The two “girls” went at each other tooth and nail, and Sam finally took Annabelle to the beach to get away from it, but when he came back to take Daphne to lunch, she was furious that Annabelle had to come with them.

“What do you suggest I do with her for heaven's sake? Leave her home alone?”

“It wouldn't kill her, you know. She's not an infant. I must say, you treat children in America in quite extraordinary ways. They're dreadfully spoiled and the center of everything. It's not even healthy for them. I promise you, she needs to be treated like a child, Sam. She'd be much happier at home, with a nanny or a maid, than dragging around everywhere with you. If her mother wants to do that with her because she has a pathetic little life, then that's fine, but I'm telling you right now, I don't intend to do it. I won't inflict my son on you for more than five days a year, and don't expect me to play nursemaid to yours. I won't have it,” she said petulantly, and for the first time in six months, he was both hurt and disappointed in her, and he wondered if something in her youth had made her so disagreeable about children. It was inconceivable to him that anyone would just dislike them. But when he thought about it, he realized that she had more or less warned him right from the beginning. He only hoped that she'd be willing to change now.

The three of them went out to lunch anyway, but it was a strain. Annabelle never took her eyes off her plate, and didn't eat anything. She had heard everything that Daphne had said, and for the moment she hated her and wanted to go back to her Mommy, and after lunch she said as much to her father. But he explained unhappily that her Mommy was away for the weekend.

He managed to find a sixteen-year-old baby-sitter for that night, by asking the neighbors. And he and Daphne went to the country club at Conscience Point for an evening of dinner and dancing, and she was in better spirits when they got home, and that night he asked her to wear a nightgown. And she laughed at him, and said she didn't have one.

The next day was more of the same, and all of them were relieved when they finally drove back to the city.

Alex was already at home waiting for them, alone, when they arrived. And Daphne waited in the car downstairs while Sam took Annabelle upstairs to her mother.

“Did you have fun?” she asked, beaming, in a pair of blue jeans and a starched white shirt and red espadrilles. And Sam couldn't help noticing how pretty she looked after all these months, with a suntan.

But Annabelle's face was its own story. She raised her eyes to her mother's and they were full of tears, as Sam gently touched his daughter's shoulder.

“We had a few problems of adjustment. I guess I didn't use the best judgment. I brought a friend along, and it wasn't easy for Annabelle.” Or for Daphne. “I'm sorry,” he apologized to both of them, and Alex looked from one to the other in dismay, wondering what had happened.

But Annabelle glanced at Sam and then at Alex and said bluntly, “I hate her.”

“You don't hate anyone,” Alex corrected, glancing at Sam. It must have been a great weekend. She wondered what the English girl had done to get Annabelle's back up. Probably nothing except be there with Sam, Alex suspected fairly. “You have to be nice to Daddy's friends, Annabelle. It's rude to him to be rude to his friends,” she said gently, but Annabelle wasn't so easily silenced.

“She walked around naked all the time. It was disgusting. And she slept with Daddy.” She scowled at both of them and stormed off to her bedroom without saying good-bye to her father, as Alex looked at him, a little surprised at their lack of discretion.

“Maybe you should say something to your friend. If that's true, I don't think it's suitable for her to see that.” And it worried Alex. This was no way to conduct their visits. And she was surprised that Sam had done that.

“I know,” he said miserably. “I'm sorry. The whole thing was a nightmare. It was very awkward.” And then he looked at her ruefully. “They were both impossible, to tell you the truth.” She should have felt sorry for him, but she didn't. It would have been funny, if she hadn't been worried about Daphne parading around naked.

“You're going to have to work something out when she visits you, if you're going to be living with her.” It was the first time Alex had acknowledged it, but Annabelle had opened up the subject. “She's too young for that stuff.”

“I know. And I'm too old. I'll handle it. She didn't see anything she shouldn't have,” he said, looking frazzled. “Oh, and she threw up Friday, by the way.”

“You did have fun, didn't you?” Alex laughed at him, and it reminded him of the old days for a minute. She was laughing at him, and even he had to admit there was a funny side to it. He went to kiss Annabelle then, but she was still angry at him, and refused to say good-bye to him. She was angry at the world these days, and confused about all of it. And then, after a quick kiss in the air, and a wave to his wife, Sam ran back downstairs to Daphne.

“Happy again, my love?” she asked him, moving closer to him in the car, but he was disappointed in the weekend with his daughter, and it still troubled him at times when he saw Alex. They were both haunted by the ghosts of their past life, and trying to forget them.

“I'm sorry things didn't work out a little more smoothly,” Sam said quietly, acknowledging the fiasco.

“She'll be fine,” Daphne said confidently, and started talking to him about the apartment.

But once he moved into the Carlyle in June, things were even harder. Daphne was there all the time with him, and Annabelle suddenly understood that she was a permanent intruder.

“I hate her!” she said adamantly every time she came home to her mother.

“No, you don't,” Alex said firmly.

“Yes, I do.”

They took her to the new apartment and she said she hated that too. The only thing she said she liked was the lemonade and chocolate cookies at the Carlyle. Sam was trying to organize their summer too, he had gotten the yacht, and a house in Cap d'Antibes, and Alex had agreed to let her go with them.

But it was Daphne who objected vehemently to Annabelle's being included. She was not having Annabelle with them in Europe, she said, not even with a nanny.

