“You’ll have to become a Catholic first.” Jane grinned, but Sarah didn’t find it amusing. They had been Episcopalians since birth. And Jane was beginning to think that Sarah was a little crazy. Or maybe she’d come out of it after a while. It was what they all hoped, but it no longer seemed certain.

But Sarah remained firm in her refusal to move back to New York. Her mother had long since picked up her things from the apartment in New York and stored them all in boxes, which Sarah insisted she didn’t even want to see now. She went to her divorce hearing in November wearing a black suit and a funereal face. She looked beautiful and afraid and sat through it stoically until it was over. And as soon as it was, she drove herself back to Long Island.

She went for long walks on the beach every day, even on the bitterest cold days, with the wind whipping her face until it felt as though it were bleeding. She read endlessly, and wrote letters to her mother and Jane and some of her oldest friends, but in truth she still had no desire to see them.

They all celebrated Christmas in Southampton and Sarah hardly talked to anyone. The only time she mentioned the divorce was to her mother, when they heard a news story over the radio about the Duke and Duchess of Windsor. She felt an unhappy kinship with Wally Simpson. But her mother assured her again that she and the Simpson woman had nothing in common.

When spring came, she looked better again finally, healthier, rested, she had gained back some weight, and her eyes were alive. But by then she was talking about finding a farmhouse on Long Island somewhere, in the remoter parts, and trying to rent it, or perhaps even buy one.

“That’s ridiculous,” her father growled when she suggested it to him. “I can understand perfectly well that you were unhappy over what happened, and needed some time to recover here, but I’m not going to let you bury yourself on Long Island for the rest of your life, like a hermit. You can stay here until the summer, and in July, your mother and I are taking you to Europe.” He had decided it just the week before and his wife was thrilled, and even Jane thought it was a splendid idea, and just what Sarah needed.

“I won’t go.” She looked at him stubbornly, but she looked healthy and strong and more beautiful than ever. It was time for her to go back out in the world again, whether she knew it or not. And if she wouldn’t go of her own accord, they were prepared to force her.

“You will go, if we tell you to.”

“I don’t want to run into Freddie,” she said weakly.

“He’s been in Palm Beach all winter.”

“How do you know?” She was curious, wondering if her father had spoken to him.

“I’ve spoken to his attorney.”

“I don’t want to go to Europe anyway.”

“That’s unfortunate. Because you can go willingly, or unwillingly. But in either case, you’re going.” She had stormed away from the table then, and gone for a long walk on the beach, but when she returned, her father was waiting for her just outside the cottage. It had almost broken his heart to see her grieve over the past year, over the marriage that never was, the child she had lost, the mistakes she had made, and her bitter disappointment. And she was surprised to see him waiting for her, as she came up off the beach, through the tall dune grass.

“I love you, Sarah.” It was the first time her father had ever said that to her, in just that way, and it reached her heart like an arrow covered with the balm she needed to heal her. “Your mother and I love you very much. We may not know how to help you, to make up to you for everything that happened, but we want to try … please let us do that.”

Tears filled her eyes as she looked at him, and he pulled her into his arms and held her there for a long time as she cried on his shoulder. “I love you too, Papa. … I love you too…. I’m so sorry….”

“Don’t be sorry anymore, Sarah…. Just be happy…. Be the girl you used to be before this all happened.”

“I’ll try.” She pulled out of his arms for a moment to look at him and saw that he was crying too. “I’m sorry I’ve been so much trouble.”

“That’s right!” He Smiled through his tears. “You should be!”

They both laughed, and they walked slowly back to the house, arm in arm, as he silently prayed they would be able to get her to Europe.






Chapter 4





HE Queen Mary sat proudly at the dock, in her berth at Pier 90 on the Hudson River. There were signs of festivity everywhere. Large, handsome trunks were still being taken on board, huge deliveries of flowers were being made, and champagne was liberally being poured in all the first-class cabins. The Thompsons arrived in the midst of it all with their hand luggage, their trunks having been sent on ahead. Victoria Thompson was wearing a beautiful white suit by Claire McCardell. The large straw hat she wore went perfectly with it, and she looked happy and young as she stepped onto the gangplank just in front of her husband. This was going to be an exciting trip for them. They hadn’t been to Europe in several years, and they were looking forward to seeing old friends, particularly in the South of France and England.