A Present For Santa

by James Burke

  "You called?"

  "Hmmm. Yes, you too, Signora. Not too modest, but definitely beautiful. And focusing exaggeratedly on the sparsely covered area of her bust, he continued "Yes, and the view, definitely spectacular." He took a cushion from the end of the lounge, put it on the floor next to her, and sat on it, his arm resting lightly on the curve of lounge next to her thighs. "You are superb, my love. The magnificence of the night is only backdrop for your loveliness."

  ''Shakespeare?''

  "I just made it up, honest."

  "Boolsheeta, Pasquale. You may have made it up but you're not honest. Not to worry, I love it anyway."

  She moved around to touch his bare shoulders with her fingers and began a slow, rhythmic kneading that was at once soothing, relaxing, and exciting. He purred with contentment as the kneading deepened down his chest and back and then became a series of light caresses. She interrupted his silent enjoyment but maintained the action. "Now we can have fun, on our island?"

  "For sure! But you mean it hasn't been fun?"

  She bent to kiss his warm shoulder. "I didn't mean that. You know I've had more fun, and been happier, than ever before in my life, since I've been with you. You know that."

  "I know. Me too. Yes, we can have some island fun now, anything we want to do. It's our island."

  "You Robinson, me Friday."

  "You don't look like Friday."

  "What does Friday look like?"

  "Oh like mostly sunny, with a thirty percent chance of afternoon showers. You know, the usual thing."

  "I asked for that."

  "Indeed you did, sweetheart." He moved his face to the opening of the cover-up and nuzzled the soft tan satin of her hip. She held his head tightly to her body for a moment, then relaxed her hand. "Can we talk?" Then smiling, "First?" She started that slow caress down his back again.

  He pulled back, returning her smile. "Sure. Long as it's just first."

  "How long can we stay on our island?"

  "How long do you want to? A week? A month? Who knows? Maybe you won't like it. Maybe you'll love it and go native and want to stay forever."

  "You mean it'll be up to me?"

  "Basically, yes, honey."

  "Basically?"

  "Well you know - mice and men's plans and all that. But I don't really see why not."

  "How about you? What do you want?"

  Morley took her hand from his shoulder, kissed it, and held it. "Honest to God, sweetheart, I want you to be happy."

  "Oh, Pat, I am. I really am. But I'm concerned about our future, too."

  "Why, honey?"

  "Woman reasons I guess. You know. Are we always gonna be just two lovers on vacation? Hold it, I'm not knocking it, it's wonderful, but as you said, we do have to have some kind of plans. Don't we?"

  "Of course we do. I agree. I just thought we could defer them while we enjoyed the vacation."

  "Yes, I know things are still unsettled, and I'd be much too stupid for you if I wasn't able to figure out why, but what about long range? Are we gonna live here? Are we gonna work, or just play all the time? Are we gonna be Pasquale and Maria for the rest of our lives? That kinda stuff. That's what I mean. Guess I just want to be clued in on what's in store for us. Guess I mean for me, to be honest."

  "Fair enough. God knows I owe you that, for openers. I owe you any answer you want to anything, really, but some of 'em I just can't figure yet. But, okay, to start. We have enough dough - I know that has to concern you too - to last us a couple years full blast, and maybe twice that, skimping a bit."

  "Your inheritance?"

  "Yeah, and some investments that may or may not pan out. But I don't think we should play until all that runs out. No. It's a question of what we want to do and where we want to do it."

  "Okay, I agree, but money was a minor concern. We can always earn that when we need it. I guess I'm more interested in the personal side."

  "Marriage, love, kids, home, business, all that?"

  "Something like that."

  "That's easy. I love you. I don't ever want to leave you. I will marry you tomorrow, next week, whenever or wherever you say yes and want to. I want the kids and home, long as they're our kids and our home, and most of all I want you to be happy - with me. What we decide to do with our lives and where we decide to do it? To me these are secondary. First, is that we do it together."