“She's my daughter, for heaven's sake.” He was horrified by her attitude and very hurt by it. This was not what he had expected from the woman he lived with. And they were going to be gone for six weeks, a long time not to see his daughter.

“Fine. Then bring her along when she's eighteen. She doesn't belong with us on a yacht, and in a house in the South of France. What if she falls overboard? I'm not going to spend my time worrying about her.

I'm not bringing my son along either.” In fact, she was only seeing him for a week in London. She made it sound like the ultimate sacrifice, but Sam was beginning to know better.

They argued about it constantly, and he was not about to give in, but it was Annabelle herself who finally decided. She didn't want to go away with them, didn't want to go to Europe, and leave her Mommy. They were going to spend a week in London, two in Cap d'Antibes, and three on the yacht, cruising around France and Italy and Greece. It sounded heavenly to Alex, but not to her daughter.

“Maybe she's just too young,” Alex suggested gently to Sam. “Maybe next year.” She assumed he'd be married to the girl by then, and Annabelle would have to get along with her. It was odd, because he hadn't asked Alex for the divorce yet, but she knew it was coming, probably at the end of the summer. He probably just didn't want to look like he was pushing. She had resigned herself to it by then. Their marriage was history, it had never been as glamorous as his life with Daphne anyway. He would never have thought of going to the South of France or renting a yacht while he was married to Alex.

“What are you going to do with her?” Sam asked, worried about Annabelle, and unhappy not to have her with him for the summer.

“I've rented a house in East Hampton. I'd love having her with me. I'll ask Carmen to stay out there during the week, and I'll work a short week so I can be with her.” It sounded fine to him, and Annabelle was thrilled when they told her.

“I don't have to go with Daddy and Daphne?” she said incredulously. “Yippee!” But her reaction really hurt him, and he was annoyed with Daphne that night when he went back to the Carlyle.

“Oh for heaven's sake, don't pout,” Daphne teased, pouring a glass of Cristal for him. “She's only a child, she'd have hated it. And we'd have been miserable, watching her, worried all the time. It wouldn't have been a vacation.” She smiled at him, enormously relieved to have the issue disposed of. “What do you want to do tonight? Go out or stay home?” Life was a constant party to her and if not a party, an orgy.

“Maybe I ought to do some work for a change,” he said glumly. He had been letting his partners handle everything. He and Simon were bringing in all the new deals, and Simon took care of an amazing amount of the details. Sam had been so busy traveling, and changing his life around, he felt a little guilty for not paying more attention to business.

“Oh don't work,” Daphne complained. “Let's do something fun.” But before he could suggest anything, she had straddled him and pulled up her skirt, and there was only one thing that appealed to him. He laid her on the couch in the hotel, and took her with more force than usual. He was half angry at her and half in love with her, disappointed and hurt and so overwhelmed with passion for her that sometimes it just drove him crazy.





Chapter 19

Alex and Brock moved into their summer house at the end of June, and they both loved it. It was simple and comfortable, with blue-and-white-checked curtains and sisal on the floor. There was a big homey kitchen with Portuguese tiles, and a sweet little garden for Annabelle to play in. She thought the house was pretty too, when they took her there for the first time on the Fourth of July weekend.

She didn't seem surprised that Brock was there, and Alex was a lot more careful than Sam had been with Daphne. Brock “officially” slept in the guest room downstairs, and he was careful to go back down again every morning before Annabelle got up, and one morning when they forgot and almost got caught, Brock slipped on his jeans and pretended to be fixing something in Alex's bathroom.

Annabelle was completely happy and at ease with him, and the three of them went everywhere together. Alex was getting her full strength back rapidly, and she was full of energy and good spirits. And in mid-July she surprised both of them by coming downstairs without her wig. Her hair was soft and short and curly.

“You look pretty, Mommy! Just like me!” Annabelle giggled and went outside to play as Brock smiled at Alex and almost knocked her out of her seat with his next question.

“So when are we getting married, Mrs. Parker?” She smiled hesitantly at him. She was very much in love with him, but she had never allowed herself to think about the future, for a variety of reasons.

“Sam hasn't even asked me for a divorce yet.”

“Why wait for him to ask? Why don't you ask him when he gets back from Europe?” It was everything Brock had hoped for.

But she looked at him seriously then, hesitating, and looking very cautious. “It wouldn't be fair to you, Brock. I'm fine now, but what if something happens again later?” He had already proven his ability to cope with it, but that wasn't the issue. “I don't want to do that to you. You have a right to a sure future.”

“That's bullshit,” he said, looking angry at her. “You can't sit around for the next five years, waiting to see what happens. You have to go on with your life, and deal with whatever comes. I want to marry you, and Annabelle,” he said, taking her hand in his and kissing her from across the table. “I don't want to wait. I want our life now. I want to live with both of you, and take care of you. I don't want this to end after the summer.”

“Neither do I,” she said honestly, but she was ten years older than he was, and she'd had cancer. “What would your sister say to all this?” She still hadn't met her or talked to her, but she knew how much she meant to Brock. She could tell from some of the things he'd said, but generally, he spoke of her very little. “Wouldn't she be unhappy? You should marry some nice young girl who'll give you lots of kids and no problems.”

“She would tell me to do what I think is best. And best is you. Alex … I mean it. I want you to ask Sam for a divorce when he comes back from Europe. And then we'll get married when it's final.”