Remembrance

“This is Dorothea Kerr,” she announced simply. “The head of the agency.” It was unnecessary to explain that. Serena stood up quickly and extended her hand.

“How do you do?” But the tall spare woman with gray hair pulled sharply back and sharp spectacular cheekbones wedged in at an extraordinary angle beneath huge gray eyes said nothing to Serena. She merely looked her over, like a horse she was buying, or a very expensive car.

“Is your hair natural?”

“Yes.”

She then turned to the woman in beige. “I'd like to see her without all those clothes on, and then I think we ought to send her to Andy. Don't mess around with any of the others.” The woman in beige nodded and made a rapid note. “I want to have something on her in the next two days. Can you do that?”

“Of course.” It would mean everyone working overtime, including Serena, but if Dorothea Kerr wanted “something on her” in two days, they would move heaven and earth to see that it was done. “I'll call him right away.”

“Fine.” Dorothea nodded at Serena then and walked away quickly. The door to her office closed almost instantly, and Serena's head began to spin. A minute later, as she listened to the conversation, she realized that Andy was Andrew Morgan, the most important fashion photographer on the East Coast. An appointment was made for later that morning, and before that she had to go to the hairdresser for a trim.

“Do you know how to find it?” The anonymous woman in beige looked sympathetic and then patted Serena's hand. “You know, she really liked you. She wouldn't have wanted shots on you in two days if she didn't have something big in mind for you.” But Serena still found it all very baffling and a little hard to believe. “Are you excited?”

Serena looked at her and felt her hand tremble as she took the note with the hairdresser's address. “I think so. So much has happened in the last five minutes that I'm not sure what I feel.”

“Well, enjoy it. Not everyone gets their first shots done by Andy Morgan.” Andy Morgan? Andy? For an insane moment Serena wanted to laugh. It was almost impossible not to be overwhelmed by what was starting to happen. It couldn't be. It wasn't real. It was crazy. But she glanced at the clock and knew that she had to get moving. “Do I have to wear anything special for the photographs?” “No, Dorothea said she'd have everything sent over. She particularly liked the idea of your being a princess. I think she's going to have him play that up in the shots.” For an instant Serena felt acutely nervous, perhaps she shouldn't have told them. But it was too late to stop them now. The woman in beige explained once again all the places where she was expected, wished her luck, and then went back to the stack of composites and file cards on her desk.

She arrived at Andrew Morgan's studio at exactly eleven thirty, as she had been told. And she didn't leave it again until almost nine o'clock that night. He shot black and white and color, he did head shots, candid, high fashion, evening dresses, tennis clothes, bathing suits, ermine, chinchilla, sable, Balanciagas, Diors, Givenchys, and jewels. He did her hair up and down and her makeup subtle and heavy and wild and crazy. She had had more clothes and furs and jewels and different outfits on in nine hours with Andrew Morgan than she had worn in all of the years she had worked in San Francisco. He was a tiny elf of a man, with a wonderful smile that lit up his black eyes, horn-rimmed glasses, and a shag of silvery gray hair that fell constantly in his eyes, he wore a black turtleneck sweater and black slacks and soft kid jazz dance shoes, and he seemed to leap through the air as he took the pictures. He reminded her constantly of a dancer, and she was so totally enamored of him, that she did all that he told her to do. More than that, he seemed to cast a kind of spell as he worked. She worked tirelessly with him for hours, and it wasn't until she walked in her front door that she realized how exhausted she was. Vanessa was already asleep. She had wanted to wait up to see her mommy, but Teddy had explained that they were taking beautiful pictures of her mother, and he had told her how beautiful her mother was, and how this was something very important for her. By the time Vanessa fell asleep, he had won her over again, and he read her two stories and sang her three lullabies, and halfway through the third one she fell asleep.

Exactly two days later Dorothea Kerr called her herself and requested her to come into the office that afternoon.

When Serena arrived, her knees were almost trembling, her hands were damp, and she was feeling excessively grateful that Teddy had had another of his rare free afternoons. She had already found an agency for baby-sitters, but even they couldn't work miracles at short notice. But when she saw the photographs taken by Andy Morgan, she knew that he could. Each one was like a work of art, something to hang in a museum, and as she looked at herself she felt that she barely knew whom she was looking at. Even she had to admit that he had captured something extravagant and striking and regal, and she couldn't believe that she could look so beautiful, certainly not in real life. She looked up from the photographs and met the eyes of Dorothea Kerr, hard and gray on her own, and Dorothea leaned back in her chair and gnawed on a pair of glasses as she stared at Serena some more.

“Well, we have what we need here, Serena. What about you? Just how interested in all this are you? Very, a little? Enough to work your tail off? Do you just want a job or do you want a career? Because I want to know now before we waste our time on someone who doesn't give a damn about the job.”

“I care very much about the job.” She sounded sincere and she was, but for Dorothea it wasn't enough.

“Why? Are you in love with this business? Or with yourself?”

“No.” Serena faced her squarely. “I have a little girl.”

“And that's the only reason?”

“It's part of it. This is the only way I know to make a living, and it's a good living. I like the work.” She looked at Dorothea with a sparkle in her eyes. “To tell you the truth, I'm anxious to try my luck in New York.” Her excitement was beginning to show and the older woman smiled.

“You're divorced?”

“I'm a widow, with a small pension from the army. That's it.”

Dorothea looked intrigued. “Korea?” Serena nodded. “What about your family, don't they help?”

“They're all dead.”

“And his?”

Serena began to look unhappy, and Dorothea was quick to pick up on where not to tread. “Never mind. If you say you need it for your little girl, then obviously you need it. I just hope the kid has a big appetite, to keep you wanting to go out and work.” She gave Serena one of her very rare smiles, and then she looked serious again. “What about the title?” She sighed softly. “I did a little research on it, and I gather it's genuine, Serena. How do you feel about using it? Does it go against the grain?”

Serena smiled softly. “Yes, but that doesn't matter. I came here to do something with you. As you put it, for a career, not a job. If that makes a difference”—she almost gulped thinking of her grandmother—”go ahead, use it.”

“It should help us create an image. Princess Serena. ‘The Princess.’” She looked thoughtful for a moment. “I like it. I like it very much. What about you? How does it feel?”

“It sounds a little silly to me now. I've been Serena Fullerton for a long time, and I never really used the title. It seemed more a part of my grandmother.”

“Why?” Dorothea looked at her squarely. “You look like a princess, Serena. Or don't you know that yet?” In truth Serena did not, as Teddy knew only too well. She had no idea how lovely she was, and in a way that was part of her charm. “In any case wait till you start seeing your pictures all over town, you'll know it then. And”—she gnawed at a pencil and then grinned—”since you are a princess, we will ask a royal price. One hundred dollars an hour for Princess Serena. We'll give them the impression that you don't need it, that this is all a lark, and if they want you, they'll have to pay through the nose. A hundred an hour.” Serena was breathless at the thought. A hundred an hour? Would she get any work? “Okay, we'll put your book together for you. You come back tomorrow, Serena. Get plenty of rest, do your hair and nails and face to perfection. Wear something simple and black, and be here at nine thirty. Tomorrow we send you out with your book, and you start work. But I warn you, we're only going to use you for the big jobs, at a hundred dollars an hour, you're going to be bypassing a lot of the less important work. What that means is that you're stepping in at the top, you're in the big leagues, and you're going to have to be perfect. Anything less and they'll laugh both you and me right out of this town.”

“I'll do my very best.” The green eyes were filled with terror, and she felt twenty-seven going on two. “I promise.”

“Don't promise. Just do it.” Dorothea Kerr's eyes hardened as she stood up. “If you don't, princess or no, you'll be canned.” And with that, she turned on her heel and left the room.

36

It was a month later when Margaret Fullerton saw the first ad. A full page in The New York Times for a new line of cosmetics. They had done a rush job to get Serena in on the shoot, but it was a sensational picture. Margaret Fullerton had the page folded on her desk the next time Teddy came to dinner. She didn't say anything until coffee was served in the library downstairs, and then gingerly she took the newspaper page off of her desk, touching it as though it might be poisoned.

Her eyes raised slowly to her son's, and she looked at him for a long moment with slowly simmering anger.

“You didn't tell me she was in town. I assume you know?” Her eyes drove into her son's. She knew that he had remained in touch, and that he was excessively fond of Vanessa. Many times he had tried to soften Margaret toward the child, but to no avail, and Margaret was sure that Serena would have let him know she was in New York. “Why didn't you tell me?”

“I didn't think you cared.” It was something of a lie, but his eyes didn't waver.

“The child is here too?”

“Yes.”

“Are they living here?”

“They are.”

And then, with a look of disdain, “As I suspected, the tramp is still incredibly vulgar.”

Teddy looked momentarily stunned. “Mother, how in God's name can you say that? She's not only gorgeous, she's elegant as hell, and aristocratic. Look at that picture.”

“She's nothing but a whore and a model. This, my dear boy, is all artifice, and in an extremely vulgar profession.” But she had noticed with some interest that the line of cosmetics was owned by a company for which she served on the board of directors. “I assume you've seen her.”

“I have.” His heart was pounding with restrained anger. “And I plan to see her again, her and Vanessa, as often as I can. That child is my niece and Serena is my brother's widow.”

“Your brother had eminently regrettable taste in women.”

“Only in the one previous to Serena.” Match point. Pattie had all but destroyed Greg, and he was now an obvious alcoholic. “You know.” He glared down at his mother as he stood up. “I really don't think I want to sit here while you do a hatchet job on Serena.”

“Why? Are you sleeping with her too? Undoubtedly you and half of New York by now.”

“My God!” It was a roar from Teddy. “What do you have against her?”

“Everything. She destroyed my son's career, and indirectly she killed him. Isn't that enough? Your brother is dead because of that woman, Teddy.” But there was no grief in her eyes, only fury and vengeance.

“He was killed by the war in Korea, for chrissake, or doesn't that count? Are you so hellbent on your vendetta that you can't admit the truth? Haven't you done enough to her? If it were up to you, she would have starved after Brad died. She has supported that child for almost four years alone, worked herself to the bone, and you have the nerve to look down on her, and if it's any of your goddamn business, she's still faithful to my brother.”

“How would you know that?” The older woman's eyes narrowed with interest.

But Teddy was beyond wisdom or control. “Because I've been in love with her for years. And do you know what? She won't have me. Because of Brad, and because of you. She doesn't want to come between us. Christ”—he ran a hand through his hair—”I wish she would.”

“Do you? I'm sure it could be arranged. And in the meantime, my boy, I suggest you open your eyes. The reason she won't have you most likely is because she knows I'm too smart for her and she knows there would be no profit in it.”

“Do you think that's why she married Brad?”

“Without a doubt. I'm sure she had every confidence that, if need be, she could overturn our little contract.”

“Then why didn't she try?” His voice was still uncomfortably raised, and his mother looked at him with an expression of annoyance.

“I suppose her lawyers advised her not to.”

“You make me sick.”

“Not nearly as sick as I'll make you if you don't stay away from that woman. She's a cheap little trick, and I won't have her using you the way she used Brad.”

“You don't run my life.”

“Don't be so sure. How do you think you got appointed for training with your fancy surgeon?” He looked at her with horror and almost visibly cringed.

“Did you do that?”

“I did.” For a moment he felt ill, and he made an instantaneous decision to quit the next day, and then knew almost as quickly that he would be giving up the opportunity of a lifetime. For the first time in his life his mother had him by the balls, and he hated her for it.

“You're a despicable woman.”

“No, Theodore.” Her eyes were hard and cool, like highly polished marbles. “I am a powerful and intelligent woman. You'll admit that it makes an interesting combination. And a dangerous one. Keep that in mind, and do stay away from your little friend.”

He stared at her for a moment, bereft of words, and then turned on his heel and left the room. Margaret Fullerton heard the front door slam less than a minute later.

It was not unlike the sound Serena heard the next morning at the agency as she waited outside Dorothea Kerr's office. The door slammed, the walls shook, and suddenly Dorothea stood before her. “Get into my office.” She almost shouted it at Serena, who looked utterly stunned as she followed Dorothea into her office.

“Is something wrong?”

“You tell me. That cosmetics ad you did that ran in The New York Times … the ad agency received a call from the parent company, telling them that if they ever used you again they'd lose the account. Now how would you explain that? You seem to have come to New York not with a clean slate but with some old scores to be settled. And frankly I don't want your goddamn wars interfering with my business. Now what the hell is going on?”

Serena looked totally amazed as she sat and stared, and then suddenly the light dawned. “Oh, my God … no …” Her hand flew to her mouth, her eyes filled with tears. “I'm so sorry. I'll resign from the agency at once.”

“The hell you will.” Dorothea looked even angrier. “I have eighteen bookings for you in the next two weeks. Don't play virgin in flight, just tell me what I'm dealing with. Then let me decide whether or not to kick you out. I make the decisions around here, and don't you forget it.” Serena looked awed by the woman's harsh words, but had she looked closer, she would have seen that there was concern in Dorothea's eyes. She was well aware that Serena was more than a little naive, and she had an overwhelming urge to protect her. Despite her brutal ways she had felt that from the first, although she hadn't confided her feelings to Serena. “Okay, start talking, Serena. I want to hear what this is about.”

“I'm not sure I can discuss it.” The tears were pouring slowly down her cheeks in little black mascara-filled rivers.

“You look like hell. Here, use this.” She handed her a box of tissues and Serena blew her nose and took a deep breath as Dorothea poured her a glass of water, and then the tale came out, all of it, from the beginning. Of losing her family in the war, of how she had met Brad and how much she had loved him, the broken engagement to the debutante from New York, and the rage of Brad's mother. She even told her about the contract Margaret had made her sign, and then she told her of Brad's death, and the baby she had lost, and the last three years of working to support Vanessa.

“That's all of it.” She sighed deeply and blew her nose again.

“That's enough.” Dorothea was more than touched by the story —she felt a fury, a call to arms. “She must be an incredibly evil woman.”

“Do you know of her?” Serena looked bleak, there was no way she could defeat Margaret Fullerton. And after five weeks in New York, Serena knew her mother-in-law was already out to get to her. She had been afraid of her when she had decided to come to New York, but she had lulled herself into the false hope that her fears were unfounded.

“I only know her by name. But by God, now I'd like to meet her.”

Serena smiled a small wintry smile. “You'd regret it. She makes Attila the Hun look like a sissy.”

Dorothea looked her new model straight in the eye. “Don't kid yourself, sister, she's just met her match.”

“There's a difference. You're not rotten.” She sat back in her chair, looking exhausted. “The only thing for me to do is quit and go back to San Francisco.”

“If you do”—Dorothea's eyes didn't waver from her face—”I'll sue you. You signed a contract with this agency, and like it or not, I'm going to hold you to it.”

Serena smiled at the older woman's way of protecting her. “You'll lose all your clients if I stay.”

“She doesn't own every major corporation in New York. And as a matter of fact, I want to check out her tie-in with that line of cosmetics.”

“I just don't think—”

“Good. Don't think. You don't need to. Go put on a fresh face, you have a go-see in twenty minutes.”

“Mrs. Kerr, please …”

“Serena.” The head of the agency came around her desk and, without saying another word, put her arms around Serena. “You have had more rough breaks than anyone I've ever heard of. I'm not going to let you down. You need someone to protect you.” Her voice gentled almost to a whisper. “You need a friend, little one, let me at least do that for you.”

“But won't it do your agency harm?” Serena was once again seized with terror.

“It'll do us more harm if you leave, but that's not why I want you to stay. I want you to stick it out, because I want you to beat those bastards. Serena, the only way you'll do that is if you stand your ground. Do it for me … for yourself”—and then she played her trump card—”do it for your husband. Do you really think he'd want you to run away from his mother?”

Serena thought it over before she spoke. “No, he wouldn't.”

“Good. Then let's fight this one out side by side. I'll put the old bitch back in her place, if I have to go and see her myself.” And Serena knew she would.

“Don't do that.”

“Any good reason why not?”

“It'll create an open war.”

“What do you think you've already got? She called a cosmetics company and an ad agency and had you canned. I'd say that's pretty open.” Serena smiled in dismay. “Just leave all that to me. You do your job. I'll do mine. It isn't often I get to fight for someone I like, and I like you.” The two women exchanged a smile.

“I like you too. And I don't know how to thank you.”

“Don't. Just get your ass to that go-see. I'll call and tell them you'll be late.” She shooed Serena out of her office, but just before she reached the door, she turned again with a smile and whispered, “Thank you.”

Dorothea's eyes were damp when the door closed, and ten minutes later she was on the phone, arranging a meeting with Margaret Fullerton.

The meeting between Dorothea Kerr and Margaret Fullerton was short but not very sweet. When Margaret discovered what the meeting was about, her eyes went icy. But Dorothea didn't give a damn. She told her to stay out of Serena's career, or without a moment's hesitation Dorothea would sue her.

“Am I to understand that you are her representative?”

“No, I am the president of her modeling agency. And I mean what I say.”

“So do I, Mrs. Kerr.”

“Then we understand each other.”

“May I suggest that your client change her name. She no longer has any right to it.”

“Legally, I believe she does. But that's of no importance. She's not using your name, she is using her own title.”

“Characteristically vulgar.” Margaret Fullerton stood up. “I believe you've said everything you came here to say.”

“Not quite, Mrs. Fullerton.” Dorothea stood to her full height. She had once been a very tall and very beautiful model. “I want you to know that I have hired an attorney for Serena, as of this morning. He will be made fully aware of your harassment, of your already costing Serena one job, and if there is any further problem, the press will have a field day. Won't your fancy friends just love reading about you in the Daily News.”

“I believe that is an empty threat.” But it was obvious that Margaret Fullerton was livid. She had never been threatened before, and she had seldom met her match, certainly not in another woman.

“I wouldn't try my luck if I were you. I mean every word I say. Serena is going to be the most successful model in this town, with or without your interference, so you'd better adjust yourself to it.” And then as she turned in the doorway before she left, she looked scornfully over her shoulder.

“I would think you'd be embarrassed after all you've done. You know, sooner or later those things get out. And I suspect you won't like it.”

“Is that a threat?” Her hands were trembling as she stood and glared at her opponent.

“As a matter of fact,” Dorothea said, smiling sweetly, “yes.” And then she was gone, leaving Margaret Fullerton wanting to kill her.

Margaret spoke to Teddy that night and put it to him plainly. “I forbid you to see that woman.”

“You can't forbid me to do anything. I'm a grown man. What will you do—have me fired?” Serena had already told him the story.

“I can change my will at any time.”

“Be my guest. I've never given a damn about your money. I'm a physician. I can make my own way. In fact I'd prefer to.” “Perhaps you'll have to. I mean every word I've said.” “And so do I. Good night, Mother.” He had hung up on her then, and she burst into tears. For the first time in her life she knew what it meant to feel powerless. But not for long. Margaret Fullerton was a woman of ingenuity and determination. And she'd be damned if Serena Fullerton—or whatever she called herself —would win the next round.

