To Love Again (16 page)

You'll do it. I'm sure.

And you don't mind too terribly much having a roommate?

I told you. It'll be like old times.

But not quite, and they both knew it. In the old days they had gone out together, to restaurants, to operas, to plays. They had seen friends, met men, given parties. This was a very different time. Isabella would be going nowhere, except if it seemed safe for her to do so. Maybe, Natasha thought, they could go for a walk in the park. She had already canceled most of her engagements for the next three weeks. Isabella didn't need to see her running in and out, going to cocktails, benefits, and all the latest shows. It startled her when Isabella spoke.

I made a decision when we arrived tonight . For a moment Isabella looked at her with a hint of laughter lurking in her eyes.

What's that?

I'm going out tomorrow, Natasha.

No, you're not .

I have to. I can't live caged up here. I need to walk, to get air, to see people. I watched them tonight as we drove through the city and pulled up at your door. I have to see them, Natasha. I have to know them and feel them and watch them. How can I make sensible decisions about my business if I live in a cocoon?

You could make the right decisions about fashion if you were locked in a bathroom for ten years.

I doubt that .

I don't. For a moment there was war in Natasha's blue eyes. We'll see.

Yes, Natasha, we will.

But as she said it she came alive again, and although it worried her, Natasha was relieved as she wandered back to her bedroom. Isabella di San Gregorio was not gone at all. At first she'd been worried, she wasn't sure how much of her friend had survived the ordeal. Now she knew. There was still fight there, and anger, and bitterness, and fear. But there was fire and life, and the diamond glints were still shining in the brilliant onyx eyes.

Having ascertained that the boys were surviving, she walked back to Isabella's bedroom to offer her dinner after she bathed and changed her clothes, but she only smiled as she stood in the doorway. Sprawled out on the green velvet bedspread, Isabella was dead to the world. Natasha pulled the fur cover over her, whispered Welcome home, turned off the lights, and softly closed the door.

Wrapped in a blue velvet robe with a tall mandarin collar, Isabella wandered sleepily into the hall. It was very early. A wintery dawn sun cast shimmering daggers across the skyscrapers of New York. She stood at the living room window for a moment, thinking of the city that lay at her feet -a city that drew the successful, the dynamic, the fiercely competitive, and those destined to win. A city for people like Natasha and she had to admit, for herself. But it was not the city Isabella would have chosen; it lacked the decadence, the laughter, and sheer charm of Rome. Yet it had something else; it shone brightly like a river of diamonds, and she watched as it seemed to beckon to her.

She walked softly into the kitchen, opened the cupboards, and found the makings of what Natasha called coffee. It was not what she would have served at home. But once she had made it, it was pungent and familiar and reminded her of their life together twelve years before. Scents always did that for her one fragrance, a distant aroma, and she could see again all that she had long ago seen: a room, a friend, a moment, a date with a long-forgotten man. But this was no time for dreaming. She glanced at the kitchen clock and knew that her day had begun. It was six thirty in the morning. And six hours later than that in Rome. With luck she would catch Bernardo in his office before lunch, staggering under the weight of what lay on his shoulders now. She took the cup of coffee to her pretty little office and smiled to herself as she switched on a light. Natasha, sweet Natasha. How kind she was. How much she had done. But the tenderness in her eyes rapidly faded as she prepared for the business at hand.

As the operator put through the connection to Italy, Isabella unzipped one of her two overstuffed bags, pulled out a thick pad and two brightly colored pens. She had just enough time to sit down and take another sip of her coffee as the receptionist at San Gregorio answered the phone.

The operator asked for Bernardo, as nervously Isabella began to tap the soft carpet with the tips of her well-polished toenails. She was careful to keep silent so the girl at San Gregorio wouldn't have a clue as to the identity of the caller. She had time for only one hasty doodle, and then he was on the line.

Yes?

Ciao, bravo. It's me. Bravo ' roughly translated: good guy, patient one. More than anyone the name suited him.

It went well?

Perfectly.

How do you feel?

Tired. A little. Still a little in shock, I suppose. I don't think I realized till I got here just what it all means. You're just lucky I was too tired to get on the next plane for home. She felt a wave of homesickness overwhelm her and suddenly she wanted to reach out to him.

You're lucky. I'd have given you hell and sent you right back. His voice sounded grave, but Isabella laughed.

You probably would have. Anyway we're stuck with it now, this madness we've concocted. We'll just have to make the best of it for as long as I'm here. Now tell me, what happened? Everything smooth over there?

I just sent you a clipping from Il Messaggero. Everything has gone according to plan. You are now in residence, as reported, in our penthouse suite.

And everyone else?

Mamma Teresa took it badly at first, but I think now she understands. She thought you should have taken her with you. But she seems resigned. How's the baby? The baby ' she and Amadeo hadn't called him that in two years.

Delighted. Perfectly happy. In spite of the fact that we didn't get to Africa. They both laughed again, and Isabella was grateful that years before they'd installed a special line. It was used only by Isabella, Amadeo, and Bernardo, and now it would guarantee them freedom. There were no extensions where anyone could listen from anywhere in the house. Anyway now tell me. What's cooking? Phone calls? Messages? New orders? Any last-minute problems with the summer line? It was to be unveiled soon. It was a hell of a time for Isabella to disappear.

Nothing drastic has happened, except with the red fabric you ordered from Hong Kong.

What about it? Her toes tensed as they played with the phone line snaking beneath her desk on the floor. They told me last week there was no problem.

They lied to you. They can't deliver.

What? Her voice would have carried throughout the apartment, except that she had had the foresight to close the door. Tell those bastards they can't do that. I won't buy from them again. Oh, Christ ' no, never mind. I'll call them dammit, I can't. It's thirteen hours later than here. But I can call them in twelve hours. I'll call them tonight.

