by T. E. Cruise
“Who?” Erica asked absently, watching her daughter disappear inside the veranda.
“You,” Herman said.
“Not really!” Erica said, startled. “For one thing, she has a much better figure than I do. More on top and on the bottom.” She laughed.
“I guess what I meant was the way she came running toward us,” Herman explained. “With her blonde hair flying behind her, her bright brown eyes, her excited smile.” He paused. “I guess I can understand why you wouldn’t see it.” He smiled. “Because to me she looked just the way you used to look when I was courting you, back in Nebraska. Remember how you’d come flying down off the farmhouse porch to greet me? And you weren’t much older than our daughter is now, as I recall…”
Erica, forcing a smile, nodded vaguely. She suddenly wished that she knew a great deal more about Blaize Greene, and not out of idle curiosity, or admiration for his charm…
What Herman was remembering was how she’d looked when she’d been in the first throes of an infatuation for a certain young man—who happened to be a rakish young pilot…
(Three)
Suzy spent twenty fretful minutes in the powder room. She was frantic to hurry back to Blaize, who was cooling his heels in the hotel lobby. What if at this very instant he was changing his mind about taking her sightseeing?
On the other hand, she had to make sure that she looked perfect. At least, as perfect as possible, given what she had at hand to work with…
She took her comb from out of her alligator shoulder bag and did the best she could with it, all the while cursing the sea breeze that had put a frizzy curl into her shoulder-length hair. She tugged at her dress, trying to smooth it out. It was pale blue linen, and had wrinkled in the back. She felt like crying. She looked terrible! She wished that she had known to wear something more glamorous, but who dressed glamorously for a day of sightseeing and going to the beach to watch races?
She quickly freshened her makeup, and decided that the dark blue, silk scarf she had knotted around her neck could be used as a turban to both hide her frizzy hair and keep it out of her eyes during the windy boat ride back to Venice.
As she put her hair up, exposing her neck, she smiled to herself. A friend had read in a dirty book she’d discovered in her parents’ bedroom that discriminating gentlemen found the nape of a lady’s neck to be scintillating… Her friend had said that the book had photographs in it of men and women doing it. Suzy theoretically knew all about how it was done, but she’d never been able to imagine actually going about it. Especially not with the awkward, silly schoolboys she knew… Of course, a dashing man like Blaize—an aristocrat—had probably done it hundreds of times…
Erica took a last look at herself in the mirror. She wished she had some jewelry with her, but all she was wearing was her gold, Cartier tank watch on its alligator strap. The watch had been a gift from her father. She’d found it in the glove-box of the bright red Jaguar runabout her parents had given her for her sixteenth birthday.
She experimented with buttoning and unbuttoning the top of her dress to expose a bit of cleavage. She better not, she decided, she might still run into her mother… Anyway, her sort of ripe, hourglass figure—her father like to tease her by calling her “saftig”—was supposed to be out of fashion…
She wondered if Blaize was thinking that very thing at this very moment… She hurried out to the lobby, and felt like pinching herself to make sure that she wasn’t dreaming when she saw that he was still there.
At first Suzy was amused and put at ease by Blaize’s charm, but as the afternoon of sightseeing wore on, she grew disappointed by his behavior toward her. He’d been so debonair and romantically attentive at lunch. He’d made her feel like a woman: the most special, only woman in the world! Now, as they trudged from palace, to museum, to church, he became more and more removed and aloof. He was still very kind, but the quality of his attentiveness had changed. She sensed that in his eyes she’d become less a woman, and more a kid sister.
Early on Blaize had promised her a gondola ride along the Grand Canal. At the time, it had sounded wonderful, but if Blaize insisted on continuing in his role of combination tour guide/distant uncle, Suzy thought that the gondola ride would be about as romantic as an excursion with her father.
In fact, Blaize was beginning to bore her. Her feet were aching, and if she had to look at one more painting while he dryly recounted some obscure anecdote about the artist, she was going to scream.
