“I’ll tell you again: don’t mix business with pleasure,” Lucky said as Harry was leaving.
Harry patted Lucky on the shoulder. “I’m not doing that anymore. Also, I’m not interested in Penny. She’s too supermodel. She’s going to be dressed to the nines. Want to bet?”
Lucky leaned back on his chair. “Not that she’ll be dressed, but that she wants to sleep with you. I don’t think she’s smart enough to figure out how her husband’s crap is connected to Ravn’s crap. I bet you fifty dollars.”
Harry looked at his watch. “You’re cheap. We meet at one. Why don’t you join us at two, and you can see for yourself and pay for lunch.”
Lucky shrugged. “If she sees me, she won’t sleep with you.”
“I don’t want her,” Harry said. “I’m trying . . . to be loyal to Sanya. I feel responsible. Maybe I triggered her . . . her . . . thing. Maybe it was my fault. So I’m planning not to cheat on her anymore. She’s a beautiful, sexy, wonderful woman, and I’m lucky that she’s my wife.”
“Whatever lets you sleep at night, Harry,” Lucky said.
Penny arrived fifteen minutes late, as Harry expected. She didn’t want to seem too eager.
It was another warm day in June, and there was talk in the IT Foundry offices that it looked like this summer would be a real summer, and the weather would hold.
Penny wore an emerald-green Jean Patou vintage shirtdress that went very well with her red hair. The dress stopped midthigh and showed her model long sleek legs as they ended in emerald-green fringed suede Aquazzura sandals. She accentuated her slender waist with a black Dior belt. Harry thought that the Dior didn’t match the Patou, but then maybe it wasn’t supposed to, and what did he know about fashion compared to a fashion designer.
“Harry,” she said, and he rose to air-kiss her, once on each cheek. She smelled of something spicy and exotic.
No, Harry thought. No, no, no.
“I’m sorry I’m late,” she said, a little breathless, as if she had run all the way from her boutique on Strøget to Café Victor. “Crown Princess Mary was in the store, buying a dress for the opening night of Giselle at the opera house. Mary wanted something red, Giselle-like. So it took some time. But at least it was Mary; Princess Marie is a lot pickier because she’s French.”
“I’m sure you had just the dress for her,” Harry said politely.
The waiter stood discreetly to the side of their table, waiting for the gentleman and the lady to address him.
“A glass of champagne, please,” Penny said.
Harry didn’t raise an eyebrow even though he wanted to. Europeans had a lax attitude about wine. He would never order alcohol for lunch on a weekday. He had to go back to work after this little encounter.
“Water, please. And a café latte.” Harry allowed himself one cup of coffee during the day; otherwise, he stuck to water. The body, after all, was a temple.
“I love champagne,” Penny said. “If it wasn’t so decadent, I would have it for breakfast.”
“As Fitzgerald said, too much of anything is bad, but too much champagne is just right.”
“Already quoting Fitzgerald,” Penny said, her voice husky and, Harry had to admit, really sexy with that Danish plus British accent. “You must be wondering why I invited you for lunch.”
Harry smiled, his eyes sparkling with anticipation. The chase was always fun. Except with Sanya. He hadn’t wanted to chase as much as possess. One of his paramours had once criticized Sanya as average, but Sanya was a woman who challenged him. She knew how to trigger Harry’s intellect. Not many women or men did that. Had he always known this, or was he just discovering these truths since Sanya was no longer the wife he knew from a few months ago?
Penny ordered the terrine of foie gras, while Harry ordered the smoked salmon from Fanø, an island off the coast of southwestern Denmark.
“Ravn has the most amazing summer house in Fanø,” Penny said. “Did you ever see that movie by Polanski called The Ghost Writer?”
Harry nodded. “The one with Pierce Brosnan.”
“Yes. The house where the movie takes place? That’s Ravn’s summer house. They shot the movie on Fanø. With that rape charge, Polanski obviously could not go to New England to shoot the film. The editor on the film is a good friend of mine so I hooked them up with Ravn’s summer house,” Penny said.
Harry alternated between drinking his water and his café latte and waited for Penny to get to her point.
