At First Sight

Chapter 37

I SET THE PAPER DOWN AND TOOK A STEP BACKWARD, trying not to let my voice convey anything. "Find the paintings yet?" I asked.

"Yep, right here. Got 'em." He pulled a box out and climbed down the ladder backward, then turned and carried it into the kitchen, setting it down with the others.

"That's all of it. Come on in and we'll uncork the French Bordeaux to compare and celebrate. This is thirsty work."

I moved into the kitchen and stood as far away from him as I could.

He must have noticed my stiff posture because he asked, "Something wrong?"

"I forgot to tell you, but I need to call Peter Ellis. We're redoing some things with the learning foundation. Peter's attorneys need to know where I am. They're working through the weekend because we have to file all this stuff with the Corporations Commission on Monday. I'm supposed to check over some of the redrafts this evening. Since the phones are working now, I'd better give them your number."

"First, let's crack another bottle:" he persisted, blocking my way to the phone in the living room as he opened the bottle of Bordeaux. He refilled my glass without asking me.

"To a job well done:' he said, clicking rims.

I pressed the glass to my mouth and let the wine run up to my lips, but didn't swallow. I didn't want any more alcohol. I was now in a full panic.

"So what was the deal with you and Chandler anyway?" Chick suddenly said, leaning back and studying me, a sly smile playing at the corner of his mouth. "I've been meaning to ask you about that."

"What was the deal?" I said, puzzled. "What do you mean?"

"Well, you guys seemed so different is all. I could never quite figure what that was all about-how it worked with you two. He didn't seem to have your ambition, your sense of adventure:'

The statement was so out of line I didn't answer.

Chick smiled. I'd had about a glass and a half of wine, but he'd had at least five. I was standing there, calculating my odds, preparing for battle.

"Yeah. Guys like Chandler really baffle me," he went on, obliviously. "Kind of like a John Kennedy Jr. type, if you ask me. Money, nice to look at, but you gotta admit, these guys pretty much had life handed to them on a platter. John Jr. knew he was hot looking, and the press called him an American prince. But he crashes his plane in a whiteout, which was just plain stupid. I was always thinking why is everybody bawling? What it boiled down to was the guy didn't know what he was doing and he killed himself."

Then he gave me a little smile. "People magazine puts out a special edition. Entertainment Tonight couldn't run enough profiles. If I killed myself flying in zero visibility with no instrument rating, they wouldn't sing my praises; they'd open up a fucking accident investigation. See what I'm saying? Totally outta whack."

"Why are we talking about JFK Jr.? And what the hell does his death have to do with Chandler's?"

He took another sip of wine, then turned and focused his gaze out the window. It was now dark outside and I could hear the wind howling. He was quiet for about thirty seconds before he said, "People magazine was going to do a profile story on me when bestmarket. Com made the Forbes list. But the fucking entertainment editor killed it. Not newsworthy enough:' He turned back to me. "I popularized a whole new form of Internet commerce and they say it's not newsworthy. Instead, we get a story on Cher's plastic surgery. See what I'm saying?"

"Chick, we've cleared out this stuff. I think you've had enough to drink. Let's get it in the car and go."

Chick's eyes were shining. There was sweat on his upper lip. He cleared his throat and then said something so inappropriate it actually staggered me.

"I know you loved Chandler, and hey, there was a lot to love about the guy, I'll grant you that, but giving away his fortune to help L. D. kids? If he'd earned that money himself, I could maybe respect the gesture. But he didn't earn it, he inherited it. Unlike Chandler, I know what it means to earn a dollar. Chandler never had to go out there and struggle to survive:'

"Let's check on those lodge reservations again," I said, a surge of adrenaline hitting my bloodstream.

"They'll call if the rooms are available:' He drained his wineglass in two long swallows and immediately poured himself another. Then, apropos of nothing, he said, "You ever notice that everything in America seems be about nothing or about just getting laid? We don't have dipshit royalty to fawn over like the Brits. We've got Gwyneth Paltrow and Johnny Depp. Who cares if Rosie is gay or who these celebrity airheads are cheating on each other with? Yet there are forests being cut down so we can read this shit?'

My back was flaring up from the long ride in the car and from moving boxes. I figured I'd better do something about it because I wanted to be in top form and pain-free if this got any loonier. I moved away from him. "May I have some water? I need to take a pill for my back?'

He crossed to the refrigerator, talking over his shoulder all the way. "Americans are focused on all the wrong things, Paige. We've made celebrity more important than accomplishment. It's better to be Kevin Federline than Charles Best Jr. You can't get any respect in America ifyou don't own the right stuff. What kind of car do you drive? Isy our house on North Elm? We don't read about the guys who invest in the future-guys like me, who pioneer whole new areas of Internet commerce. Instead, it's all about the lucky sperm club. Guys who were born looking like Calvin Klein models, or who inherited their position and wealth."

"And you're saying Chandler was in that category?" My voice was shaking with anger.

"Chandler?" He stopped and looked at me, then came over and handed me the water.

"No," he replied. "No… " Then the condescending smile appeared again. "Okay, maybe. That's what I was saying about not getting you two as a couple. You don't seem like a woman who would just give it up to some great-looking guy with perfect teeth who never did anything but clip stock coupons. You deserve so much more than that, Paige. It's why I'm glad we finally got a chance to get away and be together?'

I was praying he was drunk, because if he wasn't, then he had to be insane.