Deceptions (38 page)

*Not often,' Stephanie said, remembering. 'Who are you meeting at the airport?'

'Garth. He's been in Berkeley all week. Stephanie, 1 have to go. There's some mayhem downstairs. I just wanted you to know about the date. October twenty-second. Call me soon so we can talk.*

Stephanie repeated it to herself. Ten more days. Sabrina had sounded so... neutral. Not happy, not sad. How did she feel? How do I feel? she wondered. But there was no time to think about it; Gabrielle needed to talk, and she talked straight through to tea time.

By then Stephanie was so worried about her despair, and furious at the shabby way Brooks had treated her, that she called him and told him to meet her and Alexandra for dessert and coffee at II Cocchio Oro. She did not wait for him to refuse.

'You don't mind?' she asked Alexandra later as they ate veal with almonds and raisins, baked mozarelle and scampi, while fending off a crew of waiters who had been ordered to make their meal memorable.

'Honey, after that stoiy, 1 can't wait to see him. Do we use a horsewhip or hang him by his thumbs?'

'First we give him a chance. For Gaby's sake.'

They smiled at each other, and the mirrored walls multiplied their images in the white and gold room - two stunning women, simply dressed and attended as if they were royalty. When Brooks arrived at ten, he did not have to look for them; they glowed like jewels in the center of the room.

'Zabaglione and espresso for three,' Stephanie said to the waiter. She gazed, unsmiling, at Brooks. 'Gaby is staying with me. I'll be coming for her things tomorrow. Please have them packed and ready.'

He nodded. 'I'm not happy about this, you know.'

*Oh, my,' said Alexandra. 'I grieve to hear that.'

Brooks ignored her. 'I didn't act hastily. I have proof that she sold information to Rymer Cosmetics for a quarter of a million pounds.'

'Ridiculous,' Stephanie said automatically. 'Gaby would never betray you. And she doesn't need money.'

'She's in debt to everyone: dressmakers, shoemakers, beau^ salons, a gymnasium. And she signed some notes in Monte Carlo a month ago that I knew nothing about until last week.'

'Everyone is in debt,* Alexandra said. 'I'll bet you are, too.'

'No.'

Then you're unnatural,' she said flatly.

'What proof?' Stephanie asked.

* I was told by the man who bought the information. Rymer brought out its new line two weeks ago, beating ours by a full month, with identical brand names, colors and packaging. Not similar; identical. And all of it stolen. Do you know what it will cost us to formulate a new line? Do you know what we lose by coming in months behind Rymer and Revlon and the others?'

'No, but you're assuming that man is telUng the—'

'Over a million pounds. Four times what Gabrielle got for her httle job. If I'd know, I would have bought her off and saved three quarters of a million.'

'You bastard. Brooks,' said Alexandra.

Stephanie was silent as the waiter served their frothy zabaglione and espresso. Picking up the small lemon peel in her saucer, she dropped it in her coffee. 'If I were you.' she said to Brooks, 'I'd look at my employees. Your friendly informant is protecting someone by accusing Gaby.'

'For God's sake, this isn't a complicated spy story. Gaby has been acting guilty for a month, jumping every time I come near her, secretive about letters and phone calls. You would have acted exactly as I did if you had a million-pound loss and someone told you who was at fault. I love Gaby—'

'Oh, fuck,' Alexandra said disgustedly. 'My old-fashioned mommy always told me love means you trust somebody first and shoot second.'

' I love Gaby,' Brooks went on, less firmly.' But we all know she's like a child. And a child can be tempted—'

'But that's what you want, isn't it?' Stephanie asked. 'For her to be like a little girl?'

Brooks gave her a startled glance. 'I never asked her to be a child/ he said, but he and Stephanie both knew they were

remembering the night Gaby told him he spanked her with words.

'She wants to please you/ Stephanie said. 'That's all she wants.'

'She would please me by telling me about her debts.*

Stephanie shrugged slightly. 'Maybe she doesn't like to ask permission to spend money.'

'It has nothing to do with permission. I have to know what she is doing. In fact—'

'In fact/ Stephanie said, suddenly understanding, 'it's because you don't know for sure about Gaby that you're so angiy.'

*I was told—' He hesitated. 'Perhaps I'll have a talk with her.'

