Blessing in Disguise

by Danielle Steel

  “That was fast.” She had just called the gallery that had the painting of a mother and child the client wanted.

  “It wasn’t very complicated,” Jack said, smiling at her as she looked at the pages he had handed her, and she paused for a moment.

  “Can I ask you a favor? Would you print these again just a little bit larger? The font is very small.” It wasn’t but he didn’t argue with her, and suspected she had a problem with her eyes, or was overdue for the glasses she was waiting for that she had mentioned earlier. He assumed that was the problem.

  “That’s easy. I’ll be back in a minute.” He had it in her hands five minutes later, and she was impressed when she read his notes. They were concise and clear and listed the essence of the meeting with bullet points.

  “You do a great job, Jack,” she said, praising him honestly. “I wasn’t sure I needed an assistant, you’ve convinced me in a single day that I’ve been depriving myself.”

  “What made you change your mind and decide to hire someone?” He had a feeling that there was some bigger reason behind his getting the job, but he could sense how private she was and assumed she wouldn’t tell him. And sooner or later, he’d figure it out.

  “I can’t do it all. And it’s nice having some help. The woman I have to do my billing twice a month isn’t enough. You’re going to spoil me very quickly.” The senator had said as much to him many times.

  “Will your daughter be staying here when she’s in town? Do I need to make any arrangements for her?” he volunteered, assuming it was part of his job. He liked to think ahead, and Isabelle noticed that too. “Airport pickup? Flowers in her room? Hair appointment?” He had done all that and more for the senator’s wife.

  “The airport pickup and flowers would be nice. No need for hair.” Isabelle was slightly in awe of him. He thought of everything. “I’ll give you her flight details,” she said, riffling through a stack of papers on her desk, and handed him a page. “She’s coming in the night before Thanksgiving and leaving for Boston on Monday morning.”

  “Will she come back here after Boston?” he asked, being curious more than organized.

  “No, she won’t. She’s flying to London, and back to Delhi from there. She’s meeting with a doctor in London who is putting a team together to visit the hospital she’s trying to enlarge. She’s a very enterprising young woman, our very own Mother Teresa,” she said proudly, but he could see sadness in her eyes too. He deduced easily that Isabelle missed her and wondered if it was something more. For a woman with three children, she seemed very much alone. But so was his sister, Sandy, with hers too. Children had a way of moving on. It was why he had never longed for any of his own. They were part of your life for such a short time, it seemed very brief and ephemeral to him, but he didn’t say that to her.

  “I’ll order a car for her for Wednesday when she arrives, and Monday.”

  “She may balk at the one on Monday. She believes in living a very Spartan life. She’s not given to extravagances,” Isabelle said and he nodded. “And just a small bouquet of flowers in her room, nothing lavish. She has lived with poverty and its ravages for sixteen years, she doesn’t approve of the way any of us live.”

  “That’s interesting,” he said thoughtfully. “Are the others that way?”

  “Not at all. They’re all different. My daughter Xela, who lives here, has an MBA and has established a struggling startup she wants to make into a nationwide success. She is the embodiment of capitalism and the American Dream. My youngest daughter, Oona, is married to an Italian count from a very old family, and lives on a farm in Tuscany. She grows her own vegetables, but has a comfortable lifestyle. She has three children, soon to be five. She’s expecting twins. She’s twenty-six. Theo, who lives in India, is very ethereal and removed from the world we live in. Her father was like that too. He lived in France.” She sounded like she had had an interesting life, but he didn’t want to ask too many questions and seem like he was prying. But the few details she’d just given him intrigued him, and he had the feeling she’d been married more than once. He wondered what her daughters were like. He liked their mother so far, and the open, direct way she communicated with him, neither too personal nor patronizing. There was nothing snobbish or grand about her, and he could tell she worked hard.

  He stayed until six, although they had agreed his workday would end at five-thirty, but he wanted to finish up a few loose ends, and Isabelle came down to the kitchen before he left. It was immaculate and in good order, although he’d used it as an office all day.

  “Is there anything else I can do for you before I go?” he offered, and she shook her head with a smile.

  “You’ve managed to spoil me already. I don’t know how I got along without you until now.”

  “Very well, I suspect.” She seemed to have her life very much in hand. And it struck him again that she seemed youthful and energetic, although he had correctly guessed her age from things she said and how old her daughters were. She didn’t look it. “See you tomorrow, then,” he said, picking up his coat, and left a few minutes later to go home.

  Isabelle walked around the kitchen after he left. Everything he had used was back where it belonged, the FedEx packages had been sent, the notes from the meeting were on her desk in a larger font. And she noticed that he had taken the books with him, to do his “homework” to learn more about the artists they’d discussed, for two of her clients. She was vastly impressed. And the house seemed strangely quiet once he was gone. He wasn’t intrusive, but he filled the space in a pleasant way. And she glanced into the dining room and saw the decorations gleaming on the table. She went to pick up the little ceramic turkey Theo had made and was glad she hadn’t broken it when she dropped it. The years when the girls were young had been the best of her life.

