Allora. She looked at him. Avanti!
He smiled at her, and they began to pack. First her bedroom, then Alessandro's, then her boudoir; then finally they stopped for lunch. The sacred shrine was being dismantled, the boxes were piling up endlessly in the hallway, and Isabella was satisfied as she looked around. It was a good opportunity to weed out her favorite things from the ones she didn't really care about. Bernardo had watched her carefully, but there had not been a single tear since they had started. She was in command of herself again.
They sat in the garden, eating lunch. What are you going to do about the carousel? Bernardo said. He was munching on a prosciutto and tomato sandwich. Isabella poured them both a glass of white wine.
I can't take it. I don't even know where I'll be living. We may not have a garden.
If you do, let me know. I'll have it packed up.
Alessandro would love that. She looked at Bernardo. Will you come to visit us?
Of course I will. Eventually. But first he looked victorious I'm going to Greece.
You've decided then?
It's all settled. I rented a house last week on Corfu, for six months.
And after that? She took another sip of wine. Maybe you should come to New York and look it over.
He shook his head. No, Bellezza, we both know we've made the right decisions. I'll do something here.
For one of my rivals? Her look of concern was only half serious, but again he shook his head.
You don't have any, Isabella. And I couldn't bear to work for second best after you. I've already had five offers.
Jesus, have you? From whom? He told her, and she was derisive.
They make garbage, Bernardo. No!
Of course, No! But something else may come up. There's been one offer that intrigues me. He told her. It was the largest designer of men's wear in Italy, who also did private fittings in London and France.
Wouldn't that bore you?
Maybe. But they need someone to run it. Old man Feleronio died in June, the son lives in Australia and is a doctor, the daughter knows nothing about the business. And, he looked at her mischievously, they don't want to sell it. They want someone to run it for them, so they can go on living like kings. Eventually I think they'll sell, but maybe not for another five or ten years. It would give me a lot of freedom to do what I want. He smiled at her.
Go ahead, say it. Something you never had with me.
I wouldn't have respected you as much if you'd taken a backseat. And there's no reason for you to, you know more about this business than anyone in Europe.
And the States, she added proudly.
And the States. And if you do half as good a job teaching Alessandro, San Gregorio will go on for the next hundred years.
Sometimes I worry about that. What if he doesn't want it?
He will.
How can you know?
Do you ever talk to him about it? He sounds more like fifteen than five. He may not quite have your eye for design and color, but the workings of it, the genius, the machinery of San Gregorio, it's already in his blood. Like Amadeo. Like you.
I hope so. She made a mental note to talk to him about it more when she got back. I miss him terribly, she said, and I think he's getting angry. He wants to know when I'm coming home.
When are you?
In another month. It's just as well. Natasha took a house in East Hampton for the summer. He can be at the beach there while I finish here and then when I look for an apartment in New York.
You're going to be awfully busy. You have to find temporary office space -the boys are going to be arriving over there two weeks after you do not to mention finding permanent space, an architect to do it, a place for you and Alessandro to live
While you sit on your ass in Greece!
He grinned at her. I've earned it, you monster.
Come on, she said, let's go back to work.
They worked until eleven o'clock that evening, dividing treasures in the living room, packing what they could, and leaving the rest for the professional packers. Red labels marked what was going with her, blue ones what was staying in Rome, green ones what was going into storage. Then there were the leftovers, the inevitable throwaways that surface in everyone's life when they move. Even for Isabella, with her Louis XV and her marble and her Faberg+!, there were still broken toys, things that she hated, books she didn't want to keep, and dishes that were cracked.
Bernardo dropped her off that night at the House of San Gregorio and picked her up again the next day. For the next three weeks they stopped work early, arriving back at the villa by two o'clock and leaving after midnight. By the fourth week the job was done.
Isabella stood for a last, lonely moment, amid the mountain of boxes stacked up neatly in the living room and the hall. A sea of red labels, the treasures she was sending to New York. The house suddenly echoed strangely; the lights were off. It was after two o'clock in the morning.
Are you coming? Bernardo was already waiting in the driveway.
Aspetta! she shouted. Wait. Even as she thought, For what? Was he coming? Would she hear his footsteps? The man who'd been gone for ten months. She whispered softly in the darkness. Amadeo?
She waited, listening, watching, as though he might come back to her and tell her his disappearance had all been a joke. That she should stop everything and unpack. There hadn't really been a kidnapping ' or there had been, but it was someone else they had killed. She stood there, trembling, alone, for a minute that seemed like an hour. Then, tears streaming from her eyes, she closed the door softly and locked it. She held the doorknob for a last time, knowing that she would never be back.
Chapter TWENTY-FIVE
You'll come to see me? You promise? She was clinging to Bernardo at the airport. They had both been crying. Now he dabbed at her eyes with his handkerchief and brushed roughly at his own.
I promise. He knew how nervous she suddenly was about running the business alone in New York. But she was staffing it wisely. Peroni and Baltare were unimaginative but solid. Isabella didn't need anyone with imagination, she had enough for them all. Kiss Alessandro for me, he said.