'Isn't it beneath you/ asked Alexandra, 'to converse with a traitor who leaks information?'

'She's not a traitor.' he said coldly. 'She may be in trouble. And if 1 was hasty—'

'Hasty, the man says. In such a hurry you scared her speechless. And now you're going to do her a favor and have a talk with her. How about finding your real spy first, and then maybe you'd be fit to crawl over and apologize. She's better off now with Sabrina.'

'Sabrina,' said a new voice, and Stephanie turned to see Antonio standing beside her. 'How are you?' he said. *I have not called you.'

She smiled. 'I know.' There was a brief silence. 'Will you join us for a drink?'

He swung around a chair from the next table and sat down, greeting Brooks and Alexandra and ordering cognac for all of them. 'If I am interrupting a personal talk—'

Again there was silence. 'Plumbing,' said Alexandra.

'I beg your pardon?' Antonio asked as Stephanie stifled a laugh.

'We were discussing leaks and evicting residents who are suspected of causing them. Do you know about such things?*

'Nothing. I have people to take care of them. Though lately I have been discussing them for the town I am building.'

'What does that mean; building a town?'

'What it says. Is it not clear?'

'You start with empty land and build a town? Houses, stores, everything?'

'Everything. Schools, hospitals—'

'Where will you get the people?'

'They are there, living in hovels. I am building them a new life.'

Alexandra's eyes gleamed. 'I always thought towns just ... happened.'

'I make things happen.'

Stephanie watched as Antonio and Alexandra looked at each other, talking, listening, each beginning to consider what the other might offer. They were alike, Stephanie thought; both coming from poverty to luxury by their wits and determination, using whatever and whoever was at hand. And both now anxious to find a place with another person that would make it all seem worthwhile.

'Alexandra,' Stephanie said. 'I have to be home early to make a call to America. Will you forgive me?'

Alexandra winked, so quickly no one saw it but Stephanie. 'Call me whenever you want to talk about plumbing.'

'I'll come with you,' Brooks said. 'I want to ask you—'

Their eyes met, and Stephanie's lips curved in a reluctant smile. She hked him. Even now, they could share an unspoken decision to leave Alexandra and Antonio alone together. If only he hadn't hurt Gaby, she thought; what good friends we all could be.

At home, she told Gabrielle about the evening. Huddled in an armchair, wearing one of Sabrina's robes, her eyes red, Gabrielle began to brighten as Stephanie talked. 'I have to call him!* she cried. 'He hates to admit he's wrong. And it was my fault; I should have asked him what was happening so we could talk about it.'

'Gaby, that's not true.' Stephanie sat on the arm of her chair. 'Don't take the blame. You should have asked him, but his fault was worse; he heard a stoiy and decided you were guilty without ever talking to you.'

Gabrielle sighed. 'I suppose. Sabrina, you know so much.'

Look who knows so much, Stephanie thought after Gabrielle went to bed. Look who's giving advice on living with a man. She thought of Garth, sitting in their kitchen, reading the paper, while she stood with her back to him and cooked dinner. I should have talked long ago about what was happening to us. I shouldn't have believed that ugly letter any more than Brooks should have believed the story about Gaby. It was my fault as much as Garth's that we drifted apart. It was my fault as much as his that we didn't make love very often. I wanted to punish him. For what? For being Garth Andersen; for having a career and recognition and success while all I had was a failed business. And a family. Yes, but he had the family, too. He had everything.

Well. I got back at him, didn't I? Played a first-class joke on him; left him without his even knowing it; found out I can make a life on my own.

Not true, she thought quickly. I need my family. I just don't have time to think about them right now.

Business was picking up at Ambassadors; Stephanie accepted three new commissions for November and December. I won't be able to do them, she thought regretfully; Sabrina will. She went to another auction with Nicholas, and once again he raised the question of a partnership. 'I'm thinking about it,' she said. 'I'll let you know soon.'

On Friday she supervised the placement of furniture on the top two floors of Max's house. Mrs Thirkell had packed a lunch, but she forgot about it until the movers were gone and she was alone, going firom room to room with her checklist. It was almost five when she realized how hungry she was. The first meal in my new house, she thought, and, sitting cross-legged on the floor of the study, she opened the wicker basket.

