The Last Princess (37 page)

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Authors: Cynthia Freeman

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BOOK: The Last Princess
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But despite his rationalizing, he was pained by the sight of her rushing to greet him at the gate. She gave him a kiss hello and cried, “Harry, welcome back! I’ve missed you so.”

Harry broke away from her gently.

Her eyes sparkled. “Oh, Harry, I’m so glad you’re back. What made you take it into your head to fly off to Paris, anyway?” Not waiting for an answer, she kissed him again and said, “How about instead of going back to Safed tonight, we stay here in Tel Aviv? I know a great hotel. It would be such fun, Harry!” She gave him a suggestive look.

It was difficult for him to meet her gaze. He was tempted to put off the confrontation. But his reconciliation had left him strongly imbued with new resolve.

“Valerie,” he said simply, “we need to talk.”

“About what?” She was suddenly curious—and concerned.

He hesitated. An airport terminal was no place to discuss this.

“Listen, I’m hungry. How about if I take you to dinner and we’ll talk then?”

“You sound so serious, Harry. Can you give me a hint?”

Valerie’s mind worked fast. She could sense Harry’s reserve. Something had happened. He was a changed man. Maybe he met someone in Paris? Why had he gone there in the first place? Valerie had been completely taken aback by his spur-of-the-moment trip. He’d slipped away without so much as a word to her.

Having steamed open Lily’s letters to him, she knew they had no immediate plans to meet; those letters contained nothing but a recital of her dull charity activities, polite inquiries after his welfare, and a restrained “Love, Lily.” Nothing there to throw a monkey wrench into her schemes.

Harry seemed withdrawn through their dinner. Whatever he’d had to discuss so urgently did not seem so pressing now. Valerie kept her mood and looks wistful. The little-girl-lost look was one of her specialties. She thought it might appeal to Harry’s protective side.

But for once Valerie was not the architect of Harry’s thoughts, for however much she’d baited him in the past. As they sat there he was secretly comparing her to Lily as she looked the night before in Paris. And there was no comparison.

Truth be told, he would miss Valerie most for her assistance with his book. But Harry well understood he’d have to incur the inconvenience. There was no way he could continue to associate with her—not in any capacity. Lily had given no ultimatums, but she didn’t have to. Harry well knew Valerie would have to go. If only he’d released her from service when Lily first returned to Sutton Place from the farm.

Tonight Valerie seemed especially sweet and vulnerable. Harry cursed himself for what he had to say.

He swallowed his last sip of coffee, cleared his throat, and began. “Valerie, it won’t do any good to beat around the bush. Lily has found out about us.”

Her worst fear had come true. She was not ready for Lily to know about them—not yet. “But how?” she stammered. “Who told her?”

“Nobody told her. She flew in Friday night to surprise me, drove up to Safed around midnight, and—well, I’m afraid she actually saw us in bed together.”

Lily must have been stunned—and furious. The reason for the Paris trip suddenly became clear: Harry had taken Lily there in hopes of patching things up between them. But Valerie still had reason to hope; Lily had not returned to Israel with Harry. Perhaps he would be free even sooner than she’d planned.

“So what did you decide to do?” she asked.

“Obviously, Lily was very upset, but we had a long talk, then the trip. We’re going to work this out.” Harry paused. “I guess you know this means we’re going to have to stop seeing each other.”

“Stop seeing each other?” she cried. “Just like that?” Valerie could hardly believe it.

“You know there’s no way we can continue working together, not after all this.”

“You mean you’re firing me?” She had thought it only a matter of weeks—days—before he realized that he was in love with her. My God, she had made herself indispensable. She had been there for him when Lily never was. How could she lose him like this? Valerie knew that if she wanted to buy more time, she’d have to take a pragmatic approach. “Why, we’re in the middle of the first draft! I can’t leave. Does Lily understand how closely we work together?”

“Yes,” Harry replied. “Lily understands exactly how closely we’ve been working together—that’s the whole point.”

Valerie could not believe that at the very least Harry would not keep her on in her secretarial capacity just as he had before.

“Okay, Harry,” she said in a calm, reasonable voice. “So you and I have had an affair. But the book—doesn’t it mean anything to her at all? She must know the importance of what you’re doing. Is she going to let petty jealousy keep you from the kind of secretary you need?”

