“No, but I would. And I had to know what you thought.”

“I think the whole thing has been an agony for everyone. Now, do what you can about it, and then let it go. Drop it from your thoughts, your heart, your conscience. It's over. And we have a new life to begin. We have a right to that life. You've paid dearly for everything you've had. You don't have to punish yourself for anything. We're going to get married, and go away, and live our life. Let them work out their own.”

“Do I really have a right to that?” She looked younger again when he looked into her face.

“Yes, my love, you do.” And then he kissed her, gently at first, and then hungrily. To hell with Michael and the girl and all of it. He wanted Marion, with her good and her bad, her genius and her outrageousness, all of it. “And now, you are going to forget about all this, and go to sleep, and tomorrow we are going to sit down and plan the wedding. Start thinking about sensible things like what kind of dress to order and who's to do the flowers. Is that clear?”

She looked up at him and laughed.

“George Calloway, I love you.”

“It's a good thing, because if you didn't, I'd marry you anyway. Nothing would stop me now. Is that clear?”

“Yes, sir.” They were beaming at each other when the nurse finally stuck her head into the room. It was one in the morning. And special instructions from the doctor or no, he had to leave. George nodded that he understood, and with a gentle kiss, a touch on the hand, and a smile that nothing could have dimmed, he reluctantly left the room. And in her bed, Marion felt enormously relieved. He loved her anyway. And George had restored a little of her own faith in herself. And then with a look at the clock, she decided to give Michael a call. Maybe she could do something about all that right now. To hell with the time difference. She didn't have a moment to waste. None of them did. She turned to the phone in the darkened room and dialed his apartment in New York. It took him four rings to find the phone and answer groggily with a muffled 'llo?

“Darling, it's me.”

“Mother? Are you all right?” He quickly switched on the light and tried to force himself awake.

“I'm fine. I have something to tell you.”

“I know. I know. George told me.” He yawned and smiled at the phone and then blinked at the clock. Jesus. It was five o'clock in the morning in New York. Two in San Francisco. What the hell was she doing up, and where was her nurse? “Did you accept?”

“Of course. Both his proposals. I'm even going to retire. More or less.” Michael laughed at her last words. That sounded like her. George was going to have his hands full, but he was pleased for the two of them. “But I'm calling about something else.” She sounded very businesslike and firm, and he groaned. He knew the tone.

“Not business at this hour. Please!”

“Nonsense. There is no hour for business. I wanted to tell you that I saw that girl.”

“What girl?” His mind was a blank. It had been an incredible day. Three meetings, five appointments, and the news that his mother had had another seizure, alone in San Francisco.

“The photographer, Michael. Wake up.”

“Oh. Her. So?”

“We want her.”

“We do?”

“Absolutely. I can't pursue it now. George would have my head. But you can.”

“You must be kidding. I have too much to do. Let Ben handle it.”

“She already turned him down. And she's a young woman with style, intelligence, and character. She is not going to deal with underlings.”

“She sounds like a pain in the ass to me.”

“That's how you sound to me. Now listen to me. I don't care what you have to do to sign her, but do it. Woo her, win her, fly out to see her, take her to dinner. Be your best charming self. She's worth it. And I want her work in the center. Do it for me.” She was actually wheedling. She smiled to herself. This was new.

“You're crazy, and I don't have time.” He was lying in bed, grinning to himself. His mother was going nuts. “You do it.”

“I won't. And if you don't, I'll come back to the office full time and drive you round the bend.” She sounded as though she meant it, and he had to laugh.

“I'll do it, I'll do it.”

“I'll hold you to that.”

“Jesus. All right. Are you satisfied? Can I go back to sleep now?”

“Yes. But I want you to follow this up right away.”

“What's her name again?”

“Adamson. Marie Adamson.”

“Fine. I'll take care of it tomorrow.”

“Good, darling. And … thank you.”

“Good night, you crazy old bat. And by the way, congratulations. Can I give away the bride?”

“Of course. I wouldn't dream of having anyone else. Good night, darling.”

They each hung up, and at her end Marion Hillyard was finally at peace. Maybe it wouldn't. Maybe work it was too late. The two years had taken a hard toll on both of them. But it was all she could do. No, that wasn't true. She could have told him the truth. But with a small sigh, as she drifted off to sleep, she admitted to herself that she wasn't quite that ready for sainthood yet. She'd help them along a little. But she wouldn't do more than that. She wouldn't tell Michael what she had done. He would probably find out eventually, but perhaps, by then, there would be enough happiness to cushion the blow.





Chapter 24




George kissed her tenderly on the mouth and the soft music began again. Marion had hired three musicians to play at the wedding in her apartment. There were roughly seventy guests, and the dining room had been cleared as a ballroom. The buffet had been set up in the library. And it was a perfect day. The very last day in February and a clear, cold, magnificent New York day. Marion was completely recovered from her little mishap in San Francisco, and George looked jubilant. Michael kissed her on both cheeks, and she posed between her husband and her son for the photographer from the Times. She was wearing champagne lace to the floor and both George and Michael were formally dressed in striped trousers and cutaways. George wore a white carnation as his boutonniere, Michael a red one, and the bride carried delicate beige orchids, specially flown in from California along with the lavish show of flowers around the apartment. Her decorator had seen to it himself.

