You Bet Your Life

by Jessica Fletcher

  “I’m not a light eater,” said Maureen, scooping the last bit of sauce from the lobster pie onto her fork, “but I think I’ve reached my limit. Everything was just yummy.”

  “Didn’t you save any room for my wedding cake?” asked Martha.

  “Oh, honey, I’ll try, but please don’t be angry if I can’t fit another bite.”

  “I won’t be angry. I’ll just wrap up two pieces and you and Mort can have a midnight snack.”

  “I like that idea,” Mort called from his end of the table.

  “Then it’s done,” Victor said. “Why don’t we do that for everyone, and we can all adjourn to the craps table.”

  “I prefer to have my coffee first,” said Martha. “But anyone who wants to leave, go ahead, and the rest of us will join you later. Is that all right?”

  “Can’t have dinner without coffee,” Betsy agreed.

  “I’d rather have a cognac,” said Henry, “but I can have it in the casino.”

  In the end, all the ladies, except Jane, stayed for coffee, and all the gentlemen, except Seth, went to shoot craps.

  With half the dinner guests gone, those of us on Victor’s end of the table moved our seats closer to Martha.

  “Ooh, I feel like I’m back in my dining room in Cabot Cove with my good friends,” said Martha. “Thank you so much for coming. And thanks, Betsy and Pearl, for joining us. New friends as well as old. Have you met everybody?” She went around the table introducing each of us. “Pearl is from back east,” she said. “She and Henry work in the New York office. Betsy’s the first friend I made when I moved to Las Vegas—after Victor, of course. We met in the casino.”

  “I’m the one taught her the slots,” Betsy put in.

  “Yes,” Martha said, “and I think you’ve unleashed a monster.” She dangled the silver gloves in front of her face and laughed. “I’m going to try these out real soon.”

  “Where have you been staying since you moved to Las Vegas?” Pearl asked.

  “I rented a little place for a while, but Victor wasn’t happy with it.”

  “Not fancy enough for his bride-to-be, I bet,” said Betsy.

  “Well, I won’t comment on that,” Martha said, smiling at her new friend. “Anyway, he convinced me to move here a month before the wedding. The Bellagio is a wonderful place to stay. It’s a full resort. There’s marvelous shopping, lots of elegant restaurants, even an art gallery. I haven’t been bored for a minute.”

  “Why didn’t you just stay with him?” Pearl persisted.

  “Victor and I weren’t engaged when I first arrived, and even if we had been, I wouldn’t have been comfortable staying at his house until we were married. I’m a bit old-fashioned like that.”

  “That’s not old-fashioned,” Seth said, stirring two spoonfuls of sugar into his coffee. “That’s appropriate.”

  “Where are you going to live now?” Tma asked.

  “We’re staying in the hotel tonight. And tomorrow ... um ... Victor has a lovely house in Adobe Springs.”

  “That’s a gated community where the fancy people live,” Betsy added.

  “Well, I’m not a fancy person, even though I’ll be living there now.”

  “Can I come see it?”

  “Betsy! Of course you can,” said Martha. “I’m counting on your advice. Victor has given me a fun project to work on. I’m to inventory the whole house and decide how I’d like to redecorate it to suit me. Except for Jane’s room, of course.”

  “Jane’s going to live with you?” Maureen was not successful in keeping the surprise out of her voice.

  “Well, yes. She’s Victor’s daughter. After all, it’s her home, too. I thought I’d told you.”

  “I don’t remember if you did,” Maureen said. She sat back in her seat and pressed her lips together.

  “She’s an adult, though,” Pearl put in. “Shouldn’t she have a place of her own by now?”

  “Jane’s been going through a tough period. She’s recovering from a difficult divorce,” Martha said. “It’s a very sensitive time for her right now. I’m sure the wedding today was a bit distressing, seeing everyone so happy when she’s so miserable.”

  “She’s miserable, all right,” Seth muttered.

  “Not really,” Martha said. “Please don’t judge her harshly. She’s lovely ... just ... unhappy. In fact, I’m actually looking forward to having some private time with her when Victor is traveling. It’ll give us a chance to get to know each other—I’ve never had a daughter before—and perhaps I can help her over this hump.”

