Read Online The Daughter-in-Law by Diana Diamond - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Diana Diamond
Ads: Link
several minutes on a landscaped road that toured through well-tended trees. There was a sunset shaping up ahead of them, and whenever they caught glimpses of the Sound, the water twinkled with fiery highlights.
The house that was suddenly visible ahead seemed quite modest, a square brick structure with a few white-framed windows. But then she realized that it was simply a gatehouse, probably a perk for the groundskeeper and his family. They drove between stone pillarsand continued to the northwest, keeping the sun in front of them. And then, without any real warning, they were in a circular driveway, with a lawn in the middle that could have accommodated a football game.
The house at the end of the driveway was an English manor house, Tudor in design, with multiple bays of brick, stone, and split-timber stucco. There were two stories below the eaves, and then a third story that showed among the sharply peaked roofs. Most pronounced were the groupings of huge, mullioned bay windows, some two stories high, one bank topped with a balcony. There were a half dozen clusters of chimneys, hinting at dozens of fireplaces within. The facade, rising from a simple stone wall and broken up into a major entrance bay with five adjoining bays, was at least a hundred and fifty feet long.
To the right, set back at the end of its own driveway, was the garage, a two-story replica of one of the main house split-timber bays, with five overhead doors on the ground level.
Jonathan continued driving past the garage entrance and turned off on a road that ran past the east side of the house. A new building loomed ahead, this one two stories of stone and brick with archways instead of windows. There was a glow of light coming through the arches and a musical beat rose above the trees. The fleet of cars anchored on the lawn indicated that the party had already started.
It was a pool house, with a dozen cabanas on the ground floor, and half a dozen apartments above. Beyond it was a broad terrace where the eight-piece orchestra had set up. A few of the younger couples were already dancing. Then came the pool, a perfect sixty-foot square with an infinity edge where the water seemed to vanish into Long Island Sound. The round guest tables were set up beside the pool, each with a white tablecloth and service for ten. The floral centerpieces matched the flowers that were floating in the pool.
There were probably two hundred guests, all the men in white dinner jackets, and the woman in a full spectrum of colors. The older people, presumably Jack and Alexandra’s friends, were to the left side, already seated at their tables. Pam’s friends were to the right, a tornado of activity that whirled from table to table, and at times threatened to toss some of the young people into the water.
As they came down the cabana steps, Nicole could feel the eyes turning to her from both sides of the water. She kept up an ani-mated conversation with Jonathan, pretending to be oblivious to the fact that she was on display. Jack Donner came darting toward her, a smoldering cigar thrust from his jaw. “Nicole, isn’t it? The one at Yankee Stadium?” He took her hand and pulled her away from Jonathan and toward the table he had just left. “You look better without that mask,” he said, and then laughed at his own joke.
The slim woman from the photographs turned her head toward them, but made no effort to get up. Instead, she extended her hand and waited for Nicole to reach out and take it. “I’m Alexandra.” Her face, like her figure, was long and thin with a prominent straight nose and a pointed chin. The dark hair in the photographs at Newport was now silver-gray and pulled back into an elegant chignon. Her good looks were still there but it was more an aura of command that made her unforgettable. Her authority radiated from her eyes, large and liquid blue. They focused instantly and locked on permanently, seeming to take in everything for storage in a
The house that was suddenly visible ahead seemed quite modest, a square brick structure with a few white-framed windows. But then she realized that it was simply a gatehouse, probably a perk for the groundskeeper and his family. They drove between stone pillarsand continued to the northwest, keeping the sun in front of them. And then, without any real warning, they were in a circular driveway, with a lawn in the middle that could have accommodated a football game.
The house at the end of the driveway was an English manor house, Tudor in design, with multiple bays of brick, stone, and split-timber stucco. There were two stories below the eaves, and then a third story that showed among the sharply peaked roofs. Most pronounced were the groupings of huge, mullioned bay windows, some two stories high, one bank topped with a balcony. There were a half dozen clusters of chimneys, hinting at dozens of fireplaces within. The facade, rising from a simple stone wall and broken up into a major entrance bay with five adjoining bays, was at least a hundred and fifty feet long.
To the right, set back at the end of its own driveway, was the garage, a two-story replica of one of the main house split-timber bays, with five overhead doors on the ground level.
Jonathan continued driving past the garage entrance and turned off on a road that ran past the east side of the house. A new building loomed ahead, this one two stories of stone and brick with archways instead of windows. There was a glow of light coming through the arches and a musical beat rose above the trees. The fleet of cars anchored on the lawn indicated that the party had already started.
It was a pool house, with a dozen cabanas on the ground floor, and half a dozen apartments above. Beyond it was a broad terrace where the eight-piece orchestra had set up. A few of the younger couples were already dancing. Then came the pool, a perfect sixty-foot square with an infinity edge where the water seemed to vanish into Long Island Sound. The round guest tables were set up beside the pool, each with a white tablecloth and service for ten. The floral centerpieces matched the flowers that were floating in the pool.
There were probably two hundred guests, all the men in white dinner jackets, and the woman in a full spectrum of colors. The older people, presumably Jack and Alexandra’s friends, were to the left side, already seated at their tables. Pam’s friends were to the right, a tornado of activity that whirled from table to table, and at times threatened to toss some of the young people into the water.
As they came down the cabana steps, Nicole could feel the eyes turning to her from both sides of the water. She kept up an ani-mated conversation with Jonathan, pretending to be oblivious to the fact that she was on display. Jack Donner came darting toward her, a smoldering cigar thrust from his jaw. “Nicole, isn’t it? The one at Yankee Stadium?” He took her hand and pulled her away from Jonathan and toward the table he had just left. “You look better without that mask,” he said, and then laughed at his own joke.
The slim woman from the photographs turned her head toward them, but made no effort to get up. Instead, she extended her hand and waited for Nicole to reach out and take it. “I’m Alexandra.” Her face, like her figure, was long and thin with a prominent straight nose and a pointed chin. The dark hair in the photographs at Newport was now silver-gray and pulled back into an elegant chignon. Her good looks were still there but it was more an aura of command that made her unforgettable. Her authority radiated from her eyes, large and liquid blue. They focused instantly and locked on permanently, seeming to take in everything for storage in a
Similar Books