“Mrs. Calloway?” It was Michael offering her his arm to the buffet as she laughed girlishly at the new name and then smiled at George. “Celebrate it,” as Nancy had said, and that was what they had done. Michael was pleased for them both. They deserved it. And they were spending two months in Europe to relax. He couldn't get over how sensible she had been about stepping out of the business. Maybe she had been ready to retire after all, or maybe her heart was finally frightening her after all this time, but she and George had been wonderful to work with as they transferred the power from their hands to his. He was the president of Cotter-Hillyard now, and he had to admit that he didn't mind the way it felt President … at twenty-seven. He had made the cover of Time. And that had felt good, too. He supposed his mother and George would make People with the wedding.

“You look very elegant, darling.” His mother beamed at him as they swept into the library. It was filled with flower trees and tables laden with food. And the walls seemed to be lined with additional servants.

“You look pretty snazzy yourself. And the house doesn't look bad either.”

“It's pretty, isn't it?” She seemed amazingly young as she flitted away from him to talk to some of the guests and give last-minute instructions to the servants. She was totally in her element, and as excited as a girl. His mother, the bride. He smiled to himself again at the thought.

“You're looking very pleased with yourself, Mr. Hillyard.” The voice was soft and familiar, and when he turned to find Wendy right at his elbow, he was no longer embarrassed to see her. She was wearing the diamond solitaire Ben had given her for Valentine's Day when they got engaged. They were getting married the following summer. And he was to be best man.

“She looks lovely, doesn't she?”

Wendy nodded and smiled at him again. For once he looked happy, too. She had never really figured him out; but at least it didn't bother her anymore, now that she had Ben. Ben made her happier than any other man ever had.

“But I'm sure you'll look lovely next summer too. I have a weakness for brides.” It seemed very unlike him and Wendy smiled again. She liked him much better, now that she shared his friendship with Ben.

“Trying to chase after my fiancée, old man?” It was Ben at their elbow, juggling three glasses of champagne. “Here, these are for you two. And by the way, Mike, I'm in love with your mother.”

“Too late. I gave her away this morning.” Ben snapped his fingers as though at a loss and all three laughed as the music began in the dining room. “Oops, I think that means me. The son gets the first dance, and then George cuts in on me. Emily Post says …” Ben laughed at him and gave him a shove as he disappeared toward the door to do his duties.

“He looks happy today,” Wendy said softly after Mike had left.

“I think he is, for once.” Pensively, he sipped his champagne, and a moment later smiled at Wendy again. “You look happy today, too.”

“I'm always happy, thanks to you. By the way, did you follow up on that girl in San Francisco, the photographer? I keep meaning to ask you, and I never have time.”

But Ben was shaking his head “No, Mike said he'd take care of it.”

“Does he have time?” Wendy looked surprised.

“No. But he'll probably manage anyway. You know Mike. He's going out there next week, for that and four thousand other reasons.”

No, Wendy thought to herself, I don't know Mike. No one does. Except maybe Ben. But sometimes she even wondered if Ben knew him as well as he liked to think he did. Used to maybe. But did he still?

“Care to dance, lady?” He set down his glass and put an arm around her to guide her to the next room.

“Love to.”

But they'd only been dancing for a moment, it seemed, when Michael cut in on them. “My turn.”

“The hell it is. We just got started. I thought you were dancing with your mother.”

“She ditched me for George.”

“Sensible of her.” The three of them had been shuffling around together on the dance floor and Wendy was starting to laugh. Seeing the two of them together this way was like getting a glimpse of the Ben and Michael of years gone by. This was the kind of occasion they had once thrived on. A good healthy dose of champagne, an occasion worth celebrating, and they were off.

“Listen, Avery, are you going to get lost, or aren't you? I want to dance with your fiancé.”

“And what if I don't want you to?”

“Then I dance with both of you, and my mother throws us out?” Wendy was grinning again. They were like two kids, dying to raise hell at a birthday party. They were just breaking into a song about “a girl in Rhode Island” that was beginning to worry her.

“Listen you two, this is supposed to be twice as much fun. Instead, I'm getting both my feet walked on at once. Why don't we all go have some wedding cake?”

“Shall we?” Ben and Michael eyed each other, nodded in unison, and each obligingly took one of Wendy's arms and led her off the floor, as Michael looked over her head and winked at Ben.

“Cute, but I think she's crocked. Did you notice the way she danced? My shoes are practically ruined.”

“You should see mine.” Ben spoke in a stage whisper, over her left shoulder, and Wendy sharply elbowed them both.

“Listen, you creeps, has anyone seen my shoes? Not to mention my poor aching feet, dancing with you two drunken louts.”

“Louts?” Ben looked at her, horrified, and Michael started to laugh as he accepted three plates of wedding cake from a uniformed maid, and then proceeded to juggle the plates, almost dropping two.

“Never mind her. The cake looks terrific. Here.” Michael handed a plate to each of the other two, and the three leaned against a convenient column and watched the action as they ate, eyeing dowagers in gray lace, young girls in pink chiffon, cascades of pearls, and a river of assorted gems.

“Jesus, just think what we could make if we held them up.” Michael looked enchanted with his idea.

“I never thought of that. We should have done it years ago. Up at school, when we were broke.” They nodded sagely at each other, as Wendy looked at them with a suspicious grin.

“I'm not sure I should trust you two alone while I go to powder my nose.”