37

For the next month Vanessa almost never saw her mother. She saw baby-sitters and her uncle Teddy, and her mother came home exhausted every night at seven or eight or nine o'clock, too tired to eat, or talk or move. She would sink into a hot bathtub, and sometimes go directly to bed. Teddy was himself enormously busy at the hospital, spending five and six hours a day in surgery, and he had to be up at four o'clock every morning. But nonetheless he found time to help Serena out. It was the least he could do to counterbalance his mother's continuing subtle efforts to destroy her. She never did quite enough to be sued by Dorothea Kerr's attorneys, but whenever she could, she put a spoke in Serena's wheels. She had even insinuated to the press that Serena was not a princess but a charwoman from Rome, who had scrubbed floors in a palazzo, from whence she had adopted her title. She failed to mention, of course, that the palazzo had once belonged to Serena's parents. And it seemed useless to Serena to try to tell them the true version. Besides, she was too busy to care, and every night when she came home she was exhausted. She had lost fourteen pounds in two months from hard work and worry. But the photographs that were daily being shot of her were the most striking Teddy had ever seen. She seemed to get more beautiful and more skilled with each job she did, and it was impossible to believe that she hadn't been doing this in New York and Paris and London for years. There was nothing of the novice about her. She was good at what she did, and she worked hard. Even Dorothea Kerr said that The Princess was a pro. She was known around town now by her title, and from the very first moment no one even flinched at her fee. She had already put aside a very tidy sum of money, and she had been proud that she had been able to pay Vanessa's tuition at a wonderful little private school on Ninety-fifth Street. It was run in a totally European manner, and all of the classes were taught in French. Already in two months Vanessa had become bilingual, and it reminded Serena once again that one day she wanted to teach her Italian too. But now she had no time. She was too busy working. And Teddy was filled with admiration for her.

“Well, famous lady, how does it feel to be the hottest model in New York?”

“I don't know.” She smiled at him as she sat next to Teddy on the floor one Sunday with the paper. “I'm too exhausted to feel a thing.” And then she looked at him with an impish smile. “It's all your fault, you know, Teddy.”

“Nah, it's all because you're so ugly.” He leaned over to kiss her on the cheek and then a question came into his eyes. “Have you had any dates?”

She wondered why he asked, but she was noncommittal. “I haven't really had time.” And then she decided to be honest with him. He was her best friend, after all. “But I'd like to. I think I'm finally ready. Why, do you have anyone in mind?” It was the first time he had ever asked her.

“To tell you the truth,” he said, looking a little shy, “I have a friend who's a surgeon who's been begging me to introduce you to him. If doctors had lockers, his would be plastered with pictures of you.”

She laughed at the image. “Is he nice?” Lately she really had been wishing to meet a man. It had taken her four years to get over Brad, but suddenly she led a different life now. In San Francisco her life was too reminiscent of him, but in New York everything was different. “Would I like him?”

“Maybe. He's divorced. And he may be a little too quiet.”

Serena laughed. “Are you telling me I'm loud?”

“No.” He grinned at her like a brother. “But you've got awfully glamorous, kid. Maybe you'd want someone more flamboyant.”

“Have I really changed that much?” The thought shocked her. Brad hadn't been flamboyant. He had been loving and solid and strong. That was what she still wanted now, but on the other hand she wasn't the same girl Brad had married. She had been nineteen then and it seemed an aeon ago, those years after the war when she was so dependent on him. She wasn't dependent on anyone now, except, in a very relaxed way, Teddy. “Why don't you arrange a dinner with your friend?” It was obvious that she was interested, and it was there that Teddy saw the greatest change in her. Six months before she would have refused instantly.

But as it turned out, the dinner never came to be. Serena's schedule was impossible to rearrange. In truth, she didn't have time to have dinner with Teddy's friend. After trying a few times to arrange it, Teddy finally gave up, not quite sure of his own reasons, still uneasy about the depth of his feelings for her. The agency kept her going at fever pitch. Even Vanessa complained about it sometimes. “I never see you anymore, Mommy.” But on her daughter's seventh birthday Serena had gone all out and taken her and four of her friends to the circus. It had been a grand event, and Vanessa had forgiven her for the chaos of the past few months.

But things did not improve after Christmas. She had literally one day off for Christmas, and spent it with Vanessa and Teddy, but the next morning she was running through the snow in a bathing suit and a fur coat for Andy Morgan, leaping into the air with her blond mane flying straight up. Two weeks later she was sent to Palm Beach for a shoot there, then to Jamaica, back to New York, off to Chicago. She managed to take Vanessa with her each time she went, which wreaked havoc with the child's schoolwork, but she worked on it with Vanessa every night when she finished work, and she was so happy doing what she did mat somehow it made everyone forgive her for the long hours that she was busy.

By the following summer Kerr had raised her rate to two hundred dollars an hour and “The Princess” was the talk of New York and a prize for every photographer in the country. Dorothea Kerr kept a close watch on her career and controlled everything she did with an iron hand, which pleased Serena. She valued the older woman's guidance and they had become friends. They seldom saw each other outside business hours, but they spent long hours talking in Dorothea's office, and the advice she gave Serena was always excellent. Particularly in regard to Margaret Fullerton, who for the moment had stopped being a problem. Serena was just too successful for her slanderous reports to have any effect. And Dorothea was pleased for her.

“I hope you're enjoying this, Serena, because it's fun while it lasts, but it doesn't last forever. You'll make a bundle of money. Put it away, do something sensible with it”—Dorothea had started her own agency, but Serena had no ambition in that vein—”and realize that it's only for a time. You have your day and then it's someone else's tum.” But she had been impressed from the first with the way Serena handled it. She was an intelligent girl, with a sense of direction, and she didn't fool around. She worked hard and she went home, and whatever else she did no one ever knew. Dorothea was tired to death of models who got drunk and arrested, who caused disturbances, bought sports cars and cracked them up, got involved with international playboys, and then attempted suicide in the most public manner possible, and then of course failed. Serena wasn't like them. She went home to her little girl, and Dorothea always suspected that there were few men in her life, and even at that, only very circumspect dates, there hadn't been anyone serious since her husband.

That summer Serena had been in New York for a year, and she was so busy that she could barely spend a minute with Teddy. Fortunately for her, Vanessa was in camp for two months.

By the middle of August Serena was so booked up with jobs every day that she asked Dorothea to stop scheduling so many. She needed some time off and she had decided to give herself at least a week before Vanessa came back.

“Can't you put them off for a couple of weeks?” She looked pleadingly at Dorothea.

Dorothea looked at the waiting list of people begging for Serena, and smiled at her with a knowing look. “You're a lucky lady, Serena. Just look at this.” She handed the list briefly to Serena, who shook her head and groaned as she fell into a chair. he was wearing a white linen skirt, a little red and white striped halter, and red sandals, with red and white bracelets all up and down one arm. She looked like a peppermint stick as she stood there, all fresh and blond and young and groomed to perfection, and it was easy to see why half the photographers in town wanted to use her, not to mention at least a dozen in Italy, France, Germany, and Japan. “You know, I almost envy you. I'd like to think it was like this for me. But I'm not sure it was. On the other hand”—she smiled again—”you have a much better agency than I had in my day.” Serena laughed and ran a hand through her hair.

“So can you get me a break in the next couple of weeks, Dorothea? I really need it. I haven't been away all year.” Teddy had fled to Newport a few days before, and she really envied him his time at the seashore. He had offered to take her to the Cape, but ever since Vanessa had gone, she had been doubly busy, and she hadn't been able to get away. Now at least, if she could have some time to herself, she could go out to the Hamptons, or even stay in town and, luxury of luxuries, stay in bed for a few days!

“I'll see what I can do.” She mused over the list again. “The only one I actually don't think I can change is Vasili Arbus.” She glanced at the name.

“Who's that?”

“You don't know him?” Dorothea looked surprised.

“Should I?”

“The British think he's another Andy Morgan. He's half English, half Greek, and totally crazy, but”—she thought about him for a moment—”he does extraordinarily good work.”

“As good as Andy?” After a year in New York Serena knew them all, and Andy Morgan had also become a friend. She occasionally met him for lunch at the studio between jobs, and when they had a shooting together, they stayed on after hours to talk about work. There was nothing physical about the relationship, but she was very fond of him as a friend and a colleague.

Dorothea was still pondering the question. “I don't know. He's awfully good. His work is different. You'll see.”

“I have to do him?” Serena looked annoyed.

“We have no choice. He booked you three months ago, from London, for a job that he knew he had coming up over here. He's only here for a few weeks to service some of his American accounts, and then he'll go back to London. I hear he keeps a house there, another in Athens, an apartment in Paris, and a villa in the South of France.”

“Does he only travel or does he also work?” For some reason the very sound of his name annoyed her. He sounded spoiled, and she had already met a few of his genre. International playboys hiding behind cameras, using it as a new and interesting way to pick up girls. And that she did not need. As Dorothea said, she was a pro, and she worked like one. Vasili Arbus didn't sound like her cup of tea.

Dorothea looked at her over her glasses. “Why not give him a chance?” And then she added with thoughtful deliberation, “As a photographer. Not as a man. He's charming as hell, but Vasili Arbus is not someone to get involved with. Not that you would.” She smiled at Serena, who looked amused.

“I must be known in this business as The Ice Maiden.” Serena grinned, but Dorothea shook her head.

“I don't think so, Serena. I think most of the guys just know that you don't fool around. It makes you easier to work with, I suspect. There are no expectations other than the obvious professional ones.”

“Well, I'll just see that Mr. Arbus understands that.”

Dorothea couldn't repress a smile. “With him, I must admit, you may have a little more trouble.”

“Oh?” Serena arched an aristocratic eyebrow. She never had trouble with anyone she worked with, because she chose not to.

“You'll see. He's just like a big charming child.”

“Terrific. I want to go on vacation, and you stick me with working for a childlike playboy.” Dorothea mused for a moment, Serena had inadvertently come up with the perfect description of Vasili. That was just what he was—a childlike playboy. “Anyway, see what you can do. If you can't cancel him, I'll do it. Just so he does the work quickly, and I can get the hell out of town for a rest while the rest of my family is still away.” She had two weeks before Vanessa came back from camp and Teddy returned from Newport.

“I'll do what I can.”

But the next morning Dorothea informed her that she had been able to shift everything around except Vasili Arbus, arid he expected her to come to his studio at two o'clock that afternoon.

“Any idea how long he'll be shooting?”

“He thought maybe two days.”

“All right,” Serena sighed. Two days she could handle, and then she could go somewhere for a few days and relax. She couldn't join Teddy in Newport of course, because of his mother, but she didn't even mind that. She knew that his life there was a round of parties, and when she went away, she didn't even want to comb her hair.

She got the address of the studio Arbus was using, checked her supplies, makeup, hair spray, mirrors, an assortment of brushes, four pairs of shoes, a bathing suit, some shorts, stockings, three different brassieres, and a little simple jewelry. You never knew what you were going to need when you went to work.

She reported to the address she'd been given at exactly two thirty and was led into the studio by his assistant, a very attractive young man. The boy spoke English with an accent, it was not quite a lisp, and not quite a slur, he had dark brown hair and olive skin, big black eyes, and a boyish air about him, and Serena guessed correctly that he was Greek.

“We've seen a lot of your work, Serena.” He looked at her admiringly. “Vasili likes it very much.”

“Thank you.” She smiled pleasantly at him, wondering how old he was. He looked about nineteen, and she felt like his grandmother at twenty-eight.

“Would you like some coffee?”

“Thanks. Should I start working on my makeup?” She also wanted to know how they wanted her to do her hair, but the young man with the black eyes shook his head.

“Just relax. We're not shooting this afternoon. Vasili just wants to meet you.” At two hundred dollars an hour? He was paying just to meet her? Serena looked a little surprised.

“When do we start working?”

“Tomorrow. The next day. When Vasili's ready.” Oh, Jesus. She could see her vacation flying out the window as they got acquainted.

“Does he always do this?” To Serena it seemed foolish. If there was work to be done, she wanted to do it and go home.

“Sometimes. If the client is important and the model is new. It means a lot to Vasili to know his models.”

“Oh, really?” There was an edge to Serena's voice and she hoped that it didn't mean too much to him. She was not there to play with Vasili. She was there to do her work before the camera and that was it. But just as she began to say something else to the assistant, she felt a presence behind her, and she turned to see a man looking into her eyes with such magnetic power that she caught her breath. He had startled her, standing so close to her, but everything about him was startling. His hair shone like onyx, his eyes were like black gems, sparkling at her with barely hidden laughter, he had a broad angular face and high cheekbones, a rich, sensuous mouth, and a suntan that gave him almost honey-colored skin. He was tall and broad shouldered, with narrow hips and long legs. He actually looked mere like one of his own male models than a photographer, and he was wearing a red T-shirt and jeans and sandals.

“Hello. I am Vasili.” He had a distinct but subtle accent, an interesting mixture of both British and Greek. He held out a hand to her and she shook it, and for an instant she was spellbound, and then suddenly she laughed in embarrassment, feeling foolish to have been so taken with the way he looked.

“I'm Serena.”

“Ah.” He held up a hand as though to command silence.” “The Princess.’ ” He bowed low, and then stood up with a broad grin, but even as he teased her his eyes seemed to caress her, and one felt an almost irresistible pull toward the broad chest and powerful arms. “I'm glad you could come here today to meet us.” Either he spoke in the royal we, or he was referring to his assistant, and Serena smiled.

“I thought we were going to be shooting.”

“No.” He held up the imperious hand again. “Never. Not on an important job like this one. My clients always understand that I must get acquainted with my subjects.” She couldn't help thinking that it was costing them a fortune, but apparently that didn't matter to him.

“What are we shooting?”

“You.” Obviously, but the way he said it made her feel unusually important, as though she were mere as herself, not just a model to make a dress or a car, or a set of towels, or a new brand of ice cream look good.

She tried a different tack, as his eyes gripped her. He never seemed to let go of her once with his eyes. It was almost as though she could feel him touch her, and she felt an odd stirring deep within. It was a stirring that she resisted, a feeling she pretended not to have, and yet for an instant she sensed that Vasili Arbus was going to become an important part of her life. It was almost as though she had a premonition, and she didn't have any idea why that should be. She forced her thoughts of him from her mind and returned to the questions about the sitting. “Who's the client?”

He told her and she nodded. They were going to be photographing her with children, two male models, and alone, in an important ad for a new car. “Can you drive?”

“Sure.”

“Good. I don't have an American license. You can drive me out to the beach and we'll shoot there.” For two hundred dollars an hour she wasn't usually asked to play chauffeur, but with him everything seemed so easy and natural and friendly that one wanted to go along with whatever he said. He looked at her with interest, and she knew that he was probably studying the planes of her face for the shooting, but she felt oddly naked as he watched her. She was used to arriving for a job, getting ready, and going to work in an almost anonymous fashion. It was odd and a little uncomfortable to be moving along at such an easy pace. It made her feel conspicuous as he looked at her, as though he was seeing her and all that she was and was not. Not just “The Princess,” the creation of the Kerr agency, but someone real. “Have you had lunch?” She looked instantly startled. In her year of modeling in New York no one had ever asked her if she was tired or hungry or sick or exhausted. No one had ever cared if she'd had lunch or not.

“I … no … I was in a hurry.…”

“No.” He wagged a finger at her. “Never, never rush.” And then, with a deliberate air, he set down his cup of coffee, said something in Greek to his assistant, and picked up a bright green Shetland sweater off a chair. “Come.” He held out a hand to her, and without thinking, she took it. They were halfway out the door before she remembered her things.

“Wait … my bag … I forgot it.…” And then, nervously, “Where are we going?”

“To get something to eat.” His smile dazzled her with its snowy perfection. “Don't worry, Princess. We'll come back.”

She felt foolish being so nervous around him, but his informal manner threw her off, and she didn't know what to expect from him. Downstairs was a silver Bentley with a chauffeur. He hopped in nonchalantly and spoke to his driver, this time in English, directing him to a place that Serena did not know. It was only when they crossed the Brooklyn Bridge that Serena began to worry.

“Where are we going?”

“I told you. To lunch.” And then he narrowed his eyes as he looked at her. “Where are you from?”

She hesitated for a moment, not sure what he was asking. “New York …” and then, “the Kerr Agency.” But he laughed at her.

“No, no. I meant where you were born.”

“Oh.” She giggled nervously at him. “Rome.”

“Rome?” He looked at her, startled. “You're Italian?”

“Yes.”

“Then the title—it's real?” He looked astounded, and she nodded. “Well, I'll be damned.” He turned in his seat to smile at her. “A real princess.” And then, in Italian, “Una vera princi-pessa.” He held out his hand to her in formal Italian greeting. “Piacere.” He kissed her hand then and looked amused. “My English great-grandfather was a count. But his daughter, my grandmother, married beneath her, she married a man with an enormous fortune and no aristocratic connections at all. He made a great deal of money buying and selling factories, and in trade in the Far East, and their son, my father, must have been a bit of a madman. He patented a series of extraordinary gadgets that related to ships, and then got involved in shipping in South America and the Far East. Eventually he married my mother, Alexandra Nastassos, and managed to kill both himself and my mother in a yachting accident when I was two. Which”—he leaned toward her and spoke in a whisper—”is probably why I'm a little crazy too. No mother and father. I was brought up by my mother's family, because my father's parents were both dead by the time my parents died. So I grew up in Athens, went to Eton, in England, because they thought my father would have liked that. I got kicked out of Cambridge,” he said proudly, “moved to Paris, and got married. And after that it all became very boring.” The dazzling smile shone at her like a noonday explosion. “Now tell me about you.”

“Good Lord. In twenty-five words or less?” She smiled at him, more than a little awed by what he had just told her. The Nastassos name alone was enough to startle anyone. They were one of the biggest shipping families in Greece. And now that she thought of it, she vaguely remembered hearing about him. He was the black sheep of the family, and she thought she'd heard that he'd been married several times. The third time he had married it had been on the front page of the paper in San Francisco, he had married a distant cousin of the queen.

“What were you thinking?” He looked at her in a childlike, open fashion, in the enormous silver car, with the chauffeur staring stolidly straight ahead.

“I was thinking,” she said, looking at him honestly, “that I think I've read about you.”

“Have you?” He looked amused. “Let's see, you wouldn't have read about my marriage to Brigitte, she was my first wife and we were both nineteen. She was the sister of a boy I knew at Eton. But my second wife perhaps, Anastasia Xanios.” She loved the way his tongue slipped over his words, his accent was delicious. “You might have read about her, or perhaps Margaret”—he looked at her with his big black eyes—”the queen's cousin.” He was so outrageous that she laughed.

“How many times have you been married?”

“Four.” He answered her honestly.

She counted backward in her head and looked at him with a grin that matched his own. “Then you left one out.”

He nodded, but the smile dimmed. “The last one.”

“Which one was she?” Serena had not yet understood that this was not like the others.

“It was … she was French. She was a model.” And then he looked at Serena with dark, tragic eyes. “She died from an overdose last January. Her name was Hélène.”

“Oh, I'm so sorry.” She reached out and touched his hand. “I really am. I lost my husband too.” All she could think of was what he must have felt when his last wife had died. She still remembered the incredible pain of losing B.J. and it had been more than four years.

“How did your husband die?” Vasili was looking at her now gently.

“In Korea. He was one of the first casualties, just a few days before war was declared.”

“Then you've been through it too.” He looked at her oddly. “It's so strange. Everyone jokes about it… married four times … another wife. But each time it's different. Each time …” He looked at Serena and she almost wanted to cry. “Each time I love as though it were the first time … and Hélène, she was only a child. Twenty-one.” Serena didn't ask why she had done it. She assumed that the girl had committed suicide with sleeping pills, it was the only kind of drug overdose she could imagine. He shook his head then and held tightly to Serena's hand. “Life is a strange place sometimes. I very seldom understand it. But then again” —he cocked his head to one side with a boyish smile—”I no longer try. I live my life from day to day.” And then he sighed softly. “I have my work, my friends, the people I work with. And when I'm behind the camera, I forget it all.”