  “Speaking of traveling, Martha, I don’t think you said where you and Victor are going on your honeymoon,” said Tina. “Is it someplace romantic?”

  Martha pouted. “Afraid not,” she said. “Victor has an important meeting in London the day after tomorrow.”

  “Ooh, London,” Pearl said. “Victor sent Henry to London once. I’ve always wanted to go there.”

  “Me, too,” said Martha, “but it’s not going to happen this time. We’ve had to put our honeymoon plans on hold. Victor said he wants to be the one to show me London, and he’ll be too busy in meetings to escort me around.” She shrugged. “So I’m staying home. He and Tony are on an eight-o’clock flight tomorrow morning.”

  “How disappointing,” said Tina. “I’m sorry. Maybe I shouldn’t have said that. It’s just that if I’d just gotten married, I would be ... well, disappointed.”

  “It’s okay, Tina. I am disappointed, but there’ll be another time.”

  Seth and I looked at each other briefly, his eyes sending me a private message. He’d always had his doubts about the wisdom of Martha marrying Victor, and I saw “I told you so” in his glance. Their whirlwind courtship and marriage had been rash, in his view. I tended to agree, but had argued that many times love is able to overcome differences and difficulties. I wondered if that would be true for my friend Martha. I fervently hoped it was.

  Chapter Four

  The members of the wedding party who’d left the restaurant early to take lessons in Henry’s passion, shooting craps, were still gathered around the gaming table when the rest of us found them in the casino. Only Jane had decamped and taken herself up to the room her father had booked at the hotel so she wouldn’t have to return home after the wedding.

  Seth, too, citing jet lag, had retired for the evening. I thought that his mind was more troubled than tired. Martha’s first husband, Walt, had been a medical colleague and good friend, and Seth had considered Martha a good friend, too. He was worried about her, and there was nothing he could do. A cynic might say Martha was naive, that she’d been awed by Victor’s money and attention. But whether or not she’d gone into this marriage with open eyes, she had chosen her destiny and now had to live it.

  “I don’t like this game,” said Pearl, who kept her distance from the action around the craps table. “I wish Henry wasn’t such a fan of it. Want to go play the slots, Betsy?”

  “I’m with you,” said Betsy. The two women left in search of an accommodating slot machine.

  “Are you having a good time?” I asked, slipping into a space at the table between Tony on my left, and Mort and Doug on my right. The latter two were standing together, a short row of chips lay sideways in a gutter on the wide rail in front of them. Across from Mort and Doug, Henry had a much longer row of chips in various colors. At the other end of the table, which was roped off so no one could join him uninvited, Victor stood alone, his black chips lined up in three rows. A Reserved sign on the side of the table bore his initials, VAK, as did a brass garbage can and tissue box designated for his use only.

  Maureen and Tina squeezed between their husbands to peer down at the green felt on which the painted lanes and boxes formed the layout of the craps game. “Are you winning?” Maureen asked.

  “It’s an interesting game,” Mort said, counting his chips. “A bit hard to figure out, but we’re getting there.”

  “How much have you lost?” Maureen whispered
to him.

  “We’ll talk about it later,” he said under his breath.

  Tony had no chips in front of him. “Aren’t you playing?” I asked.

  “Saving my coppers for twenty-one,” he said. “That’s my game.”

  “Who’s the shooter?” shouted Henry.

  “Doug. It’s Doug’s turn,” Victor replied, putting a stack of chips on the table.

  Martha ducked under the velvet rope and stepped next to him.

  “C’mere, sweetheart, and give me a kiss for luck,” he said, pulling her under his arm.

  Martha leaned up and kissed his cheek. “For luck.”

  “You can do better than that,” he said. He whirled her around, dipping her back as if they were dancing, and gave her a long kiss. Martha’s face was blazing when Victor turned back to the table. He held her hand and brought it to his lips.

  “I’m ready now,” he said, his eyes scanning the bets on the table. “You ready, Doug?”

  “Why are Henry’s chips a different color than yours?” I asked Mort.

  “Henry’s betting hundreds,” he replied. “We’re betting fives.”