You'd better work out some alternates. Isn't there anything we can use here in Rome?

Nothing. Unless we use the purple from last season instead of the red.

Will that work?

I'll have to talk to Gabriela. I don't know. I'll have to see how that fits with the rest of the line.

She knew instantly that it would create a whole different look for them. She had wanted a summer of primary colors this year. Bright shining blues, sunny yellows, the Hong Kong red, and plenty of white. If they used the purple, she'd need greens, oranges, maybe some of the yellow, only a little red. It changes the whole balance, she said.

Yes. But can it be done?

She wanted to scream at him, Yes, but not from here! What I'd like to know is how you can tell me nothing drastic has happened? The Hong Kong red is drastic.

Why don't you replace it with something from the States?

They didn't have anything I wanted. Never mind. I'll work it out later. What else? Any other happy little tidbits for me?

Only one.

They're not delivering the pale green?

They already did. No, this is good news.

For a change. But despite the sarcasm in her voice, Isabella's face had come alive. She didn't know how she'd do it, how she'd manage to make major fabric and color changes in so little time, from so far away, but it brought her back to San Gregorio as she spoke to him. No matter where she was, she still had her business, and if she had to move mountains, she'd make the changes on time. So what's the good news?

F-B bought enough of the perfume to float the sixth fleet.

That's nice.

Don't get so excited. Bernardo sounded like himself again. Tired, angry, annoyed.

I won't. I'm sick of those bastards and their offers to buy us out. And don't bother me with that bullshit while I'm here.

I won't. What do you want me to tell Gabriela? The chief designer was going to get ulcers when she heard the news. Changes? What changes? How can we make changes now?

Tell her to stop everything till I call back.

That means when?

In September, darling. I'm on vacation, remember? What the hell do you think it means? I told you, I'll call Hong Kong tonight. And I'll work out alternates today. I know every color, every piece of fabric we have in stock. And Bernardo knew only too well that she did.

I assume this will affect ready-to-wear too.

Not as much.

But just enough. His ulcer gave a familiar twinge. All right, all right. I'll tell her to hold it. But for God's sake, call me back. The old irritation was back between them again. Insanely, it felt familiar and good.

I'll call you after I talk to Hong Kong. About one o'clock. She said it matter of factly, already scribbling a river of tiny well-organized notes. What does my mail look like?

There's nothing much.

Good. Amadeo's secretary was answering all her mail from the top floor. I'll talk to you tonight. Call me if anything happens today. But at his end Bernardo knew he would not. He could save it all till that night.

You'll have plenty to keep you busy.

Mmm ' hmm ' I will. He knew her well enough to know that she had already covered two sheets of her pad.Ciao.

They hung up as though they were both seated in their respective offices at opposite ends of the same floor, and in her brand new office Isabella tore off her notes and spread them out before her. She had exactly twelve hours to replace that Hong Kong red. Of course there was always the chance that she could badger them into sending it, if they had it, if they could. But she knew she couldn't risk depending on them. Not anymore. She made another hasty note to herself for Bernardo. She wanted to cancel the account in Hong Kong. She had seen better fabrics in Bangkok anyway. In what concerned San Gregorio, Isabella was not one to be understanding or to be pushed around.

You're up bright and early.

Isabella looked up in surprise as Natasha's tousled blond head poked through the door. What happened to the days when you used to sleep till noon?

Jason. I had to learn to work in the daytime and sleep at night. Tell me something, do you always look like this at seven o'clock in the morning? She was staring admiringly at the pale blue velvet dressing gown.

Only when I go to work. She grinned at her friend and pointed at the notes on the desk. I just talked to Bernardo.

How goes it in Rome?

Terrific, except I have to redo half the summer collection before I call him back tonight.

Sounds like my rewrites. Jesus. Before you get started, can I fix you some eggs?

Isabella shook her head. I've got to do some work on this before I eat. What about the boys? Are they up yet?

Are you kidding? Listen' . She put her finger to her lips, and they both smiled as they heard a distant shriek. Hattie's getting Jason dressed for school. She looked gently at Isabella, walked into the room, and sat down. What are we going to do about Alessandro? Do you want him to stay home?

I I don't know' . The clouds returned to her dark eyes as she frowned back at Natasha. I had planned to, but ' I don't know. I'm not sure what to do.

Has anyone realized yet that you've left Rome?

No. Bernardo says it went perfectly. According to Il Messaggero, I have taken refuge at the top of the house.

Then there's no reason why anyone would suspect who he is. Do you suppose you could convince him not to tell anyone his last name? He could go to school with Jason and say he's our cousin from Milan. Alessandro' . She thought a moment. What about your grandfather's name?

Parel?

Parelli! Natasha grinned at her creation. I spend half my life making up names. Every time I start a new novel, I start staring at the labels on anything at hand and I must have every name-the-baby book ever made. Well, how about it? Alessandro Pareli, our cousin from Milan?

And what about me? Isabella was amused by her inventive friend.

Mrs. Parelli, of course. Just give me the word and I'll call the school. As a matter of fact ' She looked pensive. I'll call Corbett and ask him if he has time to take them on his way to work.

Wouldn't that be something of an imposition? Isabella looked concerned, but Natasha shook her head.

If it were, I'd do it myself. But he loves doing things like that. He's always helping me with Jason. She looked away for a moment, lost in her own thoughts. He has this thing about being helpful ' about people who need him. Isabella watched her, wondering if Natasha needed him enough. She seemed so independent. She would have smiled to know that it was the same thought that always crossed Corbett's mind.