“You're lucky.” Serena knew only too well that hard work dulled the pain. “You don't have any children, Vasili?”

“No.” He looked sad and then shrugged with a small smile. “Maybe I haven't met the right woman yet. Have you children, Serena?”

“One. A little girl.” His eyes lit up at her answer.

“What is her name?”

“Vanessa.”

“Perfect. And she is blond and looks exactly like you?” His eyes danced.

“No. She is blond and looks exactly like her father.” Serena laughed.

“He was handsome?” Vasili looked intrigued.

“Yes.” But it all seemed very far away now. Four years was a long time.

“Never mind, little one.” He leaned over and kissed her cheek and she had to remind herself that he was not a friend but a photographer she was going to work with. But it seemed hard to believe that she hadn't known him for years. She felt oddly comfortable with him now, and captivated, as though he had flown her to a foreign land. He might as well have, she realized as the car stopped a few minutes later and they got out. They were at a seafood restaurant at Sheepshead Bay. It looked fairly scruffy, but inside was the rich smell of steamed clams and melted butter, fish cooked in herbs, and fresh bread being warmed. They had a marvelous lunch, undisturbed by anyone, and it was close to five o'clock when they emerged.

“That was absolutely divine.” Her stomach felt full, she felt comfortable and relaxed. She would have liked to stretch out somewhere for a nap, as Vasili put an arm around her shoulders and swung his sweater in the air. It certainly didn't feel like an afternoon when she should have been working. She looked at him with a warm smile, and he stood aside with a bow, as the chauffeur opened the door and she got back into the car. Once ensconced beside her, he leaned forward and gave the driver instructions, and she realized a few minutes later that they were not going home. “Is this another adventure?” After all, Sheepshead Bay was not her usual luncheon fare. But Vasili only smiled secretively and took her hand. She could no longer bring herself to feel pressed about the time, or agitated. She had nowhere to go except home, and there was no one there. “Where are we going?” She leaned back against the comfortable upholstery with a smile.

“To the beach.”

“At this hour?” She looked surprised but not alarmed.

“I want to see the sunset with you, Serena.” It seemed an odd idea but she didn't really want to object. She was more comfortable with this man than she had been with anyone in years. And more than that, she was happy. He suffused her with a kind of joie de vivre that she hadn't remembered in a very long time, if ever.

The driver knew exactly where Vasili wanted him to go, and he drove through assorted ugly little suburban communities, until he reached the right one, and drove the enormous Bentley sedately up to a small pier. There was a ferry boat tied up and bobbing in the water, and their timing had been perfect, there were already half a dozen people aboard.

“Vasili?” For the first time Serena looked worried. “What is this?”

“The ferry to Fire Island. Have you been there before?” She shook her head. “You will love it.” He looked so sure about what he was doing that she was no longer unnerved. “We won't stay long. Just long enough to see the sunset and walk on the beach, and then we'll come home.” For some reason she trusted him, everything about him seemed to suggest to her that she would be safe with him. He had a way of imparting the impression that he was totally in control and one could rely on him.

Hand in hand with Vasili she boarded the ferry, and they set off for Fire Island. The ride took half an hour, and they got out on the island on a narrow little pier, and then he walked with her straight across the island to a beach that took her breath away, it was so lovely. It stretched out for miles, a narrow sandspit in the ocean, perfect white sand, and soft waves for almost thirty miles.

“Oh, Vasili, it's incredible.”

“Isn't it?” He smiled. “It always reminds me of Greece.”

“Do you come here often?”

He shook his head slowly, his black eyes burning into hers. “No, Serena, I don't. But I wanted to come here with you.” She nodded, and then turned away, not sure of what to say. She didn't want to play games with him. But he was so open and so appealing, and he had a magnetic quality about him that drew her to him. They walked on the beach for a while, and then sat down to watch the sunset, and they sat that way for what seemed like hours, in the growing dusk, his arm around her shoulders, each of them listening to his own dream. At last he stood up slowly and pulled her to her feet, she had her sandals shoved into her pockets, her hair was loose and blowing softly in the wind, and he touched her face with his hand, and then very gently he leaned toward her and kissed her, before walking slowly down the beach with her, and then back to the pier. They said little on the ferry ride home, and she was astonished to realize that in the last few minutes of it she fell asleep with her head on his shoulder. But he was that kind of man. He teased her about it once they were back in the Bentley, and they laughed and joked on the rest of the ride home. An hour after they had stepped off the boat from Fire Island she was in front of her door on East Sixty-third Street, and it was difficult to explain what had happened in the past eight hours. It was just after ten o'clock, and she felt as though she were returning from a magical journey with this extraordinary black-eyed man.

“See you tomorrow, Serena.” He said it very gently, and did not try to kiss her again. She nodded, with a smile, and waved as she unlocked the outside door and disappeared into the building, and as though in a dream she drifted up the stairs.

38

As relaxed and magical as the day before had been, the day of working with Vasili at the studio was a day of grueling devotion to his work. He shot unrelentingly for hour after hour, in the studio, in the car, with the male models, with the children, head shots of Serena, and shots of the car alone. She watched him work and realized that even Andy Morgan hadn't worked that hard when she was photographed by him. There was a kind of manic excitement about Vasili, a physical electricity that filled the room, and when the day ended, everyone in the studio was drained. Vasili himself was drenched with perspiration, his navy-blue T-shirt stuck to him like wallpaper, and he used a towel to wipe his face and his arms, and then sat down with a broad grin. The smile that exploded in his eyes seemed to be just for Serena, and she felt herself drawn to him as she had been again and again, and she sat down beside him with a warm smile.

“You should be very pleased.” Her voice was gentle, and his face was very near to hers.

“So should you, Princess. You were fantastic. Wait until you see the shots.”

“Í assume we're through.” There was disappointment in her voice as she said it, and she looked amazed when he shook his head. “We're not? You can't really mean to shoot more, Vasili. We got everything imaginable today.”

“No, we did not.” He attempted to look outraged, but his laughing eyes would not play the game. “We only did studio work today, tomorrow we work outdoors.”

She grinned at him. “Where?”

“You'll see.”

And the next day she did. He had found a series of hills and a rugged little canyon in New Jersey, and she drove the car, hopped out of it, lay on the hood, pretended to change a tire for him, did everything but overhaul the engine, and at the end of the day, she was even amused. Not only did he get to know his subjects but he apparently got to know his objects too. She teased him about it as they drove back to the city together, and he congratulated her again on her style.

“You know, Princess, you're damn good.”

She looked at him happily as she flung back her mane of blond hair, and longed to touch his. “So are you.”

He dropped her off at her door that night, and two days later he called her. “Come and see what we've done.”

“Vasili?”

“Of course, Princess. I have the proofs and the contact sheets to show you.” It was unusual for the model to see them before the client, but he was so excited about what he'd shot that he wanted her to rush right over to the studio, and she did. The photographs he had got of her were sheer genius, prizewinning quality, truly remarkable photographs, and he was ecstatic, and when she saw them, so was she. As was Dorothea Kerr at the agency, and the client, and everyone involved with the job. And by the following week Dorothea Kerr had scheduled them again together four more times.

“Look who's here!” She teased as she walked into the studio for the third time. “Not tired of my face yet, Vasili?” She had wanted a vacation, but after working with him, she had given up the idea. It was more exciting to work with Vasili, and she knew that he wouldn't be in the States for very long. Besides which, there was still that odd magnetism about him, and she was always haunted by the memory of the sunset they had shared on Fire Island. Whenever they worked together, she remembered those moments, and when she had slept on his shoulder on the ferry. The memories suffused her face with a gentle quality that showed in the photographs later, and the work they did together was like ballet or fine art.

“How's my princess today?” He leaned over to kiss her on the cheek, and then he smiled at her. The job they had to do was a quickie, and this time they were finished in a few hours. They knew each other so well that it was easier and easier to work together, and after the shoot was over, he pulled on a fresh T-shirt and looked over his shoulder at Serena. “Want to go out for dinner somewhere, Princess?”

She didn't hesitate for a moment. “I'd love it.” And this time he took her to Greenwich Village, to his favorite bar. They ate spaghetti and mushrooms and a giant salad, white wine, and afterward they wandered through the streets and ate Italian ice.

“Don't you ever miss Italy, Serena?”

She hesitated for a moment and then shook her head. “Not anymore.” She told him then about all that she had lost there, her parents, her grandmother, both palazzi. “I belong here now.”

“In New York?” He looked surprised, and she nodded. “Wouldn't you be happier in Europe?”

“I doubt it. I haven't been there in so long. I lived in Paris for a few months with my husband, but it all seems so long ago now.”

“How long is it?”

“Eight years.”

“Serena.” He looked at her squarely then, his black eyes brilliant with a kind of fire. “Would you work with me in Paris or London? I'd like to work with you again, and I don't spend that much time here.”

She thought about it for a moment. He was wonderful to work with, and together they created something very rare. There was an extraordinary undercurrent between them, she wasn't quite sure what it was, but it appeared in the photographs every time. “Yes, if I could make arrangements for my daughter.”

“How old is she?”

“Almost eight.”

He smiled at Serena. “You could bring her along.”

“Maybe. If it was only for a few days. She has to go to school.”

He nodded. “Let's think about it.”

“Are you leaving soon?” Serena looked disappointed, and she glanced at him as they passed through Washington Square and left the Village.

“I don't know.” He looked at her strangely. “I haven't decided yet. But I've almost finished all the jobs I came here to do.” And then he shrugged again, like a remarkably beautiful schoolboy. “Perhaps I should try to drum up more work.” Serena laughed. They had only been working together for a week, but their hours together had been so long and intense and filled with hard work and feeling that it was difficult to believe that they hadn't worked together at least a hundred times before. “What are you thinking?”

She looked at him with a smile. “That I like working with you, and that I'll miss you.” And then, almost shyly, “I've never become involved with any of the photographers before.”

“That was what Dorothea told me.” He looked at her teasingly. “She said that you are a pro, and that I wasn't to try any of my tricks on you.”

“Aha! Do you usually use tricks?”

She was teasing, but he was not when he answered. “Sometimes. Serena …”He seemed to hesitate and then decided to tell her. “I am not always the most circumspect person.” But that much was apparent about him. “Does that matter to you?”

“I don't think so.” She answered quickly, but she wasn't entirely sure what he meant. All photographers were a little wild sometimes. He wasn't the only one. The only thing different about him was that he had been married four times.

“You know.” He stopped walking and turned to face her. “You are such an unusual woman that sometimes I don't know how to tell you what I'm thinking.”

“Why not?” She frowned, afraid that she had seemed stiff or perhaps stuffy. If they were to be friends, he should have been able to be himself. “Why can't you tell me what you think?” Her eyes clouded and he moved toward her and gently kissed her.

“Because I love you.” Time seemed to stand still as they stood there. “That's why. And you're the loveliest woman I ever met.”

“Vasili …” She lowered her eyes and then raised them again to look at him, but he didn't let her continue.

“It's all right. I don't expect you to love me. I've been a crazy man all my life. And one pays a price for that.” He sighed as he said it and smiled a sad little smile. “It makes one quite unsuitable for anyone decent.”

“Don't be silly.”

But he held up a hand again. “Would you want a man who had had four wives?” His eyes bore into her as he asked her.

“Maybe.” Her voice was soft as satin. “If I loved him.”

And his voice was as soft as hers. “And do you think you could love such a man … perhaps … if he loved you very, very much … ?”

As though the gesture were made by someone else, she felt herself nodding, and the next thing she knew she was crushed in his arms. But she found as she stood there that that was all she wanted. She wanted to be with him, to be his, to stand beside him forever, and when he kissed her this time, she felt her whole heart go out to him with her kiss.

He took her home to her apartment that night and left her outside her doorway. He kissed her as passionately as he had before, but he forced himself to leave her at the door. He was back again though the next morning, with fresh coffee and croissants, a basket of fruit, and an armful of flowers, and she opened the door to him sleepily in her nightgown and was astounded as he stepped inside. What began after that was an old-fashioned courtship. They were together every minute of the day. He had finished his work, and she took her vacation from the agency at last. They went to the beach and the park and the country, held each other and kissed and touched, and it wasn't until the end of the week that she went to his hotel room at last. He was staying uptown at the Hotel Carlyle, in a huge beautiful suite overlooking the park. He took her there just to show her the view, and then once again he kissed her, but this time neither of them could hold back anymore. He held her in his arms with such an aching of desire that she could hardly bear it, and she knew then that there was no fighting what had to be. They needed and wanted each other too badly to try to stem the tides anymore, and they took each other with such unbridled passion that Serena wondered once or twice if they would live through the night. But when morning came, they were spent at last, lovers to their very souls, and she felt as though she belonged to him forever. She was Vasili's now, to her very core.

The agony of it was that he was leaving for Paris on the following morning, and Teddy and Vanessa were due back in two days.

Serena sat looking serious after their first cup of coffee. “It's all right, darling. I promise you. You'll meet me in London.”

But, Vasili …” He made it sound so simple. She had Vanessa, a child she couldn't easily leave and didn't want to, and then there was Teddy, she hated to leave him too. He had been a brother and a friend to her for so long, and such a constant presence in her life in New York, that it was difficult to imagine being without him. She looked at Vasili now and felt sorrow well up within her. She didn't want him to leave the next day.

“Then come with me.”

“But I can't… Vanessa—”

“Bring her along. She can start the school year in Paris or London. She speaks French, so it can't be a problem.” And then with a grin, “It's only as complicated as you make it.”

“That's not true. I can't just uproot her so I can run around chasing after a man.”

“No.” He looked at her seriously then. “But you can bring her with you if you choose to marry that man.” Serena said nothing. She only stared at him. “I mean that. I'm going to marry you, you know. The only question is when it will suit you. I think that we settled the rest of the question last night.” Serena blushed furiously and he kissed her. “I love you, Princess. I must have you for my own.”

But who really was Vasili? Serena felt sudden panic well up in her. How could she do this? What was she doing? But it was as though Vasili could read her mind. “Stop worrying, my darling. We will work everything out.” But how from three thousand miles across the ocean? She got up from where she sat and wandered slowly toward the window, her long beautiful carved ivory body looking like a white marble statue in motion, and it filled Vasili with desire again. “Serena.” He said it so softly that it was barely more than a whisper.

“Will you marry me?”

Her eyes filled with tears. “I don't know.” But she already knew that she had embarked on an ocean she could not control. She wanted this man more than she had wanted anyone since Brad. Just as he seemed to feel about her, she also felt that she had to have him, but it was a kind of breathtaking roller-coaster whirl. There was nothing calm or peaceful about this. It was raw passion and a constant riptide of desire. He walked toward her now, fully erect and with his black eyes blazing.

“Will you marry me, Serena?” It wasn't a menace, but it was a wonderful growl, and he swept her into his arms, as she caught her breath and he held her. “Will you?”

Slowly, hypnotically, she nodded. “I will.” And then he took her on the floor of his hotel room, and she cried out with her own desire.

And when it was over, he looked down at her with a small victorious smile. “I meant what I said, my beloved princess. I want you to be my wife. Did you mean what you said?”

She nodded slowly. “Then, say it, Serena.” He pinned her to the ground and for a moment she thought she saw madness in his eyes. “Say it. Say that you will be my wife.”

“I will be your wife.” She repeated it as she watched him.

“Why?” But as he asked her his whole face seemed to melt and once again he became gentle. “Why, Serena?” It was a tender whisper.

“Because I love you.” Her eyes filled with tears and he took her in his arms and made love to her again and again, telling her all the while how much he loved her.

39

The next morning Vasili left for Paris, and Serena stood at the airport, staring after his plane. It had all been like a dream, and she felt as though she were still in a trance as she got back into the Bentley and rode back to her apartment. Did he mean what he had said? Was he serious about marrying her? How could she know so soon? She barely knew him. Now that he was gone, she felt slightly less under his spell. And there was Vanessa … the child had never even met Vasili. Serena's heart pounded at what she had done. She wanted to reach for the phone and confide in Dorothea, but she was ashamed to admit that she had fallen so easily for Vasili's charms.

As she sat and stared out the window that night, the phone rang. It was Vasili, in Paris, he already missed her and wanted to know how she was, and his voice was so gentle and so sexy that she found herself swept off her feet again. By the next morning the apartment was filled with flowers. There was four baskets of white roses for his princess, and by noon she had received a box from Bergdorf Goodman, containing a spectacular fur coat.

“Oh, my God.” She stood staring into the mirror, in her nightgown and the mink coat, wondering how she would explain it, and once again the full force of what she had done came to mind. In two hours she had to pick up Vanessa at Grand Central Station, and she knew that Teddy would be back from Newport late that night. She wanted to tell him something, but she felt strange explaining Vasili to him. It had all happened so quickly and with such force. She was pensive and a little nervous as she stood there debating, but the phone rang again and it was Vasili. He wanted her to meet him in London for a few days the following week. And it seemed to her that if she did that, it would at least give her another chance to evaluate how she felt. She accepted quickly, thanked him profusely for the coat, said that she really couldn't accept it, but he insisted. And after they hung up, she put it back in the box and hid it in a suitcase.

When she picked up Vanessa at Grand Central, the child was filled with her adventures at camp. She introduced her mother to all of her friends before they tearfully parted at the station, and on the way home she didn't stop once to catch her breath. Serena was grateful that nothing was required of her, all she had to do was ooh and ahh, and make the appropriate affectionate gestures, but she felt as though her mind were already crammed full with her own confusion, and there was no room for anything else, not even Vanessa.

It wasn't until after eleven o'clock that night when the doorbell rang that she really knew how anxious and confused she was. She opened the door to tall, blond, deeply suntanned Teddy, he held out his arms to her and she looked vague and a little embarrassed.

“You sure don't look too happy to see me.” He teased her with a broad grin, and she laughed nervously as she kissed him.

“I'm sorry, love. I'm just so damn tired.”

He frowned at her in consternation. “I thought you were going to take a vacation.”

“I was … I did … I mean I meant to … I don't know. There's just so much work from the agency right now.”

“That's crazy.” He looked annoyed. “You promised me you'd rest.”

“Well, I did. Sort of.” But how could she tell him? She knew that she couldn't, at least not yet. But she decided to leap into some of it very quickly, otherwise she knew she'd never have the courage to say anything at all. “I'm going to London next week, by the way.”

“You are?” He looked startled. “They're really pushing you these days, aren't they?”

She nodded. “Can you stay here with Vanessa?” It made her feel awkward to ask him, but she didn't know anyone else she trusted Vanessa with as much as Teddy. He nodded pensively.

“Sure. What kind of a shoot is it?”

Serena busied herself with some papers. “I don't know yet.”

