Chocolate and Gold

My plan worked perfectly. We left Monaco just before eleven the next morning with Vannie almost fifty thousand dollars richer, thanks to a generous casino roulette wheel. Naturally, she repaid my investment in her good fortune. I had made a few side bets, but nothing had come up the way Vannie's good fortune did. I was probably down a couple of hundred.

We stayed at the very nice Principe De Savoia in Milan. In fact, all the hotels her company's travel agent had booked for her were excellent. We talked a lot along the drive. I wanted to know as much as I could about her and her background. I also wanted her to know more about me. If we were going to be a couple, I didn't want too many surprises for either of us.

I learned she was working on straight salary with a modest bonus system in place. She wasn't paid that much, barely fifty thousand a year. However, she had a generous expense and clothing allowance, as well as a job that didn't demand long hours. Her roulette winnings were destined to help her mother pay off their mortgage. They were living together in a townhouse after her father's death, and Vannie was the only breadwinner.

At first, she was insistent that we split the winnings, but I finally wore her down and convinced her that she was the winner and I was happy to break even. I think secretly, she was delighted that she could surprise her mother with her windfall and make a significant contribution to the household.

I also counseled her to declare her winnings when she re-entered the U.S. I wasn't sure what the tax-man would want, but I was sure he would want something. She looked depressed momentarily when I mention that, but she recovered soon enough. Even half the amount would help them a great deal. I suspected she would get to keep close to three-quarters.

Our longest drive was Sunday, from Milan to Rome. We had decided to leave a day early to give ourselves some extra time in Rome. Neither of us had ever been there before and we wanted to discover it together.

It was an almost 600 kilometer drive. Six hours, all of it motorway and most of it tolled. Driving in Italy wasn't cheap. My Laguna kept pace with the 120 km speed limit without effort, but I was constantly being passed by cars running 30 or 40 kph faster. I had set the cruise on 130 kph, but there were times when I thought I was dawdling by the way I was being passed. Italians like to drive fast.

We stayed at the Residenza Cellini, and again the travel agent's choice was excellent. Not a large hotel, but very nice with an outstanding staff and wonderful antique furnishings. The concierge helped us book a guided tour for Monday morning and recommended a restaurant three blocks from the hotel.

We were situated right in the middle of the city, and after checking with the concierge once more we found Vannie's meeting on Tuesday was located within walking distance.

We were tired from the long drive, and after a very fine meal at the recommended restaurant, we decided to call it a night and head back to the hotel. Our lovemaking was short but sweet, and both of us slept well that night.

We had a day and a half to explore Rome and we made full use of it. Our guided tour took us to all the well known spots. The hotel had arranged a walking guide, and we found a number of museums and famous locations within a short distance of our home base. On Tuesday Vannie's meeting was in the late morning, and she continued her successful streak at making important sales. We spent the afternoon and early evening wandering the streets, eating when we were hungry and generally enjoying each other's company.

The short drive to Naples was accomplished before noon on Wednesday and again, we had almost a full day to be tourists. On a whim, we took a speedboat to the Isle of Capri to visit the Blue Grotto. We had become bona fide tourists. Vannie's final meeting was at ten on Thursday and the rest of the day, and the trip for that matter, was ours.

We were becoming very comfortable with each other. The excitement of the first two days had become the caring and sharing of the next week. The more we were together, the more I thought we might have a future. Perhaps the gloss of the adventure might dull at some point, but I felt we had much more in common than I would have guessed. I was beginning to think that the only probable obstacles might be our families' attitudes, and our life goals.

The drive back to Rome from Naples was quiet. Both of us knew this would be our last night together for a week and it felt like a year's separation. We were booked in a hotel nearer the airport this time. Vannie's flight was early Friday morning, and after a light meal in the dining room we retired to the room.

We were both pretty quiet that evening. We made wonderful love, as it always was with Vannie. There was something on her mind and I wanted to get it out of her.

"What are you thinking, Vannie. You're awfully quiet tonight," I asked softly.

She rolled towards me. At first she just stared at me with a somewhat worried look.

"Are you really going to come to Naples, Harry?"

"Yes. Of course. Why would you think otherwise?"