She was crying again. I will. It had been an unbearable week of good-byes. At the villa. At the house. With Gabriela, whom she would see on her next trip to Rome in three months. But still there was the constant pain of leaving, and now Bernardo. In some ways it was like leaving as she had six months before. But this time it was in broad daylight, from the Rome airport, the two bodyguards looked bored, and there had been no more crank calls. It was finally over. Even Bernardo had agreed that she would be safe now being seen in New York. It was no secret that the business was moving, and there would be photographs and phone calls from the press. But the police had assured her that she was no longer in any real danger. She had to be reasonable, and perhaps a little careful with Alessandro, but no more so than anyone in her position. She had learned the lesson well. Painfully well.
She kissed him for a last time, and he smiled at her, once again through his own tears.
Ciao, Isabellezza. Take care.
Ciao, Nardo. I love you.
They hugged one last time, and she got on to the plane. Alone this time, without bodyguards, in first class, with her name on the manifest. Her eyes were streaming with tears.
She slept for three hours, then submitted to a brief dinner, taking some papers from her briefcase and smiling at the prospect of seeing Alessandro. She hadn't seen him in two months.
When the plane landed in New York, she went quickly through customs, without fear this time. She remembered the last time she'd come into New York, exhausted, terrified, her jewelry hidden in her handbag, the bodyguards beside her, and her child in her arms. Today the customs officers dismissed her with a wave, and she muttered a quick thank you, passing through the gate, her eyes combing the airport.
Then she saw them, Natasha and the children, waiting, and she ran toward them and took Alessandro in her arms.
Mamma! ' Mamma! The whole airport was filled with his clamoring. She held him tightly in her arms.
Oh, darling, how I love you ' oh, and you look so brown. Bernardo said to kiss you.
Did you bring my carousel? His eyes were wide and happy, a reflection of her own.
Not yet. If we find a house with a garden, I'll have them send it, but you're almost too big for it, you know.
Carousels are for babies. Jason looked at them disgustedly, all that kissing and hugging. That kind of stuff wasn't appropriate for a man. But Isabella kissed him anyway, and tickled him, and he suddenly laughed.
Wait till you see what I've brought you two! There were shrieks of excitement and more laughter, and Isabella looked up at Natasha. Her face sobered, but she smiled gently. Hello.
For an instant Natasha hesitated, and then they went into each other's aims. I've missed you, too, you know.
So have I. It was horrible not having a roommate. They both laughed again. Natasha knew as they walked along together that she was no longer angry. The light of anguish had somewhat dimmed in her friend's eyes.
I almost dropped dead when you said you were moving the business. What did they say in Rome?
The same thing. The only one who thought it was wonderful was Bernardo. He knew I was right to do it. It's going to be a madhouse for a while. I have a million things to do. She groaned just thinking of it.
I'll help you.
Aren't you staying out in East Hampton? They all looked brown and healthy from their month in the sun.
Natasha nodded. Yes, but I can leave the boys with Hattie.
Isabella nodded slowly. All right. She had some fences to mend with Natasha. The business with Corbett didn't matter so much anymore. Maybe Natasha's intentions had been good. But it didn't matter. Isabella didn't want to know. The subject was closed between them. This time there was no Rolls, only the ordinary limousine Natasha sometimes rented, with the driver who had taken Isabella to the disastrous premiere in April. Isabella smiled at him. It seemed a thousand years before.
They went back to the apartment. The boys opened their packages, shouting and laughing, trying on sweaters and funny hats, throwing pieces of new games, and playing with their toys.
At last Isabella smiled shyly at Natasha, holding out a package. This one is for you.
Come on, Isabella. Don't be silly.
Never mind. Open it. It was the cream of the new winter couture collection, which had opened in June. It was a soft blue cashmere dress with a matching blue coat. Natasha held it up in front of the mirror, looking awed.
It's gorgeous.
It matches your eyes. From the folds of more paper Isabella extracted the scarf and a matching hat. You can wear it to lunch with your publisher.
like hell I will. Why waste it on him?
Then you can wear it to lunch with me. At Lutece.
For a moment Natasha stared at her silently. You're going out again?
Isabella nodded. It's all right now. It's time. Corbett had been right, she thought, her imprisonment hadn't lasted forever. Only ten months, though it seemed like a lifetime to her.
In the morning Natasha and the boys went back to East Hampton and Isabella went to work. Not on the phone to Rome this time, but with four real estate agents, who dragged her from one end of Park Avenue to the other, along the side streets, and up and down Fifth. In a week she had temporary office space, had hired five bilingual secretaries, rented mountains of office equipment, and ordered phones. It was barely more than adequate but it was a beginning.
At the end of the second week, she found what she was looking for. Atop one of the tallest skyscrapers in the city, two floors for the House of San Gregorio with a view of the entire city of New York.
Finding the apartment had taken her longer, but at the end of another two weeks of searching, she stood in a penthouse on Fifth Avenue, looking out at the view. There was the sweep of Central Park beneath her, the Hudson River in the distance, and the skyline of the city to her left, facing south. The apartment itself was spacious and lovely. There were four bedrooms one for herself, one for Alessandro, a guest room, and one she could use as a den two maids' rooms, a hugh dining room with a fireplace, a double living room, and a large hallway and foyer that reminded her vaguely of the house in Rome.