By the time she left she was feeling very nervous. She cried when she said good-bye to Vanessa. Her guilt made her feel convinced she'd crash on the plane, she was sure that the whole trip would be a disaster, and she really didn't want to go. Yet, something drove her to do it, and by the time she was halfway to Shannon Airport for their first stop, she was so excited, she could hardly breathe. All thought of the loved ones she had left behind had almost vanished, and all she could think of was Vasili, waiting for her at the other end. When she saw him in London, it was a jubilant reunion. He took her to his little mews house in Chelsea and made love to her in the beautiful little blue and white bedroom on the second floor. The shoot, it turned out, had been canceled. But instead he had scheduled a round of parties, and was taking Serena to all of the most important social events. Much of the London season wasn't in full swing yet. It was still early in September, but Serena thought that she had never been to so many parties in so few days. He introduced her to everyone he could think of, took her on long romantic walks in the park, shopped with her in Chelsea and at Hardy Amies and Harrods, took her to cozy places for lunch and dinner. He seemed proud to introduce her to everyone in sight, and on her second day there, there was an item in the paper about them. “And who is Vasili Arbus's spectacular new romance? They say the ravishing Italian blonde is a princess, and she certainly looks the part. Don't they make a handsome pair!” On the third day someone had matched up her photographs with her name from some fashion shots they had previously seen, and the papers boldly speculated, PRINCESS SERENA, VAS?L? ARBUS'S NUMBER FIVE? It was a headline that made Serena nervous, remembering how often items from London were picked up in New York. But by the end of the week she had grown used to the gossip, and it seemed as though she had always been part of his life. She brought him coffee and croissants in the morning, he gave her long sensuous massages at night. They talked until all hours of the morning, and she watched his friends with a sense of intrigue. For the most part they seemed a racy crew, but she thought that perhaps in time one could find a few people among them who were worthwhile. She couldn't truly say that she disliked his life. His studio was enormous and very efficient, his house was enchanting, and the man himself had wit and genius, tenderness and humor and taste. He was, in many ways, all that one could want in a man. But she still felt that she hadn't known him for a very long time. And yet, overwhelming everything was his obvious love for her and their passion. They seemed to spend endless hours making love, and again and again he urged her to marry him quickly. And although she thought she should hold off for a while, she really didn't want to. She wanted to be with him every hour of the day, every moment. Peeling her body away from his was almost painful. And they were always together. She could no longer imagine a life apart from his and he wanted to marry her by Christmas. Serena still had occasional doubts and fears about getting married so fast and perhaps upsetting Vanessa, but he pooh-poohed them.

“I don't want to wait. I don't see why we should. I want us to have a life together. To spend all our time with each other, working, having fun, with our friends.” He looked tenderly at her. “We could have a baby, and, Serena, I'm thirty-nine. I'm in a hurry to have you be all mine forever.”

“Let me try to work it out when I get home. I have to break this to Vanessa.”

“Do you still want to marry me?” He looked suddenly crushed, and she leaned forward and kissed him on the lips.

“Of course. I just don't want to startle her by doing it so quickly.” And then there was Teddy she would have to explain it to. She wondered what his reaction would be. But Vasili was always insistent.

“When it's right, you have to grab the moment.” It was not unlike what Brad had said nine years before, which somehow gave his urge to rush into marriage a little more respectable credence.

“I'll work it out.” Her voice was very quiet.

“When?” He was pushing and it drove her crazy. She was already torn between reason and passion.

“As soon as I go home.”

When she got off the plane at Idle wild Airport in New York, Teddy was waiting. He looked strangely serious, and Serena saw almost right away that his eyes were sad. He kissed her as he always did, and when at last they had picked up her bags and got into his car, he turned toward her. “Why didn't you tell me why you went over there?”

A knife of guilt cut through her. He already knew. “Teddy … I went for a shoot, and the shoot was canceled.”

“But you went to see a man too, didn't you?” Her eyes glued to his, she nodded. “Why didn't you tell me?”

She sighed deeply then and shook her head. “I'm sorry, Teddy. I don't know. I just didn't know where things stood. I thought I'd tell you when I got back.”

“And?” He looked deeply hurt that she hadn't told him. He had seen a small item in the papers. It mentioned Vasili Arbus by name, and that Serena was staying with him.

She took a deep breath then and looked into his eyes. “I'm getting married.” She wasn't sure why but she felt as though she had to defend herself to him.

“Already?” He looked shocked. “To Vasili Arbus?”

“Yes, to both questions.” She smiled then. “I love him very much. He's brilliant and wonderful and creative and a little crazy.”

“So I've heard.” He stopped to look at her then. “Serena, do you know what the hell you're doing?”

“Yes.” But she still felt a little flutter of fear. It had all happened so quickly.

“How long have you known him?”

“Long enough.”

“Serena, do whatever you want, live with him, go to London, but don't marry him. Not right away.… I've heard a lot of strange things about that man.”

“That's not fair, Teddy. It's not like you.” She looked upset. She wanted Teddy to approve of what she was doing.

“I'm not saying that because I'm jealous, I'm saying it because I love you. I've heard that—that he killed his last wife.” He looked terrified and pale in the car, and Serena's eyes grew bright with anger.

“How dare you say something like that! She died from an overdose!”

“Do you know of what?” His voice was strangely quiet.

“How the hell do I know?”

“Heroin.”

“So she was a junkie, so what? That's not his fault, and he didn't kill her.”

“Oh, God, Serena … please be sensible, you have so much at stake, yourself and Vanessa.” And dammit, he thought to himself as he voiced his objections, I still love you. “Why don't you just give it time?” But he was forcing her to dig in her heels.

“I know what I'm doing. Don't you trust me?”

“Yes.” His voice was very quiet. “But I'm not sure I trust him.”

She shook her head and looked out the window. “You're wrong, Teddy. He's a good man.”

“How do you know that?”

“I feel it.” She looked steadily at Teddy. “And he loves me. And we're in the same business. Teddy …” Her voice grew very soft. “It's right.”

“How soon are you going?”

“As soon as I can.”

“What about Vanessa?”

“I'm going to tell her when I get home.” And then she looked searchingly at the man who had been her brother-in-law and dearest friend for years. “Will you come to see us?”

“Anytime you let me.”

“You'll always be welcome. You're the only family I have, other than Vanessa. That better not change now.”

“It won't.” But he drove her into the city in silence, trying to recover from the shock of all she'd said. For the first time in a long time he wanted to tell her that he loved her. He wanted to stop her madness, to protect her.

40

“But why do we have to move to London?” Vanessa was looking plaintively at her mother.

“Because, darling, I'm getting married and that's where Vasili lives.” Serena felt very odd as she tried to explain it to Vanessa. All of the things that she was doing wrong seemed even more difficult to explain. It was wrong that she was moving so quickly, that she was giving up her career in New York, that she was leaving Teddy, that Vanessa hadn't met Vasili.

Vanessa looked at her now. “Can't I just stay here?” Serena felt as though she had been slapped by her daughter.

“Don't you want to come with me, Vanessa?” Serena had to fight back tears.

“But who'll take care of Uncle Teddy?”

“He will. And you know, one of these days he might get married too.”

“But don't you love him?” Vanessa looked more than ever confused, and Serena looked distraught.

“Of course I do, but not that way—oh, Vanessa, love is complicated.” How could one explain to a child about passion? “Anyway, now this nice man has come along and he wants you and me to come and live with him in London. And he has a house in Athens, and an apartment in Paris, and …” She felt like a complete fool trying to convince her daughter. Vanessa was just a child, not yet eight, and yet she knew when her mother was doing something wrong. Dorothea Kerr had been a great deal more blunt about it.

“Frankly I think you're stark-staring crazy.”

“I know, I know. It sounds nuts.” Serena was constantly having to defend what she was doing and it was exhausting. “But, Dorothea, this is special. I don't know how to tell you. He loves me, I love him. Something magical happened between us when he was here.”

“So he's good in bed. So what? So go sleep with him in London or Paris or the Congo, but don't marry him. For chrissake, the man has been married four or five times.”

“Four.” Serena corrected soberly.

“And just what do you think will happen to your career? You won't stay on top forever, kid. Some new face will come along.”

“That's going to happen anyway, and I can work in London.” There was no convincing her, but by the time she left New York, three weeks later. Serena's psyche was exhausted. She was tired and pale and hadn't slept in weeks.

Teddy took them to the airport, and all three of them cried as though it were the end of the world. He was quiet and restrained, but the tears flowed down his face as he kissed Vanessa, and Vanessa clung to him like her last friend. Serena felt as though she were destroying the family she cherished, and at the end she held Teddy in her arms and she couldn't even speak. All she could manage to squeeze out just before they boarded was an anguished “I love you.” And then with a last wave they were gone. The flight over was bumpy and Vanessa cried most of the way, and by the time they reached London, Serena was almost ready to turn back. But as she stepped off the plane she saw him, and her eyes filled with tears as she laughed. Vasili looked like a balloon vendor at a fair, as he stood with at least fifty helium-filled balloons in one hand, and an enormous doll stuck under his other arm.

“Is that him?” Vanessa stared at him with interest, and it struck Serena again how much she looked like Brad.

“Yes. His name is Vasili.”

“I know.” Vanessa glanced disparagingly over her shoulder at her mother and Serena grinned at what an able grown-up she could be sometimes.

The doll was wearing a fancy blue satin dress, a small white fur cape, and an old-fashioned hat. She looked like a little girl of a hundred years before.

Vasili came slowly toward them, the balloons held aloft, as people smiled. “Hello, could I sell you a balloon, little girl?” Vanessa laughed. “And I also happen to have this dolly.” He pulled the big handsome doll out from under his arm and handed her to Vanessa. “Hello, Vanessa. My name is Vasili.”

“I know.” She stared at him, as though sizing him up, and he laughed. “I'm glad you came to London.”

She looked at him honestly. “I didn't want to come. I cried a lot when I left New York.”

“I can understand that.” He spoke to her gently. “When I was a little boy, I lived in London, and then I had to move to Athens, and that made me very sad.” Serena recalled as he said it that he had been two when his parents died, and he couldn't possibly remember, but at least it sounded good to the child. “Do you feel better now?” She looked up at the balloons and nodded. “Shall we go home?” He held out a hand to her and she took it, and then for the first time he stood up and looked into Serena's eyes. “Welcome home, my darling.” Her heart melted as she looked at him. She wanted to thank him for how wonderful he had been to Vanessa, but she knew that this wasn't the time. She could only tell him what she felt with her eyes.

At the little house in Chelsea he had prepared everything for Serena and Vanessa. There was. a dollhouse in the little blue and white guest room. There were dolls on the bed. There was a chair just Vanessa's size. And all over the house were enormous bouquets of beautiful flowers. He had hired a new maid to take care of Vanessa. And there was champagne cooling in a silver bucket in their bedroom, when at last Serena sat down on the bed with a sigh.

“Oh, Vasili… I thought I'd never survive.” She thought back over the past weeks and almost shuddered. For hours on the plane all she had been able to think of was Teddy, looking so bereft when they left, and his begging her not to get married right away. She had cried when she said good-bye to Dorothea Kerr too, and she already felt a twinge of nostalgia for the life she had left behind in New York. And yet this was going to be so much better, and she knew that this was right for her. But all her life she had been saying good-bye to beloved people and places, and each time she did so again, it brought back some of the sorrow of the past.

“Was it very rough?”

She looked at him a little sadly. “In a way, but I kept thinking that I was coming home to you.” And then she smiled tenderly at him. “I had a hard time convincing people that we aren't crazy.” She looked at him with a bittersweet smile. “Doesn't anyone believe in love anymore?” Yet even in her own heart she knew that she had done something crazy, or impetuous at best.

“Do you believe in love, Serena?” He looked at her as he handed her a glass of the chilled champagne and she took it from him.

“I wouldn't be here if I didn't, Vasili.”

“Good. Because I love you with all my heart.” He toasted her quietly. “To the woman I love … to my princess.…” He linked his arm in hers and they took the first sip, and then his eyes danced as he looked into hers. “How soon is the wedding?”

She smiled tiredly at him. “Whenever you like.”

“Tomorrow,” he teased.

“How about giving us a little time to adjust?”

“Two weeks?” She nodded. “In two weeks then, Mrs. Arbus. Until then you remain my princess.” He smiled gently at her then and took her face in his hands to kiss her, and moments later her body was entwined with his on the enormous bed, and Teddy and Dorothea and New York were all but forgotten.

41

The wedding was pretty and festive and conducted at the home of one of his friends in Chelsea. There were about thirty people present, and no members of the press. Serena looked magnificent in a beige silk dress that hung to the floor, with tiny beige cymbidium orchids in her hair.

A minister performed the ceremony. Three of Vasili's other four weddings had been only civil, so the minister had been willing to perform this one for them, after some discussion with both the bride and groom. Vanessa stood beside her mother at the wedding, holding tightly to her hand and glancing at Vasili. In the past two weeks she had begun to like him, but he was still a stranger to her, and she didn't see him very often. He was at the studio most of the time in the daytime, and every night they went out.

Serena herself was exhausted by their hectic schedule. She was trying to adjust to it all, but she never seemed to catch up. They went to parties, balls, concerts, the theater, parties after parties after parties, and were frequently not yet in bed when the sun came up over London. How he managed to work as hard as he did was a mystery to Serena. By the end of two weeks she had circles under her eyes and she was exhausted. The only prospect of relief in sight was a week at his house in Saint-Tropez, where they were going to spend their honeymoon. But Vanessa was already complaining about that. She didn't want to be left alone with the maid, and she wanted them to take her with them. Vasili wanted to be alone. And Serena felt as though she were being torn in half. After lengthy discussions with Vanessa, they did manage to leave the day after the wedding, and as they took off in the plane Serena sat back in her seat with an enormous sigh.

“Tired?” He looked surprised and Serena laughed at him.

“Are you kidding? I'm ready to drop. I don't know how you do it.”

“Easy.” He grinned at her with his boyish grin, and pulled something out of his pocket. It was a small vial of pills, she saw a moment later. “I take whites.”

“Whites?” She looked startled as she glanced from him to the bottle and then back to his eyes. “You take pills?” He had never told her and he nodded.

“They allow me to keep going night and day. Want one?”

“No, thanks. I'll wait till Saint-Tropez and get some sleep.” But deep within she was shocked. She remembered suddenly what Teddy had told her, that Vasili's last wife had died of a heroin overdose.

“Don't look so worried, love.” He bent toward her with a kiss. “They won't kill me. They just keep me moving at a speed that I like.”

“But aren't they bad for you?”

“No.” He looked amused. “They don't do any harm. And if I take too many, I just take something to counteract it. Not to worry.” He suddenly sounded like a pharmacist and Serena was startled to realize that he took pills. She hadn't been aware of it before, and it underlined to her again how little she knew of him. At times she felt as though they had been together forever. At other times she felt as though she scarcely knew him at all. “For God's sake, Serena.” He looked at her expression again with obvious annoyance. “You look as though you've just discovered I'm an ax murderer. For chrissake …” He got out of his seat and walked to the front of the plane. He returned a few minutes later with half a bottle of wine for them both. “Or do you object to that too?”

“I didn't object to the other, I was just surprised.” She looked hurt. “You didn't tell me before.”

“Do I have to tell you everything?”

“You don't have to do a damn thing, Vasili.” She looked angry and declined the wine.

But he was looking at her more gently. “Yes, I do have to do something.”

“And what's that?” She still looked annoyed.

“I have to kiss you, that's what.” She grinned at him then, and a little while later the tension had worn off.

Their stay in Saint-Tropez was everything a honeymoon should be. They walked naked on their private beach, swam in the gentle swell of the Mediterranean, drove around the Maritime Alps in a Maserati, went to the casino in Monte Carlo, saw a few of Vasili's friends, and were mostly alone. They spent late mornings in bed, stayed up till all hours making love, and were only in the newspapers once, when one of the French papers made a fuss about their arrival at the Carlton for drinks: “Vasili Arbus and his new bride, honeymooning in Cannes … she was a princess and a model, now she's his queen.…”He read it to her the next morning over breakfast.

“How did they know that you're my queen?” He smiled happily at her.

“Someone must have squealed.”

“You know what I'd like to do next week?”

“What, my love?” She smiled at her husband. It was something very different than she had shared with Brad. But she was almost ten years older now. She felt very much a woman with Vasili, and she loved the heady feeling of being his wife.

“I'd like to go to Athens for a few days.” But her face clouded over. “Wouldn't you like that?”

“I ought to get back to Vanessa.”

“She'll be fine with Marianne.”

“That's not the same.” Vanessa was in a new environment and she wanted her mother. It had been hard enough to convince her that they really needed their one-week honeymoon alone.

“Then why don't we stop off in London and pick her up on the way?”

“What about school?” Serena felt exhausted just thinking of how complicated that would be. Sometimes it was difficult following in his wake. He did precisely what he wanted, when he wanted, and he wasn't used to all the considerations that were a normal part of Serena's life.

“Can't she skip school for a little while?”

It would be easier than arguing with Vasili, or trying to make him understand. “I suppose she could.”

“Fine. I'll call my brother and tell him we're coming.”

“You have a brother?” She looked amazed. He had said nothing about any siblings.

“I most certainly do. Andreas is only three years older than I am, but he's much more serious.” He seemed amused. “He has four children and a fat wife and he lives in Athens and runs one of the family businesses. I've always preferred life closer to my English relatives. Andreas, in his soul, is entirely Greek.”

“I can't wait to meet him.”

“And I'm sure he can't wait to meet you.”

It was easy to believe when the three of them got off the plane in Athens the following week. Andreas was waiting at the airport with a huge bouquet of roses for Serena, a doll and an enormous box of chocolates for Vanessa, and his own children had arranged a little party for her at their house in Athens. His youngest child was fifteen and his oldest was twenty-one, but they were all delighted to meet Vasili's new stepchild. He had never before married anyone with children, and they were intrigued by this new wife of his, with the golden hair. She was so beautiful and so graceful, and even Andreas was taken with her. Serena instinctively liked him. He seemed kind and generous and thoughtful, and much more serious than Vasili, who constantly accused him of being stiff. But he wasn't really. He was a man of great substance and responsibility, in contrast to Vasili's more whimsical nature. And Andreas was enchanted with his new niece, whom he escorted around Athens with great seriousness, as he showed her sights he thought would amuse her, while his own children went to school and Vasili and Serena disappeared for their own tours. Vasili had a thousand things he wanted to show Serena, and Vanessa was happy with Andreas. She liked him even better than her new stepfather, who still seemed a little odd to her and was guilty of depriving her too frequently of her mother. But Andreas reminded her a little of Teddy, and she thought him better-looking than Vasili. As she beat him for the fourth time in a row over the checkerboard, she fell head over heels into her first crush.

They stayed in Athens for more than a week, and when it was time to return to London, Vanessa was bitterly disappointed. She wanted to go on playing checkers forever with Andreas, whom she had come to love, but both Serena and Vasili said that they had to get back to work. Vasili had several jobs waiting for him at the studio in London, and Serena had already made an appointment with an agency to come in and show them her book. For the next several weeks the whole family was busy, Vasili and Serena with their work, and Vanessa at school, it seemed as though everyone had settled back into real life. Until one night when Serena was waiting for Vasili to come back from the studio, he still hadn't showed up two hours after they were expected at someone's house for a formal dinner. Serena was waiting for him in a spectacular gold dress she had just got from Paris, and her calls to the studio had been to no avail. She hoped that nothing was wrong, but when he arrived at the house, she was shocked. He looked filthy and disheveled. His hair was all askew, there were deep circles under his eyes, his shirt was covered with spots, his pants were unzipped, and he was walking unsteadily toward her at a much too rapid pace, as though he were operating on the wrong speed.