“Look, Valerie, the subject is not open to debate. Frankly, at this point, Lily wouldn’t care if I put the entire manuscript of
The Genesis
in the fire, if it meant getting rid of you.”

Valerie’s blood began to boil. “Getting rid of me? As if I’m some old shoe?”

“Valerie, I know this seems abrupt. But from the start I’ve made it clear I couldn’t promise you anything. And you can imagine how Lily feels. She’s angry, and very hurt. I can’t say I blame her.”

“She’s angry and hurt? Really? And you can’t blame her for that? Or for Ellis Knox, or anything else?”

“Now, wait just a minute, Valerie. You can’t compare yourself to Ellis. Nothing has ever gone on between them. What you and I did was wrong. There’s no way around it.”

She let out a bitter laugh. “So now you’re going to get moralistic on me? You certainly didn’t have many scruples that night on the terrace when you whisked me off my feet. Or back in New York last year either, for that matter.”

Harry shifted uncomfortably in his chair. Valerie was well within her rights. “Look, Valerie, I’m not trying to say that I’m blameless—far from it. I’m just saying that we’ve let this go too far already, and it’s time to break it off. I wish that we could go on working together, but we can’t. It’s as simple as that.”

“Simple?” Valerie shrilled. “You mean you’re going to just dump me?”

“Valerie, for God’s sake, I’m married—you knew that! Right from the very start, I told you that there was no future for us. I didn’t promise you anything.”

“Really? Well, you might have said that there was no future in it, but you sure didn’t act like it that weekend in Caesarea! In fact, you acted as if you were madly in love with me! A woman has intuition, Harry. Are you trying to tell me that you were thinking about Lily when you were screwing me?”

“Valerie, keep your voice down,” he said, flushing.

“I won’t!” she screamed. “You liked me well enough when I was doing all those things to you! The things your wife—the frigid bitch—is too much of a lady to do!”

Harry was stunned to see sweet, schoolgirlish Valerie shrieking like a harridan and cursing as well. Recovering slightly, he flushed with anger and muttered through clenched teeth, “How dare you talk like that about Lily! She considered you her best friend.”

“So now she’s the angel, and I’m the bitch?”

Harry was grim. “Yes. And maybe I’ve been a fool for not seeing that from the start.”

But Valerie was nearly too hysterical to hear. “You can’t do this to me, you rotten bastard, you son of a bitch!”

Harry glanced around the restaurant nervously. He prayed that no one would recognize him. What a story this would make if it reached the press.

Without a word he grabbed Valerie by the arm and dragged her outside. But Valerie would not be led. With her free arm, she began battering him, screaming every unprintable name in the book. Harry had never heard such language from a woman, and seldom from a man.

He tried to catch her arm, but she evaded him and managed to land a blow to his jaw. Without a moment’s hesitation, he slapped her across the face. “Stop! Valerie, stop!”

The unexpected retaliation quieted her. She stood wild-eyed and breathing hard. Harry looked at her as though they’d just met. Only this time he saw her for what she really was. He wasn’t deluded by her outward charms.

“I’ll have your things sent to the King David, along with two months’ severance pay.”

Taking out several large bills, he held them out to her. “And then I never want to see or hear from you again. In fact, I want to forget I ever knew you.”

After her taxi drove off, he walked slowly back to his car. What a nightmare this had been!

Harry couldn’t help but wonder, had that vulgarity always been in Valerie? How could he never have sensed it? How could he not have known? For all of his supposed insight into the emotions and sensitivities of his fictional creations, Harry could hardly believe how blind he sometimes was to real people’s character and motivation. He had made the same mistake with his children and his wife. Now he’d been equally stupid with Valerie. Oh, not that tonight’s scorned woman was the real one either. In truth, she represented the kind of intertwining of good and evil which was the leitmotif of
The Genesis.

But Harry couldn’t think of his novel. Not then. Instead, he tried to focus on Lily. How beautiful she had looked as they strolled along the Champs-Elysees. Wonderful Lily, waiting faithfully for him in New York. How lucky he was that she hadn’t left him, that she had been able to forgive.

