Importuna was examining the flagons with quizzical interest. Suddenly his face cleared.
“Grazie, sposa,” he murmured. “I see you remembered. I’m touched. Grazie di nuovo.”
“But what is it?” Peter asked. “It looks like water.”
He knew very well what it was; she had discussed her choice with him.
“It is water,” Virginia said. “During our honeymoon in Rome five years ago, Nino took me to the Piazza di Spagna and showed me the Barcaccia fountain, designed by Pietro Bernini in 16-something-that’s Bernini the elder, not the famous one. The water of the Barcaccia fountain, Nino told me, is supposed to have unusual qualities and a superior taste. And in fact, while we were standing there, a steady stream of people came from the nearby artists’ quarter-Via Margutta and Via del Babuino-don’t you love that name? Street of the Baboon?-carrying jugs and buckets and filling them from the fountain the way people had been doing, Nino said, for 350 yeax-s.”
“It is superior, in spite of the Roman scoffers,” Importuna said. “Cesar will kiss me. I’ll let him have some to cook with. Artichokes and zucchini cooked in this water have special brio, as they say. It’s true. What an imaginative present, Virginia. So full of sentiment. I thank you again. Especially for humoring what I know you consider my imbecile superstition-not only bottles of water from the Barcaccia, but 9 of them! It is too much.
“And now, my dear,” he said, “I have my anniversary present to you.”
And plumbed his breast pocket for something.
So finally… finally. The climax of her day. The climax of her five years of days. And their hideous nights. Under cover of the Assisi-work tablecloth Virginia pressed her nails into her palms. Her face remained pleasantly expectant.
“I don’t suppose, Virginia,” her husband said as he brought out of his dinner jacket a blue-backed paper, “you’ve forgotten the rather special meaning of this anniversary.”
“No, Nino, I haven’t,” she said steadily enough, although her heart was bonging against her chest.
“Five years ago you signed this paper. Under its terms you gave up any and all claims on me and my estate, even a dower right, for the full five-year period. Well, the period has passed, and you’re still my wife and living with me.” Importuna’s glance took her in at the opposite end of the table with unconcealed pride of ownership-the exquisite northern features, the fine coloring, the gossamer quality, the depth of the womanliness half bared by her decolletage-and with a tremor, suppressed at once, she saw the dreaded fire kindle in his eyes. “A deal is a deal, Virginia. The test is passed, the trial’s over, the agreement is null and void, as the lawyers say. So tear it up, my dear, burn it, keep it-it doesn’t matter now. It’s meaningless. Peter, will you hand this to Mrs. Importuna for her disposal?”
And he gave the blue-backed paper to Ennis, who passed it along in silence to Virginia.
“You’ll understand, Nino, if I look this over?”
He waved his four-fingered hand and displayed his teeth in appreciation. “It would be very foolish, cara, not to. And you are not, thank the Blessed Mother, a fool. Why should you trust a man who forced a deal like this on you? Verify it, by all means.”
The irony, if that was what it was, did not deter her. “Excuse me, Peter. You don’t mind, do you?”
“Of course not, Mrs. Importuna.”
She deliberately examined the agreement, down to the date, the signatures, and the notary’s imprint. Then she nodded, refolded the paper, and tucked it into her bosom.
“I’ve decided to hang on to it, Nino. As a memento. Now how about the second part of our bargain?”
Importuna chuckled. “Tell her, Peter.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“The will I had you witness the other day. The new one I asked you to read.”
“Oh! Mr. Importuna had a new will drawn the other day, Mrs. Importuna, by one of his personal attorneys. I was called in to witness the signature, along with two others, and Mr. Importuna asked me afterward to read it. Do you want me to tell Mrs. Importuna the substance of it, Mr. Importuna?”
“Please.”
“It’s a basically simple document, although for estate tax purposes and so on a rather complicated trust structure has been set up by the lawyer. In effect, though, it leaves Mr. Importuna’s entire estate to you.” Peter uttered a mendacious what-a-good-little-confidential-secretary-am-I cough. “Congratulations, Mrs. Importuna.”
“Thank you.” Virginia rose and went round to her husband and to his evident astonishment and pleasure kissed him on the forehead. “And thank you again, Nino.”
“I’ve made you happy,” Importuna murmured. “You don’t know how I wish-I wish-”
He stopped with a gasp, and Virginia said sharply, “What’s the matter?”
His face had gone yellow, a muddy yellow. He was doubled over in what seemed to be an attack of some sort.
Ennis jumped up. “What’s wrong, Mr. Importuna?”
He waved them off. “Nothing, nothing. Indigestion-cramps. And I’m dizzy-I’ve had too much to drink tonight-not used to it… “ His face had broken out in perspiration. But he tried a joke. “How often does a man celebrate a fifth wedding anniversary with a wife like mine?”
“Stop talking,” Virginia said, holding a glass of water to his lips. “Here, take a swallow. Peter, you’d better ring up Dr. Mazzarini-”
“No, no, he’ll complicate my life with a thousand unnecessary tests. I’ll take some aspirin and a dose of milk of magnesia and go to bed, and I’ll be all right in the morning… The pain’s already letting up.” Importuna got to his feet with the aid of the back of his chair. “My dear, will you forgive me? Spoiling your anniversary this way… “
“Here, let me help you to your room,” Ennis said, taking his arm.
“I’ll manage by myself, Peter, thanks. You keep Mrs. Importuna company-Cesar will be crushed if his dessert is ignored. Cara, I’ll see you at breakfast.” He waved again and quickly, if unsteadily, left.
They remained where they were, almost touching. But when Peter reached for her and opened his mouth to say something, Virginia stepped back, shook her head, and put a finger to her lips.
“Well, Peter,” she said in a clear voice, “shall we sit down and finish dinner? Please ring for Crump. Or isn’t that he now?”
Only later, when they were safely alone, beyond the possibility of eavesdropping, did they communicate.
“Did you get the feeling that he knows?” Peter muttered. “Though if he does, why isn’t he acting the outraged husband bit? What do you think, Virgin?”
“You have a positive gift for inventing nicknames,” Virginia murmured from the depths of his arms.
“No, seriously.”
“I don’t know what Nino knows or what he doesn’t. He’s the original sphinx.”
“Why did he have me read his new will the other day? Why did he ask me to dinner tonight?”
“Worrywart.” Virginia laughed. “That will is all right, isn’t it, Peter? No gimmicks or weenies?”
“No conditions at all. At his death you’ll come into ownership and control of half a billion dollars. Some people have all the luck.”
“Don’t we?” Virginia drew a long, long breath. “Woo-eee! But Peter.”
“Yes, baby.”
“We’ll have to be extra careful from now on.”
“Why extra?”
“Wills can be changed.”
“Oh,” said Peter Ennis. “Well, don’t worry about it, little chicken. I think we’re over the hump.”
TERM
It is born.
The next morning, quite late, as Crump held her chair in the breakfast room, Virginia Whyte Importuna asked, “Where is Mr. Importuna?”