  She didn't say anything. She was looking out towards the sea and her face was in profile. A tear made a rivulet down her cheek and dropped noiselessly. Morley leaned over and kissed the wet spot at the corner of her eye. She clutched him and held on tightly for a moment. When she relaxed he pulled away to look at her. Both cheeks were wet now, but she was smiling widely and it was like a rainbow shining through the last vestige of a spring shower. "Thanks. I needed that."

  "That's all?"

  "No, darling, that's not all by any means." She poked him gently with her balled fist, then loosed it to caress his cheek. "That was the sweetest speech I've ever heard. I'm not a speechmaker, so I'll steal your words. I love you so much it hurts. I love these rings." She held up her left hand. "And I love what they mean. I want them to be real. I mean, to be mine for keeps. I want to be your wife, and have our kids, and live with you and be with you, so I guess I don't really care where it is or what we do to get along. I know we have to wait a while, to get our 'Italian divorce.' I don't even care what our names are - as long as they mean Mr. and Mrs."

  Morley leaned back, smiling widely. "Wow! For a non­ speech maker, lady, you make one hell of a speech."

  She returned his smile, then got serious. She cupped her hand under his chin and moved his face so she could look directly into his eyes. "One more thing, Pat. Is there some reason why we can't go back to the States or can't ever use our real names?''

  He was thoughtful. "No, not if you mean 'ever.' We have to stay here a while, Italian style, until I get this business with Conners's people taken care of, but then, after that, no problem.

  "This 'Conners business,' when will it be over?"

  "By the end of this month, I hope."

  "And there is a lot of money involved?"

  "You know there is."

  "Oh God, Pat, not that again! Please! Please!"

  "Okay, I didn't mean it that way, honey. You're my life and I'd trust you with it."

  "Enough to level?"

  "Yes, as far as I can. I mean, whatever I know."

  "Okay, what's the money?"

  "Ever hear of the Corporation?"

  "Not really. Like the Mafia?"

  "Sort of, but not. An outgrowth, but basically the modern ­ day version of organized crime. A meld of legit and illegit business.''

  "Yeah. I see. And they think you have something of theirs?" ·

  "Yes, honey, and I do." There, it was out, finally. He was relieved.

  She just looked, unsmiling, as if she'd always known. "And Conners? He really is their man?"

  "One of their best."

  "And Matthewson? He was too? Like you said?"

  "Exactly, honey, like I said."

  "And they want their stuff, whatever it is, back?"

  "Of course."

  "Can you give it to them?"

  "Yes, I intend to. For a price, and soon."

  "What then?"

  "I hope, peace and quiet."

  "How and why'd you get this, this stuff, in the first place?"

  "That’s a long complicated story, darling. I guess I could sum it up by saying I was in the right place at the wrong time and got greedy, but now I've learned my lesson."

  "Conners's story to me was completely phony?"

  "Of course, as you suspected from the start."

  "I guess I did really know it all along. Guess I was able to stifle my conscience pretty easily with the prospect of an all­ expense trip to Florida."

  "Don't blame you."

  "Honest?"

  "Honest."

  "How about you, Patrick Morley? You're no travel a
gent, are you? Never have been. Right?"

  He looked at her squarely and said with a half smile, "No more than you're Dana Kelly, my love!"

  She was magnificent. No shock was evident, but she hardly moved, maybe even a bit of humor showed around the eyes, mixed with relief. "You know! You always knew, didn't you?"

  "Not always, honey. Not ‘til I got a picture of Miss California. "

  "You cad, I was just a child then. Why'd you suspect?"

  "I didn't really, but I knew something was out of kilter. Then when I saw the picture I knew what it was. Hell, everything I'd learned about the lovely Miss Mornay fit you; everything I'd learned about the Kelly girl didn't."

  "You didn't care? And you knew before we left Florida?"

  "Oh, I cared all right, but I thought I understood. After all, I'd held out a few things on you too, but it didn't mean I was playing you along. What's in a name? I was in love and I believed you'd been honest with me in all the important things. Right?"

  "Oh God yes, Pat! Yes! Yes!"

  "So why fret, huh?"

  "You're quite a guy, Patrick Morley."

  "Well, you're quite a girl, Angela Mornay!"