“I really like your wife,” she said, stalling.
“Thank you, I like her, too,” Harry said.
“And because I like her, this is a bit strange,” Penny said and smiled, a girlish smile. “Well . . . you know . . . we Danes are actually quite nonconfrontational. But I’m not entirely Danish anymore, not after the global life I have lived.” She paused for a long time.
“We’re already here, and it would be a pity if you talked around what you want to say,” Harry said.
Penny emptied her glass of champagne to show that she needed its support.
“I got the feeling at the dinner at the ambassador’s house that you were interested in me,” Penny said, paused, probably to measure the effect on Harry, and then continued, “And I wanted to ask you if you would like to have an affair with me. A sexual one, of course. We’re both married.”
Harry had been propositioned more than once. A man who looked like him had that pleasure. But never like this. Never balls out have sex with me. Harry couldn’t help it. He smiled broadly, not in invitation as she unfortunately perceived but in utter amusement. He’d heard that Scandinavian society was egalitarian and that Scandinavians were open when it came to sex, and Harry, the eternal feminist in matters of sex, was thrilled to be at the receiving end of this suggestion.
“I keep an apartment in the city,” Penny continued. “And I’d very much like to share your company there when we both have the desire and of course the time.”
He had lost fifty dollars to Lucky, and he’d have to pick up the check for lunch. He was bemused and more than a little flattered. This woman was an ex-supermodel who walked for all the big houses.
Before Harry could conjure up a polite answer, the waiter brought their food. As the waiter described the contents of their respective dishes, the heat inside Harry’s chest subsided.
Penny Barrett was a gorgeous woman. However, she was too close to home. He was planning on being a good, loyal husband. He wasn’t interested in Penny’s desperate ploy to milk him for information on her husband’s corrupt dealings as reported by the papers. Because he was certain that was why she had asked him to lunch.
“Well, don’t keep me waiting. Say something,” Penny said.
Harry smiled. He took Penny’s left hand, which lay on the side of her plate, into both of his. He knew how to let a woman down.
“You’re a very beautiful woman,” Harry said. “But I really can’t. I’m a married man, and you’re Ravn’s cousin. I’m afraid it won’t be prudent to accept your offer, though it is very tempting.”
“So you’re resisting me out of some sense of loyalty to your wife or loyalty to Ravn? Because Ravn has nothing to do with me and my life,” Penny said in an icy tone.
Harry let go of her hand. “Be that as it may, Sanya is my wife, and it’s not some sense of loyalty; it’s all my senses. Should we enjoy the rest of our lunch, and you can tell me about this article I read in the paper today?”
He started with gusto to attack his salmon while Penny didn’t touch her foie gras. She looked a little shell-shocked, like she was not used to being rejected.
She nodded carefully. “It’s nothing—the article, I mean. It must’ve been a slow news day. But tell me, how is the due diligence on IT Foundry going? Have you found anything off-kilter with Ravn’s books?” She added the last part in as a joke. It came out flat.
“It’s work in progress. You know how it is. We have to take reasonable steps to satisfy all the legal requirements of such a purchase. So
we first spend time looking at everything, and then we spend time looking at everything again—that’s why they call it due diligence,” Harry said. “Would you like another glass of champagne?”
Chapter 10
A Most Casual Barbecue
When the Americans arrived, the impact of Mandy’s home was just as she had intended: it blew their mind.
Lucky whispered to Harry, “Holy fuck, it’s a mansion.”
Harry had nodded, but Sanya could see his competitive muscles tense. “Well, they have a lot of money, and looks like Mandy has good taste,” he said.
Now it was Sanya’s turn to feel a pinch of envy. This was the kind of woman Ravn had married, and this was what he liked and wanted in his life. Not Sanya with her Excel sheets—and not even that anymore. The envy only compounded when she saw Mandy was wearing a sexy dark-blue silk jumpsuit that showed a perky bust and a slim body. She had done her hair so it was curled like a delicate golden halo around her faultlessly made-up face. Sanya was wearing a pair of ankle jeans, Skechers, a white T-shirt, and a gray sweater. She had wanted to dress up, but this was a barbecue and she didn’t want to be too obvious about wanting to impress Ravn. Now she wished she’d known what people in Hellerup wore to barbecues.
