her the announcement of his acquiring the vineyard.

"Oh, it's the Larsen Vineyard?" she asked. "I didn't know which one."

"Are you familiar with it?" he asked.

"Oh, I've seen it on wine lists, I guess." She looked away.

"Cara, is there some other reason you're familiar with the Larsen Vineyard?"

She sighed. "Yes. Peter sold Mr. Larsen some pictures last year."

"I remember some pictures from the inventory. Peter's everywhere, isn't he?"

"It seems that way sometimes."

"Cara, let's talk about Peter; I don't really know much about him. What sort of a man is he?"

"Handsome, charming, witty, very clever. Dishonest in his business dealings, if he thinks he can get away with it."

"Is that all?"

"Obsessive," she replied.

"About what?"

"Pictures, the gallery, his apartment, his cars, and-"

"Yes?"

"Me. When I first met him I found it flattering, but by the time we'd been married a few months I found it very… confining."

"How did his obsessiveness with you manifest itself?"

"Jealousy, mainly; it infuriated him if I spent any time with another man, if even I talked with another man for too long at a party. Peter is excellent at scenes; he can speak a few words that will embarrass and annoy everybody, yet hardly cause a ruffle in a crowd. Words are his way; I mean, he's not the sort to haul off and slug another man. Peter is something of a coward, physically."

"That's interesting."

"How?"

"Well, it doesn't sound as though he's one for confrontation. If he ever tries that, I'll know he's bluffing."

"Either that, or he'll have some advantage you're not aware of. Peter is brave only when he knows he's safe."

"And yet, he could… do what he did to Joan and Albert."

"An old man and a woman? Yes, that's Peter's style."

"Still, it took some sort of courage for him to do that."

"The courage of a bully," Cara said. "He'd have no problem harming someone weaker than he, and he'd certainly not mind hurting a woman."

"Did he ever hurt you?"

She sighed. "Yes, just once. We had come home after a party, one where he'd thought I'd paid too much attention to another man. He hit me, knocked me down, actually. I was near the fireplace; I got up, picked up a poker from the hearth, and advanced on him. He wilted very quickly. I told him if he ever struck me again I'd kill him in his sleep. He never did."

"You're a brave woman."

She laughed. "Braver than Peter, anyway."

"Change of subject: I'd like you to do the design work for the Kinsolving Vineyards-labels, letterheads, signs, the owner's house, of course. Anything that comes up."

"I'd be delighted. I'm sure I'll get some ideas when I see title place."

"We'll be there before nightfall," he said. "There's no reason to go into the city; we'll drive from the airport straight to Napa."

"I would like to go into the city before we go back to New York," Cara said. "I need to see my lawyer about a trust that my father set up."

"We'll find the time," Sandy said.

From the main gate of the vineyard, a tree-lined road stretched up to a Victorian house at the end, situated on a low hill.

"I hadn't expected such a grand place," Cara said as they drove toward it.

"Frankly, neither had I," Sandy replied. "I mean, the house was in the inventory, of course, along with some furnishings, but I thought more in terms of a cottage."

When they drove up to the house, Mike Bernini was waiting for them on the front porch. Sandy introduced Cara, then Bernini gave them a quick tour before making his excuses and departing for his own home.

"It's really very nice," Cara said, wandering through the rooms. "Not as big as it looks from the highway, but roomy. There are some nice pieces here, too, things we can use." She stopped and looked at a large picture on the living room wall. "But not this, I think." She walked over to the picture and examined it closely, then lifted the frame from against the wall and looked at the back.

"You don't like this one?" Sandy asked. He consulted the inventory in his hand. "This one seems to be a John Wylie oil, a scene of the Thames."

"It's a fake," she said. "Peter sold Larsen a fake Wylie."

"It's valued here at seventy-five thousand dollars," Sandy said.

"I know it's a fake," Cara said. "The son of a bitch has done this before; I caught him at it once and made him make good. I mean, I'm no expert, but I doubt if Wylie ever painted anything as crude as this."

"Do you know an expert?" Sandy asked.

"My friend Saul Winner would give us an authoritative opinion."

"Invite him up for dinner, why don't you?"

She looked at him closely. "You have something in mind, don't you?" she asked.

"I don't know, exactly," Sandy said, "but Peter has been crowding me for too long. Maybe it's time I started crowding him."