Numbered Account

But she hadn't called. Now he saw that he'd been foolish even to ask her to come. Had he actually expected her to quit Harvard in the middle of her senior year? Had he really thought she'd give up the job she'd lined up on Wall Street just to be with him?

"Your father's been dead for seventeen years, Nick," Anna had said the last time he saw her. "What can you expect to find except more disappointment? Leave him in peace."

"If you cared about me, you'd make the sacrifice," he'd fired back.

"And you-" she cried, "why won't you make the sacrifice for me?" But before he could respond, she answered for him. "Because you're obsessed. You don't know how to love anymore."

Seated in the busy restaurant, Nick wondered if he still loved Anna. Of course he did. Or maybe he should say a part of him did. But time and distance had weakened his love. And every minute he spent in the presence of Sylvia Schon weakened it further.

***

Over coffee, Sylvia inquired, "Do you happen to know Roger Sutter? He's the manager of our representative office in Los Angeles. Been there forever."

"Vaguely," said Nick, wondering if forever was longer than seventeen years. "He called our home a few times after my father died. I haven't been back to L.A. for a while. My mother moved away about six years ago. She passed away last year, so I don't have much occasion to visit."

Sylvia met his eyes. "I'm sorry. I lost my mother when I was little, just nine. Cancer. After she was gone it was just my father and my little brothers, Rolf and Erich. Twins. That's probably why I feel so comfortable working in a bank full of men. Some may think I'm a little bossy, but when you have two brothers and a rigid father to contend with, you quickly learn how to fend for yourself."

"I can imagine."

"Brothers? Sisters?"

"Nope. Just me. 'Independent' is how I look at it."

"Best to rely on yourself," said Sylvia, without a trace of sympathy. She sipped her coffee before resuming her personnel director's interrogation. "Tell me what really brought you to Switzerland. No one just ups and leaves a post at one of the top firms on Wall Street."

"When my mother died, it hit me hard that I didn't have any real roots in the world. All of a sudden I felt alienated from the States, especially from New York."

"So you quit and came to Switzerland?" Her voice said she wasn't buying his spiel.

"My father grew up in Zurich. When I was younger we came over all the time. After he passed away, we lost contact with our relatives. I didn't like the idea of letting it all fade away."

Sylvia stared at him a moment, and he could see she was evaluating his answer. "Were you close to him?"

Nick breathed easier, happy to be over that bridge. "My father? Tough question to answer after so many years. He was from the old school. You know, kids should be seen and not heard. No television. In bed at eight o'clock sharp. I don't know if I was ever really close to him. That part was supposed to come later, when I had grown up."

Sylvia raised the cup to her lips and asked, "How exactly did he die?"

"Kaiser never told you?"

"No."

Now it was Nick's turn to size her up. "So, we're supposed to be honest with each other, right?"

Sylvia half-smiled and nodded.

"He was murdered. I don't know by whom. The police never arrested anyone."

Sylvia's hand registered a minor tremor, and a few drops of coffee tumbled from her cup. "I am sorry for prying," she said crisply. "Please excuse my being so rude. It was none of my business."

Nick saw that she believed she'd gone too far, and that she was ashamed. He appreciated her respect for his privacy. "It's all right. I don't mind you asking. It's been a long time."

Both took a sip of coffee, then Sylvia said she had something to tell him, too. She moved closer to him, and for a moment it seemed that the din and roar surrounding them faded. He hoped she didn't have some catastrophic family secret of her own to share. She gave him a puckish smile and he knew his fears were for naught.

"Since the beginning of the evening I've been dying to take these horrid little pieces of paper out of your hair. I was afraid to ask how they got there, then I realized that you must have had to dry your hair- because of the snow. Come on, lean a little closer."

Nick hesitated for a moment, studying Sylvia as she shifted her body on the banquette to face him more directly. She looked at him and a puzzled expression wrinkled her brow. Her eyes were a soft brown, no longer so challenging, and for a moment they held his in their embrace. Her nose crinkled slightly, as if he had asked her a vexing question, and then she smiled and he saw that a small gap separated her front teeth. And in that smile, he spotted- if only for a moment- the girl who had grown into this, perhaps, too responsible executive.

"Don't be afraid. I told you that my bark is worse than my bite. You must believe me."