To Love Again Part 12

You like snow? Isabella looked at her in surprise.

No. But it would keep you at home, without me having to run my a.s.s off just to make sure you don't get out of line.

Isabella laughed at her, and they walked on, past blocks of boutiques that housed delights from Cardin, Ungaro, Pierre D'Alby, and Yves Saint Laurent. There were art galleries and coiffures by Sa.s.soon.

Checking out the compet.i.tion? Natasha watched her, amused. Isabella was drinking it all in, her eyes sparkling with pleasure. She was a woman who loved every facet of her work.

Why not? Their things are very pretty.

So are yours.

Isabella executed a half bow as they strolled on. It was the Faubourg St.-Honor+! of New York, a shimmering necklace of bright, priceless gems, strung together, enhancing each other, a myriad of treasures hidden in each block.

You really love it, don't you?

What, New York? Isabella looked surprised. She liked it. It intrigued her. But love ' no ' not yet. Even after her year there she had been glad to go back to Rome.

No. Fashion. Something happens to you, just looking at clothes.

Aahhh ' that.

Christ, I'd have gone nuts if I'd had to go on modeling.

That's different. Isabella looked at her wisely, the keeper of secrets rarely bestowed.

No, it's not.

Yes it is. Modeling is like a lifetime of one-night stands. There are no love affairs, no tender lovers, no betrayals, no broken hearts, no marriages, or precious offspring. Designing is different. There is history, drama, courage, art. You love the clothes, you live with them for a while, you give birth to them, you remember their fathers, their grandfathers, the dresses of other collections, other times. There is a romance to it, an excitement, an ' She broke off, then laughed at herself. You must think I'm mad.

No. That's how I feel about the people in my books.

Nice, isn't it? The two women looked at each other in perfect understanding.

Very.

They were almost home. As they rounded the corner onto Park Avenue Natasha felt the first flakes of snow.

See, I told you. Not that I suppose that will keep you at home. But there was no harm in this. They could walk like this in the evening. It hadn't been risky after all.

No, it won't. I couldn't have stayed in the apartment. Not for very long.

Natasha nodded quietly. I know.

She also knew that Isabella would not be satisfied forever with a brief evening stroll.

Chapter FIFTEEN.

Mamma! Guardi! ' It snowed!

And indeed it had. A foot-deep blanket covered the entire surface of New York. And from the cozy warmth of the apartment all four of them watched the swirling storm. It hadn't stopped since Natasha and Isabella had returned to the apartment the evening before.

Can we go play in it?

Isabella glanced at Natasha, who nodded and offered to lend them the appropriate clothes. School was of course closed. The city had come to a complete stop.

We'll go after breakfast. Isabella glanced at her watch. And after she called Bernardo in Rome. She had reached Hong Kong too late the previous evening and she hadn't dared call him that night. She absented herself from the boys quickly, closed the door to her office, and picked up the phone.

Where were you last night? I figured you'd call me around four.

How charming. My manners are not as bad as that, Bernardo. That is why I waited till this morning.

Kindly signora.

Oh, shut up. She was smiling, and in a good mood. The Hong Kong fabric is hopeless. We'll have to go with the alternate plans.

What alternate plans? He sounded baffled.

Mine of course. Did you tell Gabriela to hold everything?

Obviously. That's what you wanted. I practically had to pick her up from a dead faint on the floor.

Then you should thank me. In any case I worked out everything yesterday. Now, do you have pen and paper?

Yes, madame.

Good. I've got it all worked out. First the couture collection, then we'll do the rest. Starting with number twelve, the red lining is now yellow. The fabric number in our storeroom is two-seven-eight-three FBY ' Fabia-Bernardo-Yvonne. Got that? Number sixteen, seventeen, and nineteen ' On she went until she had covered the entire line. Even Bernardo was stunned.

How in G.o.d's name did you do that?

With difficulty. By the way, the additional pieces in the ready-to-wear collection won't cost that much more. By using fabric we've got in stock, we're saving a h.e.l.l of a lot of money.