  * * *

  —

  “How was your first day at school?” Sandy asked him with a grin when he walked in, took off his coat, and sat down next to her in the small living room. She could see that he looked pleased. “Did the kids all talk to you? Was the food good? Do you like your teacher?” She smiled at him.

  “I had a turkey sandwich at a deli nearby. And I really enjoyed the day. She’s an interesting woman. Her kids are grown up and she doesn’t complain, but she seems lonely,” he said, and Sandy nodded. She understood that only too well. She missed hers too. “I think there’s some underlying reason for why she hired me, but she didn’t say it. I just have a feeling about it. I sat in on a meeting, polished silver, sent FedExes, and I have some books to read about three artists. Mary Cassatt, Turner, and Felix Ziem.”

  “They’re all big deals.” Sandy read a lot and lived on the Internet, where she learned a multitude of things. “It sounds like fun.” She was happy for him, he deserved it, and she still felt bad about the job he’d given up for her.

  “It is. It’s different from the senator. He was more of a hard hitter, and there were constantly people trying to get to him I had to keep away. She lives in a very enclosed, orderly, controlled world. She has it very much together, and her clients are varied. We saw an Englishman today who lives in Connecticut. She’s putting a whole collection together for some oilman from Oklahoma, for his yacht.”

  “It sounds like the fast lane to me.”

  “It is. But I’m not sure she’s part of it. She seems to live a quiet life. And her kids sound intriguing too. A saint in India, a businesswoman in New York working on a startup, and her youngest is married to a count in Italy, lives on a farm, and has five kids.”

  “You learned a lot in one day.” Sandy looked amused. She thought her brother seemed a little dazzled by his new employer and she wondered if he had a crush on her, which wasn’t like him. He never got involved with women where he worked, or never had. “Is she good-looking?”

  “Don’t start sounding like a big sister. She’s in her fifties and she’s
my boss.”

  “Stranger things have happened,” Sandy said with a knowing smile.

  “Just shut up. What do you want for dinner?”

  “I’ve been dreaming of Chinese food all day,” she said.

  “Your wish is my command,” he said, and headed for the kitchen phone to order Chinese takeout from the menu they kept there. He called in their dinner order to be delivered, came back, sat down, and switched on the TV. “There’s a basketball game tonight,” he said as he wound down and stretched out his legs. He smiled at his sister and turned to the evening news. He liked living with her and having someone to talk to. It filled a void for both of them. He hadn’t expected to wind up living with Sandy at their ages. But life never turned out as you expected, for better or worse.

  And in the house on Seventy-Fourth Street, Isabelle was eating a leftover salad she’d bought at the deli the day before, and turned on her favorite TV series, while Jack watched NBA basketball downtown. She was pleased with how the day had gone. Having an assistant was turning out to be a good idea, whatever the reason for it.

  Chapter Eleven

  Isabelle had had two injections in her eyes by Thanksgiving week, and it was traumatic more than painful. She was quiet when she got back from the treatments, and grateful for Jack’s help. In a short time, he was proving to be invaluable, with clients, in meetings, helping her organize things, and just doing small tasks and projects and repairs for her. And he frequently brought her a cup of tea or coffee even before she asked for it. She was happy to have him, and he helped her set the Thanksgiving table with the things they had unpacked and the silver he had polished the evening Theo was due home, the day before Thanksgiving.

  He had noticed that Isabelle looked stressed, and she had said she had a doctor’s appointment the day before. She had had her new glasses for a week, but she still liked her emails printed in larger font, and kept her magnifying glass close at hand. Twice he had seen her nearly stumble on the stairs and almost miss a step. He wasn’t sure if she was distracted, or something else was going on, and she squinted as she looked at the dining room table once they’d set it.

  He decided to be bold with her and see what happened. “You seem nervous, are you okay?”

  She hesitated for a moment and nodded. “I am nervous. Theo and Xela don’t always get along—to be honest, they never do. It’s been that way since Xela was old enough to talk. She has a knack for starting arguments with her sister, and I don’t want that happening on Thanksgiving. Theo is only going to be here for four days. I hardly ever see her. She’s a difficult person to get close to, geographically and emotionally. Her father was very reclusive, and she isolates herself in her own way, surrounding herself with strangers thousands of miles away, while she does good deeds. And when she finally does come home and I can see her, Xela starts a fight with her. It doesn’t make coming back here very appealing to her. And I miss her.”

  “Have you told them how you feel about it?” This was all new to him, and he hadn’t met either of them, but he could see how tense Isabelle was about it, and had been for several days.

  “For about thirty years,” she answered his question. “It doesn’t stop either of them. Theo used to fight back when she was younger, although she always tried to be kind to her baby sister. But Xela isn’t a baby anymore and she hits hard, usually below the belt if she can arrange it. Theo just leaves and flies away again. She’s out of reach now, which drives Xela crazy.”

  “Families are never as easy as they appear from the outside. Sandy and I tried to kill each other as children. It wasn’t until after our parents died that we realized we really needed each other. And then she got sick, which brought us closer too. I couldn’t let her go through that alone after her husband left her. Were any of your girls close to each other at all as kids?” he asked, still curious about her. There was something faintly mysterious about Isabelle, truths that he knew she wasn’t revealing.

