Tycoon by Harold Robbins Read Free Book Online Page A

living and dining rooms, Kimberly needed a few extra pieces. She selected Queen Anne chairs and a William and Mary highboy, none of which actually dated from those reigns but were fine antiques made during the long period when those styles were popular.
    Kimberly was particularly pleased with a japanned highboy whose drawer fronts were adorned with chinoiserie depicting men and women, camels and birds.
    She took down the chandelier and had the entry hall lit with torchères.
    On an evening early in April the house was open and lighted for the arrival of fifty guests. Since the dining room could not seat that many, the party was a housewarming, with drinks and hors d’oeuvres.
    As before, in the early months of her second pregnancy Kimberly showed no sign of her condition. She was as lithe and slender as she had been as a girl of twenty. For her party she wore her hair behind her ears, showing off her diamond earrings. She had applied all her makeup with care and precision, and she wore a pearl choker and a bracelet of three strands of pearls.
    As yet she had not put on her dress. She wanted Jack’s help with it. The pink silk brocade dress was tight-fitting andshowed cleavage. Because she did not want to risk a strap straying and showing, she was not going to wear a brassiere. She didn’t need one. Similarly, because she did not want the outline of a garter belt and its clasps making lines and lumps on her skirt, she was using garters of black silk ribbon to hold up her sleek dark stockings. As she waited for Jack to come out of the bathroom she sat at her dressing table checking her hair and makeup, wearing only silk panties and the stockings.
    â€œYou look like a queen tonight,” Jack said when he came out of the bathroom.
    Kimberly turned and looked at him, then sighed. “Let me fix your necktie. You never will get them straight, will you?”
    The party was black tie. He wore a double-breasted tuxedo.
    â€œRemember,” she said, “do not pluck hors d’oeuvres off the tables or trays. They must be served to you on a plate. You must have a plate.”
    â€œYes, ma’am,” he said jovially.
    â€œI mean it, Jack. This is not California.”
    â€œIn other words, don’t act like a California Jew.”
    â€œAll I ask is that you don’t embarrass us, for God’s sake. Help me with this.” She pulled her dress over her head and writhed as she drew it down over her body. He pulled up the zipper in back and fastened the hooks. “Don’t mention Betsy Emerson’s divorce,” Kimberly continued. “If someone mentions it to you, say you hadn’t heard of it. She’ll be introduced to you as Mrs. Otis Emerson. That’s the correct form. Her maiden name was Otis. Her Christian name is Elizabeth, and the second or third time you talk to her she’ll invite you to call her Betsy.”
    â€œAll right. Shall we go down and check everything?”
    â€œYes. And don’t forget that the Horans are Catholics. They’ll be the only people here tonight who are. Connie is one of my best friends.”
    â€œI never make anti-Catholic jokes,” Jack reassured her.
    â€œI know you don’t. But there are little ways of saying things. I mean, some things are better said in other ways.”
    â€œJesus Christ, Kimberly! Don’t you think I know anything?”
Five
    W HEN THE HOUSE WAS FULL OF PEOPLE AND NOBODY WAS particularly noticing who was talking to whom, Jack slipped up beside Mrs. Otis Emerson, who was gathering some crackers smeared with caviar onto her plate, and murmured, “H’lo, Betsy.”
    Her eyes flashed. “You bastard!” she whispered. “Where have you been?”
    â€œI’ve been busy as hell.”
    â€œBull. I’m a fallen woman, Jack, and need someone to comfort me. Did you arrange to have me invited tonight?”
    He shook his head. “Kimberly invited