  “Five dollars a bet?” Maureen said, eyes wide. She clapped both hands over her mouth and moved away from the table. “I can’t look,” she mumbled.

  “Me either,” said Tina, leaving her husband’s side.

  Ten minutes later, the railing in front of Doug and Mort held only a few chips.

  “Can we leave yet?” Tina whispered to her husband.

  “Don’t take it hard, Doug,” Victor called to him. “You’ll do better next time.”

  I estimated Victor and Henry had lost several thousand dollars on Doug’s last roll.

  “What are you so happy about?” Henry asked Victor. “You lost, too.”

  “I’m doing great,” Victor said, pulling Martha into his arms and kissing her loudly. He turned back to the table, pulled off his bow tie, and stuffed it in his pocket. “What time’s our flight, Tony? I’ll bet I can stay at the table till then.”

  “Don’t you think your bride might have something to say about that?” Tony said. “After all, this is her wedding night.”

  “She’s going to have me for the rest of her life,” Victor said. “She can spare me for a few hours tonight.” He beckoned to Oliver, who hovered nearby. “Here, cash these in and give the money to my wife,” he said, handing him a stack of chips. “Spend some time with your Maine friends, honey,” he told Martha, smoothing his hand over her cheek “You probably won’t see them again, at least not for a long time. Take advantage of the fact that they’re here. Buy them some drinks.”

  “Of course, Victor,” Martha said. “Good luck, or break a leg, or whatever it is you say. I’ll see you later.”

  “Don’t wait up, sweetheart,” he called to her departing back.

  I saw Tina raise her eyebrows and glance at Maureen, who quickly looked away.

  “I think I’ll call it a night, if you don’t mind,” Doug said. “Mort, what about you?”

  Feigning a Western accent, Mort said, “Ah’m gonna git while I still have some money left.” He gathered his remaining chips. “It’s a fascinating game, guys. Thanks for teaching it to us.”

  “You’re both leaving?” Victor said. “It’s the shank of the evening.”

  “It’s getting late,” Doug said. “We’re still on East Coast time.”

  Victor shrugged. “Suit yourselves, but you’re gonna miss a great demonstration. We were just getting warmed up.”

  “Let ’em go,” Henry yelled. “They were cooling the table down. I feel a lucky streak coming on. Let’s get some hot players in here and really shoot craps.”

  As our small group moved away from the table, Tony said, “How about a celebratory cocktail?” He smiled at Martha. “We have the bride and enough people here to start another party. And I have Jessica’s jackpot to finance it.”

  “You’re very sweet, Tony,” Martha said, “but it’s been a long day. All the excitement’s starting to catch up with me. But you don’t need the bride to keep partying. Go ahead, all of you, and have a wonderful time.”

  “That’s real generous of you, Tony,” Mort said, “but I have to cash in my chips, and I get the feeling my wife is ready to go back to our room. Right, Maureen?”

  Maureen nodded.

  “Us, too,” Tina said. “We’re bushed.”

  “In case I don’t see you in the morning, let me say good-bye now,” Martha said.

  “You were just the most gorgeous bride,” Maureen said, smoothing Martha’s veil, which she’d kept on all evening.

  “Don’t forget to send me your new address, and call me,” Tina said, grabbing Martha’s hands and squeezing them. “You know my phone number.”

  “I will. And I’d better see lots of pictures of those kids,” Martha said.

  “I’ll keep you up to date on the gossip,” Maureen promised.

  “You’d better.”

  The two couples hugged and kissed Martha and walked away, quickly disappearing down the aisle that led to the elevators. Martha gazed after them, oblivious to the crowds of merrymakers in the casino who flowed past her.

  “Looks like it’s just you and me,” Tony said, “unless we can pry Betsy and Pearl from the slot machines.”

  “Would you mind terribly if I took a rain check?” I asked. “I think Martha could use some company right now.”

  “A rain check? That’s a Yank expression,” Tony said. “While I’ll miss the opportunity for your company, I understand. You realize, of course, that I may have to spend your entire swag on myself.”

  “I hope you enjoy spending it as much as I enjoyed winning it.”

