To Love Again Part 23

The apartment was looking lovely, the offices were working with the usual frenzy, and the carousel had just arrived. It was the end of September, and Jason and Natasha had come to the penthouse to try it out. Alessandro was jumping up and down, laughing and squealing, and Jason had decided that it wasn't bad at all.

Oh, G.o.d, I love it, Isabella. I want one too. The two women smiled at each other, watching the children ride round and round. The first breeze of autumn had broken the spell of summer, and Isabella was stretched out on the terrace, outside her new home, pleased with her accomplishment.

The walls of the bedrooms had been covered in fabrics, there were wonderful curtains, and rugs on every floor. The bathrooms had already been done in marble when she bought it, but she had changed all the fixtures. Opening onto the terrace there were exquisite French doors.

You're a genius, Natasha said, looking admiringly around her.

No. I'm a designer. Sometimes that helps.

How's the new collection coming?

Slowly.

So is the new book.

It takes me time to settle down every time I change location. But at the rate they're going on the new office s.p.a.ce, I won't have to worry about that again till next year. It's taking them forever.

Baloney. How long have they been at it? She grinned at Isabella. Two weeks?

Isabella smiled back at her. Six.

Patience, patience!

A virtue for which I have never been known.

You're learning. She had learned a great deal of that in the last year. How does it feel to go out again?

Heavenly. And then she sobered. But a little strange. I keep waiting for it to happen. The awful. The inevitable. The press to flash lights in my face, and then the threats, the crank phone calls.

And does it?

Isabella shook her head, smiling slowly. No, only the reporters from Women's Wear who want to know what I'm eating or what I'm going to wear. But it takes a long time to forget the nightmare, Natasha. A very, very long time. At least she no longer waited for Amadeo to come home at night. It had taken a year. Which reminds me. She turned her thoughts to something light. I want you to join me for dinner tomorrow night. Are you busy?

Of course not. The man I spent my energies on all summer just went back to his wife. The b.a.s.t.a.r.d.

Isabella grinned, and they said it together: Nothing lasts forever.

Natasha said, Shut up and tell me where we're going.

The soft pink lighting warmed the familiar faces, faces one usually saw in fas.h.i.+on magazines or on the covers of Fortune or Time. Movie stars, moguls, publishers, authors, heads of corporations. The very good at what they did, and the very rich because they were. The tables were placed close together, the candles on the pink tablecloths danced in the soft breeze from the garden, and everyone's diamonds seemed to be glittering as s.h.i.+ning faces talked and laughed. Lutece had never been lovelier.

They ordered caviar to begin with, and filet mignon and poached salmon for each of them. A half bottle of red wine for Isabella, and a half of white for Natasha's fish. The salad was hearts of palm and endive, and there were big beautiful strawberries for dessert. Isabella was looking comfortable and happy, when suddenly Natasha noticed her dress.

What's the matter? Isabella watched her, but her friend just sat and stared.

For a whole year you look like a nun or a scarecrow and suddenly you don't and I didn't even notice.

Isabella only smiled. The period of official mourning was over, and tonight, for the first time, she was dressed in the palest mauve and white. The underdress was a perfectly stark, white gabardine of her own design, and over it she had worn a soft mauve cashmere tunic, with the amethyst-and-diamond earrings she had once lent to Natasha.

Do you like it? It's new.

Same collection as my blue marvel? Isabella nodded as Natasha leaned toward her to confess, I turned up the air conditioning the other day just so I could wear it around the house.

Don't worry. It'll be cold enough for it soon. Isabella shuddered, already thinking of the long New York winter that would seem to go on forever.

You look beautiful, Natasha said. Still there was a glimmer of something very lonely in her friend's deep, onyx eyes. I'm glad it's over, Isabella. She was immediately sorry she had said it, because in some ways she knew it was not. It would never be. The loss of Amadeo would always weigh on Isabella's heart.

I can't believe that it's been a year. Isabella looked up from her coffee then, a wistful look in her eyes. In some ways it seems as though he's been gone forever. In other ways it seems only yesterday. But it's easier for me here than it was in Rome.

You made the right decision.

Isabella smiled again. Time will tell.

They chatted on for another hour, and then they each went home, Natasha to what now seemed to her like an empty apartment, and Isabella to her new penthouse. She undressed quietly, put on her nightgown, went to kiss Alessandro, already sound asleep in his bed, and peacefully slipped into her own bed and turned off the light. It was six o'clock the next morning when she was awakened, startled, by the sound of the phone.

h.e.l.lo?

Ciao, Bellezza.

Bernardo! Do you know what time it is? I was sleeping. Are you bored already? Bernardo had left for Corfu shortly after her own return to New York.

Bored? Sei pazza. You're crazy. I love it His voice sobered quickly. Isabella, darling ' I had to call. I have to go to Rome.

Already? She laughed at him. Going back to work already? That was quick.

No, it's not that. There was a pause as Bernardo steeled himself to tell her. He wished he were there with her, not thousands of miles away on an island, staring helplessly at his telephone. I got a call yesterday. I waited till they called me back this morning, until they were sure.

Who, for chrissake? She sat up and yawned sleepily. It was Sat.u.r.day and she had wanted to sleep till noon. You're not making sense.

