Life settled down to a comfortable routine for Dolores. Her public life was sparse enough to make any outing a major event. Even if she went to an offbeat place like the Ginger Man with Bridget, she would find all the reporters and photographers waiting outside. They would follow her on her bike rides with the twins and Mary Lou. Mary Lou was becoming a problem. She was nine now and wanted to dress in leotards and plaid skirts. Do-
lores was trying to keep her young-looking—and Mary Lou was growing so fast and putting on weight. She solved the clothes problem by switching her to an excellent Catholic school where they all wore uniforms. But only the moments spent with Barry Haines coimted. They saw each other every day . . . even if he just dropped by for a martini ... or a quick lunch . . . and then there were always the three nights they had together. Constance believed in the "weekly law meeting," the one night he played squash, and his poker night. Actually, Constance didn't really care. She played backgammon, had a multitude of friends, was on many charities, and spent all her winters in Palm Beach.
Winter was their best time . . . and their worst. They were together every night, except for the weekends when he had to fly to Palm Beach and on the holidays. Christmas and New Year's without Barry was agonizing. But there were good times in the winter when he taught the children how to make popcorn around the fire. And when they all trimmed the tree (true, it was a week before Christmas), and in a way, it made up for the loneliness of Christmas and New Year's Eve without him.
He genuinely adored the twins and Mary Lou. Mary Lou had a giant-sized crush on him and would go out of her way to have a problem with math and bring it to him. Oddly enough, it an-
noyed Dolores to see Mary Lou snuggle on Barry's lap in her bathrobe. She was overdeveloped for her age, and was beginning to grow breasts. Dolores had very small breasts but she could see Mary Lou was going to be amply endowed. And when she grew older and lost the "baby fat/' she'd be magnificent.
Their evenings together were usually harmonious and filled with love. At ten o'clock, she'd make a big show in front of the servants of seeing him out. Then in fifteen minutes she'd pretend to go to the door to see if the papers had been dropped, and Barry would sneak back in. He would remain overnight, rising at six in time to slip out before the servants or children got up; go to his apartment; shave and change and go to the office. And once he was there, he would call her and wake her up at ten by telling her he loved her.
She refused to join any committees or charities. She did participate in Bridget's charity for homeless pregnant girls, but that only took one afternoon a month. She knew the press speculated on her loneliness ... on her rare luncheons with Bridget, Janie Jensen, or Nita.
Nita also sent her clothes. She would go out of her way to buy something a "bit too large" but Dolores knew it was because she felt sorry for her. She had told Nita that her affair with Eddie Harris was washed up, that they were just friends.
But as time passed and her obsession with
Barry grew, she began to have daydreams about their possible marriage. If she was careful, with his twenty thousand and her thirty, they could manage. Perhaps he could get an annulment.
Sisters
In the spring, Nita decided to take another quick trip to London to attend a round of social events with Nelson. He had broken with the Princess . . . there was someone else . . . but it wasn't dreadfully important. Also Nelson wanted to see the children. And she had just posed for a top fashion photographer and would be on the cover in New York and Paris of a magazine called Fashion.
"It's breaking just in time/' Nita said. "Think of the publicity it will give me."
"Is that important to you?"
"It never was . . . before. Once I was considered glamorous, a great beauty. Now I'm just your sister. Everywhere I go people ask me what you're really like. Everyplace I'm invited to in this coun-
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try, I find Tm really invited because I'm your sister. They even have the temerity to ask me if I can manage to make you come. There's one slob of a woman designer who has offered me a whole wardrobe free, if I'll just bring you to one of her dinners. I'm going there tonight, and I know she'll make the offer again. She never gives up."
"Then why do you go?"
Nita shrugged. "Because she's a celebrity collector . . . and as much as I loathe her, she does have interesting guests. It's funny—they all hate her, but they come because they know everyone will be a 'name.' And I've met more quick darling 'romances' there."
"Nita, I never knew you were this promiscuous."