  I caught up with Martha as Oliver counted out a sheaf of bills into her palm. “Thank you, Oliver,” she said, closing her fist over the money. “Please keep an eye on Mr. Kildare. He’s not as young as he thinks he is. When he starts to flag, bring him upstairs. He’ll listen to you.”

  Oliver nodded and walked away.

  “On your way to the elevators?” I asked, linking my arm through hers. “I’ll walk with you.”

  “Are you going up to bed, too, Jessica?” she asked.

  “I’m not sleepy yet,” I said. “What about you?”

  “I’m all keyed up. It’s been quite a day.”

  “Would you prefer to stay down here? There’s plenty of entertainment even if you don’t want to gamble,” I said. “I heard a jazz band over on that side. And a rock group over there.” I gestured toward a nightclub. “You can also browse those fancy shops you were telling me about. They stay open late, I’m sure.”

  “There’s loads to do here, I know,” she said, “but I guess I’m not in the mood for any of them. I’d rather go back to the room—or suite, I should say. Would you like to come up and see it, Jessica?”

  “Are you sure you’re up for the company?” I asked as we reached the short hall leading to the penthouse elevators.

  “Absolutely,” she said. “I’ve been dying to show off the suite. It’s really something. I’ve never stayed in a place like this before.”

  “I’d love to see it.”

  “Wait till you see the picture windows. We overlook the Bellagio fountains and have a fabulous view of the city. I’ll make some tea, if you like. There’s a kitchen.”

  “Sounds perfect.”

  In the elevator, Martha inserted her room key into a lock on the lighted panel and pressed the button for the twenty-first floor. “It’s a security feature, so they say,” she said, waving the key. “Frankly, I think they do it to make the people on these floors feel special. Can’t get up there without a key—and a lot of money. Of course, the penthouse suites aren’t even the best rooms. See this button here, for the villas ? They’re for the really high rollers. Whole houses, I guess. I haven’t seen them. Victor says he’s stayed there before but he prefers to be up high. Our suite is so beautiful. I can’t imagine what the villas must look like.”

  The elevator
doors opened and we walked down the carpeted hall to Martha and Victor’s room. “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to being this rich,” Martha said. She unlocked the door and held it open for me.

  The suite was spacious and elegant, the size of a very large one-bedroom apartment. The chapel staff had delivered some of the flower arrangements from the wedding, and the delicate scent of roses perfumed the air.

  Martha gleefully showed me the three bathrooms—his, hers, and the guests’. “I think our bedroom in Cabot Cove was almost this size,” she said. There were marble floors and counters throughout, along with gold fixtures for each sink, including one in a small kitchen and bar just off the vestibule. A silver tray holding wedding cake, covered by a glass dome, had been left in the kitchen. Plates, forks, and napkins were arranged next to it.

  Taking me on what she called the “ten-cent tour,” Martha pointed out the custom-designed gold carpeting in the bedroom that was echoed in an area rug in the living room. “See how the colors are picked up in the cornices and the wall panels? Don’t you love it?” she asked, not expecting a reply. “Everything is luxurious without being fussy. I could live here forever. There’s even a dining room, sort of.” She indicated a round marble table and four chairs under a crystal chandelier. “And look at this,” she said, opening the doors to an armoire that held an array of entertainment and technological equipment, VCR, tape, and CD deck, fax machine, and large-screen television. “There’s another one just like it in the bedroom.”

  Everything to satisfy the needs of vacationer and business traveler, I thought, but perhaps not a temporarily abandoned bride.

  Martha had been winding down as she walked around the suite, pointing out its amenities. She was less ebullient now, more wistful. She pushed a button on the wall, and the drapes parted, revealing floor-to-ceiling picture windows with a panoramic view of the city and the mountains beyond it. Martha walked to a window and pressed her palm to the glass.

  “Walt and I always dreamed of staying in a place like this, but we never found the time. He was too busy to travel, he said. First it was because he was building his practice, and we had no money anyway. Later it was because he was a popular surgeon, his time booked weeks in advance. Then he became sick, and our days were filled with running from one specialist to another, hoping for a miracle. Always too busy to take a trip. And now too late. All those dreams never came true.”