They were quayside at the Grand Canal, near the Grassi Palace, not far from the hotel where her family was staying. Suzy was thinking about cutting the afternoon short and going back to the hotel for a nap, when a curious thing happened while Blaize was negotiating in Italian with a gondolier concerning their ride.
“I’m afraid this fellow is booked for the immediate present,” Blaize told her as he attempted to lead her away.
“No, he isn’t,” Suzy said, standing her ground. “That’s not what he said, or even what you two were talking about. You two were arguing about money.”
“W-what? What do you mean?”
He was actually stammering, Suzy realized. Like a flesh-and-blood person, not a movie star reciting lines, or a tour guide drearily recounting historical trivia. His eyes were piercing: bright green and glinting beneath the snap brim of his grey felt fedora. At first Suzy thought he was angry, but then she realized that he was smarting from embarrassment over being caught in his lie.
“I didn’t know you could speak Italian,” he said softly.
“I don’t speak it nearly as well as you, but I do understand it pretty well. And French, and German, needless to say.”
“Are all American schoolgirls so well educated?” he asked gruffly.
“Don’t try to change the subject. Why did you lie to me just now?”
“I just—Well… I just thought it would be easier to explain it that way, I suppose,” Blaize said.
To his credit he managed to rally a confident smile, but Suzy wasn’t going to buy it.
“Come now, we’ll find another fellow to take us for a ride—” He once again took her arm, trying to lead her away, but she resisted.
“That gondolier didn’t ask for very much money,” she observed.
“Suzy—” He sounded very much like he was going to lose his temper.
“Don’t you take that sharp tone with me!” she warned. “I’m the one who was lied to!”
“And how would you know what the going rate is for a gondola ride?” he challenged.
Suzy stared at him, trying to figure it out. When the realization hit, she had to struggle not to laugh or even smile. Ironic or not, any hint of amusement on her part would be far more than Blaize could possibly bear. “You don’t have the money, do you?” she asked quietly.
“What are you talking about!” Blaize began to bluster. “That’s just the most absurd thing…”
“Do you?” She waited for him to say something, but her answer came when he looked away, blushing bright crimson. She turned to the gondolier and in halting Italian politely requested his services at the rate he had just quoted.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Blaize demanded.
“Taking you for a gondola ride,” Suzy said. “And don’t get all huffy about it!”
“I won’t have it!”
“Why?”
“I can’t let you to pay! I think we can find a gondolier who will charge us less. I have some money…”
“If you only have a little I wouldn’t dream of letting you spend it on me,” Suzy said firmly. “Especially not when my purse is literally stuffed with lira. Also, we don’t have much time. I have to be back at my hotel to have dinner with my family. Now, then, you promised me a ride, and I mean to have it. Unless you intend to go back on your word, and surely a gentlemen such as yourself would never do that?”
Blaize sighed. “My dear girl, it’s just that…” He hesitated, looking anguished. “You’re right, of course…”
“I
s it that you find yourself a little short of cash just now?” Suzy asked sympathetically.
Blaize offered her a whimsical smile. “I mean that apart from the salary I receive from Stoat-Black—and somehow that gets spent even before I actually receive it—I don’t have any money at all. Never ever. I’m quite absolutely broke.” He sighed. “Oh, Suze, what you must think of me?…”
“Suze?…” She smiled. “Suze—I like that!” She stood up on tiptoe to give him a chaste kiss on the cheek. “Shall I tell you what I think? Until this moment I was thinking that you were turning out to be an awful stuffed shirt, but now I think you’re delightful, all over again.”
* * *
Suzy worked hard to get Blaize to talk about himself as they drifted along the Grand Canal, past wondrous mansions and palaces fronted by mooring posts striped like barbers’ poles. She felt regal; like Cleopatra on her barge as she basked in the warm sunshine, listening to the water gently lapping against the gondola’s gleaming black prow. Meanwhile, in response to her gentle prodding, Blaize haltingly revealed his past to her.