She was eating scallop mousse from a plastic container when Max appeared in the doorway. 'An inaugural picnic. And I wasn't invited.'

Startled, she looked up. 'How did you get in?'

•With my key. Was I indiscreet?'

She laughed. 'Of course not. I'm sorry.*

He looked at her keenly. 'You forgot it was my house/

'So it seems.' She kept her voice light. 'I let myself get carried away. But I promise I won't go so far as to move in.'

The house would be lovelier if you did. May I sit down?'

'Of course.' Her face was warm, and she busied herself filling a small plate with water biscuits, pat6 and mousse, 'your inaugural picnic. I'm sorry 1 have no wine.'

'One moment.' He left, returning with a bottle and corkscrew.

'Do you always carry a bottle of Beaujolais?' Stephanie asked as he pulled out the cork.

'Only today. A house is not furnished until it has a bed, a table and wine. You told me the first two would be delivered today. I provide the third. Now - do we have goblets?*

She held up her glass. 'I apologize again. It was to be a picnic for one.'

'Then we will share.'

As they ate and drank, he told her about his plans for an art gallery that would sell tapestries firom eastern Europe. 'You must see them. Huge pieces, bold and vigorous. I'd like one in this house, on the long wall in the drawing room, if you approve.'

'But you don't need my approval. If you want something in your home, you should buy it.'

'Your judgment is important to me. Shall we have a guided tour of what you have done so far?'

'Certainly.' She repacked the picnic basket, moving slowly, trying to recapture the private pleasure he had shattered. His presence filled the space she had actually begun to feel was hers, and now it was his house, silent about them, his silence as he stood above her. She took a deep breath to slow the beating of her heart.

But the house was part of her, and, walking through the rooms, she almost forgot Max. She knew she had failed to achieve Sabrina's lightness of touch, her witty combinations and unexpected contrasts in fabric and hne - but then, Stephanie told herself, I've been designing for Max Stuy-vesant, who is not known for hghtness of spirit. Give me an Alexandra, and then see what I can do.

Still, the rooms had an unmistakable elegance and

personality. Stephanie had made of each a separate setting with one or two massive pieces of furniture balanced by simpler ones, the walls covered in dark grasscloth or suede. The rooms Mended together in dark woods and fabrics illuminated by recessed lights and occasional flashes of color to create an atmosphere both sensual and aloof, with a private, almost secretive air. Exactly like Max.

Standing in the center of each room, turning on lights against the October darkness, Stephanie hid her feelings of pride and possession as she described in dry phrases some finishing touches still to be done and the plans for completing the lower two floors. 'I won't be able to do it all, * she said quietly. 'I have only until Monday. But most of the work is done.'

Max was noncommittal, nodding as she spoke. When she finished, they were in the fourth-floor hallway, their shadows falling across the blocks of light from the bedroom doors. He took Stephanie's hands. 'It is superbly done. There is nothing I would change.' He kissed her palms, feeling with his lips the tremor that ran through her. Stephanie bent her head, resting it against his chest, and, with his arm around her, Max led her to his bedroom.

There was little time to think, but it did not matter. Max had been a shadow hovering over everything she had thought and done since she had danced with him at Annabel's, and she had known all afternoon, from the moment he appeared, that she was taking the last step away from the Stephanie Andersen who had come to London four weeks earlier. And why shouldn't I? she thought in a swift, defensive flash. Garth has Sabrina. It's crazy to pretend that by now they haven't... Max tightened his arms around her, one hand on the back of her head, and she met his open mouth in a triumph of desire over caution.

Mine! she exulted silently. Mine! My house that I made; my lover. Sabrina's life. And mine.

Max stripped off her clothes and lay her on his bed before he took off his own. He stood above her, looking down at her slender body. 'A long wait,' Stephanie heard him murmur, and then he lay beside her, his large body and frizzled red hair a silhouette lit dimly from behind, a shadow with hard,

cool hands. She moved toward him, but he shook his head. Taking both her hands in one of his, he pinned them to the bed above her head and, with his other hand, stretched her taut, slowly tracing the curves of her body until her muscles rippled beneath his touch. He lowered his head to take her nipples between his teeth and flicked his tongue across them like a fine and rapid whip, then ran it in a fiery line along her stomach to the mound of hair and shrinking flesh that tried to deny him.