The real estate agent had watched her intently. You like it?
I'll take it. There was an army of doormen and porters, even more than there were in Natasha's building twelve blocks south.
The next day Natasha came in from East Hampton to see it. My God, Isabella, look at that view. Isabella stood proudly on her new terrace. There would even be room for the carousel, if it would survive the winter snows in New York. When do you move in?
Well, I called the movers yesterday. The ship gets in tomorrow. I was thinking of next Saturday. I have to get it over with, so I can get back to work. Her henchmen from Rome had been arriving, and everyone was eager to settle down and dig in.
But Natasha looked suddenly unhappy. So soon? Isabella nodded. That's awful. I'm going to miss you. And Jason says he'll be afraid to sleep alone in his room.
He can come to visit every weekend. Isabella smiled at her.
I feel as though I'm getting divorced again.
You're not.
In the heat of the September afternoon the two women looked at each other, and Isabella finally decided to broach the painful subject. She owed it to her friend.
I owe you an apology, Natasha.
Natasha knew instantly what Isabella was speaking of, but she shook her head and looked away. No, you don't.
Yes. I don't understand what really happened. I was angry at Corbett. But I was wrong to lash out at you. I don't know if you tried to help him or not, but it doesn't matter. If you did it was out of good intentions. I know that. And I'm sorry for what I said.
But Natasha looked at her intently now. You're wrong about him.
I'll never know that.
You could talk to him, let him tell you. You could at least give him that chance.
Isabella only shook her head.
Nothing lasts forever. Nothing good. Nothing bad. Corbett told me that in the beginning. He was right.
He still loves you. Natasha spoke the words softly.
Have you seen him then? Isabella sought her friend's eyes, and Natasha nodded.
He understands what happened. Maybe better than you do. He was afraid of that happening from the first. The only mistake he made was not telling you in the beginning.
It doesn't make any difference now. It's over.
Unhappily Natasha knew that Isabella meant it. It was over for Isabella. But not for Corbett or the boy. But Natasha said nothing, and Isabella spoke no more of Corbett until that afternoon.
She was telling Alessandro about the apartment.
You mean I can have my carousel?
Absolutely. I already called Rome.
Mamma! ' Mamma! Wait till Corbett sees it. His eyes glowed, and for an instant everything stopped.
Isabella looked at him strangely, then shook her head. I'm won't see it, darling.
Yes, he will! He's my friend. Defiance blazed in Alessandro's dark eyes. No one had said anything to him, but he had sensed a rift between his Mamma and his friend. Alessandro didn't like it. Not at all. He could tell in the way Corbett now spoke of his mother. As if he were afraid of her. As if she were dead. I will invite him over to see it. He looked up at her, challenging, but her voice grew hard.
No, Alessandro, you won't.
I will. I promised him this summer.
Did you? When?
When I saw him at the seaside. He was in East Hampton too.
With that Isabella turned on her heel and marched off to find Natasha. Once again she found her in her office, with a cup of coffee in her hand, reading a fresh page. Isabella slammed the door hard behind her. Natasha jumped at the sound, then stared at her friend as though she'd lost her mind.
What's the matter? The lo
ok on Isabella's face was strangely familiar, but before Natasha could place it, Isabella began to rage.
Why didn't you tell me? He was there in East Hampton all summer, hanging around Alessandro, trying to get to me again!
Natasha stood up, hands on her hips. This time she wasn't giving an inch. Alessandro needs him, Isabella. And Corbett is not trying to get to you. Stop being so paranoid, for chrissake. What is it with you? You think everyone wants to steal your goddamn business, everyone is using you or your child.
They are, goddammit! They took my husband too.
They' did. They.' People who were crazy, who wanted money. But that's over, Isabella. Over! No one is trying to hurt you now.
I don't give a damn. I don't want that man near him.
You're wrong. But tell him that, don't tell me.
But you knew it! You knew how I felt when I went back to Rome.
I thought you'd come to your senses, that you'd get over it.
I never will. I already came to my senses. The minute Bernardo mentioned his name. I don't want that man near Alessandro again. With that she slammed out of Natasha's office, went to her own room, and with a trembling hand, picked up the phone.
He was quick to come on the line. Isabella? Is something wrong?
Very much so. And I want to see you. Now! Can you see me?
I'll be there in half an hour.
Fine. I'll meet you downstairs. She didn't want Alessandro to see him. She watched the clock in her bedroom, and in twenty-five minutes she went down. Four minutes later the Rolls pulled up in front of the door. Corbett was alone in the car, driving. He got out and opened the door for her. She slipped into the car with him, but when he began to turn on the ignition, she quickly waved the hand wearing her new ring from Bernardo.
He noticed it and understood instantly what it was. He wanted to tell her that it was pretty, that she looked beautiful, that he still loved her, but she didn't give him the chance.
Don't bother, Corbett. I'm not going anywhere with you. But I didn't want to speak to you upstairs where Alessandro could hear us.
to Love Again (1981) Page 22