Never Too Rich by Judith Gould Read Free Book Online

excess skin was removed
from around her eyes.
    The coronal lift, for those horizontal worry
lines.
    Dermabrasion, which removed superficially wrinkled
skin.
    And last, but certainly not least, blemish
correction, through which spider veins and those telling age spots
were destroyed by argon laser.
    Willie was right, of course. She hadn’t been only to
Las Hadas, which was in Manzanillo, and Careyes, which was tucked
between it and Puerto Vallarta. She’d recuperated in Manzanillo and
Careyes, but first she’d spent a week in Rio at Dr. Pitanguy’s
clinic, where the world-renowned surgeon had performed not only his
usual facelift magic, but also his specialty—a forehead lift.
    She smiled coolly into the mirror. But you don’t
know that, do you, Willie?
    So now her facial skin was taut and smooth again.
The signs of age had been kept at bay for a little bit longer,
though no matter how hard she tried, it was a losing,
downhill battle. Lifts, contours, tightening, the clever use of
cosmetics—there was only so much that could be done. Still, she
wouldn’t have it any other way. She would never, ever let
aging get the better of her. Not if she could help it.
    And she could.
    The telephone gurgled softly, interrupting her
reverie. Two rings. Three. Four.
    She felt the rise of irritation. Why didn’t someone
answer it?
    The telephone quieted. Wilhelm, still chastised,
continued to snip in silence. A moment later, the butler knocked
discreetly and cleared his throat. “Madam,” he intoned in
sepulchral tones, “it’s Monsieur.”
    Anouk looked at him and sighed. “See if I can call
him back, Banstead, would you?”
    “ Very well, madam.” The redoubtable
Banstead disappeared soundlessly, and then returned again. “I’m
sorry, madam. Monsieur says it is extremely urgent.”
    “ Oh, all right.” Imperiously Anouk
extended her hand, and before the butler could reach for the
extension, Wilhelm, trying to ingratiate himself, snatched it up
with the eagerness of a puppy and handed it to her. She gave him
one of her “looks” and gestured him away. Then, flicking a length
of hair behind her right ear, she held the receiver close.
“Darling, Banstead tells me it’s important?” She used her
brightest, cheeriest manner, which immediately told Antonio that
she was not alone.
    Antonio’s voice, despite traveling for a mere
thirty-some blocks, sounded like a distorted squawk. “Anouk, thank
God you’re in!” He breathed shakily. “You’ve got to help me!”
    She was fully alert now, her brows knit together, a
headache tightening in her temples. She placed a hand over the
receiver, eyed Wilhelm sternly, and said, “Abracadabra for five.”
Then, when the door shut behind him, she removed her hand from the
mouthpiece. “Antonio! Darling, what is it?”
    “ I need your help,” her husband
said miserably.
    “ Well?”
    “ I . . . I can’t talk about it! I’m
so ashamed!”
    “ Darling, I can’t help you if you
don’t pull yourself together and tell me exactly what
happened.”
    “ I know. I know.”
    “ Well, out with it, then,” Anouk
ordered. “And you needn’t sound that dejected. It can’t be that
bad. . . . Antonio? Can it?”
    “ It is.”
    She sighed. “I’m listening.”
    “ It’s Doris Bucklin. She had a
fitting this morning ...”
    “ And?”
    “ Well . . . we didn’t have
it.”
    “ Oh-oh. There was trouble? . . .
Antonio! Will you speak up!”
    “ She . . . she walked right past
Liz and barged in when she was supposed to wait.”
    “ So? Oh, I see. Don’t tell me,
darling. You were doing something naughty. Is that it?”
    “ Yes.” His voice was a bare
whisper.
    “ Well, what were you
doing?”
    “ I got . . . horny this
morning.”
    “ And you picked someone up. Merde! Will you never learn?”
    “ How was I supposed to know she’d
barge in like that?”
    “ And you, I suppose, were bent over
the desk?” Anouk could be uncannily psychic.
    “ S-something like that,”