Deceptions (15 page)

*I... haven't done any for awhile.'

'Oh, Stephanie, why not? You love it.'

'Yes, but I didn't have any business. I'm working at the university now. Not as much fim, but it helps pay the

mortgage. Maybe I'll get back into estates if we move, Sabrina, Garth's been offered a job. Director of Research at a pharmaceutical company in Connecticut.'

'Garth is leaving the university?*

'I want him to. It pays ninety thousand a year.'

'Oh, Stephanie, how wonderful for you! No more worries about money; you can work at whatever you like. Why don't you open an American Ambassadors? We could trade customers across the ocean. And we can see each other more often! We'll take turns flying back and forth. It's the first time we'll both have enough money. Is Garth excited?'

'I think he's going to turn it down.'

'But—why?'

'I don't luiow. He had lunch with the president of the company a couple of weeks ago, and he says he's thinking it over and we'll talk about it later. But he's not very enthusiastic. They want us to come to Stamford -1 have to pass inspection, too - but Garth says he's too busy.'

'He wouldn't be committing himself, would he?'

'No. Just visiting, talking to people, having a weekend with his wife. He might even look at me then and notice that I've lost weight.'

'Have you really?'

'You'd be proud of me. After your lecture in London I turned a new leaf. Diet and exercise, and then I splurged at a place on Michigan Avenue that looks like a bordello. They used all the mud of the Mississippi on my face and s^led my hair. Nobody noticed at home, but I was having such a good time I didn't care. If we looked in your mirror now, you'd wonder which is the famous European designer and which is the dull university housewife.'

'Eton't say that; it's not fair. You shouldn't make fiin of your life; you don't know how often I wish I could have a taste of it.'

'But not the whole meal.'

'Stephanie, what else is wrong?'

'Oh, problems with Cliff that Garth somehow avoids discussing with him. And Penny wants special art classes and she's good, she deserves them, but they're awfully expensive, and that brings me right back to Garth's job offer, and I feel

so... helpless. Pinned down and trying to get away. Do you know what I did?*

•What?'

'Don't laugh. I applied for a visa to China. There's a tour in September sponsored by the International Antique Dealers, and I thought—'

'But so did I! It sounded so wonderfully far away that I—'

'You applied for a visa?'

'I had to. It takes—'

'Sixty days to get one.*

'Oh, this is wonderful; we'll go together! Can you afford it? I would have asked you to go, but—*

'Of course I can't afford it. I mean, we have money in the savings account, but not for trips to China. I didn't tell Garth.'

'Then you don't think you'll go.*

'Probably not. I just felt very adventurous filling out the application, and it's fun to think about.'

'I'm not sure I can go, either. September could be a busy time for me. But if we could figure out a way...'

'Oh, if we could - what a crazy, beautiful dream!'

After she hung up the phone, Sabrina sat in the stilhiess of midnight, curled in the deep cushions of the love seat in her bedroom, and thought about herself and Stephanie. Their lives were so different, yet somehow, miraculously, they were closer than ever. Alexandra and a few others were good firiends, but Stephanie's was the only voice that sounded like her own.

The telephone rang. 'My Sabrina, forgive me,' said Antonio. 'I knew you were not sleeping, foryorr telephone has been busy.'

She felt a sharp dismay. 'I thought you left for Brazil today.'

'So I did. I am in New York. In two days I go to Rio. I am calling to wish you pleasant dreams. And when I return on August 15, you will give me your answer so we may plan our future.'

She sighed with relief. He was really gone. For four weeks

no

she could think about what she wanted to do without his smothering pressure.

But the weeks flew by, and Sabrina was just getting used to the freedom of his absence when he telephoned that he would be with her in two days. She was looking mournfully at her calendar when Michel and Jolie came to say goodbye. 'We'll be in Berlin and New York, 'Jolie said. The story grows bigger. We came to warn you about Rory Carr.'

Sabrina shook her head. That Liick sunmierhouse was genuine. I know you mean well, but tiy to understand. He could take his pieces to Adams or any other big porcelain dealer and perhaps get more for them, but he likes to help small galleries and I'm grateful to him. I don't believe he would sell a forged piece, and I know he hasn't tried it with me. I don't think he's involved at all.'