  "My friends call me Ann."

  "I’m included?"

  ''Numero uno, paison."

  "Tell me, honey, was the name change your idea?"

  "Oh, no. Conners said it would be best to do it that way since Morrison might get somebody to check back on me in Chicago."

  "Yeah. And so?"

  "And so they'd find no connection between Dana and the brokerage business. With me they would have."

  "And the same about a connection with Conners?"

  She lowered her eyes, but almost immediately snapped them back up proudly. "Yes, that's true. I did date him and I did like him. He's a very nice gentleman. But, I wasn't his 'girl,' and I didn't love him."

  "I’m sorry, honey, I didn't mean that."

  "It's okay. It's time to clear the air, let's clear it."

  "And Dana, the real one?"

  "Conners's company gave her plane fare to L.A. and two weeks pay to keep her out of Chicago."

  "What did she think that was all about?"

  "She really didn't care. I told her it was in connection with an investigation job that Conners's and my firm were cooperating on. She did it happily, for me and for the free trip home."

  "What's your connection with Dana?"

  "We're first cousins. Our mothers are sisters. I'm sure you noticed the family resemblance."

  "Yeah, I sure did, and it almost threw me for a minute. Might have even fooled a casual friend."

  "Yes, we've done that on occasion."

  "So she came to Chicago because of you?"

  "Sure. She was like a younger sister. We grew up three blocks apart in Ventura. I had a younger brother but no sisters she filled the gap."

  "And the aunt in Racine? She's yours too?"

  "Right, she's the third Magnelli sister. All of them married Northern European types, ending a long line of thoroughbred spaghetti benders."

  "I like the half-breeds best."

  "A man of good taste."

  "Do you know where Dana is now?"

  "Of course not. How would I? I suppose she's back in Chicago. What do you mean, is she okay?" She was really alarmed.

  "No, honey, there's nothing wrong. Last I heard she had not yet returned to Chicago."

  "Oh, she probably stayed on in Ventura past the two or three weeks they paid her for. Don't you think?"

  "I’m sure that's it. Say, sweetheart, since you're not Dana Kelly, what about all that 'Dana Kelly background' you gave me, marriage and all that."

  "Would it matter?" She was dead serious.

  "Not a bit. Forget it." So was he.

  She smiled in relief and reached again for his shoulders.

  "No. You deserve it. The background was me – true - I just changed the names to protect the innocent."

  "The whole thing?"

  "Yeah. The whole thing. It was my father who died and my mother who married again and me who got widowed in Vietnam and all that."

  "And Dana?"

  "She did get married and quit UCLA, but her husband, he was the Ventura high school athlete, was killed in a car accident, drag racing, and that's when she came to Racine and then Chicago."

  "And you? Mornay?"

  "Mornay's my maiden name. I married Chuck Talley, a man from San Francisco, in my sophomore year at USC, and he did go to Vietnam and he was killed. I was devastated. I loved him very deeply, but I knew I had to go on, and I knew I had to do it on my own. So I got the dancing job and continued and finished at USC. I took my maiden name back since it was more acceptable to be Angela Mornay than Mrs. Chuck Talley in the business world those days."

  "And your family?"

  "They're still in Ventura, except my brother Joey. He's a successful young attorney in San Diego. A great kid. You'll love him."

  "He like you?"

  "People say we'd be twins if I were his age."

  "Then I'd love him for sure. Your parents?"

  "Friendly but cool. My stepfather is about thirty degrees to the right of Attila the Hun. He thinks John Birch was a radical. We never did see eye to eye, but I guess it was that 'Miss California' thing that really blew it."

  "Why?"

  "Oh, I was only seventeen at the time, lied about my age, and did it as sort of a lark. It grew out of a thing we had at high school, a mock beauty pageant. Anyway I won, and the story of my age came out and it was in the papers, and Albert F. Mornay, Esquire, president of the First National Bank, the Rotary, and I don't know what all, was fit to be tied. He told me I’d disgraced the family, but he never explained just how, so I resented that and moved out when I started college. Stayed in the dorm and didn't even visit home 'til my sophomore year. Then when I got married, Albert, Esquire, was sure I was pregnant and about to disgrace the family again, so he practically disowned me, without a trial."