"I don't know. This past week has been ... out of this world. None of it seems possible or ... real. It's like some fairy tale. It just doesn't happen in real life. I guess I'm worried that it's all a dream and soon I'm going to wake up and there won't be a Harry Zheng."

"Wow. I don't know what to tell you. I'm real, Vannie. What happened this past ten days was very, very real. There are some strange things happening, I admit, but what we have ... together ... is very real."

She smiled and touched me gently on my cheek. "I'm glad, Harry. I couldn't handle it if it was just a dream. I've fallen for you, Harry. Too late to stop now. I'm yours ... if you want me."

She looked so vulnerable and uncertain. I pulled her to me and held her closely.

"You're going to have to put up with me for a while, lady. First, I have to meet your mother, even if it's to find out what she thinks about my dream. Then, we have to start planning what we are going to do with the rest of our lives. See ... I've fallen for you too. Too late to be cautious. Too late to take it slow."

I could feel the tears and hear the sniffles as she let her feelings loose. We lay like that for a few minutes until she had calmed down and regained her emotional balance.

"Is this what it's like to fall in love, Harry?" she asked quietly.

"I guess so. I'm not sure. I can't think straight," I confessed.

"That's good. Neither can I."

I saw her off early Friday morning in a tearful but hopeful goodbye. I would be in Naples, somehow, someway, no later than a week from today and we could pick up the pieces there. At the airport, I watched her walk into the tunnel before I turned and slowly headed for my car.

I had a long trip ahead of me. I was planning on making it to Florence today. Then Florence to Turin and Turin to Lyon. Five hours today, five hours tomorrow and four or five hours on Sunday. Monday to Paris, and with any luck, back in the U.S.A. on Tuesday, way ahead of schedule.

I would have to take my chances on accommodations along the way until I could get on the internet and make some reservations. Perhaps tonight in Florence, I thought. I arrived in mid-afternoon after pushing hard without any more than a gas, pee, and sandwich break at an Agip rest stop.

A quick look through the city and I found a Westin hotel that I was fairly confident would have what I needed. I was right. There was a travel agent on the premises and I made an appointment with her to discuss my needs. By ten o'clock the next morning, I had hotel reservations in Turin, Lyon, Paris and London. Why London? I couldn't get a decent flight out of Paris to the southern U.S. within three days, so I opted for her suggestion.

I booked space on the TGV fast rail from Lyon to Paris, then the Eurostar to London. From Heathrow, British Airways to Miami. I would be there Thursday, with a day in London to look around. Still one day ahead of schedule, I thanked the agent and started back to my room.

There was an internet station in the lobby, and I decided to see if there was any urgent e-mail for me. Nothing but a few jokes from my older sister, and a couple of links to some politically active group from Charlie. Some things never change. Then, I remembered the slip of paper that Vannie had given me. It had her address and phone number, but it also had an e-mail address.

I logged on, paid the exorbitant charge for a few minutes, and sent Vannie an e-mail.

Hi Babe! I'm in Florence and about to leave for Turin. I've made all my reservations to get back to the good old U.S.A. and I'm going to see you Friday. I can't wait. Hope your flight home was smooth and that you are catching up on your sleep. You're going to need it! Ha! Ha! See you soon, Love, Harry

I had a smile on my face as I loaded my bag into the car and began the next leg to Turin.

I was able to keep pretty much to the schedule until I got to London. Somehow, my plane reservation got screwed up and I was scheduled out of Heathrow Friday morning to arrive in Miami Friday afternoon. That was cutting it close, but still, it could be done. It was two hours from Miami to Naples if I hustled along Alligator Alley. I was scheduled to land at two-twenty. Then customs. Then the rental car. I should be OK. I hoped so.

As I relaxed and thought about it, I wondered why it was so important that I didn't disappoint Vannie. I was treating this return like a life-or-death situation. How hard would it be to explain that the plane was delayed or some other perfectly reasonable excuse for being late? The truth was a bit frightening. It was life or death to me. Not in the literal sense. Just that I didn't want Vannie thinking that I couldn't live up to my promises, no matter what!

I found an internet café not far from my hotel in London and logged on to see if Vannie had returned my e-mail. She had.

