A Fine and Private Place Read Online Free PDF Page A

father-in-law, his beloved’s papa. Never failing to give me an accounting to the penny, so that I’ll know the rising score of my obligation to him, and what he’s still holding over dad’s and my head: that fitting for a prison uniform.
    â€œHow can I let that happen, Peter? He is my father, the only one I’ll ever have. In his own cockeyed way he loves me. Anyway, we couldn’t build a life on a foundation like that. I know I couldn’t, and I don’t believe you could, either.”
    â€œI’m not so sure about that,” Peter said crassly. “What’s the matter with that crazy old man of yours? Why the hell doesn’t he start seeing a psychiatrist? Doesn’t he realize he’s ruining your life?”
    â€œHe’s a compulsive gambler, Peter.”
    â€œAnd womanizer—let’s not forget that . Virgin, your father is a compulsive everything.” Peter’s been calling me Virgin in private for some time now, how aptly he hasn’t known. It makes me writhe. “You say he loves you. It’s a hell of a love that makes a father sell his only daughter to a—a eunuch just to save his own miserable hide!”
    â€œDaddy’s weak, Peter, and self-indulgent, and all the rest of it, but he really doesn’t think marrying me off to one of the world’s richest men is such a horrible fate. Of course, he doesn’t know about Nino’s … condition.” The waiter was hanging about, and I said haughtily, “I’m hungry,” which I was not. “Are you trying to starve me?”
    We ordered something, I think mine was a veal cutlet that had been breaded in library paste—their marvelous chef must have been off today—and Peter kept asking me district attorney-type questions about the agreement I had been forced to sign before the wedding. I suppose he was desperate, poor darling, because we’d been over that Berlin wall a dozen times previously without finding a loophole or the sorriest chink. I had to point out to him again that for the five-year term of the agreement I have absolutely no financial claim on Nino or his estate, and if I left his bed (!) and board before the expiration date it would not only strand me without a Hungarian pengö but he could—and positively would—sic the gendarmes on daddy and have him packed off to jail on the old embezzlement charge.
    â€œIs his money so important to you?” How Peter’s lip curled.
    â€œI hate it. And him! For Pete’s sake, Peter, you can’t really think it’s the money. I told you. I’d gladly accept any kind of decent life, no matter how much of a struggle it would be, if not for–”
    â€œRight back to dear old dad again,” Peter said, grinding his teeth. “Oh, damn him! When’s the due date?”
    â€œOf what, Peter?”
    â€œThe agreement. When the five years are up. That’s one of Nino’s private papers he’s never let me in on.”
    â€œWhat’s today? December 9. Well, it expires 9 months from today, on Nino’s 68th birthday, which is also our fifth anniversary. September 9 next year.”
    â€œNine months,” Peter said in a very peculiar way.
    I hadn’t realized till Peter repeated it, and it struck me funny, so I laughed. Peter did not, and at the expression on his face I didn’t feel like laughing anymore. “What’s the matter now, Peter? What is it?”
    He said, “Nothing.”
    The way he said it …
    I know it was definitely not nothing. It was something . Something terrible. I mean what was going through that blond, frustrated, furious head. I didn’t even want to think about what it might be. I wanted to wipe it out of my head just as fast as I possibly could. I told myself my Peter couldn’t be thinking unthinkable thoughts like that. Even in fury. Or fantasy. Or anything.
    But I knew he could. And was.
    Does one