'He's involved up to the pouches under his eyes,' Michel said bluntly. 'How many pieces have you bought from him?'

'Seven. And I've sold all of them but the summerhouse.'

'Sabrina,' said Jolie, 'we've got to catch a plane, so we haven't much time, but please listen, we're trying to help you. We've traced five forgeries to Carr and Lazlo and Westbridge Imports, all sold through small elite galleries like Ambassadors.'

'Five?' Sabrina repeated it. 'You're sure?'

'Looks like. And what's more, it seems that some of the galleries may be collaborating with Westbridge to make a hell of a profit. They pay less because the pieces are forged; then they charge the going rate as if they were genuine. That's as far as we've gone, but it's a messy story. Since you've dealt with Carr, please check again the stuff he's sold you. Will you please do that? Look, we have to run. Here's our number in Paris. Why don't you call us there tonight? Sabrina?'

'What? I'm soriy, I didn't hear you.' She felt sick and wished they would leave. Some of her wealthiest, most influential customers had bought the porcelains she'd purchased fi^om Carr. Her head was pounding. 'What did you say?'

'We'll call tonight to see how you are. And Sabrina? You'll check them out? And let us know what you find?'

She walked with them to the door. 'I'll try. I'm not sure how I'll do it, but I'll tiy.'

On the sidewalk, as Jolie hailed a cab, Michel asked idly, *By the way, did you ever remember where you came across Ivan Lazlo?'

'Oh, yes, but it was ages ago - seven years, I think. He was Max Stuyvesant's secretary. I met him on a cruise on Max's yacht.'

Michel tilted his head. 'Stuyvesant.'

That's ancient history,' said Johe as a cab pulled up. 'His secretary is Dennis something. I met him when I photographed Max's sculpture collection for An World,*

'Oh, well,* Michel said casually. 'Probably nothing in it. Call you tonight, my dear.' They waved goodbye as Sabrina walked fix)m the blinding August sun into the dim coolness of her shop. Six porcelains to worry about and Antonio coming back. She looked at her calendar. Dinners, picnics, concerts, house parties. August was supposed to be the dull month when everyone went away. How could she think if she had no quiet time?

She sat at her cherry table. The telephone rang, and Brian came to the door. 'My lady, Senor Molena—'

'No,' she said. Not Antonio until she had to deal with him in person. 'No calls for awhile. Take a message, please, Brian.' She stared at her clasped hands until he reappeared.

'Senor Molena regrets that he cannot return for another week, my lady. He will see you on August 22 or 23 and will call you tonight.'

A reprieve. 'Thank you, Brian.' How could she think of marrying a man who gave her the most pleasure by staying away an extra week?

But she would think about Antonio later; now she had time to check on the porcelains. Except that she had no idea how to begin. She couldn't go to Olivia Chasson and ask to borrow a porcelain figurine she had sold her without some explanation. She could be honest with Alexandra, but there would still be the other five to wony about. 'Brian,' she said

suddenly, 'let's lock up. It's summer and it's Friday and your vacation starts tomorrow. I'll sec you in two weeks.'

She walked home. The sun pressed down on her throbbing head and she shaded her eyes. Usually she loved this walk, but today she was hardly aware of it. The small, elegant shops and boutiques of Beauchamp Place, slumbering in the heat, did not tempt her, and even the outdoor fruit and vegetable stands that she loved failed to slow her pace. She was dizzy from the heat and suddenly veiy tired, but she walked more quickly, turning into the shade of Cadogan Square. In a few minutes she stood at her door.

Mrs Thirkell opened it before she could use her key. 'My lady! You didn't walk! In this heat!' But Sabrina barely heard her. She was looking at her polished brass door knocker in the shape of a hand holding a scroll. The certificates. She had copies of the certificates of ownership Roiy Carr had provided with each porcelain; she could verify them. She had all next week, while Brian was away.

'My lady! You should rest!'

She smiled at Mrs Thirkell. 'A bath, I think. And then a light supper. I'm going to be working tonight.'