Hi Harry: I miss you so much. I can't wait until Friday. I'm going to love you to death. Momma wants to meet you too. I've told her everything about you. Well, maybe not everything (Ha Ha). When do you think you will be here? Momma wants to make supper for you. Something special she said. I hope you get this in time. I'm wet just thinking about you. Hurry home, but be safe. Love, Vannie

I couldn't believe how excited I was to get her message. I was almost hyperventilating. I hit the reply button.

Hi Vannie: My plane lands between 2 and 3 Friday afternoon. I should be at your place before 6. Don't worry, I will hurry. You can count on it. Love you too, Harry

I was only hours away from my flight to Miami. I had my rental car reserved with GPS to navigate right to Vannie's doorstep. Everything was ready. All I had to do was calm down. I wandered around the lobby for a while, looking for something to do. Finally, I realized I needed to get to Heathrow tomorrow morning. Once again, the concierge was my friend.

I explained when my flight was scheduled and he recommended a cab service and offered to make the booking. I tipped him five pounds for the service and noted the time he would be here. Happily, it wasn't some outrageous hour of the morning. Seven-thirty was at least reasonable.

I had a fitful night, falling in and out of sleep, anticipating all the problems that might arise between now and my flight arriving in Miami. Even then, would they be out of rental cars? Would the road be closed for an accident? It was all juvenile imagination, of course, but I had elevated my arrival on Vannie's doorstep to nothing short of an order from the president.

When my alarm when off at six, I was already up, had shaved, showered and packed my bag. I went down to the lobby and decided to have a proper breakfast for a change. I picked up a copy of the London Telegraph and wondered how I would kill an hour and a half between now and when my cab arrived.

The concierge assured me that the cab driver would come looking for me in the lobby and I need not stand on the sidewalk waiting for him. I sincerely hoped he was right. I shouldn't have worried. The concierge is always right! Promptly at seven twenty-five, a casually dressed man walked into the lobby bearing a hand-written card marked "Zeng." Close enough. I was on my way.

I don't think I drew a normal breath until I felt the clunk of the landing gear doors closing as we climbed west out of Heathrow, bound non-stop for Miami. I loved my stay in France and Italy, but it was mostly because I spent almost all of my two weeks with Savannah Wilson, the woman I intended to spend the rest of my life with. I hoped.

I had booked business class to give my big body a bit more room. It was extravagant, but then, it wasn't something I had to worry about any more. I was wealthy now, and I could afford the best. That was going to take some getting used to.

My parents never flaunted their wealth, even though they were very well off. Our home was a little better than average, but nothing special. My sisters and I went to high school and we were just kids that hung out with other kids. Again, nothing special. We were taught to respect our elders, and that work was something that we should get used to. There would be no free ride.

I was pretty sure my sisters and I never really knew my parents were rich until we were out of school and a little more savvy about the ways of business. When I think about it now, I'm glad. I knew enough rich kids in college that I recognized the kind of attitudes they could hold. Not all of them were very generous or politically correct. Perhaps being a minority, I was more attuned to the subtleties of racism. For the most part, I tried to ignore them.

As I thought about Vannie, I wondered what kind of children we would produce. Hell ... come to think of it ... did Vannie even want children? Did she even want to get married? I was really getting away ahead of myself with this relationship. It wasn't two weeks old and I was already planning our family. Calm down, boy. You have work to do yet.

London to Miami was a nine-and-a-half hour flight, almost identical to the London-Seattle route. I looked up the movies and immediately knew I wasn't interested. I hadn't brought my MP3 player with me, so I couldn't numb myself with music. I was alone in my seat with no passenger beside me. I hadn't given myself enough time to find a book or a magazine, only the London paper, and I already knew there was little of interest in it for me. It was going to be a long day.

For the first time that I can recall, I slept on the plane. Sometime after lunch was served, I dropped off. I'm not sure if it was my sleepless night in London or the glass of wine I had, but nonetheless, I was out. When I awoke, we were somewhere out over the Atlantic in clear, blue skies. My little television monitor said we were at 38,853 feet and traveling at 522 mph.

I looked at my watch, still on London time, and tried to calculate how much longer the flight would be. I needed to make a five hour adjustment, and when I did, I saw that it was almost noon, Miami time. Just a couple more hours and we would be descending into Florida. I could feel the nervousness return. I was uptight. I needed something to calm my nerves. I rang the attendant button.

