Crazy for Cornelia Read Online Free Page B

Highlander burr afterthirty years in New York. His large red hands busied themselves with ice cubes and ashtrays.
    Chester sat at his living room desk.
    “All right”—he glanced around the room—“let’s get to new business. As you know, the Biddle apartment has been put up for sale
     by Eloise Biddle’s estate. We have twelve applicants who meet the financial criteria. We’ll vote today on which of them, if
     any, we should invite up for an interview.”
    Nobody objected. Thaddeus “Tad” Eames, a white-haired clubman who had never worked, licked his lips.
    Chester read the first name on the list.
    “Is he anyone?” asked Lily Stern, widow of the man who had inherited one of the world’s largest private banks. She scowled
     so easily, her face might have been made of aged parchment.
    “He was vice president, Lily.” Chester sighed as he added, “Of the United States.”
    Lily’s face hardened. “No.”
    “Well, we have to at least consider them, Lily,” Chester said.
    “What for?” barked Tom van Adder, retired custodian of his family’s philanthropic trust. “He’s a Democrat, isn’t he? Besides,
     there was a ridiculous picture of his wife in the newspaper—”
    He froze in mid-sentence and looked at Chester, his voice dribbling off. The board members smirked guiltily, each reminded
     of today’s picture of Cornelia in the
Globe
. Chester caught them in their dirty little moment: how they delighted in the misfortunes of others. What was the word for
     it?
Schadenfreude
. Such a remarkably German concept. Chester swallowed the acid swelling in his chest, the reflux of anger and shame, and pretended
     that the whole business wafted right by him.
    “I think we should invite him up,” Tad snarled. “Ask him what he thought he was doing taxing capital gains. We can send their
     rejection letter afterward.”
    “Oh, for heaven’s sakes, Tad,” Chester said. “If we’re going to reject them, let’s just do it. On approval of their application,
     yea or nay?”
    “Nay.”
    “Nay.”
    “Nay.”
    “Nay.”
    “Nay.”
    Chester began to argue, then thought better of it. He said nothing, and his silence made the room so packed with treasures
     feel barren and empty. The board members glanced at each other, obviously feeling cheated by his refusal to fight back.
    “Let’s move on,” Chester said. “We have a fellow who won the Nobel prize. Now he’s secretary general of the United Nations.
     His wife is a surgeon.”
    “Good Lord, no,” Tom van Adder sputtered. “He hails from one of the
debtor
nations.”
    “Tom’s right,” Chip Lindsay said, bristling. “Those foreign U.N. people have diplomatic immunity. They can get away with anything.”
     He shuddered. “The next thing you know, the city will come after us to pay his parking tickets.”
    Chip had been ambassador to Bermuda during the Eisenhower administration and thought he knew politics. Like Chester understood
     nuclear physics. Now, on top of it, Chip had memory lapses and had even worn pajamas once to a co-op board meeting. He noticed
     for the first time Chip’s unusually large teeth when he pulled his lips back over his gums.
    “I say nay.” Chip bobbed his head.
    “Nay.”
    “Nay.”
    “Nay.”
    “Nay.”
    “Agreed.” Chester nodded. “We’ll just send them a letter.”
    In the periphery of his vision, Chester saw Cornelia, who had shuffled into the living room wearing an oversized black terry
     cloth bathrobe that dragged on the floor.
    Corny, why now?
    His daughter’s blond hair hung in a tangle, half covering her eyes. She stood in the center of the room behind the Stone Heads,
     quietly observing them. He saw a hint of determination in her gray pupils, lit up with points of violet as though a furnace
     burned deep inside.
    The fire brought Chester back to the years when Cornelia was young, purposeful.
    Chester shut his eyes briefly. He saw his wife, Elizabeth, and their daughter sitting scrunched