They got them, Isabella.

Who got what? She was frowning now, and her blood froze suddenly as she understood. The kidnappers?

All of them. There were three. One of them talked too much. It's all over, Isabella. It's all over, cara.

Listening to him, she was suddenly crying and shaking her head. It was over last year, she said. She didn't know if she was happy or sad now. It didn't make any difference anymore. Amadeo was gone. And catching the men who had killed him would not bring him back.

We have to go to Rome. The police called me back this morning. They've gotten special permission to speed it up. The trial will be in three weeks.

I'm not going. She stopped crying. Her face was deathly white.

You have to, Isabella. You have to. They need your testimony.

Nardo ' no! Non posso. Non posso! I can't.

Yes, you can. I'll be there with you.

I don't want to see them.

Neither do I. But we owe it to Amadeo. And to ourselves. You can't stay away, Isabella. What if something happens, if they are set free? Can you let this happen to someone else?

At his words the events of a year ago rushed over her again. He had lied to her then, G.o.dd.a.m.n Corbett. It did go on forever. It would never be over. Never! She was crying again into the phone.

Isabella, stop it. It's almost over now.

It isn't.

I promise you, cara. It is. Just this one last thing, and then you can put it behind you forever. The police asked me to call you, they thought it would be less of a shock if you heard it from me, he went on. They don't think the trial will take more than a week. You can stay at the house.

I'm not coming.

His voice was firm now. Yes, Isabella. You are.

When she hung up, she sat in her bed. Seeing visions she had blotted from her mind for the last year of waiting in the living room in her green evening dress, watching the clock on the mantelpiece; of Alessandro and his handful of cookies that night. And then the phone call, the visit to Alfredo Paccioli to sell her jewelry, Amadeo on the phone telling her to be brave. She squeezed her eyes closed, trying not to scream. With a trembling hand, she reached for the phone again, dialed Natasha's number.

By the time a sleepy Natasha answered, Isabella was hysterical.

What? Who is this? Isabella! What's the matter? Darling, talk to me ' Isabella? ' Please ' Natasha said.

They've caught them ' the kidnappers ' and I have to ' go to the trial ' in Rome' .

I'll be right over.

Her face buried in her pillows, Isabella fled the visions and dropped the phone.

Chapter TWENTY-SEVEN.

They drove from the airport straight to the House of San Gregorio, speeding through Rome. It was that miraculous time of the year again, still sunny and warm, yet with cool breezes and blue skies and no clouds. Mid-October. It had once been her favorite time of year. She sat in the car in stony silence, wearing a gray suit and a matching gray hat. Bernardo could barely see her eyes beneath the brim, cast down toward her hands folded tightly in her lap.

It starts tomorrow, Bellezza. You were right to come.

She looked at him tiredly then, and he cringed at the pain he saw so sharply etched in her eyes. I'm tired of doing what's right. What does it matter now?

It matters, bella. Trust me.

She took his hand in hers. After all this time, all the arguments and accusations, she did.

There were a few photographers waiting for her at the door, but Bernardo steered her through, and they pa.s.sed rapidly through the house, to the penthouse, where he set her bags down, and poured them each a gla.s.s of wine.

How was the trip?

It was all right.

And Alessandro?

Mad at me for leaving, but he's fine.

Did you tell him why you were coming?

She nodded slowly. Yes, I did. I wasn't going to, but Natasha said I owed it to him to tell him. So he wouldn't be afraid anymore.

What did he say?

She looked startled. He was happy. But he didn't see why I had to go. Neither do I. She sipped at the wine again and looked at Bernardo, tanned and looking years younger after his month at Corfu.

You did and you know it. What about the office?

Everything's fine. For the first time she smiled at him as she pulled off the gray hat.

What about you? He looked at her sharply.

What's that supposed to mean?

Are you seeing anyone? It's been over a year now. It's time you went out. He had finally come to accept what would never be between them and cherish what they had.

Mind your own G.o.dd.a.m.n business. She looked away at the rooftops of Rome.

Why should I? You don't mind yours. What about Corbett Ewing?

What about him? Her eyes shot back to him, startled. How much do you know about us?

I figured it out eventually. Your violent reaction about F-B, and the way you sounded that day, when I mentioned Ewing to you on the phone. I've never heard you angrier.

She nodded slowly. I have never been so angry. But I thought he'd seduced me on purpose, just to get his hands on San Gregorio.

Is that what you think now?

She shrugged. It doesn't matter anymore. I haven't seen him at all.

Did he seduce you? Bernardo's voice was very soft.

That's none of your business. Then she softened. For a little while I thought we were in love. But I was wrong, that's all. It would never have worked anyway.

Why not?

Because oh, dammit, Bernardo, I don't know. Maybe we're too different. Maybe I'm married to the business now. Besides, it'll never be like it was with Amadeo. And I don't want to break my heart, or anyone else's, finding that out. She looked at him sadly. He shook his head.

So you waste yourself, is that it? At thirty-three you close the door. You lose Amadeo, and you give up.

I haven't given up. I have Alessandro and the business. She stared at him defiantly, but he wasn't buying it.