  “Sometimes. They both love Oona. She’s the easy one, the peacemaker. They both consider her their baby. And she gets along with everyone. She could be best friends with Godzilla and Frankenstein. She’s an intrinsically happy person. She makes it all look easy, even her macho Italian husband,” whom Isabelle knew she would have strangled in two minutes, and his family, who were involved in everything Oona and Gregorio did. They told Oona how to cook the meals, treat her husband, and bring up the children, and she turned a deaf ear to their criticism and went on her merry way, happy and not even resentful.

  “It’s amazing how kids can grow up in the same house with the same parents, and come away so different,” he said as he helped her set the table.

  “That’s the thing,” she said, looking at him. “They didn’t. Same mother, different fathers. They each have a different father, and genetics are a powerful force. They all have a lot of their fathers in them.”

  “You were married three times?” He looked surprised and cautiously asked the question.

  “Twice,” she corrected him, which raised another question but he didn’t ask it since she had already said that the three girls each had a different father, and he didn’t want to offend her.

  “You’ve had an interesting life.” She nodded and didn’t comment. Theo was arriving at the house at six, and Jack was leaving early. She wanted to be alone with her that night, before they added Xela to the mix the next day. Jack was making Thanksgiving dinner for his sister, and had ordered a turkey. He said he had a lot to be grateful for this year. He was loving his new job.

  He stopped in to see her in her office before he left. She was answering emails and turned to smile at him, standing on the other side of her desk. He looked seven feet tall instead of 6'6" when she was sitting down.

  “Have a wonderful Thanksgiving, Jack,” she said warmly.

  “You too. Thank you for everything. I’m grateful for you this year.”

  “It’s an even trade. You help me more than I ever knew someone could.” And she meant it.

  “Have fun with your daughters. I hope they behave.”

  “Me too.”

  She sat quietly in her office after she heard the front door close, and then went to check Theo’s bedroom. She had put a vase of white roses in it. The bed was freshly made. The house looked perfect. They were going to have a light meal that night, before Thanksgiving lunch the next day. When they were all together, they’d call Oona. There was no Thanksgiving holiday in Italy, but Oona always made a turkey anyway, and told her children what her Thanksgiving was like when she was a little girl. It was one of her favorite holidays.

  Isabelle had promised to visit her at Christmas. She was too pregnant to travel, especially with twins, and Gregorio wouldn’t leave his family at Christmas anyway. Theo would be back in India, and Xela had rented a ski house in Vermont with friends. So Christmas in Tuscany sounded good to Isabelle, with her daughter and three grandsons. They didn’t know the sex of the twins yet. Gregorio wanted them to be surprised, although Oona wanted to know. As usual, Gregorio’s wishes ruled the day.

  Isabelle went back to her own room to lie down, while she waited for Theo, and at last the doorbell rang. She hurried down the stairs, mindful of the steps, opened the door, and stood looking at Theo, who was the image of Putnam, and pulled her daughter gently into her arms. She was no bigger than a waif, and still looked like a teenager at thirty-seven, although there were fine lines around her eyes. She was as fair as her mother, with huge blue eyes. She was dressed for the cold weather, but put on a sari for dinner with her mother. She found them more comfortable than Western clothes, except when she was doing hard manual labor, and she looked beautiful with her long blond hair loose down her back.

  She told Isabelle all about the hospital over dinner in the kitchen, which Isabelle had cooked. Theo had convinced a group of British doctors to come out and help them, and was meeting them in London the following week.
/>
  “I have to transfer some more money first and sell some investments,” she said simply, and Isabelle was certain it was a sizable amount. She had been funding similar projects for years, and could well afford it. She had followed her father’s instructions to the letter, and was making a difference in the world. “When are you going to Italy?” she asked her mother.

  “Right before Christmas. Oona says she’s huge.”

  Theo smiled at the image of her sister. “She sent me a picture. She looks like she’s having triplets. Do you think this will be it?”

  “Probably not. Gregorio’s one of seven children. He probably wants half a dozen more.” But Oona was happy, her babies were beautiful, and they had a good life on the farm. It wasn’t the life Isabelle had expected for her either, but it seemed to be working well for her. “I’m taking my new assistant with me, and giving him time off when I’m with Oona. And then we’re going to Paris for a couple of auctions, and to see some work being sold privately. I haven’t been to Paris in a while.” She was afraid of falling if she traveled and had asked Jack to come along. He had arranged for a nurse to come in at night for his sister, and was delighted at the opportunity. He was planning to spend Christmas with an old friend in Rome. He said his life had suddenly become very glamorous, although Isabelle didn’t see it that way.

  Theo went to bed early that night, and was wearing a beautiful sky blue sari when her mother found her in the kitchen the next morning. Isabelle had already put the turkey in the oven, hours earlier, and Xela was due at noon. They were planning to have their traditional meal at two o’clock, and could eat leftovers that night. Xela arrived half an hour late, kissed her mother at the front door, and raised an eyebrow when she saw her sister in the living room.