Indeed they were, Bernardo thought with admiration. And she had spelled out every single b.l.o.o.d.y fabric. She knew every piece, every roll, the yardage available, the textures, the shades.

And if thirty-seven in the couture line looks awful, tell her to skip it, Isabella continued. We probably ought to just forget it and only leave it in as number thirty-six in the blue.

Which one is that? He was overwhelmed. In a day she had done the work of a month. In one morning she had salvaged the entire summer line. Only in speaking to Gabriela again the previous evening had he realized how potentially disastrous the absence of the fabric from Hong Kong could have been.

Never mind which one that is. Gabriela will know. What else is new?

Today, nothing. Everything's quiet on the home front.

How nice for you. In that case I'm taking a vacation today.

You're going out? He sounded horrified.

Only to the park. It's snowing. Natasha and I just promised the boys.

Isabella, be careful.

Obviously. But believe me, there won't be another soul.

Why don't you just let Alessandro go with Natasha? You stay home.

Because I need some fresh air, Bernardo.

He began to speak, but she cut him off.

Bernardo, I love you. Now I have to go.

She was curt, cheerful, and unnerving as she blew him a kiss and hung up the phone. He didn't like it. He didn't like it all. There was a little too much s.p.u.n.k in her voice again. And at this distance he had no control. He just hoped that Natasha was smarter than Isabella and wouldn't let her go out for more than an occasional brief stroll after dark. Then he laughed to himself. There was one way to keep her out of trouble, and that was to heap more work on her, like the ma.s.sive endeavor of the day before. It was inconceivable that she had actually done it.

Are you ready? Isabella looked at the two little boys bundled up like snowmen, Jason in a red snowsuit, Alessandro in a bright yellow spare.

They were off to the park instantly, and within half an hour the boys were sliding down little hills on Jason's sled. Slipping, whooshing, squealing along, laughing, and throwing snow. After the sledding they got into a s...o...b..ll fight, and quickly Isabella and Natasha joined the fun. Only a few brave souls had been hardy enough to come out in the cold.

The four weathered it for almost two hours, and then happy and sodden they were ready to go home.

Hot baths for everyone! Natasha shouted as they came in the door. Hattie had hot chocolate and cinnamon toast waiting and a fire going in the den. The snowstorm continued for another day, and the boys didn't have to go to school all week as businessmen snowshoed to their offices and housewives resurrected skis to get to the store.

But for Isabella the holiday was a brief one, and after the day of sledding she returned to her office in the back of Natasha's apartment with a fresh batch of problems from Rome. Two of the more important alternate fabrics had been accidentally destroyed by a flood in the storeroom the week before. Their number-one model had quit and everything had to be fitted again. Minor problems, major headaches, disasters and victories, a month filled with a blessed mountain of work in which Isabella could hide, except for the evening walks with Natasha. They had now become a ritual without which Isabella thought she couldn't live.

How long are you going to go on like this? They had just stopped for a light on Madison Avenue. Isabella had been peering into boutique windows, examining the spring displays. It was March, and the last snows had finally come and gone, though it was still wintry cold and there was almost always an icy wind.

Her question caught Natasha by surprise. What do you mean? Go on like what?

Living like a hermit, baby-sitting for me? Do you realize you haven't been out once in the evening during the five weeks we've been here? Corbett must be ready to kill me by now.

Why should he? Natasha looked baffled as she stared at her friend.

But Isabella was amused at her feigned innocence. She had long since understood. Certainly he must expect a little more of your time.

Not as a rule, thank you. We keep our lives very much to ourselves. Natasha looked faintly amused. But this time it was Isabella who stared.

How modern.

What the h.e.l.l do you mean? She wasn't angry at Isabella, just confused.

But Isabella answered with a slow smile. I don't expect you to be a virgin, you know, Natasha. You can be honest with me.

