“Don’t you like it?”
“Of course I do. It’s beautiful, but…”
“Ssh! Wear it and think of me.”
“I don’t need this to think of you, but thank you.”
“What time do we have to leave for the theater?” Lara asked.
“Seven o’clock.”
Lara glanced at Philip’s new watch and said innocently, “That gives us two hours.”
The theater was packed. The audience was volatile, applauding and cheering each number.
When the concert was over, Lara went back to the greenroom to join Philip. It was London and Amsterdam and Milan all over again, and the women seemed even more nubile and eager. There were at least half a dozen beautiful women in the room, and Lara wondered which one Philip would have spent the night with if she were not there.
They had supper at the storied Harry’s Bar and were warmly greeted by the affable owner, Arrigo Cipriani.
“What a pleasure to see you, signore. And signorina. Please!”
He led them to a corner table. They ordered Bellinis, the specialty of the house. Philip said to Lara, “I recommend starting with the pasta e fagioli. It’s the best in the world.”
Later Philip had no memory of what he had eaten for dinner. He was mesmerized by Lara. He knew he was falling in love with her, and it terrified him. I can’t make a commitment, he thought. It’s impossible. I’m a nomad. He hated to think about the moment when she would leave him to go back to New York. He wanted to prolong their evening as long as possible.
When they had finished supper, Philip said, “There’s a casino out on the Lido. Do you gamble?”
Lara laughed aloud.
“What’s so funny?”
Lara thought about the hundreds of millions of dollars she gambled on her buildings. “Nothing,” she said. “I’d love to go.”
They took a motorboat to Lido Island. They walked past the Excelsior Hotel and went to the huge white building that housed the casino. It was filled with eager gamblers.
“Dreamers,” Philip said.
Philip played roulette and within half an hour had won two thousand dollars. He turned to Lara. “I’ve never won before. You’re my good-luck charm.”
They played until 3:00 A.M., and by that time they were hungry again.
A motorboat took them back to St. Mark’s Square, and they wandered through the side streets until they came to the Cantina do Mori.
“This is one of the best bacaros in Venice,” Philip said.
Lara said, “I believe you. What’s a bacaro?”
“It’s a wine bar where they serve cicchetti—little nibbles of local delicacies.”
Bottle-glass doors led to a dark, narrow space where copper pots hung from the ceiling and dishes gleamed on a long banquette.
It was dawn before they got back to their hotel. They got undressed, and Lara said, “Speaking of nibbles ”
Early the following morning Lara and Philip flew to Vienna.
“Going to Vienna is like going into another century,” Philip explained. “There’s a legend that airline pilots say, ‘Ladies and gentlemen, we’re on our final approach to Vienna Airport. Please make sure your seat backs and table trays are in the upright position, refrain from smoking until inside the terminal, and set your watches back one hundred years.’”
Lara laughed.
“My parents were born here. They used to talk about the old days, and it made me envious.”
They were driving along the Ringstrasse, and Philip was filled with excitement, like a small boy eager to share his treasures with her.
“Vienna is the city of Mozart, Haydn, Beethoven, Brahms.” He looked at Lara and grinned. “Oh, I forgot—you’re an expert on classical music.”
They checked into the Imperial Hotel.
“I have to go to the concert hall,” Philip told Lara, “but I’ve decided that tomorrow we’re going to take the whole day off. I’m going to show you Vienna.”
“I’d like that, Philip.”
He held Lara in his arms. “I wish we had more time now,” he said ruefully.
“So do I.”
He kissed her lightly on the forehead. “We’ll make up for it tonight.”
She held him close. “Promises, promises.”
The concert that evening took place at the Musikverein. The recital consisted of compositions by Chopin, Schumann, and Prokofiev, and it was another triumph for Philip.