Free The Sea Star by Jean Nash Page A

had made her laugh, something no one had done for her in a long time. As she watched his coin-clean profile, she wondered why he, a veritable stranger, should have so powerful a hold over her emotions. It was disconcerting, to say the least, and she wasn’t sure she liked it. But she had to admit she did like being with him—even though, she thought guiltily, she probably shouldn’t.
     
          As it was well past the lunch hour, the elegant restaurant of the United States Hotel was empty. Susanna and Jay were almost denied admittance until Jay slipped the haughty maître d’hôtel a quantity of greenbacks.
          The instant the money changed hands, the man underwent a miraculous metamorphosis. “Welcome, monsieur, madame,” he murmured. “I am Henri. Request whatever you wish. I am here to do your bidding.”
          Bowing solicitously, he showed the couple to a table near an open window that looked out on the parterre garden. He seated Susanna, bowed again to Jay, and disappeared for a moment.
          Presently, he returned with a waiter who immediately set the bare table with spotless white napery, lustrous china, gleaming silverware, a bowl of fresh flowers, and two tall white candles. When the waiter left, Henri produced two gilt-edged menus and handed them with a dramatic flourish to Jay and Susanna.
          “Will you order now?” he asked fawningly.
          “In a moment,” Jay said, his eyes glimmering with amusement. “Will you have some sherry, Susanna?” When she nodded, he said to Henri, “Two glasses of Amontillado. Choice ‘57, if you have it.”
          “We do indeed, sir!”
          A third bow from Henri, followed by another vanishing act. When he was out of sight, Susanna burst into astonished laughter. “I’ve never in my life seen a person’s behavior change so drastically!”
          “Money talks,” Jay said. “Don’t ever let anyone tell you differently.”
          He spoke the words lightly, but Susanna detected a seriousness beneath the comment.
          “It’s a good thing you’re so rich, then,” she said. “I imagine you can have just about anything you want.”
          He thought this over for a moment, then answered, “Material things, yes. There are some things, though, that money can’t buy.”
          “I’ve heard that said before,” Susanna said dryly, “usually by the people whose money will buy them everything they want.”
          “I won’t be so fatuous as to deny that,” Jay conceded. “I’ve been both poor and wealthy, and being wealthy is infinitely preferable.”
          “You’ve been poor?” She was surprised. “When?”
          “I was six years old when my father lost his money during the gold panic. For several years thereafter, he had to sell possessions that had been in our family for centuries just to keep food on the table. When everything was gone, we were plunged into a state of destitution such as I had never known existed.”
          The waiter returned with the sherry. Jay sampled it, nodded approvingly, and when the waiter left, Susanna urged him to continue.
          “Ultimately,” he said, “my father was forced to sell our house, the house, by the way, in which his grandfather had been born. We moved into a three-room flat on Prince Street —my parents, my two sisters, my brother and I.”
          “You have a brother and sisters?” Susanna interrupted. It was still difficult for her to think of him in connection with a family.
          Jay apparently discerned this, for he said ironically, “You don’t suppose I came into this world full grown and unattached, do you?”
          Embarrassed, she said quickly, “No, of course I don’t. That was a foolish thing for me to say. It’s just that you seem so...so....”
          “Yes?” he prompted.
          “So...individual,” she said. “Self-sufficient. I don’t