"I never was really. Oh, I lost my virginity ahead of you, but I think that was only because I was curious. But now I need these romances . . . these Sunday afternoons. Even though it was common knowledge in London that Nelson had a girl, I had a certain glamour. Here, I'm nothing— you're the big star now."
"But Nita, that's just because I was married to Jimmy."
"That may have started it. But it's more than that now. Jimmy's been dead almost four years. And your popularity has never been greater. You're on the cover of every magazine. You're like a goddess. The lonely lovely goddess . . . just
spending her time with her children . . . taking long walks . . . the regal beauty . . . mysterious . . . aloof . . . glamorous. And me, with all the fantastic clothes and jewelry—I'm just your sister. It's even that way in Europe now. Why do you think Nelson wants me to come back! He even asked if you could come."
"Maybe I could." (Easter was coming . . . Barry would have to go to Palm Beach . . . the lonely holidays again. . . .)
"No, I don't want you to come. I want to be someone on my own. Why do you think I permit Horatio the Horror around?"
"I thought he amused you."
"No, he's as phony as the others. But he takes me to Pearl's, Elaine's and a lot of fun places." Nita lit a cigarette. "But do you know something—it's not fun anymore. Suddenly all the faces seem the same, and suddenly I'm no longer a big attraction. And Horatio—he's begiiming to get on my nerves. That insane giggle of his . . . his hands are always moist and he's suddenly begun to drink a lot. But at least he still treats me as if I'm really important. Incidentally, he hates you. He says you're a snob."
"Well, thank God I don't have to please Horatio Capon."
"Oh, he's not important." Tears came to Nita's eyes. "My life is such a mess, Dolo. I've got nothing." Suddenly she fell into her sister's arms and began to sob convulsively.
Dolores held her like a child and stroked her hair. ''You've got everything, Nita. That is, you've got plenty to be thankful for. You've got your husband. Granted it's not an ideal marriage, but if anything went wrong, if you or the children were sick, he'd be there. And you've got wonderful children. A brilliant social life .. . plenty of money . . . and what's more you can come and go as you please. And Nita—people do know who you are."
"Yes, I'm Dolores Ryan's sister!"
"No. You are Lady Bramley, and a very beautiful lady at that. And you've always been far more beautiful than I. You've just been locked away with Horatio too long."
Nita made a faint attempt at a smile. Then Dolores said, "Nita, I've never asked a favor of you in my life. But please . .. please let me go back to London with you. I won't go to any of the big parties—I don't have the clothes for them—but I'd love to bring the children there over the Easter holidays. It's a lonely time for them without a father. We'd stay at your place in the country."
"Oh, I can just see it," Nita said, sitting up and daintily wiping the mascara from under her eyes. "All the press at the airport. I'd have to give a gala for you . . . and then that would start the whole thing. Besides, I don't want any responsibilities. I'm going to try to see Erick. Maybe since all this time has passed, maybe he missed me."
"But he must be sixty-two and—"
"And he's still virile. He's one of those men who will still be enjoying sex at eighty. Dolo, don't you see—my return will at least give me an opening wedge with him. It falls right on his birthday. I'l
l send him a gift. And if he's not in London, I'll fly to Paris or Rome or wherever he is. I hear his new ship is finished. It's supposed to be a minia-tuie S.S. France/'
"I read about it in Time. They say he knocked out whole decks. There are seven master duplex suites, ten master bedrooms, three salons, a ballroom, an indoor and outdoor pool, a skating rink— he's the only man who turned an ocean liner into a private yacht."
"That's true. Oh Dolo, don't you see—I can't bring you to London. I'd be expected to be seen with you . . . have luncheon with you . . . tea . . . and a new rash of attention would be focused on me. The paparazzi would be after me, but not for me —for you. And the picture of me will break on the cover of Fashion just at that time. But with you there—on the cover of every magazine—it would rob me of my big moment."
Dolores sat beside her sister and held her hand. "Look, Nita, if you really love Erick, maybe it would be better if you played it loose."
Nita laughed. "You're a great one to be giving out advice on love."