About what? And then suddenly Natasha was grinning. About Corbett? For a long moment she laughed until tears came to her eyes. Are you kidding? Oh, Isabella ' did you think? ' Oh, Jesus! And then she looked at her friend, amused. I can't imagine anything less appealing to me than getting involved with Corbett Ewing.

Are you serious? You're not involved with him? Isabella looked stunned. But I had a.s.sumed ' And then she looked even more puzzled. But why not? I thought that you two Maybe you thought, but Corbett and I never thought. We've been friends for years and well never be anything more. He's almost like a brother and he's my very best friend. But we're both two basically very high-powered people. As a woman, I'm not gentle enough for Corbett, not fragile or helpless enough. I don't know, I can't explain it. He always says I should have been a man.

How unkind. Isabella looked disapproving.

Doesn't Bernardo say unkind things to you?

Isabella smiled in answer. At least every day.

Exactly. It's like brother and sister. I can't imagine anything different with Corbett She grinned to herself again, and Isabella shrugged, feeling a little silly.

I must be getting old, Natasha. All my perceptions are off. I truly a.s.sumed right from the beginning' . But Natasha just grinned and shook her head. And Isabella was pensive for a long moment as they walked along. She was suddenly thinking of Corbett Ewing in a very different light.

They didn't speak again until they approached the building and Natasha noticed Isabella smiling as they walked along.

You should have gone to the opera ball, you know, Isabella said. It would have been fun.

How do you know?

We have a marvelous one in Rome.

I mean how do you know there was one here and that I was invited to it?

Because I'm an excellent detective and the invitation didn't quite burn.

Suddenly there were tears in Natasha's eyes. Her lies, her sacrifice, had been a disservice to her friend. All right, she said, throwing her arm around Isabella's shoulders and hugging her briefly. You win.

Thank you. Isabella marched into the building with a look of victory and an awesome glint in her eye.

Chapter SIXTEEN.

Isabella turned the light off in her office. It was eight o'clock in the evening and she had just made her last call to Rome. Poor Bernardo, it was two in the morning for him, but the summer collection had just opened and she had to know how it had gone.

Exquisite, cara, he had said. Everyone declared it a marvel. No one understands how you could do it with the pressure you've been under, with the difficulties, with everything. While she listened to him, her eyes had glowed.

It didn't look too peculiar with all those new colors instead of the red? Working this way, on paper, from a distance was a little bit like being blind.

No, and the turquoise lining in the white evening coat was sheer genius. You should have seen the reaction of the Italian Vogue. Va b+?ne. She was happy. He had given her every detail until at last there was nothing left that she didn't know. All right, darling, I guess we've done it. I'm sorry I woke you. Now go back to bed.

You mean you don't have any other projects for me at this hour? No frantic instructions about your new ideas for the fall? He missed her, but his need was fading. It had been good for both of them her escape had been an escape for him too.

Domani. Tomorrow. For a moment her eyes clouded over. The fall ' would she have to design the collection from here then? Would she never be able to go home? Two months. It had already been two months since she had come to the States. Two months of hiding and running her business from five thousand miles, on the phone. Two months of not seeing the villa, not sleeping in her own bed. It was already April. The month of sunshine and gardens and the first burst of springtime in Rome. Even in New York the weather had been a little warmer as she had strolled every evening to the edge of the park and a few times to the East River to watch the parade of joggers and st.u.r.dy-looking little boats. The East River was not the Tiber, and New York wasn't her home. I'll call you in the morning, she told Bernardo. And by the way, congratulations on the soap.

Please. Don't even mention it. It had taken four months to do the research, another two to put it on the market. But at least it had paid off. They had just received an order for half a million dollars from F-B, of course.

Bernardo was describing the orders, but she wasn't listening. The soap. Even that reminded her of her last day with Amadeo. That fateful day when she had argued with Bernardo and then left them to run off to lunch. It had been almost seven months. Seven long, lonely, work-filled months. She dragged her attention back to Bernardo.