"Yes sir, may I help you," the young flight attendant asked politely.

"May I have another glass of wine, please?"

"Yes ... of course sir. You missed your meal, but you were sleeping and I didn't want to disturb you," she explained.

"Thank you. I'm glad you didn't. I really need the sleep."

"Would you like a sandwich plate or a cheese plate with your wine?"

"Cheese plate would be great. Thank you."

She was back in a couple of minutes with the cheese plate and shortly after with a glass of California Cabernet. I was hungry. I think the young attendant was keeping an eye on me because before I knew it another cheese plate appeared. I smiled and thanked her. I got a lovely smile in return. My world was coming up aces no matter which way I turned.

I accepted a second glass of wine, mindful that I had a couple of hours driving still ahead of me. However, the sleep had been a great restorative, and I guessed that I had been out for over five hours.

Customs was painless and I was in and out in a matter of a few minutes. The rental agency had the car ready and after I did a walk-around, I was satisfied that it was in good shape and reasonably clean. I programmed the GPS with Vannie's address and let the machine do the talking.

It was just after three when I left the airport rental lot and I had guessed two plus hours to Naples. With any luck, I should be on her doorstep by five-thirty ... six at the latest. I followed the spoken instructions on the GPS and within a few minutes, I was on the road headed for Alligator Alley and Naples.

The amazing little machine led me directly to Vannie's door without a hiccup. I climbed out of the car and stretched. Ten hours on the plane and now almost three in the car and I was stiff. I was about to release the trunk when I heard a loud squeal and I was assaulted by a wild woman running out of the door in front of my car.

"Harry! Harry! You're here!" She was smothering me with kisses as she held me tightly to her luscious body. Vannie was attached to me like a Remora on a shark.

"Why didn't you call?" she asked, not waiting for my answer. "I'm so glad you're here. Come in, get your bag, come in."

I was chuckling at her enthusiasm. I was the laughter of relief. Any idea that she might have changed her mind about us vanished in that tumultuous greeting. As I walked up the pathway with her, a woman appeared in the doorway. I made the assumption that it was Vannie's mother.

"Hello, Mrs. Wilson. I'm Harry Zheng."

"Hello, Harry. You can call me Mariah. I've been looking forward to meeting you," she said with a genuine smile and an extended hand.

She put me at ease immediately. We followed her into the townhouse and she led the way down the hall.

"I'm afraid this is just a two bedroom unit, Harry. So you'll have to either sleep with Vannie ... or ... sleep with me," she said with a sly grin.

I got the immediate impression that Mariah Wilson had the same sense of humor her daughter was blessed with. I thought it only fair to respond.

"Uhhhmmm ... can I let you know later when I decide?" I attempted to deliver this line with a straight face.

Thwack! Vannie had clouted me on the arm. That was a decision maker, I thought.

"I guess I'll stay in Vannie's room ... if that's OK with you," I said tentatively, trying to observe the niceties of politeness.

"I suppose so," she said with a disgusted look. "I was hoping you'd have a sense of adventure, Harry," the woman said without cracking a smile.

"It would certainly be an adventure," I agreed, looking carefully over to a frowning Vannie.

She couldn't hold the pose. She began to laugh. "I think you and Momma are going to get along just fine." I had to agree. Vannie disappeared into the hallway, carrying my small bag.

Mariah Wilson was of undetermined middle age. She was one of those women who didn't reveal her years in any distinct way. She wasn't quite as tall as her daughter, but it was obvious where the origin of Vannie's voluptuous figure was enshrined. Like Vannie, she was a very beautiful woman, regardless of her age.

"I'm forty-three, if that's what you're wondering," she said in a not so subtle way.

I must have gone red-faced. It wasn't often my thoughts were that transparent. Remember, we're supposed to be inscrutable.

"You were very young when you had Savannah," I finally managed, hoping I could save some face.

"Yes ... that was my good luck. I found Davey when I was eighteen and we were married as soon as I knew I was pregnant. It could have turned out very badly, I suppose. But it didn't. He was a fine man and I miss him terribly. No one knew he had a hole in his heart. One day he was here ... and the next he was gone."