"No, I realize that. But even I know that if you smother a man, he tries to break away. That's
why European women are supposed to be such great mistresses . . . they know just how to hold the rein."
"It's easy for you to talk from theory," Nita said, as the tears came to her eyes again. "You don't know what it's like to lie awake nights and dream of a man. I know Erick is ugly by your standards. But Dolo, when he walks into a room, I get weak. He ... he turns me on, as they say. Look, all this time has passed and I still think only of him."
"When are you leaving for London?" Dolores asked.
"Next week. Tell me—what can I get for a billionaire who has everything?"
"Erick?" Dolores seemed thoughtful. "I don't know."
"No, you wouldn't. You're really cold, aren't you, Dolores? We've never really been close or really known one another."
"What makes you think I'm cold?"
"Well, look at the record since Jimmy died. And let's face it, you never really held him . . . but now what have you done? You had a chance with one of the most attractive men in the world . . . Eddie Harris . . . and now he's dating some big glamour girl in Hollywood and it doesn't bother you. Then there's your affair with Barry Haines . .. What do you do with yourself?"
"I lunch with Bridget once a week. Timothy
is failing; it would be so much better for Bridget if he died. Til have to take the children to their farm for Easter, and it's so depressing to see him being lifted in and out of a wheelchair, or hear him moaning in pain. Bridget is very strict—• she'll only let him have his pain killer every four hours. . . ." Dolores paused. "Incidentally, Nita— you aren't still on Demerol?"
"Only when I'm bitterly imhappy and want to float. But I haven't had any for three days. I'm planning my campaign for Erick. I must have a clear head."
"Nita, I hope you get him back if that's what you really want."
"You really don't understand it, do you?"
"No. Because he's so imattractive and I have the feeling that title or not, he has no sensitivity ... no deep emotion . . . and these are the things that make a woman really love a man."
Nita rose. "How would you know about love? Anyway, happy time in Virginia . . . and please, Dolo ... wish me luck!"
The Bait
When Nita left for London, Dolores fell into a deep depression. True, Nita had been with the Jet Set most of the winter, but she invariably came dashing back to Dolores every few weeks and they had lunched together and talked and she really felt they had a rapport. But now it had all come out. Nita didn't really like her. Tears came to her eyes. She had no one—no one who really cared. But that wasn't true . . . her children loved her . . . and Barry loved her ... he was coming tonight for the last time for three weeks. He had to go to Palm Beach for the holidays with Constance.
She had been on the farm in Virginia for two days when the cable arrived from Nita. come to
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LONDON. WANT YOU AS HOUSE GUEST. WITH OR WITHOUT THE CHILDREN. BRING WHAT EVENING CLOTHES YOU HAVE. THE REST i'lL ATTEND TO. I NEED YOU. PLEASE
COME.
She showed the wire to Bridget. Bridget shook her head. "There are rumors that her husband has been playing around, but I thought they had an arrangement. However the poor child seems desperate. You must go."
"I wonder if the children's passports are in order."
"Leave them here," Bridget said calmly. "Dolores, you've been a wonderjFul mother. These have been four lonely years for you. I know about loneliness . . . and you've borne it like a champion. You deserve a holiday. The children are having a marvelous time with Michael and Joyce's children —and Bonnie is coming next week with her brood and Anna and Beatrice are also arriving then. We'll have more nurses thcin we need, and the children love it here. You go alone and have a marvelous time."
Just before she left, Bridget pressed an envelope into her hand. "Buy yourself some perfimie or a nice frock."
When Dolores opened it there were two five-himdred-dollar bills.
She bought herself two new evening gowns and packed her best clothes. She also threw in some slacks and heavy sweaters. She wondered
what had happened. Had Nelson found out about Erick? Had Nita taken too many pills and told him? Oh God . . . then he could toss her out . . . and it was obvious Erick hadn't taken Nita back, else there wouldn't be the cable.
