to Love Again (1981)

by Steel, Danielle

  His face tensed with worry. What's wrong?

  I want you to stay away from him. Is that clear to you? I want you out of his life, entirely, permanently, and completely. I've had enough of your games working on my friends, my associates, my business, and now my child. The other you had a right to do; how you conduct your business affairs is up to you. But when you use me personally, or my son, Corbett, then you are engaging in a war you can only lose. If you come near him again, if you send him gifts, if you try to see him or call him, or if you let him call you, I will call the police and my lawyer. I will sue you for harassment. I'll have your business, and I'll see you in jail. Molesting a minor, attempted kidnap, rape, call it anything you want to, but stay the hell away from my child! She was screaming so loudly that the doorman would have heard her, if Corbett had not had the foresight to roll up the windows.

  He looked at her for an instant, disbelieving what he was hearing. Then anger overcame him. Is that what you think I'm doing, Isabella? he asked. Using the boy to get to you again? Is that what you think? Is it? How pompous, how arrogant, how incredibly stupid you are! I told you months ago that you should keep your business, I told you my offers had been withdrawn. I fell in love with you, and to tell you the truth I felt damn sorry for you. Locked up like an animal, afraid of everyone, trusting no one. You've had a bad break in life, Isabella. And so has the child. He lost his father; he's as lonely as you are. And you know what? I love him. He's a wonderful little boy. And he needs me. He needs a lot more than just you! You're a bloody machine. Your business, your business, your business! I'm sick of hearing about it. Now leave me alone and get the hell out of my car!

  Before she could answer him, he had jumped out, gone around the front of the Rolls, and was holding the door open for her, as, astounded, she stepped out.

  I trust I made myself clear to you. She glared at him icily.

  Absolutely, he said. Good-bye. He got back in his car again, and before she had gotten back into the building, he was gone.

  Chapter TWENTY-SIX

  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, God, 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 space, 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 bastard.

  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 fashion 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 shining 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.

  Hello?

  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 Saturday and she had wanted to sleep till noon. You're not makin
g 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, goddamn 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 passed rapidly through the house, to the penthouse, where he set her bags down, and poured them each a glass 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 goddamn 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.

  That's not much of a life. Did you at least give Ewing a chance to tell you what happened, to find out if what you think is true?

  I told you, it doesn't matter. And yes, I saw him once when I got back from Rome.

  And what happened?

  Nothing, I told him to stay away from Alessandro. I found out that while I was here Natasha had let him see the child. She sighed softly and smiled a bitter smile. I told him that if he came near us again, I'd call my lawyer and the police and have him arrested for molesting Alessandro something like that.

  Are you crazy? What did he say?

  He told me to get the hell out of his car.

  He was right. I'd have kicked you out. For God's sake, Isabella, what were you thinking of?

  I don't know' . Myself ' Amadeo ' something. I told you, it's over. It wouldn't have worked out.

  Not if that's the way you've been behaving. He poured himself another glass of wine.

  Natasha sees him of course. They're old friends.

  Did she tell him about the trial? Bernardo was looking at her strangely, but she only shrugged.

  I don't know. Maybe. In any case it was in the papers again the day before I left New York. Page nine this time; we're finally shrinking in importance again. I'll tell you, I'll be damn glad when the only place I see my name is in the fashion section.

  That'll come. After this week it'll all be over. Now get some sleep. I'll pick you up in the morning. He kissed her cheek gently and left her sitting there, sipping the last of her wine.

  Chapter TWENTY-EIGHT

  Va b+?ne? Bernardo looked at her worriedly as she stepped out of the car. She had worn a black dress today, but no black stockings this time. It was a long-sleeved black wool dress, with alligator shoes and matching handbag, and her hat was discreet and small. She wore only her pearls and the ring Bernardo had given her the last time she'd left Rome.

  Are you all right, Isabella? he asked. She was so pale that for a moment
he was afraid she would faint on the courthouse steps.

  Va b+?ne. I'm fine.

  He took her arm. In an instant the barrage began. Photographers, television cameras, microphones, madness. It was reminiscent of that whole ugly time. She clutched his hand tightly, and a moment later they were inside the courthouse, waiting in a tiny room adjoining the judge's chambers. He had made it available just for her.

  They sat for what felt to Isabella like hours before a uniformed guard came in and beckoned to her.

  Holding tightly to Bernardo, her legs feeling wooden, she followed him into the courtroom, averting her eyes from the long table where the defendants sat, trying not to look at them, not wanting to see. Bernardo could feel her trembling as she sat down.

  The testimony was long and laborious: Amadeo's secretary, the doorman, and finally two San Gregorio employees who had seen the two men come in. The story about the car was explained, and Bernardo could see one of the men squirm. More testimony from the coroner, two minor officials, and then finally it was over; court would not reconvene after lunch. Due to the painful nature of the trial, and in consideration of Signore di San Gregorio's widow, the proceedings would be adjourned until the next morning.

  The judge ordered the bailiffs to remove the accused. As they stood up, ready to be escorted away, Bernardo heard Isabella gasp.

  They were ordinary men in plain clothing, men she had never seen, but suddenly they were there, before her, the men who had snuffed out Amadeo's life. Bernardo held her arm tightly. Isabella had turned whiter still.

  It's all right, Isabella, it's all right, he said, feeling helpless to soothe her. She needed something more than even he could give her. Come on, let's go now.

  Blindly she let herself be led. In a moment they were being mobbed again on the front steps.

  Signora di San Gregorio, did you see them? ' How did they look ' Do you remember? ' Can you tell us? ' A hand snatched off her hat. She was running and crying, protected by two guards and Bernardo, until at last they reached the car. She threw herself into his arms, sobbing all the way back to the house. He got her upstairs quickly and helped her to the couch.