Mandy served champagne on the wraparound deck where polished Trip-Trap (another old Danish brand) wooden furniture invited them to relax atop colorful cushions. The patio led into a fenced garden well populated with flowers.
“The Charlottenlund forest is right there,” Mandy told them. “Ravn goes for a run every day down to the pier, and then he winter bathes.”
“Winter bathing?” Sanya asked.
Mandy pointed to the expansive view of Øresund, the sound between Sweden and Denmark where colorful sailboats were kissing the impossibly blue and silky waters.
“It’s very popular with Scandinavians. They bathe in the water and then go into the sauna—you’re supposed to do it three times. It’s very relaxing. I do it in the winter only, but Ravn, he does it every day,” Penny said.
“I’ve started going as well,” Mandy said. “And it’s very refreshing. Of course, Danes are all naked, but I put on a bikini; I don’t have their courage.”
“Maybe I should try it,” Harry said.
“I’d love to take you,” Penny said. “You have to be a member of the sauna, and there’s a long line for it. But I can take guests.”
Sanya saw Lucky glare at Harry, and he was about to say something when his phone rang, and he walked down the stairs from the patio to the garden as he spoke.
Penny is almost purring, Sanya thought, perturbed. Was she hitting on Harry right in front of her? Sanya wondered if she should say or do something but then decided it was too much trouble. Mandy, on the other hand, Sanya noticed, was uncomfortable and smiled broadly. It was such a big smile that if she stretched any more, her face would crack; Sanya was sure of it.
“This is such a beautiful area,” Harry said, also aware of the tension that Penny’s suggestive behavior had provoked.
“It’s the place to live,” Penny said. “Like you have Beverly Hills 90210, we used to have a show here called 2900 Happiness. Different countries, same scandals.”
“Oh, Penny, Hellerup is nothing like that,” Mandy said. “There are decent people who live here. You know, Harry, I’m going to pick out some wine; would you like a tour of the wine cellar? Ravn loves wine, so we buy everywhere we go. With your interest in Napa, I think you’ll enjoy it.”
As she led him inside, Penny focused on Sanya with such intensity that Sanya wanted to get away from the other woman.
“Do Harry and Lucky always work together?” she asked Sanya, while she watched Lucky talking on the phone. “They probably know a lot about each other’s work, right?”
Sanya looked pointedly at Penny and then Lucky. “Huh?”
Penny smiled. “They seem very close.”
Sanya ignored her and allowed Knud, Mandy’s helper, to fill her glass of champagne. Since Ravn was delayed at yet another meeting, Sanya decided she might as well drink while she waited.
Lucky finished his phone call and came to stand by Sanya. He eyed her champagne glass accusatorily.
“It’s fine,” Sanya said, because she knew he was thinking how antidepressants and alcohol didn’t mix well. But she was feeling discombobulated, what with these new and sexually charged emotions that she hadn’t had since she’d met Harry, and being in a new country with new people. It was all too much. A little champagne was definitely warranted.
Penny lost interest in Sanya and went for Lucky, which helped Sanya make her escape. She stood at a distance, leaning against the deck’s balustrade, and watched Knud walk around filling glasses. Mandy was back from the wine cellar talking to Harry as she offered him a plate of hors d’oeuvres, phyllo-dough pastries stuffed with spinach and goat cheese. He politely took a roll and nursed his glass of champagne. His eyes were furtively searching. Sanya smiled. She wasn’t the only one waiting for Ravn.
“Mom said you have a daughter my age,” said a young woman, approaching Sanya from behind.
She was his daughter. Even though she had Mandy’s blond hair and light porcelain skin, her aggressive facial expressions were all his. Sanya just knew.
She introduced herself as Katrine Ravn.
“Sara is eighteen,” Sanya said. “She’s studying at UCLA.”