The Secret Service men got her on the TWA plane before the other passengers boarded and the hostess assured her that it was a light flight and no one would sit next to her. In fact, the hostess said she'd even block off the seats across the aisle. In this way, Dolores would have complete privacy.
She ate a lot . . . watched the movie . . . but throughout the trip she wondered about Nita. What could have happened? Nita had confided to Horatio about Erick. Horatio was a gossip . . . and Erick had contacts all over the world. No, it had to be trouble with Nelson because Nelson was her bulwark . . . she didn't love him . . . but the knowledge that she was Lady Bramley and there was plenty of money behind her gave her a certain security.
When she saw Nita with Nelson on the field as the plane settled down, she felt a great wave of relief. Obviously there was nothing wrong between them. She was given courtesy of the port and her passport was inspected on the field. "The airport inside is black with cameramen and newspapermen," Nelson explained. "This way we'll be able to get away from them."
And then in a matter of minutes they were in
the limousine, heading for London. Lord Bram-
ley's man would attend to her luggage.
"It's been so long since I've been here," Dolores said, looking out of the windows eagerly.
"We're delighted you could come," Lord Bramley said. "I realize it's only four o'clock in the afternoon, your time, but it's nine our time. I've arranged a private supper for you and Nita so you can talk. Tomorrow you must sleep and catch up v^th the jet lag. The parties start the following day. And a good round of them we have, too, finalizing with a ball of our own in your honor at the country estate."
"We're staying at the flat now," Nita added. "I thought you'd like to be in London. There are some marvelous designers I want you to see, and we must fly over to Paris. Baron Erick de Savonne is putting his jet at our disposal. He's also coming to the ball for you."
"Nita likes the chap," Nelson said as he lit a cigarette. "I think he's a crashing bore—^both he and his ballerina friend. But then Nita has always liked to surround herself with colorful people . . . and the Baron is colorful if nothing else. Anyone worth twenty billion is colorful, I must say."
"Oh, silly," Nita said lightly. "All the Rothschilds are flying in for the ball, and if Melina Mer-couri and Maria Callas are here, they'll come too. I've also invited some of the young debs, and of course Regine will fly in . . . and we have more
titles . . . including all the Italian royalty moneyed eligibles . . . Oh Dolores, it's going to be marvelous."
Dolores settled back in
the car. Suddenly she understood. Nita had established contact with Erick and she wanted to give the most dazzling party in Europe. And she, Dolores, was the bait.
She shrank into the car when she saw the press lined up in front of the Belgravia flat. It looked like a mob scene. There were police holding them at bay but they surged forward when she got out of the car. She managed a smile, a brief wave, and when TV and radio microphones were shoved in her face, she said in a small voice, "I'm here to visit my sister. I haven't been to Europe since—" She halted and was amazed herself that tears came to her eyes, but the picture of the smiling Jimmy suddenly came to her mind. Jimmy so filled with life . . . the tears weren't because she missed him . . . but the compassion she suddenly felt that he was dead . . . lying in the ground . . . his body decomposing . . . the flesh falling off that smiling face ... he would never see his children grown ... he was dead . . . but life went on. She put her head down and made a dash for the flat.
The Proposal
The "flat" was a town house with enormous rooms. It seemed there were servants everywhere. They actually lined up to be introduced and greet her. A young girl named Agnes was designated as her personal maid.
She had some sherry before the fire with Nelson and Nita. Then he stood up and said, 'T hope you won't think it rude of me, but it is close to eleven and tomorrow is a work day. I'll leave you to catch up." He kissed Dolores lightly on the cheek, gave Nita the same kind of a kiss, and left the room.
For a moment both sisters were silent. Dolores stared at the tall ceilings, the tapestries, the En-
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glish paintings. Finally Nita said, "I'm sure my cable came as a surprise."
"A nice surprise now," Dolores said. "I was frightened that something was wrong." She stretched out. "Oh Nita . . . it's so good to be here. I want to have fim ... to go to the theater here . . . to browse around stores. I hear there's a wonderful designer here named Thea Porter."
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