Ali and Robert sit in the backseat of a luxurious Mercedes Geländewagen. It speeds north on the autobahn. “I feel like Cinderella,” Ali says, as they watch the sun drop behind the Swiss Alps. The ridge is backlit, forming a jagged line against a breathless blue sky. “Is this chariot going to turn into a pumpkin?”
“Not for five days,” says Robert.
“Five days,” Ali says wistfully. “Thanks for taking this job. I know it’s not your kind of thing—catering to billionaires.”
“Are you kidding? To see you this happy, I’ll cater to anybody.”
Ali spreads her fingers on the soft white leather and smiles devilishly. “We’ve got a driver. And he’s named Klaus.”
“And Klaus has a feather in his cap, literally. Look.”
The feather on Klaus’s green Bavarian cap gently touches the suede headliner. “We should get you one of those hats,” says Ali.
“Absolutely. Step on it, Klaus.”
“Schnell, Klaus!” Ali says.
“To the hat store.”
“Ja, ja,” the older man with big ears says to the backseat. He launches the luxury four-by-four into the mountain pass.
They reach the crest and descend into the valley in the silvery dusk of twilight. Ali holds her palms against the glass and says, “It’s a fairy tale.”
With dusk falling, everything glistens in fresh snow and lamplight: A-frame houses, their rooftops heaped high with snow, pine trees laden with the fresh downfall.
The Geländewagen pulls up in front of the Gstaad Palace and both back doors open simultaneously. Robert steps out and moves to the trunk, but the valets already have the bags. He stares up at the castle-like hotel and says, “This place has turrets.”
“Ooh, I want to stay in a turret,” Ali says.
“I’m willing to bet the broom closet is pretty nice in a place like this.”
At the front desk they’re all smiles, until the rate sheet is slid over for Robert to sign.
“Whoa,” he says when he sees the price—€3,000 per night. “Actually, I’m here for Christie’s. I’m one of their speakers at the conference? They’re picking up the tab.”
“Yes, sir, of course, sir. Christie’s actually had you in a less expensive room. You were upgraded by Mr. Al-Fayed. Still, you must sign.”
“Who’s Mr. Al-Fayed?” Robert asks.
“He’s quite well known here. Among other things, he’s the largest private shareholder in BioSwiss.”
“Pharmaceuticals…whoa, did you hear that, Ali? Some guy named Al-Fayed upgraded our room.” Robert looks from Ali back to the receptionist. “I’m not sure I’m comfortable with that.”
“I assure you,” the receptionist says, “you will be very comfortable.”
“I’m sorry, but what does a pharma guy want with me?”
“He left you this note.” The receptionist slides a thick envelope across the counter.
“Wow, that looks like a wedding invitation,” Ali says. “Nice paper.”
Robert opens the envelope.
“What does it say?”
Robert reads it: “Mr. Abdul Al-Fayed requests the pleasure of your company for dinner at the Sommerset Restaurant. Répondez s’il vous plaît.”
“When?”
“Tomorrow night.”
“Hm. I thought this trip was just for the two of us. Our fairy tale?” Ali puts her arm around Robert’s waist.
He smiles mischievously, flips the invite to the receptionist, and pulls Ali to him.
The room is an aphrodisiac. Every texture is soft, exquisite. It’s not home. Ali kisses Robert passionately despite the presence of the tall valet, standing with their bags.
“Dis, is der sauna, unt minibar, unt coffeemaker.”
Ali unbuttons Robert’s shirt and kisses his neck.
“Und perhaps I leaf you alone.” The valet quickly exits and closes the door behind him.
As she works her way down his chest, Ali says, “There was a woman in the lobby with a lynx on a leash.”
Running his fingers through her hair, Robert says, “I saw a guy in a bearskin suit.”
Now at the bottom of his shirt, Ali continues, “She had a diamond the size of an ice cube around her neck.”
They drop onto the fur rug in front of the fire. “He had a bolo tie with an oil rig in the middle.”
“I love this place.”
A doorbell chimes.
“What is that sound?” Robert asks.
“Someone’s at the door. Maybe the valet wants to show us our robes.”
The doorbell chimes again. Someone raps firmly on the door.
“I’ll send him away.” Robert gets up and opens the door, shirtless.
Two imposing men in black suits stand at the door. One of them extends the envelope—the invitation that Robert had left at the reception desk. “Mr. Al-Fayed would like to know if you are pleased with the room?”
Robert closes the door behind him so the men cannot see his semi-naked wife. “Yes…Unexpected, but very kind.”
“Mr. Al-Fayed has extended his generosity to you. Now, he would like the favor of your reply. Shall you meet him for dinner tomorrow night?”
“I’m sorry, but—”
“He seeks your expertise on an urgent matter.”
Robert nods. “May I bring my wife?”
“Seven in the lobby. A driver will take you to meet Mr. Al-Fayed at Sommerset Restaurant. Mr. Al-Fayed will be most pleased.”