Read Online The Coach House by Florence Osmund - Free Book Online Page A

along.
     
    Let me live ‘neath your spell.
    Do do that voodoo that you do so well
    For you do something to me
    That nobody else can do.
    Her face buried in his chest, Marie smiled and asked, “Are you excited about today?”
    “Since we met, I get excited about every day,” he whispered. She pulled her head away from him to look at his face, at that winning smile. It was hard to believe that smile came from the same man who had lashed out at her so viciously just hours earlier.
    “Are we okay?” he asked, running his hands up and down her back. She nodded, wondering if his knack for apologizing was born out of considerable experience.
    * * *
    That incident was almost a year ago. Marie and Richard were now sitting in their living room reliving their skiing experience in Aspen from the previous month and talking about how they would spend their one-year anniversary when the phone rang. Richard got up and answered it in the kitchen on the third ring.
    “Who was that, hon?”
    “Andrew.”
    “You sounded surprised at whatever he was saying. What did he want?”
    “You know who Al Capone is?”
    “Doesn’t everybody?”
    “Well, he died today.”
    “Isn’t he still in prison? What, was he murdered by another inmate?”
    “No, that’s the surprising part. Yes, he’s still in prison. He died of syphilis.”
    “How nice,” she said through a grimace. “Why would Andrew call you about Al Capone?”
    “Oh, that had nothing to do with the call. Just an interesting tidbit of information he threw in. The call was about one of the orders for Fiefield.”
    “Richard, why do you always lower your voice when he calls you? Like there’s something secretive going on.”
    “I lowered my voice because I didn’t want to disturb you.” He pulled her in for a kiss. “I was just thinking of you. That’s all, hon.” Marie smiled a curl of a smile and left the room.
    Marie didn’t know that much about Capone, only that he had operated casinos and speakeasies during prohibition. He was associated with the Chicago Outfit, the city’s most notorious gang, until his fall from power sometime in the thirties when he was imprisoned at Alcatraz for tax evasion. She wondered how Andrew had heard about his death, since she hadn’t seen anything about it in the morning newspaper.
    They decided on the Cape Cod Room to celebrate their wedding anniversary, the same place in which they had dined after their brief wedding ceremony. Marie bought a new Gordon Shannonhouse black crepe dress for the occasion, its deep V neckline and double shoulder straps the height of post-war fashion.
    Richard called ahead and arranged for special treatment—a private room, champagne waiting for them when they arrived, a dozen red roses, chateaubriand for two, and all the trimmings. Toward the end of the meal, he pulled out a small blue box and handed it to Marie. She recognized it from Tiffany’s. Inside was a heart-shaped diamond pendant set in platinum on a fine rope chain. He walked in back of her and fastened it around her neck.
    He sat back down and took her hands in his, gently rubbing her knuckles with his thumbs. He gave her a seductive wink. “You know, when I first laid eyes on you, I thought you were the most beautiful girl I had ever seen.” He looked deeper into her eyes. “But it doesn’t compare to how stunning you look tonight.”
    She touched the necklace. “It’s gorgeous, Richard. Thank you.”
    It was after midnight when they arrived home. “Come with me, Mr. Marchetti,” Marie said while she coaxed him up the stairs. “Your present is up here.”
    He grabbed her waist from behind and patted her behind. “All right!”
    “Not that, Romeo. It’s in here.” She led him into his office. There behind his desk was a new high-back desk chair upholstered in the finest brown full grain leather. She’d had had it custom made for him.
    He eased down in it and softly whistled as he caressed the upholstered arms. “Come here you