Most Wanted

Chapter Thirty

Christine sat alone at the table, nursing her ice water while she waited for the others to arrive. The restaurant was called Bangkok Dream, a pricey favorite of Marcus’s father’s, with floor-to-ceiling draperies of tangerine silk and scrolls of antique Japanese art bordered by red calligraphy. Pendant halogen lights glistened off the polished teak tables, each set with exotic chopstick holders, and the food was Thai, Japanese sushi, and other Asian fusion, even the smells of which did not appeal to Christine in her current state. She wished for a strong margarita, but of course she hadn’t ordered one. She was already worried that her baby was going to have enough strikes against him. Or her.

Sitar music played in the background, which was Thai enough for the suburbs, and the coveted tables were filled. The other diners were well-dressed middle-aged couples, and Christine was glad she’d dressed up. She’d showered after gardening because she was ridiculously sweaty and she’d even blown her hair out completely, applying Moroccan oil to give it some shine. She had on her nicest summer dress, of lime-green silk, and for once she was glad she wasn’t into maternity clothes. She hadn’t dressed to impress Marcus or his father, though Frederik Nilsson was the type of man that women tended to dress up for. She was dressing for herself, to improve her mood and put the day behind her.

She looked up when the restaurant doors opened, her attention drawn by a flash of bright sunlight. In the doorway she spotted Marcus’s silhouette, followed by an almost-identical silhouette of her father-in-law Frederik, with his wife Stephanie. Christine smiled and gave a pleasant wave, and Marcus waved back. He walked toward the table, though his father and Stephanie lagged behind, greeting the restaurant owner, who came out to shake Frederik’s hand.

Frederik Nilsson was a star architect, or “starchitect,” who lived in Avon and owned his own architecture firm in Hartford, Nilsson International, which he had started by designing modern glass homes for the wealthy residents of Greenwich and Darien. After one of his houses appeared in Architectural Digest, his client base expanded to national proportions, though Christine thought his glass shoeboxes reminded her of a fourth-grader’s diorama. Frederik touted his “design aesthetic” as his “Scandinavian architectural voice,” but to her, it was cookie-cutter for a five-million-dollar cookie.

Christine truly didn’t begrudge her father-in-law his success, though she wished he wore it with more grace, for Marcus’s sake. Frederik always acted as if architects were true artists, while architectural engineers were boring number-crunchers. Frederik gave lip service that engineering was equal to architecture, but Marcus knew his father was disappointed in him for choosing engineering over architecture. It came to a head five years ago, when Frederik had asked Marcus to join his architectural firm, to provide it with an adjunct engineering arm. Marcus had declined to move under his father’s thumb, which Frederik took personally, and the competition between father and son formed a constant undercurrent of tension.

“Hey, honey,” Marcus said, leaning over and giving her a quick peck on the cheek, and she realized that he hadn’t touched her in days.

“Hi, good to see you.”

“God, what a day.” Marcus sat down next to her but avoided eye contact, and Christine could feel him being gingerly around her, his feelings still hurt. They hadn’t spoken since Leonardo’s office, not even a text.

“Busy?”

“Totally, but it looks like North Carolina settled down.” Marcus loosened his tie. “Dad’s in a great mood.”

“Good,” Christine said in a way that she hoped sounded pleasant and not relieved. Frederik could be temperamental, and his moods tended to dictate the mood of the evening, if not because he enforced it but because everyone around him became accustomed to acquiescing.

Christine and Marcus looked up as Frederik and Stephanie had finished with the owner and were coming over, with Frederik making a great show of walking between the tables, smiling at the diners as if he knew them, wheeling his head of cool, longish ash-blond hair this way and that. The man had presence, projecting that he was the kind of man you should know, expensively dressed in a dark gray Italian suit tailored closely around his lean torso and waist, which he’d paired with a black silk shirt worn open at the collar, with no tie. His eyes were a fiercely intelligent light blue, sharp against his light tan, and he kept flashing a smile with aggressively large top teeth that Christine always thought of as Kennedyesque, but in a bad way.