Meanwhile, back in New York, Lily had just arrived at the airport; Ellis was waiting for her at the gate. He had nearly died of curiosity and apprehension since he received Lily’s message. What had made her cancel that earlier flight? Then, when she called from Paris, he had wondered whether—no, hoped—she had gone there to console herself. He had expected sadness, resignation, a brave front on her misery. But as she descended from the plane, there was a lilt in her step, a smile on her lips. For whatever might have happened on her arrival in Israel, Harry had managed to persuade Lily to forgive him. It figured, he thought bitterly. No doubt a man as creative and imaginative as Harry invented a story to pacify her.

Yet her face was radiant as she waved to him over the crowd. “Ellis, how wonderful to see you!” Suddenly Ellis felt that she and Harry were really going to make it “happily ever after,” and he didn’t have the heart to wish them anything but good.

If Harry was what Lily wanted, then he would just have to conquer his own longings, and try to be happy for her.

Chapter 37

A
FTER ALL OF LILY’S
work and worry, the night of nights had finally arrived. She felt as though destiny was taking her by the hand and leading her into a new dimension.

As she sat at her dressing table the evening of the ball, clipping on her diamond earrings, Ellis stood by the windows in the drawing room, looking incredibly distinguished in his white tie and tails, gazing down at the glittering lights of Manhattan. He sipped his martini thoughtfully. He was the most successful man in his field, yet none of it meant anything to him compared to the woman he’d loved for what seemed a lifetime: Lily.

“Ellis?”

Whirling around, he saw her framed in the doorway. She was like a fairy-tale princess. Her rippling auburn hair was swept up in a French twist. Her skin had never looked so pure, her eyes so green and sparkling. She was dripping with diamonds. Her gown was mint-green and encrusted with shimmering crystals. The low-cut bodice showed off her figure, which was still gorgeous, even after four children and so many years.

“My dear, you are absolutely ravishing.”

“Am I really?” she asked, almost shyly.

“Exquisite,” he answered. Then, fearing that his emotions were showing too plainly, he turned away and asked over his shoulder, “Martini? Or would you prefer a sherry?”

The ballroom of the Waldorf-Astoria was a wonderland. The ceiling had been tented in palest green and festooned with silvery streamers. Huge tubs of pink and white rhododendrons backed by giant ferns banked the walls. Extravagant bouquets of orchids, roses, and garlands of smilax gave the room the appearance of an enchanted garden.

It was Lily’s night of triumph, and from the moment she entered the room on Ellis’s arm, she was engulfed by praise.

“Lily, darling, this room is fabulous. It’s just divine, my dear…. How did you manage to snag Benny Goodman? … Just look at the crush tonight…. It’s by far the biggest success we’ve ever had…. A real tribute to you, Lily….”

Laughingly she denied full credit, but inwardly she was filled with a mixture of elation and bewilderment at all the accolades. Until tonight, it had all been preparation and work. The scope of her accomplishment hadn’t really hit her. But now, from the way everyone was talking, she realized she had really done something to be proud of. They had raised over $500,000, John had told her this afternoon—the most ever.

Many were curious about Harry. “Where is your famous husband? We just adore his books!” But tonight, she was the star—in her own right—and it felt good.

Seeing her so surrounded, Ellis finally intervened. “I’m sorry, ladies and gentlemen, but you can’t monopolize Lily any longer. In a few minutes she has to make a speech.”

The music was in full swing. The ballroom hummed to the rhythms of Benny Goodman’s band as Ellis guided Lily through the crowd toward the stage. As they reached it, the music swung to a close. There was a brief lull. A quiver of nervousness ran through Lily as she looked at the podium. Sensing her qualms, Ellis turned to her and said quietly, “Listen to me, Lily. There’s nothing to be afraid of. Just be yourself, and they’ll love you.” And then a drum roll shattered the lull as the spotlight sought them out.

Ellis straightened his tie, stepped into the circle of light, and strode to the podium, as thunderous applause rose from the audience. He addressed them with an easy confidence. “Good evening. The annual Spring Ball is, as you know, one of our principal sources of funding. I am happy to announce that this year’s is the most successful ever. And the credit for that—and for this gala evening—must be given to this year’s ball committee chairman. Ladies and gentlemen, may I present: Lily Goodhue Kohle!”

As she stepped forward into the spotlight, Ellis kissed her cheek and presented her with a great sheaf of pink roses which seemed to materialize out of thin air.

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