“My family did have a fair amount of money once,” he confided as their gondola slid lazily into the cool, dim shadows beneath the elaborately arched, white marble, Ponte di Rialto. “But then my father put everything into the British film industry. This was just after the war, you understand.”
“I didn’t know there was a substantial film industry in your country,” Suzy said. They were sitting with their shoulders touching, sunk deep into comfortable velvet cushions.
“There isn’t,” Blaize laughed ruefully. “Oh, there were high hopes for one, but it was all put to rest by your Hollywood. My father was wiped out.”
The gondola slowly made its way out from beneath the bridge, and rounded the bend, passing the ancient, German-built warehouse that was now used as the post office.
“Anyway, it was rather a dreadful time after father found out the extent of his losses,” Blaize continued. “I was just a little boy, but somehow I remember it all quite well. Perhaps it was because it was just around that time as well that my mother died. My father inherited her estate, which for a period afforded us a small but tidy income. My father left the principal untouched for as long as he could, but postwar prices were high, my father was accustomed to a certain lifestyle, and finances were never His Lordship’s forte, in any event. We eventually lost the house in Belgravia, and were forced to retreat to Weltingham.”
“Where’s that?”
“Oh, I’m sorry.” Blaize smiled at her. “That’s our holding in Yorkshire.”
“A castle?” Suzy asked eagerly, her head full of fanciful images of moats, and stables, and oh-so-proper servants in formal attire serving high teas beneath candy-striped awnings erected on vast green lawns.
“Perhaps once I might have said Weltingham was a castle,” Blaize told her, sounding wistful. “But no more. It became rather run-down, and there was no money for repairs. Anyway, my elder brother, the Earl of Weltingham, and I lived there with my father, until we were sent off to school. My brother and I both went to Eaton. Don’t ask how my father managed to pay the tuition. Actually, I don’t think he did. Some of his chums with money probably helped out. Eventually, my brother went to Oxford, and I to Cambridge University, both of us on scholarships. My brother successfully read for the Bar. I studied engineering, but after a couple of years I got impatient being cooped up in a classroom. I wanted some hands-on experience with airplanes, so I left school and learned how to fly.”
“Was your father upset?” Erica asked. “About leaving school, I mean?”
Blaize didn’t say anything for the length of time it took him to dig out his black onyx case and light a cigarette. “My father died in a hunting accident during my last year at Eaton,” he said, exhaling the words in a steady hiss along with a stream of smoke.
“I’m very sorry.” She saw Blaize offer her a thin smile, and immediately knew that his father’s death was far too painful a topic to dwell on. “So, then you got yourself a job with Stoat-Black?” she asked brightly, and thought that Blaize looked grateful to her for changing the subject.
“Stoat-Black pays me a small salary,” Blaize said. “It’s not much, but, then, there’s no shortage of young men who would gladly take my place. Not that I’m in any danger of losing my position. I do have my engineering background, which comes in handy when talking airplane performance with the people in research and design.” He laughed, exhaling cigarette smoke. “For all that, I suspect that Stoat-Black favors me more for the cachet my title lends the company than for my technical expertise.”
“I’m sure that’s not true,” Suzy said.
“I can’t blame Stoat-Black, however. I’ve been living off my title for years.”
Suzy, listening, recoiled at the cool disdain she heard in his voice as he talked about himself.
“I’m always overdrawn on my salary, you see. Like my father, I happen to fancy the finer things in life, but they don’t come cheap, and I don’t come with the ability to pay for them. In England, however, a peerage is often as useful as money in the bank. I use my title to get credit at restaurants and hotels. With it I manage to placate my tailor and my jeweler. My title also allows me to be something of a professional houseguest,” he added dryly. “Those with money, but no social position, seem to enjoy having someone like me lounging about in tennis whites during the day, and in black tie in the evening. I suppose that for my hosts I fulfill rather the same need as their purebred spaniels in front of the fire.”
“You’re too hard on yourself,” Suzy said. At least, she hoped he was.