“Vasili?” He looked as though he had been mugged. She had seen him leave for the studio that morning, in the same pale blue shirt, camel-colored corduroy slacks, and a tweed jacket that he had just bought. Now the tweed jacket had disappeared. “Are you all right?”

“Fine. I'll be dressed in a minute.” He sounded normal, but he looked anything but, and Serena was deeply worried as she followed him upstairs. He turned around to stare at her, and she saw that he was weaving. “What the hell are you following me for?”

“Are you drunk?” She was staring at him. But with that, he threw back his head and laughed.

“Am I drunk? Am I drunk?” He repeated it again and again.

“Are you crazy?” She knew then that he was, but he didn't really look drunk, as she followed him into the bedroom, hoping that Vanessa hadn't heard them.

“Vasili, we can't go … you're in no condition.” As she approached him she saw that his eyes looked almost crazy, and his mouth moved differently as he mimicked all that she said. “I'm not going.” There was a frantic tone in her voice. This was a man she had never seen before, and it frightened her to see in him a stranger.

“What's the matter? Are you ashamed of me?” He walked toward her belligerently, and she stepped back, frightened. “You think I'd hit you?” She didn't answer but she was very pale. “Hell no, you're shit beneath my feet.” She was shocked at what he was saying, and she turned quickly and left the room. He found her in Vanessa's room a few minutes later, making an excuse as to why they had changed their minds about going out.

“Vasili doesn't feel well,” she said gently.

“Doesn't he?” It was a roar from the door. “Yes, he does. Your mother is lying, Vanessa.” Both mother and child looked shocked as he advanced into the room. He was steady on his feet again but the same mad light was still in his eyes.

Serena hurried toward the door and gently pushed him through it. “Please come upstairs.”

“Why should I? I want to talk to Vanessa. Hi, baby, how did your day go today?”

Vanessa said nothing and her eyes looked enormous in her face. Vasili reeled toward Serena then, still standing in the doorway. “What did you do? Tell her I was drunk?” He spat the words at her and Serena's eyes began to blaze.

“Aren't you?”

“No, you asshole, I'm not.”

“Vasili!” Serena was shouting now. “Get out of Vanessa's room!”

“Why, afraid I'll do something that will make you jealous?”

“Vasili!” It was the growl of a mother lion and he wheeled and left the room. He went down to the kitchen then, raided the icebox, and returned to their bedroom again, like an animal on the prowl.

“Want to fuck?” He looked at her over his shoulder as he picked at a plate of cold potatoes he had found in the icebox. The question seemed more rhetorical than real and Serena wanted to shake him.

“What in God's name is wrong with you? Did you take more pills?”

He shook his head. “Nope. What about you? Did you?” It was impossible to talk to him, and a few minutes later she locked herself in Vanessa's room with the child, and spent the night there.

The next morning he slept until almost noon, and when he finally came downstairs, it was evident that he was both ashamed and ill.

“Serena …” He looked at her, overwhelmed with remorse. “I'm sorry.”

“You should be.” She looked at him coldly. “And you owe an apology to Vanessa. Just what exactly happened to you last night?” It was as though he had gone crazy.

“I don't know.” He hung his head. “I had a few drinks. They must have reacted strangely. It won't happen again.” But it did. In almost precisely the same manner, once the following week, and twice the week after that. On Vanessa's birthday he was the worst he had ever been, and two days after that he disappeared for an entire night. It was as though he had gone totally berserk in the past month, and Serena couldn't understand it. He was like a totally different man from the one she had first met. He was angry, hostile, gloomy, vicious, and the mood came upon him more and more often. He spent the night at his studio now and then, and shouted at her when she asked for an explanation. And it made her more frantic yet when two days before Christmas she went to the doctor to discuss several minor problems she was having, which included nausea, vomiting, dizzy spells, headaches, insomnia, and all of it, she knew, was due to her nerves. It was exhausting to try and shield Vanessa from what was happening, and she was seriously thinking about going home to the States.

“Mrs. Arbus,” the doctor said, looking at her kindly, “I don't think your nerves are the problem.”

“They're not?” Could it be serious, then?

“You're pregnant.”

“Oh, my God.” She hadn't even thought of that.

That night she sat looking distracted and unhappy, staring into the fire in their den. Vasili was home and he was strangely subdued, but she didn't want to tell him. Abortions weren't totally impossible in London, and she hadn't decided what should be done.

“Tired?” He had been trying for half an hour to strike up a conversation, and she only nodded.

“Yes.” She still wouldn't look at him, and at last he came and sat next to her and touched her arm.

“Serena, it's been awful, hasn't it?”

She turned huge sad eyes up to his and nodded. “Yes, it has. I don't understand it. It's as though you're not yourself.”

“I'm not.” It was as though he knew something she didn't. “But I'll change that. I promise. I'll stay here with you and Vanessa until Christmas, and then I'll go somewhere and straighten out. I swear.” His eyes were as sad as hers.

“Vasili …” Serena looked at him hauntingly. “What happened? I don't understand.”

“You don't need to understand. It's something that never has to be a part of your life.” She wanted to ask him then if it was drugs but she didn't dare. “I'll take care of it, and I'll be the man you met in New York.” He nuzzled her neck gently and she wanted to believe him. She had missed him so much and she had been so frightened. “Do you want to do something special for Christmas?” She shook her head. He hadn't even been aware enough to notice how ill she was feeling.

“Why don't we just stay home?”

“What about Vanessa?”

“I've already got something planned for her.”

“What about us? Do you want to go to some parties?”

She shook her head, disinterested, withdrawn, unhappy, and it killed him to see her like that. “Serena, darling … please … everything will be all right.” She looked at him then, more confused than ever. He was so loving, so gentle, so understanding. How could he turn into that other man? “Why don't we go to bed? You look exhausted.”

She sighed softly. “I am.” But after he thought she was asleep, he was in the bathroom for hours, and when she got up again to go to the bathroom once he had finally come out of it, she walked in and let out a scream. On the sink, next to a blood-stained ball of cotton, lay a hypodermic needle, a match, and a spoon. “Oh, my God!” She wasn't even sure what she was seeing, but she knew that it was something awful, and little by little, as she stood there, the light dawned. She remembered what Teddy had told her about Vasili's last wife … heroin … and suddenly knew that that was what she was seeing.

And suddenly she sensed also that he was standing right behind her, she could almost hear him breathing, and when she turned around, he was leaning against the wall, almost falling, his eyelids drooping, with a look of pallor that made him look as though he were about to die. Terrified, she began to whimper and shrank from him, as he lurched toward her, muttering at her about what the hell was she doing, snooping. Terrified, she ran out of the room.

42

The morning of Christmas Eve Serena sat across the dining table from Vasili, and with a pale face and shaking hands she set down her cup. They were alone in the dining room and the doors were closed. Vasili looked as though he had been embalmed only that morning, and he did not attempt to meet her eyes.

“I want you to know that I'm going back to the States the day after Christmas. I'd leave tonight, except that it would upset Vanessa. Just stay away from me until I go, and everything will be fine.”

“I understand perfectly.” He actually hung his head in shame, and she wanted to hit him for what he had done, for what he was doing, to himself as well as to her. She couldn't even think of what was happening in her own body. She hadn't had time to think of it all day. She'd have to make arrangements for an abortion when she got back to New York, maybe Teddy would even help her, but she didn't want to waste time here. She just wanted to go home.

She got up from the table then, and suddenly, as she walked toward the door, the whole room spun around her, and a moment later she awoke lying on the floor. Vasili was kneeling beside her, looking at her in terror, shouting at the maid for a damp cloth to put on her head. “Serena! … Serena! … oh, Serena …” He was crying as he knelt beside her and Serena felt tears spring to her own eyes as well. She wanted to reach up and hold her arms out to him, but she couldn't do it. She had to be strong. She had to leave him, and leave London, and get rid of their child. “Oh, my darling, what happened? I'll call the doctor.”

“Don't!” Her voice was still weak and the room spun as she shook her head. “I'm all right.” It was a whisper. “I'll get up in a minute.” But when she did, she looked sicker than he.

“Are you ill?” he asked her in despair, wondering if he had done that to her, but she only shook her head.

“No, I'm not.”

“But it's not normal to faint like that.”

She looked at him unhappily as she stood in the doorway at last. “What's been happening around here isn't normal either. Or maybe you hadn't thought of that.”

“I told you last night I would stop it. Day after tomorrow I'm going into the hospital for a few days, and then I'll be myself again.”

“For how long?” she shouted at him. “How often has this happened before? Is that how your wife died? Were you both shooting up drugs and she overdid it?” Her voice trembled and tears poured down her face.

But now he began to cry too as he spoke in an agonized whisper. “Yes, Serena … yes … yes! … I tried to save her, but I couldn't. It was too late.” He closed his eyes then, as though he couldn't bear the thought.

“You make me sick. Is that what you expect from me? To find a friend you could use drugs with?” She shook as she shouted at him, and neither of them saw Vanessa come down the stairs. “Well, I won't. Do you hear me? And I won't stay married to you either. I'm going back to New York and the minute I get there I'm having an abortion and—” She stopped, realizing what she had just said. And he came instantly toward her.

“What did you say?” He grabbed her shoulders, his eyes wide.

“Nothing, dammit… nothing!” She slammed the door to the dining room behind her and ran toward the stairs where she found Vanessa crying softly. Vasili was upon them a moment later, and the three of them sat on the stairs in tears. It was a grim scene, for which Serena hated both herself and Vasili. Vasili apologized again and again for what he had done to both of them, Serena clung to Vanessa, and Vanessa screamed at Vasili that he was killing her mother. It seemed a hopeless tangle, and at last it was Vasili who led them both upstairs. Nothing more was said about the baby. But when at last Vasili was alone with Serena again, after they had left Vanessa calmer with the maid, he asked her if what she had said was true.

“So you're pregnant?” She nodded and turned away. He came to her slowly then and touched her shoulders with his hands as he stood behind her. “I want you—no, I beg you to keep my child, Serena … please … give me a chance … I will be clean again in a few days. It will be as it was before. I don't know what happened. Maybe it was the adjustment between us, the responsibility of pleasing Vanessa, I went crazy for a little while. But I'll stop it. I swear it. Please—” His voice cracked and she turned around to see her husband dissolved in tears. “Don't kill my baby … please.…” Even Serena couldn't resist him, and she opened her arms and held him close.

“How could you have done it, Vasili? How could you?”

“It won't happen again. If you want, I'll go into the hospital tonight. I won't even wait until after Christmas. I'll go now.”

She looked at him strangely and nodded. “Do it. Do it right away.” He called the hospital ten minutes later, and she drove him there within the hour. She kissed him good-bye in the lobby and he promised to call her that night. When she left him, she drove directly home and climbed into her bed, and Teddy called her half an hour later, allegedly to wish them both a merry Christmas, but a few minutes later he asked if everything was all right. She had to fight to control her voice as she spoke to him, and she said nothing about coming home. But when she handed the phone to Vanessa, the child cried so hard that she almost couldn't speak. Serena sent her back to her room a few minutes later and Teddy confronted her then.

“Are you going to tell me what's going on there, or do I have to come over to see for myself?” The thought of confessing her mistake to Teddy made her cringe, but she was too unhappy to fool him, and in a rush of tears she told him what was going on. “Oh, my God. You've got to get out.”

“But that's not fair. He just went into the hospital for detoxification. Maybe I owe it to him to give him a chance. He says he'll be himself again when he comes out.”

“That's not saying much.”

Serena wiped away her tears and sniffed. “That's a rotten thing to say.”

“He's a rotten man. Face it, dammit. You've made a terrible mistake. And you can't drag Vanessa through this, or yourself.”

“But what if he comes back from the hospital all right?” And now she was having his baby. She began to cry again, thinking of all the problems and decisions she had on her hands. “Oh, Teddy … I don't know what to do.”

“Come home.” He had never sounded as firm before. “I mean it. Get your ass on a plane tomorrow and come back to New York. You can stay with me.”

“I can't leave now. He's my husband. It's not right.” All her torment and conflict surfaced at once and she resisted Teddy's suggestion with all her might.

“Then send Vanessa until you're sure he's cleaned up.”

“And be away from her at Christmas?” Serena started to cry again.

“Oh, for God's sake, Serena, what in God's name is happening over there … what's happening to you?” She felt crazier than Vasili as she tried to answer his question.

“I'm so unhappy and frightened, I can't think straight.”

“That much I know.”

But the rest he didn't. “I'm pregnant.”

He whistled softly. “Holy shit.” And then after a thoughtful pause, “Look, get some rest. I'll call you tomorrow.” But the next day when he did, all hell had broken loose in New York. Someone at the hospital where Vasili was detoxing had fed that little item to the press, and it had gone over the AP wires before morning, appearing in a small but nasty news article in the States. Margaret's clipping service had sent the article over by messenger. She was furious and at the same time almost victorious.

“It's not bad enough that she uses our name to flaunt herself all over New York, now she's married to that miserable café-society junkie. For God's sake, Teddy, what next?” She had called him at eight o'clock in the morning. “Do you still speak to that woman?”

“I called her last night.”

“I don't understand you.”

“Look, dammit, she's my sister-in-law. And she's having a rough time.” But this time even he was having difficulty defending her. She had made a poor choice. It wasn't her fault, of course, but the press was not inclined to be kind, and the little piece was certainly an embarrassment to the family and to Vanessa, which was more important. For once his mother was right. About Vasili, if not his wife.

“She deserves a rough time. And may I remind you that she is not your sister-in-law. Your brother is dead. And she is married to that trash.”

“Why did you call me, Mother?” There was nothing else to say. He didn't want to defend Vasili, and he didn't want to discuss Serena with her.

“I wanted to know if you'd seen the item. As usual, I've been proven right.”

“If you mean that you're right in your opinion of Vasili Arbus, I completely agree. As for Serena, let's not discuss it. You haven't made sense on that issue in years.”

“I'm amazed you manage to keep any patients, Teddy. I think you're demented. On that subject at least. She must be quite spellbinding, judging by you and your brother.”

“Is there anything else?”

“No, except that you can tell her that if anyone ever uses our name in relation to her, to describe her, or her previous unfortunate alliance to my son, I will indeed sue her. That witch Dorothea Kerr no longer enters into it. I assume, “The Princess' “—her voice was scathing—”is retired.”

“For the moment.”

“I suppose whores can always take their trade up again.” At that he hung up on her, and called Serena. It was early afternoon in London and she sounded better than she had the night before. She had spent the whole morning calming Vanessa, and she said that when she spoke to Vasili at the hospital, he sounded a little more himself.

“Then you're not coming home?” Teddy sounded agonized at his end.

“Not yet.”

“Keep me posted at least and if I don't hear from you, I'll call back in a few days.” After the call Serena went back to Vanessa's room, to hear another diatribe about Vasili. It had been an excruciating few days.

“I hate him. I wish you had married Teddy, or Andreas.” She remembered Vasili's brother in Athens.

“I'm sorry you feel that way, Vanessa.” Serena's eyes filled with tears again. She was always being pulled between them, and Vanessa was looking at her strangely now.

“Are you really having a baby?”

Serena nodded. “Yes, I am.” That was going to be a problem too. Nothing was easy anymore. It was hard even to remember when it had been. “Does that upset you very much?”

Vanessa thought about it for a minute and then looked at her mother. “Couldn't we just leave and take it back with us to the States?” It was what Serena had thought of doing, but then she would have had an abortion.

“It's Vasili's baby too,” she said gently.

“Does it have to be? Couldn't it just be ours?”

Slowly Serena shook her head. “No, it couldn't.”

43

A week later Vasili came out of the hospital, and he appeared to be almost angelic. They led a quiet life, stayed home much of the time, he was kind and thoughtful and loving with Vanessa. It was as though in his last rash act of self-indulgence he had finally seen the light. He explained to Serena that he first tried heroin ten years earlier, as a kind of lark, to see what it was, and within weeks he had got hooked. Andreas had ultimately arrived from Athens, seen the condition he was in, and put him immediately in a clinic to clean up. After that, he had stayed away from it for a year and then someone had offered it to him at a party, and he had fallen off the wagon again. For the next five years he had been on and off it, and then he had stayed totally clean until he met his last wife. Shortly after their marriage he had discovered that she used it—”chipped,” he called it—and she had wanted him to use heroin with her, so she “didn't feel so lonely,” she had told him pouting, and stupidly he had tried it again. Their relationship had apparently been a catastrophe of using dope together, and in the end she had died. That had sobered him again, until now he had tried it again. But this time he was certain that it was the last. Serena, however, found it discouraging to learn that he had been in and out of the hospital to clean up so many times.

“Why didn't you tell me?” She had looked at him sadly, feeling as though she had been cheated.

“How do you tell someone that? ‘I have been a heroin addict.’ Do you know how that sounds?”

“But how do you think I felt when I found out, Vasili?” Her eyes showed him how great was her pain. “How could you think I wouldn't know?” The tears began to flow again then.

“I didn't think I'd get hooked again.”

She closed her eyes and lay back among her pillows.

“Serena, don't … darling, don't worry.”

“How can I not?” She looked at him with anguish. “How do I know you won't start again?” She didn't trust him now. She didn't trust anything about his life.

He held up a hand solemnly. “I swear it.”

For the next five months he was as good as his word. He was absolutely exemplary and he spoiled Serena rotten, doing everything he could to make up to her the pain he had caused her and to assuage her fears about his using again. He was thrilled about the baby, told everyone he knew, talked endlessly to his friends, his clients, his models, everyone knew about the baby, and of course he called his brother Andreas first of all. Andreas had sent them the biggest teddy bear Serena had ever seen, and it already sat in what would later be the baby's bedroom. He sent Vanessa an antique bride doll at the same time.

They were days of tenderness and gentle loving between Vasili and Serena. The boyish charm he had had in the beginning emerged again, and they spent long hours going for walks hand in hand. He took her to Paris twice, they spent Vanessa's Easter holiday in Athens, with Andreas and his wife and children, and then Vasili and Serena stopped in Venice on their way home, and she showed him her grandmother's house and all her favorite places. They had a wonderful time, and she thought that she had never been happier when they came home. The baby wasn't due until the first of August, and in early June Serena settled down to do the baby's room. She had bought beautiful little quilts and some wonderful old children's paintings of storybook characters in watercolors and oils. She herself was going to paint a mural, and Vanessa had been giving up dolls and stuffed animals, anticipating that she'd have a real doll soon. As June drew to an end she was excited about the baby. Serena was eight months pregnant, and it seemed incredible that the time was almost here. Vanessa had been invited to cruise the Greek Islands with Andreas and his family, but she wanted to stay near her mother to see the baby, and she still felt uneasy about going away alone. She didn't want to leave Serena, not even to visit Teddy, who had offered her a vacation in the States with him. “After the baby comes” was her answer to everyone, and Serena laughed when Vasili said the same thing to all invitations.

The pregnancy had been surprisingly easy, and the only thing that worried her now was that the same thing might happen with this baby as had happened with Vanessa, and if she started to give birth at home, she knew that Vasili didn't have Teddy's cool head. He was already a nervous wreck at the prospect, and every time she moved in bed, he leaped up, his black eyes starting, a look of shock on his face. “Is it now? Is it now?”