Mrs Thirkell sent Sabrina's regrets for the dinner party she was to attend that night while Sabrina went back to Ambassadors for the certificates. She spent the evening looking up telephone numbers in her office directories for Paris. Bonn, Geneva, Milan and Brussels, and the next morning she began making calls.

It took a long time; everyone seemed to be away. Sabrina thought of Europe in August as a huge chessboard, with populations moving from square to square. But servants and secretaries gave her forwarding numbers, and soon she was getting through.

In five days she had verified the ownership of four porcelains. On Wednesday she confirmed the ownership of the next figurine through six families. And on Thursday morning she turned to the last certificate, listing previous owners of a rare Meissen porcelain stork, and found they were names of people who did not exist.

For the next three days, in her silent office, she made

dozens of calls, her heart racing, but there were no errors in filing, no mistaken addresses. Every name was false.

And, therefore, so was the porcelain stork.

She stared blankly at a small landscape on the opposite wall. She had been careless. Five superb porcelain figures, the impeccable presence of Rory Carr and his friendships with the titled families of Europe, her customers' demand for fine objects - and she grew careless. Her success depended on her sharp eye and her knowledge, but somehow she had bought and then sold a porcelain without properly examining it.

When that became public knowledge, the sterling reputation that set her above so many design galleries would be tarnished. Customers who gave her open-ended commissions would look for different designers. A few might give her another chance, but most, even acknowledging that everyone makes a mistake now and then, would turn their backs on her. Failure was seldom tolerated by those with the luxury of unlimited choice.

Sabrina shivered. She would have to buy back the stork at its current market value. If she didn't have enough cash, Alexandra would probably help her. But money wasn't the problem. Exposure was the problem. She could not buy it back without telling the owner the truth.

Who was the owner? She read the invoice stapled to the certificate. Lady Olivia Chasson. 'Why not?' she murmured. The best and the worst. Lady Olivia was Sabrina's best customer, spending fifty thousand pounds a year on redecorating her homes and on gifts. Frequently she sent new customers to Ambassadors, including foreigners who shopped by mail or telephone. She was one of Sabrina's most ardent supporters.

And she could destroy someone overnight if she felt she had been cheated.

But we know each other so well, Sabrina thought. 1 can talk to her. She is one of the few people with enough confidence in herself to keep the story quiet after 1 buy back the stork or replace it with another piece. I think it will be all right. We know each other so well. I think I can make it come out all right.

When the telephone rang she answered without thinking, her voice light and a little breathless with the effort to dispel her fear.

It was Antonio, back three days earlier than he had expected, telling her he would pick her up at eight o'clock for dinner.

Some people, Sabrina thought wryly, lead simple lives. But then, she added honestly, I didn't want a simple life. I wanted excitement, whirlwinds, adventiu-es. Now all I have to do is cope with them.

Antonio first. And then Olivia. She could delay giving Antonio an answer, and as for Olivia, this wasn't three years ago; people knew and trusted her now; she had her own place in society - not a reflection of Denton's but one she had made for herself. Whatever happened, she could handle it.

For the evening, she chose a dress bare enough for August but not seductive and put up her hair with mother-of-pearl combs. She was surprised to discover that she was looking forward to seeing Antonio. His presence was so overwhelming that when he was gone he left an empty space in her life: something like an excavation for a building. She didn't want to fall in, but it was too big to ignore.

The trouble was, even when he was there, filling his space, he did not give her what she needed. She thought of the time, months before, when she had tried to tell him about Michel's suspicions of Rory Carr. He deliberately led the conversation to other subjects until Sabrina gave up and did not try to confide in him again.

But tonight she would. Share with me, she murmured to his photograph on her dressing table. He knew Olivia; he might have an idea how to approach her. Sabrina was so glad she was going to see him, she thought perhaps she was falling in love with him after all.

But by the time they sat opposite each other at Antonio's favorite table at Le Gavroche, and Sabrina had listened to his problems with bankers, clerks, the postal service of eight different countries, coffee-pickers in Brazil, ship-loaders in New Orleans and United States government regulations on imported beef, she had lost all desire to talk about anything but the weather.

'Yes, yes, it may rain, my Sabrina,' Antonio said impatiently, adding as an inspired afterthought, 'It does not rain much in Rio.'