“Christine, how’s our girl?” Frederik boomed, finally reaching the table, leaning over, and giving her a quick kiss on the cheek.

“Great, thanks. Happy Birthday!”

“Don’t remind me! Sixty-five is for speed limits, not men!”

Christine chuckled, then leaned over to smile at Stephanie, who, at about five-ten, was nevertheless hidden behind her husband. “Hi, Stephanie, great to see you!”

“You, too!” Stephanie said with a warm smile, sitting down at the table. Christine liked Stephanie, having gotten over the fact that she was the proverbial trophy wife, some twenty-five years younger than Frederik. The former Stephanie Wooten had caught Frederik’s eye when he started taking a Pilates class she taught, after he had injured his back. Stephanie was kind, thoughtful, and artsy but happy to let others take the spotlight, namely her husband.

“You look amazing!” Christine said, meaning it. Stephanie had worked as a catalog model in Europe and was beautiful in an exotic way, with almond-shaped brown eyes, and tonight, her long brown hair slicked back into a chic high ponytail. She wore almost no makeup except for lip-gloss, letting her ethereal beauty just be, like a Zen goddess. Delicate gold hoops hung from her ears, and she looked effortlessly elegant in a sheath of taupe jersey with a dramatic halter neckline, which hugged every inch of her ballet-lean body, all the way down to her flat, Roman sandals.

“How are you feeling?” Stephanie asked, smiling at her sweetly.

“Thanks, I’m fine except for the morning sickness,” Christine answered, compromising somewhere between the truth and completely fake small talk.

Frederik grinned his toothy grin. “What a great way to celebrate this birthday, with two beautiful women! Marcus tells me school’s over for you, Christine. What are you going to do with yourself until the baby comes?”

“Read without guilt?”

“Great idea, rest up for the baby!” Frederik grinned, then glanced over his shoulder. “Where’s that damn waiter? We need to get this celebration started! I ordered champagne!”

“He’ll be here soon, Dad,” Marcus said, looking for the waiter.

Frederik leaned on the table hard enough that the glasses tinkled. “I had a life-changing event this week. I was in a G V.”

“Wow!” Marcus said. “Cool. A G V?”

“What’s a G V?” Christine joked. “Is that like a Gee Whiz?”

Frederik chuckled. “It’s a jet. The G stands for Gulfstream, and the V is for the Roman numeral five. Thus, G V. It’s the new one, after the G IV. I’ve never seen anything quite like it.”

Stephanie rolled her lovely eyes. “Here we go. Boys and their toys.”

“Dad, what was the ride like?” Marcus asked, his tone encouraging, and Christine sensed he was trying to be nice because it was his father’s birthday.

“It was unreal. So smooth. Have you never flown in one, Marcus?”

“No, never.”

Christine bit her tongue. Frederik knew that Marcus’s clients weren’t sending private jets to pick him up.

“The design of the cabin? Art. The finishes, top-of-the-line.”

Stephanie was smiling slyly. “Christine, you’re supposed to ask him whose jet it was. He wants you to ask and he’s not gonna be happy unless you do.”

Christine smiled. “Frederik, whose jet was it?”

“Before I answer, it’s incumbent upon me to make clear that she’s not my client yet. Mine is only one of the firms she’s considering. But if she picks those hacks at Scheller Whiting, I’ll shoot myself.” Frederik glanced over his shoulder again, and the waiter was hustling over with a bottle of champagne in one hand and a white napkin over his arm. “Finally!”

“Okay, so whose jet was it?” Christine repeated.

“Also, to be completely accurate, I’m not sure if she owns the G V. She might have rented it. A lot of these Hollywood people buy contracts in networks to share jets. Very few actually own their own jet.”

Christine caught Stephanie’s eye, and Stephanie smiled.

Frederik continued, oblivious. “A G V costs God-knows-how-much new, and it’s not all of the expense of the purchase, but running it that’s the expense. They may not fly enough to justify it.”