“No, silly, go back to sleep.” Serena would smile at him, and she lay in bed, thinking of their baby and the years ahead. Everything was peaceful between them and the episode of his heroin use seemed like a distant nightmare now, until one day in the first week of July Vasili didn't come home at night. At first she thought that something awful had happened, like a car accident perhaps, and then as the hours ticked by she began to wonder if it was all happening again. She was racked by terror and anger as she waited up for him until four thirty in the morning, and at five o'clock she heard him come up the front steps. The door slammed soundly behind him, and on bare feet she tiptoed down the front stairs, trembling, with the baby seeming to leap inside her. She was afraid of what she would see, but she had to see it and know if he was using drugs again. All the old terrors had started again, in only one night.

As she stood halfway down the stairs and he stood in the front hallway, his eyes met hers, and he attempted a false bravado, with an enormous movie-star smile.

She could see instantly from the way he looked that he was high on something, and he looked nervous and foolish as he raced toward her, trying to pretend that there was nothing extraordinary about coming in at 5 A.M.

“Hello, darling, how's the baby?” His voice sounded hoarse and she had noticed that during his drug use before Christmas too. He always sounded different when he used heroin, and she couldn't bear to think now that he had done it again. She didn't answer him, she just stared at him, and he ran up the stairs and tried to give her a kiss. But she shrank from him in horror, knowing full well what he had done.

“Where were you?” It was a stupid question and she knew it. The point wasn't where he had been, but what he had done. And without waiting for an answer, she turned on her heel and walked up the stairs as quickly as she could. She felt as though at any minute she might have the baby. She felt so tense and she was having so many contractions from her long night awake that she wasn't sure if she was in labor or just feeling ill.

“Don't be so goddamn square,” he shouted at her as she reached their bedroom, and she turned to him with a look of fury.

“Be quiet or you'll wake Vanessa.” But it wasn't anger she felt so much as terror and despair. Vasili's private demon had entered their life again.

“To hell with Vanessa, she's a little bitch anyway.” But at the very sound of the words Serena lunged toward him. With a rapidly flailing hand she attempted to slap him, but he caught her wrist first and flung her backward against the wall. She stumbled as she fell, and she groaned as she reached the floor, but more than hurt, she was stunned. He stood over her, and when she looked up at him with tears in her eyes, she saw that his eyes had the mad nervous gleam they had had before when he used heroin. It was like reliving the same nightmare and she felt as though she couldn't bear it. She felt a rage rise up within her that was almost beyond control.

“You make me sick!” She rose to her feet, with every inch of her body trembling, and she reached back as though to slap him again, and this time he beat her to it. He caught her across the face with the back of his hand and sent her reeling. She came crashing to the bedroom floor, and it was at this moment that Vanessa came running in. “Go back to your room!” Serena said it quickly, not wanting the child involved, but before Vanessa could leave, Vasili pushed her, and she landed in a heap beside Serena.

“There, two whimpering women. You belong with each other.” He turned away and then spat over his shoulder. “Fools!”

Serena whispered to the child to go back to her room, but Vanessa refused, with a look of panic in her eyes. “He'll hurt you.”

“No, he won't.” She was afraid he would too, but she didn't want Vanessa to see it.

“Yes, he will.” Vanessa began to sob and clutch at her mother.

“Darling, please.” Carefully she stood up and led the child to her room, and it was half an hour before she returned to Vasili. He was sitting in a chair, his head on his chest, a cigarette burnt out in his fingers.

“What?” He picked his head up as though she had just spoken and squinted in her direction. “I heard you.”

“I didn't say a damn thing.” She closed the door softly behind her, hating him with every ounce of her soul. “But I'm about to. I just want to let you know now, you son of a bitch, that when you come to tomorrow morning, I'm going to my lawyer, and then I'm going back to the States.”

“And what will that prove? Who will support your baby?”

“I will.”

There was something evil and vicious about him when he used drugs, and as Serena saw him that way she began to hate him. It was as though it canceled out all the good she had seen in him, all the hopes, all the dreams. All she wanted to do was run away. She began to leave the room then, but even in his seemingly sleepy state he suddenly sprang from his chair and leaped toward her.

He grabbed her arm and pulled her toward the bed and then he pushed her onto it. “Go to bed.”

“I don't want to sleep here.” She was shaking but trying not to show it. And the contractions were so fierce that she could barely stand up straight. And then, in spite of herself, she began to try and pull away from him. “I don't want to be near you.”

“Why not? Do I disgust you?” The evil eyes gleamed at her.

“Let me go. You're hurting my arm.”

“That isn't all I'll hurt if you don't start behaving.”

“What in hell does that mean?” She knew better than to argue with him when he'd been using and yet she couldn't stop. She wanted to shake him. “Do you expect me to take this and stick by you? Well, I won't, damn you. You can go to hell. I'm getting out of here in the morning.”

“Are you?” He took a step toward her again. “Are you?” She trembled uncontrollably as he stood over her, and then, as though the effort had been too much, she lay back on the bed and began sobbing. She cried for over an hour and he didn't come near her, and when her tears were spent, she fell asleep on the bed, and when she awoke, it was eleven o'clock and he was still snoring. She tiptoed out of the room to go and find Vanessa, but Marianne had taken her for a walk, and Serena walked around the house slowly. She knew that she had to leave, that she had to get Vanessa out before things got too far out of hand again, and she had to go for the sake of the baby, yet she felt a strange panic at the thought of going. Maybe he was right. Who would help her? Where would she go? She couldn't expect Teddy to help her with this baby. And there was no one else left. She felt trapped as she sat at the foot of the stairs, and didn't hear him approach her. She only felt the touch of his hand on her shoulder and she leaped off the step with a little scream. As she turned to face him she saw his ravaged face. This time the damage of the drug was apparent after only hours. The time before it had taken weeks to look as bad as he did now. He already looked haggard and ferret-faced and seedy.

“Are you all right?” The wan face wore an expression of terror. She nodded, looking at him with dismay, and was almost unable to keep from crying. He lowered his voice. “Did I hurt you?”

“No.” She spoke very softly. “But you terrified Vanessa.” It was as though she herself no longer existed, as though the only two people who mattered anymore were Vanessa and the unborn baby. For herself, suddenly she didn't care if he killed her. She just didn't want him to harm her children. And it all seemed so exhausting to defend them. She was at a time in her life when she needed someone to take care of her, and instead she was suddenly having to deal with this nightmare with him. “What are you going to do?” She stared at him with beaten eyes. He was no longer the man she knew. Already, in one night, he had vanished.

“I don't know. I can handle it myself this time. I've only used a few times.”

“A few times?” She looked shocked. She hadn't noticed, and she was surprised that he was being so honest. In Athens, the previous spring, when she and Andreas had once discussed it, he said that Vasili was never honest about using drugs once he started. So if he said “a few times,” how many did that mean? She looked at him in despair. “Why now?”

“How do I know?” He sounded irritable and nervous.

“Will you go into the hospital again?” She looked at him imploringly and felt her swollen belly begin to contract again.

“I don't need to this time.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I know, dammit.” She was making him very nervous. “Why don't you go upstairs and rest?” She noticed then that he was wearing jeans and his shirt from the night before and shoes without socks.

“Are you going somewhere?”

“I have to pick up some film.”

“Really. Where?”

“None of your goddamn business. Why don't you go lie down?”

“Because I just got up.”

“So what? Aren't you supposed to rest? Don't you care about the baby?” As though, in attacking her, he could free himself. In spite of her haranguing and nagging he left the house five minutes later and he didn't come back until after midnight. She had spent the day pacing and wondering and hating him, and in spite of her threats the night before, she didn't call her lawyer. She ended up screaming at Vanessa, bursting into tears, and having contractions that almost made her call the doctor. And when Vasili came in at last, she saw that he had once again been using drugs.

“How long is this going to go on?” Her voice was near hysterical and he nodded out as he pretended to listen to her.

“As long as I want to, if it's any of your business.”

“Last time I looked I was your wife, and we were having a baby. It's my business.”

He smiled evilly at her. “Such a little square lady.”

She felt her stomach churn with horror as she watched him. “Why don't you get yourself put on one of the state heroin programs then, list yourself as an addict and do it that way?” What a thought. As she listened to herself she almost shuddered, but maybe then it would regulate him to a dose he could live with and they wouldn't have to go through quite the same hell.

But he was sneering at her. “What? And lose all my work? That would be interesting.”

“Can you work like this?” They both knew he could not. Whenever he went on a binge, his assistants covered for him.

“Mind your own fucking business, bitch.” This time she didn't get up to slap him, she only turned her back to him and lay there in bed, wondering why she hadn't moved out that morning. It was as though she were unable to move, unable to function, as though she thought that if she stayed with him long enough he'd straighten out again. But he didn't. The nightmare only grew worse every day, as Serena helplessly sat by and watched it, feeling herself sink into a quagmire of despair. At the end of the first week every day he promised her that he would get help, and every day he went out and used again. He was always going to get help the next morning, she was always going to call her lawyer and leave for the States at a moment's notice. It was a merry-go-round of threats and promises and fear. But she realized in the first few days that, other than a hotel, she could go nowhere. She couldn't get on a plane to the States, she was much too pregnant. And at last her due date was only days away and she had sat in the same quicksand for almost four weeks, as Vanessa watched her. The child was almost as wide-eyed and pale as her mother.

“Are you all right?” Teddy called them from Long Island on her due date, and he was even more worried than he had been before. There had been more press of late about Vasili—shots of him at night spots, alone, with speculations that his marriage to “The Princess” was on the rocks. “How is he?”

“Worse and worse. Oh, Teddy …” She had started to cry.

“Do you want me to fly over?”

“No. He'd have a fit and it would just be worse.” Although that was hard to imagine. How could it be much worse?

“If you need me, I'll come.”

“I'll call you.” But as she hung up she realized how isolated she felt from him. She felt isolated from everyone, adrift in this nightmare of Vasili's creation, as she waited to give birth to their child. She was afraid all the time and worried and she felt ill. But she had said nothing to her doctor. She couldn't stand the shame of admitting to anyone, except Teddy, what she was going through.

Teddy called her back a few hours later. He couldn't stand it any longer. He was flying over in a few days.

Five minutes later Serena went to Vanessa's room and found her staring sadly out the window. “You okay, sweetheart?” Serena was horrified when she saw her. The whole tale of the last month's grim scene was written all over the child.

“I'm all right, Mom. How's the baby?”

“The baby's okay, but I'm more worried about you.”

“You are?” Vanessa's little face brightened. “I worry about you all the time.”

“You don't have to. Everything's going to be fine. I guess Vasili will eventually get himself straightened out, but meanwhile Uncle Teddy is coming day after tomorrow.”

“He is?” The child looked as though Christmas had been announced four months early. “How come?”

“I told him what was happening here, and he wants to come over to keep you company while I have the baby.”

Vanessa nodded slowly, and then looked into her mother's eyes with eight-year-old eyes filled with confusion and pain. She had seen her mother slapped, pushed, ignored, terrified, worried, deserted, neglected. It was something that no child should ever see and that Serena prayed she would never see again. She hoped most of all that it wouldn't mark her forever. “Mommy, why does he do it? Why does he get like that?” She knew he took drugs. “Why does he want to?”

“I don't know, sweetheart. I don't understand it either.”

“Does he really hate us?”

“No,” Serena sighed, “I think he probably hates himself. I don't understand what makes him do it, but I don't think it has anything to do with us.”

“I heard him say he was afraid of the baby.”

Serena looked at her. She had heard so much, and absorbed even more than Serena thought. “Maybe the responsibility of it scares him.”

“Does it scare you?”

“No. I love you with all my heart, and I'm sure that we're going to love the baby.”

“I'm going to love the baby a lot.” Vanessa looked at her mother proudly, and Serena marveled that all that she had seen hadn't also made her hate the baby. Instead all of her bad feelings were for Vasili. “It's going to be my baby, Mommy. And I'm going to be a terrific sister.” She looked at her mother and kissed her cheek. “Do you think it'll come soon?”

“I don't know.”

“Sometimes I get tired of waiting.”

Serena smiled. “Sometimes so do I. But it'll be soon.” She could tell from all the contractions she'd been having in the past few days that it could come at any moment. “Maybe it'll wait for Uncle Teddy.” Vanessa nodded, and they hugged each other close for a minute, and then Serena went upstairs to call Andreas and tell him what was happening to Vasili. Andreas was horrified when she told him, and sympathetic to her.

“Poor girl, he's doing that at a time like this? He should be shot!” He sounded very Greek and Serena smiled.

“Do you want to come and try and talk him into the hospital, Andreas? I have no effect on him anymore.”

“I'll try. But I can't come for a few days. Alecca is sick, and I can't leave her.” His wife had been ill for several months, Serena knew, and everyone was beginning to suspect it was cancer.

“I understand. I just thought that maybe you could influence him.”

“I'll do my best. I'll be there by the end of the week, Serena. And you take care of yourself, and little Vanessa. No baby yet?” He smiled gently and she felt sad. She hardly had time to think about the baby. Vasili's addiction was the only thing on her mind.

“No, not yet, but soon. I'll let you know.”

“I'll try to come before you have it.”

That night she felt calmer than she had in weeks, knowing that Teddy and Andreas were both coming. She knew that Vanessa would be cared for, and with any luck at all Vasili would be put away for a while. Now all she had to do was try not to have the baby before they got to London. She lay thinking about it all night and Vasili did not come home, and as she began to doze off just before dawn she felt something damp and warm on her legs, as though she were swimming in very warm water. She tried to fall asleep in spite of the impression, not wanting to know what it was, and then suddenly she felt her whole belly seized as though in a giant vise, and she awoke with a start, knowing instantly what she was feeling.

“Damn …” she muttered softly. All the women she knew went into labor gently. They had mild pains for hours and wondered if what they were feeling was even labor, instead she leaped into it with both feet. But as she sat up in bed she remembered what both Teddy and her English doctor had told her. She knew she had to hurry if she didn't want to have another baby in her bed, and this time there was no one to help her. She got out of bed as quickly as she could, but she suddenly felt very awkward, the baby had dropped even lower in the past few hours, and she felt severely encumbered as she walked to the bathroom for some towels. As soon as she got there she had another pain, and she had to pant softly in order to bear it. She straightened up then, grabbed a dress off a hanger, pulled off her nightgown, slipped on the cotton dress, slipped her feet into sandals, and grabbed her handbag. She began to laugh softly to herself, feeling excited as she had almost nine years before. To hell with Vasili. She would leave him as soon as she had the baby. All she had to do now was wake Vanessa and get to the hospital. It was the maid's night out, and she couldn't leave Vanessa alone in the house with no one there with her. Particularly not with Vasili drifting in and out. She would never leave her alone with him.

She made her way gingerly down the stairs and walked into Vanessa's room. She shook her gently by the shoulder, bent to kiss her, smoothed her hair, and then gasped suddenly as she knelt beside the bed, but when Vanessa woke up, the pain was over.

“Come on, sweetheart, it's time to go.”

“Time to go where?”

“To the hospital to have the baby.”

“Now?” Vanessa looked startled and when she glanced out the window, she saw that it was still dark outside. Serena only wished that she could have waited until the arrival of the two uncles. Vanessa would just have to come to the hospital with her. They would set up a cot for her in another room if they had to. And she knew that Teddy would be there by Tuesday.

“Come on, love, get up. Just hop into some clothes and take a nightie. And a book,” she added as an afterthought, and then she gasped as a horrifying pain ripped through her.

“Oh, Mommy!” Vanessa leaped out of bed, unprepared for the agony she saw on her mother's face. “Mommy, are you all right? Mommy!”

“Shhhhh … darling, I'm fine.” Serena gritted her teeth and tried to smile. “Be a big girl and call a taxi … and hurry!”

Vanessa ran downstairs in her nightgown, carrying blue jeans and a T-shirt with her. She dressed while she waited for the cab company to answer, and when they did, she explained that it was an emergency, her mother was having a baby.

The taxi was at the front door less than five minutes later, and Vanessa helped Serena into it. She felt very grown-up as she helped her mother, and less frightened than she had been when she had seen the first pain, but she winced when her mother had another.

“Do they hurt that much?”

“They're just strong so they can push the baby out.” Vanessa nodded, but she still looked worried. The pains seemed to get harder as they approached the hospital, and when they arrived, Vanessa took the money out of her mother's bag and paid the driver. He smiled at them both and wished Serena luck, and two nurses came out to help Serena into a wheelchair. She was smiling wanly at Vanessa and waving one hand as they wheeled her away, and Vanessa settled down in a corner of the waiting room, assuming that her little brother or sister would be born a few minutes later.

When nothing had happened an hour later, she asked a nurse, but they brushed her off, and by midafternoon she was panicked. Where was her mother? What had happened? Why hadn't the baby come? “These things take time,” a nurse told her. When the shift changed at four o'clock, the nurses were kinder to Vanessa. No one understood why she was in the waiting room all alone, but finally someone realized that no one was coming for her and the poor child hadn't even eaten. She had complained to no one for fourteen long hours, and when finally one of the nurses brought her a sandwich, she burst into tears.

“Where's my mother? What happened? Why didn't she have the baby?” And then with huge eyes, “Is she going to die?” But when they smiled and told her that that was nonsense, she didn't believe them. When they left her alone again, she wandered off and began to drift down the halls, until she came to an ominous room with a smoky glass door marked LABOR. As though she sensed what she would find within, she straightened her shoulders and slipped inside, and what she saw there made her gasp sharply. It was her mother, lying on a white table, her legs strapped onto what looked like boards high in the air, her face contorted with pain, her hands restrained, her blond hair matted, and her mouth open in a scream.

“Mommy!” Vanessa was instantly in tears as she came toward her, and there was no one in the room with Serena. “Mommy!” She instinctively began to free her hands and Serena looked at her blindly. It took her a moment to recognize her own child and then she began to cry as hard as Vanessa.

“Oh, my baby … my baby …”As her hands were freed she touched the long golden blond hair, and then suddenly she clutched Vanessa's shoulder. The child nearly screamed out with the pain, and sensing it, Serena freed her, but she was unable to restrain a horrible groan.

“What's wrong … oh, Mommy, what's wrong?” Vanessa's eyes were huge with terror. Her mother was drenched with sweat and she was a ghostly color.

“The baby's … turned … around …” And then, as though she suddenly had a thought. “Vanessa … ask them for … my bag … I have money … call Teddy. Do you know … the number?” Vanessa nodded, still desperately afraid. “Tell him—” But she couldn't go on then, the pain was too ferocious. It was several minutes before she could start again. “Tell him the baby's breech … breech. Understand?” Vanessa nodded. “They tried to turn him and they couldn't. They're giving me a few more hours and they'll keep trying … go on …” Her eyes looked desperately at her daughter. “Tell him … tell him to come now, today. And hurry.” Vanessa nodded again, and hesitated, but after the next pain her mother begged her to get her bag, find a phone, and call Teddy without waiting another minute.

Vanessa had a difficult time getting the nurses to let her have her mother's handbag, but when they realized that she didn't even have money to eat, they finally relented. She then stealthily went to a phone booth down the hall, closed the door, and put the money in to call the operator and make a collect call to Teddy. It was seven o'clock at night in London by then, but in New York it was only one in the afternoon and she knew that she would find him at his office.

“Dr. Fullerton?” The nurse sounded surprised. “Yes … his niece? I'll get him.” Teddy was on the line a minute later, the call was accepted, and Vanessa almost got hysterical as she tried to tell him what she had seen and what her mother had told her.

