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For All The Money In The World MAG
He parted the silk curtains of the boudoir, re-vealing a view of Fifth Avenuebelow. Underneath him swam taxis, limousines, and pedestrians. His private carwas waiting outside the main entrance to the townhouse. A glance at his watchrevealed that the opera had started fifteen minutesbefore.
"Darling," he called towards the bathroom, "theopera has already begun. Let us not delay any longer." He turned to themirror and began to re-tie his black bow tie for the twenty-eighth time."With a quarter of an hour's travel time, plus walking across LincolnCenter, dropping off our coats and being seated, it will be another forty-fiveminutes until we even see the bloody opera."
"Just a minute,babe!" a cheerfully high voice echoed back into the room. "I can't ...zip up ... this ... skirt ... There!"
Charles turned from the mirrorto behold his wife as she strode into the boudoir, and the dazzling sight of hertook his breath away. She had elegantly decked her slim, shapely figure in ablack miniskirt and silk blouse, with a waist-length dinner jacket, a brilliantroyal blue to match her heels. She had swept up her shining gold locks into abun, leaving loose a few ringlets around her face, with dainty bits of gold anddiamonds dangling from her ears.
"I must say, dear, you lookravishing! Absolutely stunning!" She laughed and flew to his arms, offeringa playful smooch which he gladly returned. They turned to the mirror and smiledat the odd but pleasing image: Vicky, a blond bombshell, and Charles, herunbelievably wealthy husband, thirty years her senior.
"We lookstunning!" declared Vicky, turning to straighten her husband's bowtie.
"Shall we go?" said Charles, offering her his arm.Graciously she accepted and they strode off in step.
"On the waythere," she asked, "could you possibly clue me in on what this opera isabout?"
"Great! So who is this Carmenchick anyway?"
She listened, attentively at first, to his long anddrawn out explanation. But gradually her mind began to wander. She reflected onhow she'd met Charles ("Chucky" to her). She'd been dating a lawyer whohad quite flagrantly breached his vow of client-attorney confidentiality bytelling her about "his latest will." It was for a fifty-eight-year-oldmillionaire, a widower with no children, who was planning to leave his fortune tocharity if he didn't find himself a wife. He had, of course, told her this storyin order to impress her, and impress her it did! So much so that she'd pleadedand plotted and squeezed her way into this millionaire's gala celebrations, hischarity functions, his four-story townhouse, and eventually his will, which was aradical step to take, but she'd figured, How long could he last, really? And oncehe's gone, all this will be mine!
But she had to admit she'd grown to lovethe man. There was a glow of wit under that stodginess that made even him socute! And the love she saw in his eyes whenever he gazed at her, so true, soreal, no amount of money could be worth more than that ... Well,maybe...
As they walked through the hallway, she couldn't help but marvelat the beauty of their house, all decked out in original Renoirs and Monets andwhatever they were. Wow! she thought. All this is going to be mine, just as soonas he ....
The sound of the maid's vacuum cleaner grew louder, and sheglanceed down at the plush carpet, spying the electric cord stretched out beforethe steep descending staircase, and the shiny black leather shoe about to catchunder it..
She lunged for him, pushinghim sideways, away from the staircase. The roar of the vacuum cleaner ceased inthe background. The toppled couple rose from the floor and proceeded down thelong staircase, arm in arm, gazing into each other's eyes.