“Can I tell you something? You don’t look like someone who has a daughter my age. I mean, my mother, despite all the this and the that”—Katrine moved her hand around her face to denote, Sanya presumed, makeup or cosmetic surgery—“she still looks like a mother. Don’t tell her I said so. She’ll be dieting for days to come.”
“I won’t,” Sanya said. She was her father’s daughter because she tempered her aggression, as he did, with charm.
“How do you like living in Denmark? Do you feel settled, or still like a tourist?” Katrine asked.
“Oh, definitely not settled, it’s not been very long,” Sanya said.
“I’ve always lived in Denmark, and I probably will never leave,” Katrine said. “I have traveled a lot, but I can’t imagine making my home anywhere but here for any real length of time.”
Sanya responded without artifice, letting the truth tumble out of her: “Home is a construct, involving the people who live there and its geographic and emotional placement. For me, home has always been where Harry and Sara were—but now Harry lives in Copenhagen and Sara lives in LA—and I’m not sure where home is anymore.”
They were silent for a moment after that, and then Katrine said with a smile, “I’m sorry my father is late, though he’s never late for school meetings or to spend time with my brother, Jonas, or me.”
“He prioritizes you over his work, and he doesn’t prioritize a barbecue over his work,” Sanya said.
“Exactly,” Katrine said. “Mom doesn’t understand that. She doesn’t complain when people are around, but when they’re not, she’s . . . she doesn’t like it.”
Maybe because she realizes that he doesn’t prioritize her, Sanya thought, and felt a little burst of happiness because of it.
Mark Barrett arrived then with his two daughters, who primly introduced themselves as Sophia and Annabelle and shook hands with everyone. They wore pink and white dresses, and pink and white headbands atop their long blond hair.
They sat in a corner with their au pair, Jinny, who smiled in the same doll-like way as her charges. Sanya noticed that her eyes followed Mark and then, as if realizing that she was staring, dropped down to her lap.
“Sophia and Annabelle speak Filipino,” Katrine whispered to Sanya. “And they’re not the only ones. So many children in Hellerup . . . you know about Hellerup, don’t you?”
Sanya shook her head.
Katrine grinned and settled in to dish the dirt. “A standard Hellerup wife worries about how she looks, so she spends a lot of time in the gym and taking care of herself, while the Hellerup man is busy making money. They let
their Filipino nanny raise their children bilingually—Filipino and Danish, with their Danish needing work when they start school because their parents haven’t spoken to them enough.”
And then, as if on cue, she added with pride, “We never had an au pair; Mom raised us. And I mean she raised us—she was one tough mama.”
Lucky and Penny wandered up to where Sanya and Katrine were. Quick introductions were made between Katrine and Lucky, who was holding three little foie gras puffs on his plate, hors d’oeuvres that Knud had just started making the rounds with.
“Have you tried the foie gras? It’s really good,” Lucky said.
“I’m morally against foie gras. I’ve tried to get Mom to stop serving it, but she doesn’t listen,” Katrine said.
“Sara, Harry’s daughter, is vegan,” Lucky said. “What’s up with you kids? You don’t like food?”
Katrine shook her head. “I’m not vegan. I eat meat—organic and free range, of course—but I’m against the force-feeding of geese to make foie gras. It’s barbaric.”
Penny sighed. “You’re so melodramatic, Katrine.”
Sanya zoned them all out. She didn’t care. Harry came and stood next to her, his arm around her, and she wanted to shrug it off because she was uncomfortable in her skin. She was waiting for Ravn, and it was starting to bother her, this obsession for the man, napalm-hot and burning in a way that she couldn’t remember ever feeling, not since she was a teenager.
And then it struck Sanya: I have a teenage daughter and I’m behaving like one. She let the humiliation of that run through her, and as she did she allowed herself to lean into Harry’s embrace.
“So I hear you’ll be entering Copenhagen Business School. I recently met a marketing professor of yours, Thomas Ritter, at a marketing seminar in the city,” Harry said to Katrine, his arm still around Sanya.
“Oh, he’s a marketing genius, and he’s got such a great sense of humor,” Katrine said, flushing at his attention. Harry might be as old as her father, but he still made her eyes flutter. Sanya had seen it before, many times.
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