“She's all tied up, Uncle Teddy, with her legs up in the air, and we've been here since five o'clock this morning, and she says … she says … the baby's beach, and they tried to turn him and can't, and—” She began to sob into the phone and he tried to calm her.

“It's all right, sweetheart, it's all right. Just tell me what she said.”

“They're going to give her a few more hours and keep trying to turn the baby. She wants you to come right away, and she said hurry.” At his end he almost burst into tears too. A breech birth three thousand miles away. Even if he caught the next plane, it would be anywhere from twelve to eighteen hours before he got to her. She needed a Caesarean section done immediately, and waiting useless hours to continue trying to turn the baby could kill her and lose the baby.

“It's going to be all right sweetheart,” he told Vanessa, wishing he believed it. “Do you know her doctor's name?” At least he could call him, but Vanessa didn't. “The hospital?” She gave it to him quickly. “I'll call them and we'll see if we can't get things moving.”

“Can't you come, Uncle Teddy?” It was obvious from her voice that Vanessa was beginning to panic.

“I'm going to catch the next plane, sweetheart, and with any luck at all I'll be there first thing tomorrow morning, your time, but maybe the baby will come before that.” It would only be twenty-four hours by then, but he knew that for Serena, strapped to a delivery table, her legs in stirrups, with a breech birth, and a possibly unsympathetic staff continually trying to turn the baby, he could mink of no worse torture for her to endure. “Can you get back to Mommy, sweetheart?”

“I'll try. I don't know if they'll let me.”

“Tell her I'm coming. Do you know where Vasili is?”

“No, and I don't want him to come. He's crazy.”

“I know, I know. I just wondered. Did you leave him a note at the house about where you are?”

“No.”

“What about his brother?”

“Mommy said he can't come until the end of the week because his wife is sick.”

“Okay, tiger, then you just hold the fort until I get there. Think you can do that? It may be a long night, but I'll be there, and pretty soon it'll be all over.” He was already making notes for his secretary. He wouldn't even go back to his apartment. He could buy what he needed in London when he got there. All he would take with him was his medical bag and a briefcase. “I'm very proud of you, Vanessa darling. You're doing great.”

“But Mommy—”

“She's going to be fine too. I promise. Sometimes it's a little hard having a baby, but it isn't always like that, and when it's all over and she has the baby, she won't even mind it. I promise.”

“She looks like she's dying.” Vanessa's voice broke on a sob, and Teddy prayed that Vanessa was wrong. But she might not be.

Five minutes after they hung up he called the hospital, spoke to the nurse in charge, and was unable to speak to a doctor. Mrs. Arbus, according to them, was doing fine. The baby was indeed breech, but they felt no need for a Caesarean as yet. They were going to wait until, at the very least, the following morning. And no, they had been unable to turn the baby, but they had every confidence that subsequent efforts would set matters aright. Subsequent efforts would mean that when Serena was in midpain, a nurse or an intern would shove both hands as far in as they could get them and try to turn the baby upside down. The very thought of it was almost more than he could bear when he thought of Serena. He went straight from his office to the airport and checked in at Idlewild at two thirty. The next flight to London left at four, and he called the hospital again. There was no change, but this time they sounded slightly more impressed. Not all of their patients had attending physicians flying in from New York.

The four-o'clock flight was due to reach London at two o'clock the next morning, which was eight o'clock in the morning in London. He assumed that with any luck at all he could reach the hospital by nine or nine thirty. It was the best he could do, and once he was on the flight, he explained to the steward what he was doing. He was flying to London to deliver a baby by Caesarean with complications for a very important patient. What he needed was a police escort or an ambulance to take him as quickly as possible from the airport to the hospital. The steward spoke at once to the captain, the message was passed along once they established radio contact with London, and when they arrived, Teddy was whisked through customs, out a side door to a waiting ambulance, the sirens were put on, and they sailed through the streets on the way to London. Luck had also been on their side, the flight had arrived half an hour early. It was exactly five minutes after eight when Teddy stepped out of the ambulance into the streets of London. He thanked the ambulance driver, gave him an enormous tip, rushed inside, inquired for the maternity ward, and ran up the stairs, his bag in his hand, to emerge into a large unfriendly waiting room, where he saw Vanessa asleep in a chair. He hurried to the desk, spoke to a nurse, and she looked extremely startled.

“From America? For Mrs. Arbus?” She immediately went to get the head nurse, who in turn found the doctor on duty. Mrs. Arbus's physician had not actually been at the hospital for several hours, but of course if Dr. Fullerton had the proper credentials with him, perhaps if a Caesarean was indeed needed in due course, he would be able to assist the British surgeon. Teddy immediately presented the papers they would need, washed his hands, and asked to see Serena. And with a large entourage behind him he was led to the door where Vanessa had found her thirteen hours before. She lay almost breathless, semiconscious, drenched in sweat, and so stunned by the pain that she seemed to be barely breathing as Teddy got to her. He looked down at her, took her pulse, listened to the baby's heart. There seemed to be no sign of recognition from her. Her heartbeat was frantic and faint, the baby's was beginning to fade, and her blood pressure was so low that he wondered if they could even save her. Without thinking, he gave rapidfire orders to prepare her for surgery. He wanted to kill someone for not doing it twenty-four hours sooner. When he examined her to see how low the baby had come, he saw what they had done to her by continually trying to turn the baby, and it horrified him to see the condition she was in. He wanted to sweep her into his arms and carry her away from the nightmare she had suffered, but as he unstrapped her legs and laid her gently flat on the table and they began to wheel her away, she stirred and looked at him strangely.

“You look …”It was the barest of hoarse croaks. “… like … Teddy.”

“I am Teddy, Serena. Everything's going to be oaky. Vanessa called me, and we're going to take the baby by Caesarean.” She nodded, and then a moment later she was screaming with the pain again. They rolled her directly into the operating theater, a young doctor appeared, a little flustered by the unusual procedures, and without further ado the anesthetic was given, and after scrubbing up and returning in operating-room garb, Teddy began to make the incision on Serena. The anesthetist and two of the nurses were keeping close tabs on her failing heart. Teddy felt himself working steadily against the clock as he could see her dying rapidly beneath his fingers. And a moment later he had the child, a perfectly formed, beautiful little baby girl, but as they brought her out of the womb there was no cry, she wasn't breathing, and he knew that he was about to lose both the baby and Serena. He gave terse instructions to the nurses who stood by as he continued the surgery on Serena. Every effort was made to keep her alive, and a pediatrician was summoned to help the nurses and the young doctor with their attempts to get the baby breathing. It seemed an eternity before they heard the first cry, but suddenly the room was filled with her lusty sounds, and at almost the same moment the anesthetist reported that Serena's blood pressure was rising slowly and her heartbeat was finally regular. He wanted to give a whoop of joy, but he still had work to do, and when it was all over, he looked down at the sleeping woman he had loved for so many years, and in a most unprofessional gesture he leaned down to her cheek and kissed her.

The operating-room staff congratulated him on his brilliant and speedy maneuvers, and he followed them slowly out of the operating theater. Both Serena and the baby were going to be all right, but he still had to see Vanessa. The poor child had been through an ordeal of her own, and when he reached her side at ten fifteen, she was still sleeping. He sat down beside her and as though she sensed him, she looked up with a puzzled frown, and he smiled at her. “Hi, kiddo. You have a big fat baby sister.”

“I do?” Vanessa sat up, stunned. “How do you know? Did you see her?”

“I sure did. I delivered her myself.”

“You did?” She threw her arms around his neck. “Oh, Uncle Teddy, you're terrific!” And then with an anxious look in her eyes, “How's my mom?”

“She's alseep.” And then he explained about the Caesarean section.

“It sounds awful.” She made a grim face. “I don't ever want to have a baby. They had her all tied up, and”—her voice drifted away as she remembered—”she was screaming … I thought she was going to die.…” He put an arm around her shoulders.

“But she didn't. She's fine. And the baby is so cute. Do you want to see her?”

“Will they let me?”

“If they won't, I'll tell them you're my nurse.”

Vanessa giggled, and after a hushed conversation with the head nurse they led Teddy and Vanessa down the hall to a big picture window. There were at least two dozen babies there, but they held up “Arbus, baby girl” for Vanessa to see, and as she looked into her sister's face, she saw exactly what Teddy had seen when he delivered her. “She looks just like Mommy!” Vanessa looked stunned. “Except she has black hair.” But she did look exactly like her mother. She was a tiny perfect mirror image of Serena. “She's so pretty, isn't she, Uncle Teddy?”

He put a hand on Vanessa's shoulder and looking at the baby with a small tired smile, he nodded. “Yes, she is.”

44

Andreas arrived, as promised, at the end of that week and found Vasili in a stuporous state in his bedroom. He hadn't bathed in a week, his skin was broken out, his hair was matted to his head, his eyes were sunken and darkly ringed, and he was wearing a filthy bathrobe. Andreas tried to urge him to clean up before they left, but he was nodding out, and he saw with distaste and despair the hypodermic on the table. He also noticed a yellowish tinge about his brother's face, and feared that he had hepatitis. In the end he had to get his driver to help Vasili out of his chair, and they led him, just as he was, to the car and drove him directly to the hospital. He had not been to see his wife, recovering slowly from her ordeal and the emergency surgery. He had not seen his daughter, and he was barely aware that the baby had been born, when Andreas left him at the clinic.

“He's in bad shape this time,” he told Serena bluntly when he came to see her. “But he should be all right soon.” He didn't mention the serum hepatitis they had confirmed at the hospital and for a long moment she said nothing. And then she sighed. She was still in a great deal of pain, and the truth of what she had to do about Vasili had been nagging at her all morning.

“I think I'm going to divorce him, Andreas.”

“And go back to the States?” Andreas looked crushed. He was fond of her and the child, and yet another part of him wanted them free of the nightmare.

“I think so. There's no reason for me to stay here.” Having got pregnant so soon, she had never really established herself in London as a model. And now she had two children to support, instead of one. “I can go back to work in New York.”

He spoke slowly and sadly. “You won't have to.” Serena didn't answer. “Serena, if he cleans up again, will you give him one more chance?”

“Why, what would be different this time? According to him, he's been doing this for the last ten years.”

“But it's different now. He has you and the baby.” Andreas had been awed by the beautiful little baby girl. But Serena suspected that Vasili was going to be less impressed than Andreas.

“He's had us for the past year. Me anyway, and Vanessa. It hasn't changed a thing.”

“But now he'll have the baby.” He smiled then. “What will you call her?”

“Charlotte.” And then she smiled at him. “Charlotte Andrea.” He looked as though he would burst into tears, he was so pleased, and leaned down and kissed Serena.

“You're a beautiful girl.” And then with a tone of sorrow, “I shouldn't let you waste yourself on my brother. But… I hate to see him lose you and the child.” He stood up slowly then, and she saw that he was really a very attractive man. In his own way he was better looking than Vasili. He had none of the dissipation, or the mischief, or the boyish good looks. What he had instead was an air of distinction, the same handsome face, and an aura about him that was all man. “Do what seems best for you. I know that you will, and if you go, let me know where I can find you, Serena. One day I will come to New York to visit my namesake.” Serena inquired for his wife, and he avoided her gaze. He didn't want to face what was coming. Instead he kissed her gently on the cheek and left her to her own thoughts. She had as yet heard nothing from Vasili. But the day before she was to leave the hospital, she was walking slowly down the hall on the arm of a nurse, and she suddenly saw him. He looked clean, handsome, and very much like himself, but also desperately frightened, and for a moment when she saw him, she wondered if he would run away. She stopped walking and stood there, leaning heavily on the nurse's arm and wishing that she could run away quickly, but she couldn't, and he walked slowly toward her, and then he stood very still.

“Hello, Serena.”

“Hello.” She felt her knees turn to jelly beneath her. Part of her wanted to see him, and part of her wanted him to go away, perhaps forever this time.

“Are you all right?” She nodded, and the nurse began to squirm, sensing that this was an awkward meeting. “The baby?”

“She's fine. Have you seen her?”

“Not yet. I wanted to see you first. I just… I… uh …” He glanced at the nurse. “I just got back to town today.” She noticed how pale he looked. The detox was always quick, but it took him a long time to look decent, and this time he had a slight cast of yellow to his skin. She knew what it was, but she also knew that the hepatitis one caught from needles was not contagious. But she was sorry as hell he had come. She didn't want to see him.

“Do you think we could talk?” She motioned toward her room, and the nurse led her back there slowly. When she got there, she lay down on her bed and she looked exhausted. Vasili was looking. at her strangely, and then he hung his head and she saw that he was trying not to cry. “I don't know what to say to you, Serena.”

“I don't think there's anything left to say, Vasili.” For the first time in a long time, when she looked at him, she felt nothing. No disgust, no anger, no sorrow, no love. In her heart there was silence.

His head shot up and the black eyes met her green. “What do you mean, there's nothing left to say?”

“Just that. What can one say after all we've been through? I'm sorry? Good luck? Good-bye?”

“We could try again.” His voice was sad and soft. But to her he still looked like a junkie. To her he always would. She would never forgive him.

“Could we? Why?”

“Because I love you.”

“That's what you said before.” She looked at him accusingly then. “If you'd been around and sober, I might not have almost died having this baby. Did you know that I almost died and we almost lost the baby? If Vanessa hadn't come to find me and called Teddy, we'd both be dead now.”

“I know.” The tears crept slowly out of his eyes. “Andreas told me.”

“Could you have lived with that?” He shook his head, and then looked up at her again.

“I can't forgive myself for anything I've done, and I will understand if you can't forgive me either. But I'm different now, I came so close to losing everything, both you and the baby, and even myself. If we tried again, I know that this time everything will be different.”

“I don't believe that anymore. How can you even say it?”

“I can't be sure. But I can tell you that I'll try with my whole soul. I can't give you more than that.” He approached the bed slowly and reached for her hand and gently kissed it. “I love you. It sounds like very little, but it's the best I've got. I'll do anything to keep you. I'll beg you … I'll crawl … Serena, you don't know how much I love you.” Her eyes filled with tears and spilled over as she listened. She bowed her head, and stricken, he reached out to hold her. “Oh, darling, please—”

“Go away … don't touch me.” She didn't want to want him again. She couldn't let herself go through that.

He forced her face up to his then. “Do you still love me?” She shook her head, but her eyes said she did, and when he looked at her, he could see all that she had suffered at his hands and at the birth of their child, and he hated himself for it. “What have I done?” He began to cry, and then suddenly he took her into his arms, and the only sound in the room was that of Serena sobbing. He begged her for another chance, but she was too overcome to answer. And then at last she asked him if he wanted to see the baby.

“I'd love to.” And then he remembered something. “Are you going home from the hospital tomorrow?”

“I'm leaving here.” Serena blew her nose and avoided his eyes. “But I'm not sure yet if I'm going to the house or a hotel.” She was thinking of staying at the same hotel as Teddy, the Connaught, before she made up her mind. He wasn't leaving for the States for a few more days.

“I see.” Vasili offered her an arm, and laboriously she took it, making her way slowly out of her room again and down the hall to where they could see the baby through the window. The nurse smiled when she saw Serena, and looked with interest at the man at her side, and then she remembered him from his pictures in the paper, but he looked very different. Nonetheless she recognized him and she was impressed, as she picked up his baby girl and held her up for him to see for the first time. He stood mesmerized by the tiny child with Serena's face and his shining black hair, and tears filled his eyes again as he watched her and silently put an arm around Serena.

“She's so beautiful, and so small.”

Serena smiled. “She looks big to me. Eight and a half pounds is big for a baby.”

“Is it?” He grinned down at his wife with pride. “She's so perfect.”

“Wait until you hold her.”

“Does she cry a lot?”

Serena shook her head and for a few minutes she told him about the baby, and then he took her back to her room and they looked at each other. “Serena, can't we try it again? I don't want to lose you. Not now … not ever.”

Trembling, she closed her eyes, and then she opened them again. She still loved him, and she owed the baby something, at least to try one more time, but she was afraid that if he used drugs again the horror of it would destroy her. But she felt so torn between what she owed herself and what she thought she owed the baby. “All right. We'll try it once more.” It was barely a whisper. “But if you do it again, it's over. Do you understand?” She knew she should take her children and go now, but his magic still worked on her. He was still dug deep under her skin.

“I understand.” He came to her then and kissed her, and in the kiss was all the ache that he felt over the pain he had caused her. He promised to pick her up to bring her home the next day, and as he left the room, with a sigh she reached for the phone to call Teddy, wondering how to explain this new madness to him. She knew it was wrong, and yet she wanted to think it was right. And she couldn't, and now she had to justify it to Teddy.

45

When Serena came home from the hospital with the baby, the house looked as though it had been redone. There was still the striking white and chrome modern decor, with the enormous pastel paintings. But Vasili had been busy. There were flowers everywhere for her, mountains of gifts and equipment and goodies for the baby, a stack of dolls and new toys for Vanessa. He had bought them everything he could think of, including an incredible diamond bracelet for Serena. As before when they had tried again, he couldn't do enough for them, and the first time he held the baby, his face looked like a male Madonna. He was totally enthralled by the tiny creature, and completely enamored with her mother. He couldn't be with them enough, and he could hardly wait until Serena could get out with him a little. After two weeks at home she was allowed to go for walks nearby. And after another week he took the baby and Vanessa out with the pram for their first outing. By then it was early September, the weather was balmy, and Vanessa had gone back to school. She was in fourth grade now, and her ninth birthday was approaching.

“Happy, darling?” He looked at her proudly as they strolled along, his camera around his neck. He had already taken hundreds of pictures of the baby.

“Very much so.” But there was something subdued about Serena now, as though she was never happy anymore as she had once been. He sensed it and at times it made him very nervous. He was always afraid now that one day she would leave him. It was as though the days in the Garden of Eden were truly over.

They went back to the house that afternoon and played with the baby. He had still not gone back to work after his own stint in the hospital to recover from his addiction. Now he wanted time with Serena and the baby, and Serena began to wonder if his constant absences weren't beginning to affect his career. But Vasili didn't seem to care, and a few days later he said he was going to attend to some business in Paris. He left in great spirits and told her that he would call her from over there, but he didn't. When she tried to reach him at the apartment, she couldn't, and eventually she gave up, and assumed that she would hear from him, but once again the worries set in. She didn't know for sure until he walked back into the house in London a week later, and she felt her heart sink to her feet as she saw him. It was all over. He had lost the battle again, and the signs of heroin were all over him. She looked at him, feeling as though the end of the world had finally come, but she said not a word to him. She went upstairs, packed her bags, called Teddy, and made reservations on the next plane. And then, trembling from head to foot, she set her bags on the floor just as Vasili walked into the room.

“What exactly do you think you are doing?”

“I'm leaving you, Vasili. I made it perfectly clear in the hospital. If you used again, I left. You're using. I'm leaving. I have nothing to say. It's all over.” She felt tired more than anything else, exhausted to her very soul, and a little bit frightened of what he would do or say. He was always so erratic when he was on drugs. But she didn't care what he did now. It was over.

“I am not using, you're crazy.” Just hearing him say it made her angry.

“No.” She looked at him in white fury. “You're crazy, and I'm getting the hell out while I can. Nothing matters to you except that shit you put in your arm. I don't understand why you do it, you have every reason not to, but since none of that makes a damn bit of difference to you, I'm leaving.” She spat the words at him. “Good-bye.”

“And you think you can take my baby?”