“Mr. Nilsson, sorry about the delay,” said the waiter, arriving at their table. He showed Frederik the bottle in a formal way, resting it against the napkin on his forearm. “Mr. Nilsson, is it to your liking?”

“No,” Frederik answered flatly, his disapproval plain. “I asked for the ’96 Salon. This is a special occasion.”

“Apologies, Mr. Nilsson.” The waiter pivoted on his heels and hustled away.

Frederick shook his head. “The ’96 Salon. What else? A sommelier wouldn’t have made that mistake. Salon has its own plot of land in the Champagne province. They’re their own grape producer, so they have better control. They release the vintages very late-”

“Dad, you were saying-” Marcus interrupted, and Christine knew that it was a diversionary tactic, designed to avert his father’s making a mountain out of a molehill over the waiter’s bringing the wrong champagne.

“Yes, right.” Frederik smoothed back his bangs, which were feathery and thick for a man his age. The gray at his temples blended with his ash-blond hair in a way that only made him a more striking figure. “What was I saying?”

Marcus answered, “You were telling us about the client you took the jet for, the G V.”

“Yes, of course, it’s a teardown in the Hollywood Hills, with a view of Los Angeles on the better side. It’s on eight acres, all wooded. Phenomenal. And at night, with the lights, it’s indescribable.”

“Whose jet was it already?” Christine asked again. She got along best with Frederik by acting like a clueless audience, so he could explain things to her that she didn’t care about or already knew.

“In a minute.” Frederik held up a long, slim finger, keeping them in suspense, making them hang on his every word. “I can’t tell you more about the job because I signed a confidentiality agreement, and you know that I take such things seriously, even among family.”

“Of course,” Marcus said quickly, but Christine flashed on the other confidentiality agreement, the one that had kept Zachary’s name confidential. She wondered what he was doing now and imagined him in prison. She didn’t know if Griff had what it took to get Zachary acquitted. She hadn’t liked how Griff had answered her, when she’d asked him about whether he believed Zachary was innocent.

Frederik was saying, “I must tell you, in the past six or seven years, I’ve signed more confidentiality agreements than I can count. Used to be that you signed them only when you got the job, or at the earliest, visited the site. Nowadays, you have to sign them as soon as you get the phone call, and the phone calls are placed by some fifth assistant.”

“Really,” Marcus said, undoubtedly noticing Frederik shifting in his chair, preoccupied by his waiter search.

“I’m sure he’ll be here soon,” Christine chimed in, in a soothing tone. “I still want to hear who the G V belonged to.”

Frederik frowned. “Where is our champagne? This is a very special night! I want to celebrate!”

“We will,” Christine said.

Marcus nodded. “We will, Dad. We just got here.”

Frederik scowled, unplacated. “But I have big news, and I don’t want to wait another minute!”

“What, Dad?”

“My beloved bride has just given me the best birthday present ever.” Frederik broke into his toothy smile. “Guess what it is?”

Marcus answered, “Please, not a new putter.”

Christine chimed in, “A G V?”

Frederik guffawed. “We’re pregnant! Stephanie’s going to have a baby!”

“What, really?” Christine exclaimed, shocked. It was such a weird situation, and Stephanie and Frederik had always said they didn’t want children. Christine couldn’t organize her emotions. She and Marcus had gone through such a struggle to conceive that she couldn’t feel immediately happy, and she knew Marcus would feel much worse. It was just another way that his father proved superiority over him, although that was something only Christine and Marcus knew. Marcus hadn’t told his father or Stephanie about their infertility problems. Frederik and Stephanie knew only that it took Christine and Marcus a while to conceive, but then they got pregnant, end of story.

“Congratulations!” Marcus said, after a moment. He was smiling, but his forehead creased into a frown, as if the top half of his face and bottom half couldn’t agree on an emotion. “So this means I’m going to have a… brother or sister? At thirty-five years old?”

Frederik burst into hearty laughter again. “Better late than never, don’t you think?”