  "You weren't?"

  "What?"

  "Pregnant.''

  "Yeah, had triplets - girls - who grew up and became the Andrews sisters. Surely you've heard of them? No, damn it, I wasn't. Chuck wasn't the type. He was old-fashioned too, but a sweet, sweet man. You've had loved him too."

  "That I doubt, but go on."

  "That's about it. I got a job with an L.A. firm, got transferred to St. Louis, which I loved, and then Chicago, which I didn't. I met Dennis Conners at several business functions before I ever dated him, but I never ran a Dun and Bradstreet on his company. Guess I should have."

  "But how'd he select you for the Florida job?"

  "Oh, I guess I led into that. We'd discussed jobs and places, and he knew I was getting bored with my job and with the prospects for advancement. Let's face it, account executives who make their vests stick out and fill the round places in their slacks have a tough time advancing. And he knew I hated cold, cold Chicago. So he'd told me before that his company did a bit of business that required travel, sometimes - foreign travel, and he'd investigate the possibility of getting me a shot at it. This Florida thing was kind of a trial, and of course I jumped at the chance, as he knew I would, and didn't ask too many questions, as he knew I wouldn't."

  "So what's a nice young girl from Ventura doing on a South Sea island?"

  "Loving it." She looked serious again. "Then I'm forgiven?"

  "What's to forgive?"

  "I mean the lies. I got in so deep, then when I decided I loved you for real and didn't want to lose you, I was afraid to tell you the truth. Afraid you'd boot me out."

  "I know how you felt."

  "Your secret?"

  "Yeah. You've always known too?"

  "Not always. In fact I still don't really know 'what.' I guess I only know 'why."'

  "Uh-huh. Y'mean I couldn't be as dumb as I sounded."

  "Remember - you said that! But it’s close. Yeah. You weren't going to all that trouble for peanuts or because some brokerage outfit was sizing
you up for a pitch. Then I got to thinking about Conners and Matthewson, and Matthewson get­ ting blown up, and it all started to make sense - except for you. You didn't make sense, and neither did your story. I could easily cast them as heavies, but I loved you by then, and I couldn't fit you in that mold, emotionally or any other way."

  "You sure you're not just prejudiced?"

  "Of course I'm prejudiced, but I know you - God, how I know you, Pat Morley - and it just isn't your bag. But you don't have to tell me anything now. Some day, when you're ready. But you decide."

  "There's not really much to tell. You’ve figured it out, most of it, already. It's really much simpler than it appears at first glance. Imagine a lazy, peace lovin' beach bum, sliding along trying to decide where to go with his life. He meets a pleasant and interesting old man, and then the old man asks him to do a favor for him. That favor leads to another and he’s in deeper, into something he knows isn't kosher but he’s hooked. He was bored and now he's got some kicks and it isn’t hurting anybody. So the old guy gets himself killed and the beach bum figures the hoods who did it want some things that belonged to the old man as well as to them. Now the beach bum-"

  She interrupted. "I resent that, let's call him 'B.B.' for short."

  "Okay. So B.B. takes a chance. He collects all these materials and he sits tight waiting to see what will happen while he makes some tentative plans to blow if things get too warm. Then the plot thickens. Comes the love interest. She's a lot like B.B.; we'll call her, say, L.L. Now L.L.-"

  "Wait a minute, What's L.L.? 'Lithsome Lulu?'"

  "No, she's 'Lust for Life.' She's like B.B., as I said. She's bored and doesn't look too closely at a proposed adventure that appears anything but boring."

  "Okay. Go on."

  "Well, B.B. gets a brilliant idea. Why not give the hoods the materials they want, the ones that really belong to the old man they killed, who doesn't have any family, and charge them for his services, say, about the same amount as the money of theirs he already has?"

  "And why not? Did he do this?"

  "Yes, but first he decided things were getting a little too hot and he'd better skip town, with L.L. of course, and give everybody a cooling off period."