“Yes, I can. Try to stop me and I'll have it in every newspaper in the world that you're a junkie.” She looked at him with raw hatred, and even in his drugged state he knew she meant it.

“Blackmail, Serena?” He raised an eyebrow and she nodded.

“That's right, and don't think I won't do it. Your career will be over then and there.”

“You think I give a damn about that? You're crazy. What do I care about some lousy pictures for an ad or a magazine?”

“I guess not much or you wouldn't be using. Not to mention me and the baby. I don't suppose we weighed much with you either.”

He looked at her strangely for a moment. “I don't suppose you did.”

He disappeared again that night, and when she left the house with the children the next morning, he hadn't returned yet. She got to the airport with Vanessa and the baby and the suitcases she had brought and the things she needed for the baby, and they got on the plane with no problem. Ten hours later they landed in New York, exactly thirteen months after they had left it. Serena looked around her at the airport after they had landed, and wondered if she was in a dream. For the first time in her life leaving had not been painful. She was totally numb. She moved as though in a daze, with the baby in her arms and Vanessa clinging to her hand. For an odd moment she had the same feeling she had had arriving with the nuns and other children during the war, and as the thought crossed her mind the tears began to slide down her face, and she began to sob when she saw Teddy, as if seeing him unleashed the feelings in her.

He led them all gently out to his car and then drove them to the furnished apartment he had rented for a month. Serena looked around at the stark little room, clutching the baby to her. There was only one bedroom, but she didn't care. All she wanted was to be three thousand miles away from Vasili. She had almost no money with her, but she had brought the diamond bracelet he'd given her last month and she was going to sell it. With luck it would give her enough funds to subsist until her modeling picked up again. She had already asked Teddy to call Dorothea.

“Well, how does it feel to be back?” Teddy smiled at her, but there was concern in his eyes. Serena looked worn out and Vanessa looked scarcely better.

“I think I'm still numb” was Serena's only answer as she looked around her. The walls were bare and white, and the furniture was Danish modern.

“The Ritz it ain't,” he apologized with a smile, and for the first time she laughed.

“Teddy, my love, I couldn't care less. It's a roof over our heads, and we're not in London.” Vanessa smiled too, and Teddy reached out for the baby.

“How's my little friend?”

“Hungry all the time.” Serena smiled.

“Unlike her mother who looks like she never eats.” She had lost all the weight she'd gained while she was pregnant, along with an additional fifteen pounds. And all in the six weeks, since the birth of the baby.

“If I'm going to model again, it's just as well. What did Dorothea say, by the way?”

“That she awaits you with bated breath, as does every photographer in New York.” Serena looked pleased.

“Well, that's good news.” But the best news of all, to her, was that she had escaped Vasili. There had been a time when she thought she never would, that she would be trapped with him forever. It had been like escaping from a jungle. But it was all over now, and Vasili knew it. She had told Andreas too. And she hoped that she never saw Vasili again. She had listened to enough lies and suffered enough trauma to last her for a lifetime.

“Do you think he'll follow you over here?” Teddy asked when Vanessa had gone to bed.

“It won't do him any good. I won't see him.”

“And the baby?”

“I don't think he'll really care. He's too involved in himself and his drugs.”

“Don't be so sure. From what you said he was crazy about her.”

“Not enough to stop using heroin though.”

“I still can't believe it.”

“Neither can I. Sometimes I wonder if I'll ever be the same again.”

“You will. Give it time.” She had survived so much in her life that he felt sure she would survive this too. And he thanked God she had left Vasili.

She sighed and closed her eyes before facing him again. “I don't know, Teddy. I guess you're right, but it's been such a nightmare, it's hard to understand what happened. You know … I think that stuff makes him crazy.”

“It's pathetic.” She changed the subject then and they discussed a school for Vanessa. The poor child had been through a great deal in the past six weeks. Serena was almost inclined to give her some time off from school while she readjusted, and all Vanessa wanted to do anyway was take care of the baby. She was totally enamored of her baby sister, whom she called Charlie, instead of Charlotte. Serena could hardly get the baby away from Vanessa when it was time to go to bed, and Vanessa was marvelous with her. “She's a great kid.” Teddy spoke of his niece with obvious pride and Serena laughed.

“Yes, she is.”

He left them alone then to settle into the apartment, and Serena fell into bed after feeding the baby. She slept a deep dreamless sleep and woke up feeling slightly less exhausted.

She went to the Kerr Agency a few days later, and Dorothea looked at her pointedly with a hand on one hip.

“I told you, didn't I?” She grinned at Serena. “But I sure am happy to have you back.”

“Not as happy as I am to be here.” They had a cup of coffee, and Dorothea gave her the latest gossip around New York. There was a new girl in town who had been the rage since the summer. She was German and looked a little like Serena, but Dorothea felt certain that there was still room for “The Princess” too. “They've missed you, there's no doubt about it.” She could also see that there was something new and interesting in her face since she'd had the baby. She was even thinner than she had been, and there was something wiser and more serious about her eyes. It was that that told Dorothea she had been through an ordeal with Vasili.

“And what about Vasili? It's all over?”

“Finished.”

“Forever?” Serena nodded and said nothing. “Want to tell me why?”

But she only shook her head and patted her old friend's hand. “No, love, I don't. And you don't want to know. It was like going to a place I thought I would never come back from. And now that I'm here, I don't want to remember or reminisce, or even think about going back. My only pleasant memory of the past year is Charlie, and she's here with me.”

“Thank God.” Dorothea looked impressed. Serena's year with Vasili had apparently been worse than she had suspected.

By the end of the week Vasili had started calling the agency, and Dorothea thought she was going to go nuts. He wanted to know where Serena was, where he could find her, how he could call her. Serena had given out strict instructions not to tell him. It was only when one of the models happened to answer the phone for someone, as a favor, that Vasili struck pay dirt. She looked up Serena's number and address among the file cards, and gave it to him without a second thought, having no idea of what she had just done.

The next day he flew to New York to find her, and when he reached her apartment, he found her about to go out. “Serena …”She opened the door and heard her name and almost jumped out of her skin when she saw him. She could tell by his eyes that he was still using and obviously half out of his mind and she backed slowly into the apartment. The children were in the living room with the baby-sitter and she wanted to slam the door but he shoved his way past her, muttering darkly that he had to see his baby and that she couldn't do this to him, and she slammed down her portfolio and watched him look down at Charlie, as she felt the old fear and anger well up inside her. All the ugliness of the past year seemed to dance before her eyes as he turned to face her, his eyes cloudy and wild.

“How the hell did you find me?” Her voice was sharp and her eyes were blazing. She had come three thousand miles to escape him and now here he was again.

“I had to.” He stared at her blankly. “You're my wife.” The baby-sitter sat there staring at him, looking frightened, and Vanessa instinctively reached over and took the baby protectively into her arms. She was watching her mother grow angrier by the moment and Vasili looked as though he were totally crazed. “Why didn't you come back?”

“I'm not ever coming back. And I don't want to discuss this here.” She glanced worriedly at the children. Vanessa had seen enough of this in the past, and she didn't want her seeing more now.

“Then, let's go in there.” He pointed to the bedroom, and Serena followed him into it with long angry strides. “I want you to come home!” He turned to face her, and she shook her head from side to side.

“No. Do you understand? No! I am never coming back to you, Vasili. Now get out of my house and get out of my life.”

“I won't!” He was shrieking. “You took my baby, and you're my wife, you have to come home to me if I tell you.”

“I don't have to do a damn thing. You're a bloody junkie and you almost destroyed me and my children—”

“But I didn't, I didn't …” he interrupted her. “I love you … I love you … I love you.…” And as he said the words he advanced on her, his maddened black eyes flashing into hers, his hands instinctively closing on her throat and squeezing harder and harder and harder, and she suddenly began to choke and then turned purple as he shouted, “I love you! … I love you! … I love you!” In the room beyond, Vanessa heard him, but after a few minutes she didn't hear her mother, and suddenly terrified, sensing that something was amiss, she burst through the door, with the baby still in her arms. What she saw in the bedroom was Vasili, kneeling, sobbing, on the floor, his hands still around Serena's neck, as she lay with her head twisted at an odd angle, her eyes open, her portfolio spilled out on the floor.

“What have you done to my mother?” She shrieked at him, clutching Charlie.

“I've killed her,” he said softly. “Because I love her.” And then sobbing hysterically, he collapsed on the floor beside Serena.

46

The publicity for the next two weeks was of international proportions. The death of Serena Fullerton Arbus caused no small stir. Her background, her parents' death, her marriage to Brad and then to Vasili, were all exposed again and again in the press. His history of heroin use became public knowledge, his marriages were rehashed, his stays in mental hospitals to dry up, were discussed at length. And the hint of a custody battle over the children was superficially mentioned. It was a scandal second to no other, but the main issue at hand was the children's fate. Just as Brad, when he died five years earlier, Serena had left no will. And whereas her remaining funds could be evenly divided between her daughters, the biggest question was where and with whom they would live. Would both stay together or would it become a war of Fullerton v. Arbus? A custody hearing was set for late in October, in which all of the parties would be heard and, hopefully, the matter decided. Teddy wanted to adopt both of Serena's children, and his mother was appalled. In fact she promised to stop him. “I won't allow it. God knows what those children will turn out to be with a mother like that, and in the baby's case a history of murder and drugs.”

“And Vanessa? Can you think of something unkind to say about her too?” He was furious with his mother. He had been grief-stricken and numb ever since Serena's death, and even in the midst of the horror she had no kindness to spare for her only grandchild, and it soured the last of his feelings for her. Only Pattie seemed unusually sympathetic. Most of the time now Greg was too drunk to give a damn. But Pattie spoke constantly about what she read in the papers, and said that it was tragic that all of this should have happened to Brad's only child. For a time Teddy was touched at her concern for Vanessa, but as the days went by, it seemed to become an obsession with her and it made him nervous. She called him at the office to discuss it, and a few days before the matter was to be heard, she asked for the name of the judge.

“Why?”

“I'm wondering if Daddy knew him.”

“What difference would it make?”

“It might make things a little more pleasant.”

“For whom?”

“Why, Vanessa, of course. Maybe he'd be kinder and make the arrangements more quickly.” It didn't make a lot of sense to Teddy but it made some, so he told her. He assumed that she could have found out anyway, if she wanted to badly enough. He had enough on his hands with worrying about Vanessa. But the children had been living with him since their mother's death, and Vasili had been locked up at Bellevue, pending an immigration hearing. His brother had been doing everything possible to get extradition. He had promised that if they would allow Andreas to take him to Athens they would put him in a hospital there. What he was terrified of was a murder trial for his brother. He was deathly afraid that Vasili would never get out of jail.

But Teddy's worries were even greater. Vanessa had been in a kind of stupor ever since she had seen her mother killed. She had begun screaming that morning, and the baby-sitter said she had screamed until the police came, and then they had gently led her away. She had clutched Charlie to her until Teddy arrived and took the baby from her. He had taken both children home with him, called a doctor for Vanessa, got a nurse for the baby, and since then he had taken Vanessa to the doctor several times. She seemed to have totally blanked out everything that happened, and she seemed to remember absolutely nothing from day to day. She moved through each day like a little robot, and when Teddy tried to hold her, she just shoved him away. The only one she wanted and whose love she would accept was little Charlotte, whom she would hold in her arms and croon to for hours. But she never mentioned her mother, and the doctor had told Teddy not to say a word. At some point it would all come back to her, it was only a question of when. It could take twenty years, the doctor warned him, but in the meantime it was important that she not be pushed.

As a result Teddy saw to it that she didn't go to the funeral. It was almost more than he could bear himself. The only woman he had truly loved had been murdered, and he went alone and stood in the second pew, his eyes riveted to the casket, tears pouring silently down his cheeks, as he longed just to touch her once more … to see her walk across the room, beautiful and proud, her green eyes dancing. He couldn't believe that she was gone and he felt empty to the depths of his soul without her.

He too was still in shock, in a way, as he filed into the courtroom and the judge began the custody hearing. He tried to force himself to think rationally as the judge droned on. A petition was filed by Teddy's attorney, offering to take custody of both girls, and he had hoped to convince the judge that it was a sensible decision. The only obstacle was Andreas Arbus, who explained quietly to the judge that arrangements had been made in Athens to quietly put Vasili away. The immigration officials and the district attorney's office had approved it that morning. They would be leaving for Athens, with two guards, later that day. But, he went on to explain to the judge, since the child so recently born to Serena had no other blood relations, he felt it imperative that he take her back to Athens too, to grow up among her cousins and aunts and uncles who would love her. It was only right that she should be among her own. The judge seemed to give this some serious attention, and as Teddy tried to catch his breath and prepare the argument that the girls shouldn't be separated, he looked up in astonishment at a petition being made to the judge by an attorney he knew well. It was a petition made on behalf of a Mrs. Gregory Fullerton, who wished to offer to take custody of her niece. Teddy's jaw almost fell open as he listened while she claimed that she and her husband had been fond of the child for years, and while her brother-in-law was of course a suitable father, there was no mother for Vanessa in his home since he was single.

Again the judge seemed impressed with what was argued, and Teddy thought frantically of how to stop them, before the worst could come. Why in God's name did Pattie want Vanessa? he wondered—except that she was Brad's child and she could have no children of her own. Could she still love him after all these years? But that was crazy. Or was it simply a final act of vengeance against Serena? To steal her child from her now that she was dead, as Serena had stolen Brad from Pattie in Rome. Greg was a drunk. Pattie was vicious. There was nothing maternal about her. He made whispered remarks to his attorney, an objection was made, which was discussed with the judge, but half an hour later it was all over. Charlotte Andrea Arbus was awarded to her paternal uncle, since Teddy was no blood relation to the baby, and Vanessa Theodora Fullerton was awarded to her paternal aunt and uncle, Gregory and Patricia Fullerton, because Theodore Fullerton, as a single man, had a less suitable home in which she would live.

Pattie stood in the courtroom, smiling victoriously as they watched Vanessa being led in, with the baby in her arms, and the judge explained to her what had happened.

“You're giving him Charlie?” Vanessa looked at Andreas with such shock and hatred that it frightened Teddy to watch her eyes. “You can't do that, she's mine. She was my mommy's.” But the judge insisted and when she resisted them, a bailiff simply took the baby away, handed it to Andreas, and with tears in his eyes, he attempted to talk to the older child. But almost as though she had become catatonic, Vanessa didn't hear him. She just sat on the floor of the courtroom, rocking back and forth. Teddy rushed forward and signaled to Andreas that it was best for him to go quickly, and Teddy reached out and touched the child he loved. He didn't even have time to give a last glance at Charlie. She was gone forever before he could turn his head.

“Vanessa …” His voice was firm but it didn't reach her. “Baby, it's all right. I'm here. Everything's going to be all right.”

“Can we go home now?” She turned her eyes to his at last, and it was as though she had retreated yet another step. And this time he was obliged to shake his head.

“You're going to go home with your aunt Pattie, sweetheart. She wants you to come and stay with her.”

“Not with you?” Her eyes filled with tears. “Why?”

“That's what the judge wanted, so you'd have an aunt and an uncle, like a mommy and daddy.”

“But I need you, Uncle Teddy.” She was pathetic as she sat there, and held up her arms to him.

“I need you too, sweetheart.” It was almost more than he could bear. “But I'll come to see you. And you'll be happy with Uncle Greg and Aunt Pattie.” He felt like a liar and a beast for what he was saying. He couldn't imagine her anything but miserable with Greg and Pattie, who were total strangers to her, but for the moment they had to comply with what had been ruled in the courts. The matter of Charlotte he knew was over. What the judge had said was true. He had no blood claim on the child, only his love for her mother, and that would never hold up in court. But with Vanessa it was a different matter, he and the child had a relationship that had been built up over nine years. And as he watched his sister-in-law lead Vanessa from the courtroom, he decided to appeal.

“Do I have a chance?” he asked his lawyer as they watched Vanessa glance back over her shoulder helplessly as she left with Pattie.

“We can try,” his lawyer answered. “We can always try.”

Teddy nodded then and followed him from the courtroom, his face grim.

47

When Teddy went to see Vanessa at Pattie and Greg's apartment, it tore at his heart in a way that nothing ever had before. She sat in her room, staring out the window, and when he spoke to her, she seemed to hear nothing he said. She didn't stir until he touched her shoulder and shook it gently, calling her name. Then she turned to him with wide, empty eyes that told him almost more of her grief than he could bear.

He tried to talk to Greg about the insanity of Pattie's taking custody of Vanessa, but it was virtually impossible to talk to Greg. He was no longer ever sober past noon. He sat in his office purely to maintain the fiction that he still ran the law firm, but there were other people to do that for him. He only had to sit in his office and drink quietly, and manage not to fall out of his chair. To speak to him coherently about anything, Teddy had to get to him first thing in the morning, which after a week of fruitless efforts he finally did, collaring him in his office only moments after he got there and before he had had time to pour himself a drink.

“For chrissake, man, how can you let her do this? You and Pattie are strangers to that child. She doesn't know you. She needs people she's comfortable with right now. She's lost her mother, her home, her baby sister. The child is in shock, for chrissake. When you look at her, her eyes are glazed.” He had been unable to speak to her about anything important, but even discussing trivia, she seemed to shy away. “Pattie doesn't even know her, what's more she hated her mother. What in hell do you want with a nine-year-old girl?”

“I don't.” Greg stared at him blankly. “But she does. She always wanted a child.” And then he pulled a bottle of bourbon out of his desk, as Teddy stared at him in horror. “She told me once that she always wanted Brad's baby. I can't have any, you know. Got the goddamn clap when I was in school.” He shrugged and took his first sip. “I told her before we got married, she said it didn't matter to her.” Then he looked up at Teddy with a sad little look in his eyes. “But it did matter. I always knew it. I guess I should have told her before we got engaged but I didn't.” He looked up at Teddy sadly and then stared into his drink for a minute. “You know, I don't think she ever really loved me. She married me to get even with Brad. But I don't think he gave a damn what she did. He was crazy about Serena. Pretty girl too, I think Mother has been wrong to carry on the vendetta. Too late now though.”

“No, it isn't. You can still do something decent. Let me have Vanessa—she needs me.”

Greg shrugged. “I can't. Pattie's decided that she wants the kid, Teddy, and there isn't a damn thing you or I can do about it. You know how she is. In some ways she's worse than Mother, stubborn and mean and vengeful.” He said it helplessly as he finished his first bourbon, but Teddy's eyes narrowed as he looked at him.

“Yes, there is something you can do, dammit. You can refuse to keep the child. Pattie doesn't love Vanessa. I do.”

“Do you?” Greg looked at his brother in amazement. “Why? I don't much like kids myself.” It was hardly surprising to Teddy. Greg didn't like anyone, least of all himself. Besides, he had been stewed for the past ten years, it was a wonder he even knew he was alive. “I don't know why the hell you'd want her, except”—he looked Teddy over as he poured himself another drink—”you always loved her mother, didn't you?” Teddy didn't answer. “What's wrong with that? I've had a few babes myself in my day.” Teddy felt his stomach turn over slowly. His brother was thirty-nine years old, and he talked like a broken-down old man. But the worst of it was that he looked like one too. No one would have guessed his age if they'd seen him. He looked easily to be in his late fifties. The long years of boozing hadn't been kind. “Did you ever sleep with Serena, Teddy?” Greg sat back in his chair with an ugly grin.