Blaize studied her, and then smiled. “You’re very kind to say so, Suze.”
She smiled. “That nickname does make me want to giggle. It makes me think of champagne.”
Blaize smiled back. “Do you like champagne?” he asked softly.
Suzy shrugged. “I’ve only had it a couple of times.”
“Of course!” he chuckled. “You’re only seventeen… Forgive me for forgetting…”
“Oh, that’s okay!” Suzy said happily.
“And do forgive me for rambling on,” he added, looking adorably earnest. “Please understand that I’m not used to talking about myself… I certainly haven’t talked about my father to anyone in years.”
She nodded. “Blaize, why did you invite me out for this afternoon?”
“Because you’re a beautiful and charming young lady and I wished the pleasure of your company—” he began, smoothly.
“Oh, sure,” Suzy interrupted. “I bet you escort seventeen-year-old girls all the time.” She gazed at him. “Could I hear the truth, please?”
He looked glum. “You’re certainly not a girl who misses much. The truth, Suze, may be hard for you to hear. I’m certainly ashamed of myself concerning it, but you must understand that I didn’t think you were as…” He trailed off, looking very uncomfortable. “As mature—as knowing and wise—as you seem to be…”
“Would you get to the point?” Suzy chuckled.
“Very well.” He spoke quickly, as if he wanted to get the confession out all in one breath. “I invited you because I was hoping to get into your father’s good graces. You see, I hope to convince him to give me a job as one of his test pilots.”
“You mean in America?” Her heart was pounding wildly at the thought, but she kept a straight face, figuring that he expected her to show a little outrage. And anyway, he deserved to be on the hotseat just a little, for his presumption. “So you only wanted to use me,” she said, trying to sound angry.
“Please forgive me,” he said, sounding very ashamed. “As I said, I thought you were merely a child, so I didn’t consider your feelings.”
Something told Suzy that she didn’t have to pretend with Blaize. That he liked her fine when she was just being herself. “You’re forgiven.”
“There’s nothing for me in England, you see,” Blaize continued. “I was thinking that perhaps I could make a fresh s
tart of it in your country. I do intend to make the crossing, one way or the other. I just thought that things would be that much easier if I had a job doing what I love already lined up when I got there.”
“I see,” Suzy said thoughtfully. She patted his hand. “Maybe I can put in a good word for you with my father.”
She expected him to be wildly grateful, but he remained silent, a pained expression on his face. For a moment she was confused, but then she understood, and felt very bad for him. She hadn’t ever had to think about it until now; she guessed that it was no fun always having to ask people for things…
“You know, I do love these gondolas,” he said. “The brass fittings, the varnished wood. They remind me somewhat of vintage airplanes. The kind of airplane your father flew during the war…”
“I wouldn’t know,” Suzy shuddered. “I’ve never flown in an airplane.”
“What?” Blaize asked, clearly astounded.
“The whole idea of being up in the air petrifies me,” Suzy said. “It alway has… I mean, I understand why airplanes don’t fall out of the sky, but when it comes to actually going up in one… And don’t you dare laugh at me!” she said hotly.
Blaize quickly muffled his smile. “You have to admit, it’s rather rich,” he said. “I mean, considering who your father and mother are?…”
“Tell me about it,” Suzy said miserably. “I’ve endured ribbing about it all my life. My brother never lets up…”
“An impoverished nobleman, and the scion of one of the world’s foremost aviation families, who is afraid to fly,” Blaize mused. “What a pair we make.”
Suzy resisted the urge to enthusiastically, wildly agree. She was going to show His Lordship Blaize Greene, at every opportunity, that she was a full-grown lady. “Do we?” she asked coolly.
(Four)
Hotel Reginia
Suzy waited until late that night to talk to her father about Blaize Greene. She was lying wide awake in her bed listening for her mother to tell her father good night. Her brother was already sound asleep in the room next door. She knew that her father would be up for a while. He liked to read and have a brandy just before bed, and mother couldn’t abide having a light on in their bedroom while she slept.
