Free Wild Things by Karin Kallmaker Page B

my throat.
    Eric smiled fondly. "That's our mom. She says once a decade you need to air out the grand ballroom to fight the mildew."
    "She sounds like a practical woman," I said, feeling very far away. I've always liked looking at women. The way they are always busy, how they move their hands and walk. Their faces please my eyes. But only Renee had ever made my skin burn. Until now.
    "She is," Sydney was saying. "The gardens are just a means of using up the manure from the stables. And so on." She looked at me a little oddly, and I summoned up a smile.
    "There's nothing quite so astonishing as common sense," I said.
    "Emerson," Sydney said. "Let's have dinner."
    The food was so good that I managed to regain my composure. Sydney hadn't been idly boasting about her lasagna — the sauce was rich and smooth with olives and plum tomatoes. Garlic toast with goat cheese and freshly chopped chives accompanied it, followed by what Sydney called her great vice: chocolate mousse in chocolate bowls topped with chocolate sauce.
    "This is rather chocolate overkill, don't you think? You could have done a raspberry sauce, you know," Eric said. One of the things I liked about him was that he enjoyed food. Sydney obviously did, too.
    Sydney sniffed. "I don't understand the tendency to ruin perfectly good chocolate with fruit."
    "I'm with you," I said, making a face at Eric. "There's no such thing as chocolate overkill. However, I have developed a taste for Godiva chocolate-covered orange peels. On special occasions, and then I have to go to confession."
    Sydney's shudder turned into a smile. "Well, ego te absolvo. To each her own." She glanced at her brother. "What are you smiling about, Eric?"
    "I was just thinking how glad I am you like each other. I thought you would, and I didn't want to be wrong."
    I did like Sydney. I liked her very much. I'd be much happier if I weren't fighting other, inappropriate feelings. I glanced at her, she smiled, and time stood still. It couldn't have, not really. The feeling was absurd.
    Sydney abruptly looked away, saying, "Let's have coffee in front of the fire."
    "I'll help you clear up," I offered.
    "No need, the dishes just go in the sink. One of the joys of being the idle rich is Lucy, who stops in for a few hours every day to clean up, take my dry cleaning in, buy groceries, and be generally indispensable."
    "Idle rich," Eric scoffed. "You're hardly idle, Syd. Neither am I."
    I could tell that the idea of being thought "idle rich" bothered him. I admired him for working as hard as he did when he could have been a playboy. No doubt his family money had allowed him to buy his architectural firm, but it wasn't a hobby. He didn't dabble at architecture any more than Sydney dabbled at law.
    Despite Sydney's protests, I helped carry our dishes into the kitchen while Sydney made cappuccino. I was already in love with the sitting room, and I lost my heart again to the old-fashioned but functional kitchen. It was larger than my entire apartment. The iron stove had claw feet, but the eight burners obviously worked. There were two Sub-Zero refrigerators and a deep freeze. There was a large oven big enough for a fifty-pound turkey and a smaller one for projects not quite so vast. Microwave and convection ovens were also built into the cabinetry. I asked her about the tile, which looked very old and Italian, and she described the various restoration projects she'd undertaken since buying the condominium about six years earlier. Her desire to keep the interiors faithful to their original nineteen-twenty appearance hadn't stopped her from adding all the modern conveniences, but appliances like the dishwasher were hidden behind oak cabinets with aged porcelain insets.
    We settled into our earlier chairs with fragrant cappuccinos.
    "May I ask you both a question?"
    Eric nodded at me and Sydney said, "Fire away."
    "What's it like being from such a remarkable family? Not just wealthy, but. .. vivid. At Christmas a lot of