“Ha!” Stephanie flashed a grin. “Your father thinks this is so funny, but the joke’s on me. I already have morning sickness, I’m the most exhausted I’ve ever been in my life, and when I don’t eat, I feel like crying.”

“I know, right?” Christine said, trying to come around. “We’re the ones”-she almost said left holding the bag-“who have to do all the work. How far along are you?”

“I’m only a week behind you!” Stephanie’s dark eyes lit up with uncharacteristic excitement. “We’re going to be pregnant together!”

“Oh my God!” Christine laughed, getting used to the idea, as strange and awkward as it was.

“We’ll have such a great time!” Stephanie squealed in a way that Christine had never heard from her before. “You have to tell me everything, Christine. You’re the pro. I know you have all those books. You know everything!”

“Girl, I will hook you up. I memorized those books, and I can barf on cue.”

Stephanie laughed. “I didn’t think I would be this excited, but I am!”

“Wait until you get your ultrasound, that’s amazing. You can hear the heartbeat and see the heart.” Christine realized as soon as she’d said the words that she hadn’t told Marcus about the ultrasound. He glanced over at her, blinking, but didn’t say anything. His smile looked frozen in place, but his frown was deep.

Marcus turned to his father. “Dad, I have to admit, I’m surprised. I didn’t know you guys were even thinking about having kids.”

“Tell me about it!” Frederik flared his eyes, comically. “We weren’t. I was sure my days of that foolishness were over. But the one time we slipped up, bam!”

“Just like that?” Marcus kept smiling, but Christine knew this had to be killing him, not only because he had mixed feelings about having a new sibling, at his age.

“Just like that! At my age, can you imagine!” Frederik puffed up his chest in an exaggerated way, then bent his arms and flapped them like a rooster. “Cock-a-doodle-doo!”

Stephanie recoiled, laughing, and gave him a playful shove. “Frederik, really? Could you keep it classy? You’re embarrassing yourself.”

“Congratulations, Dad,” Marcus said again. “I have to say, this is a hell of a way to celebrate your birthday. I’ll hand it to you, I didn’t see this coming.”

“Never a dull moment, right?” Frederik laughed heartily, throwing his head back and displaying his carnivorous teeth. “I’ll be in a walker by the time the kid’s out of high school, if I’m lucky!”

Stephanie nodded in happy agreement. “You know the expression, ‘Man plans, and God laughs.’”

Frederik looped an arm around Stephanie’s slim shoulders and kissed the top of her head. “I’m happy. I admit it’s a surprise, but I’m so happy. We’re happy. Right, honey?”

“Right.” Stephanie looked up at him with a beautiful smile.

“Awww.” Christine nodded but felt a tinge of envy. Both Stephanie and Frederik looked over-the-moon, and Christine couldn’t help but feel that they were having the happiness about the pregnancy that she would’ve wanted for her and Marcus.

“Damn, where’s that waiter now?” Frederik said, looking over his shoulder, but Stephanie’s lovely gaze settled on Christine, and her grin faded.

“I’m… sorry, Christine,” Stephanie said, nervously. “I didn’t mean to be so insensitive.”

“How were you insensitive?” Christine asked, confused.

“Well”-Stephanie glanced at Marcus and then back again at Christine-“Marcus shared with us why you had problems conceiving, that you didn’t produce enough eggs, and that’s why it took you so long to get pregnant.”

Christine said nothing, shocked that Marcus had told them such a lie.

Stephanie’s glossy lips puckered with regret. “I didn’t mean to brag about getting pregnant so fast. I’m sorry, it wasn’t nice. You know we love you.”

Frederik’s smile faded, too, and his gray-blond eyebrows sloped down with unusual empathy. “Yes, we love you guys. We didn’t mean to show off. I know I tend to, but Stephanie’s making me mend my ways.”

“That’s okay.” Christine plastered on a smile.

“All’s well that ends well, right, Christine? We’re reproducing like rabbits now! Nilsson babies are taking over the world!” Frederik cranked his neck to look over his shoulder. “Now where the hell is that waiter?”