The Last Princess (39 page)

Though she didn’t quite know what had been said, Lily felt apprehensive. It wasn’t like Harry to react so moodily. She wondered what Ellis’s news could be.

“Problems?” she asked tentatively, almost frightened to find out.

Harry chuckled. “Well, no—not exactly. Ah, Lily, at one time, I would have sold my soul for news like this.”

“What, Harry? Tell me!”

“Well, for one thing, Ellis just heard that next week we’ll be number one on
The New York Times
bestseller list.”

“So soon after publication? Harry, that’s absolutely marvelous!” she cried. “I’m ecstatic!”

“You and Ellis both,” he returned briefly. “But there’s something else, Lily. He wants me to fly back to New York right away. Apparently
Time
magazine wants to do a cover story on me.”

For a moment Lily couldn’t speak. The cover of
Time!

She threw her arms around him and kissed him. “Congratulations, darling!”

But Harry just sat there, frowning slightly.

“What’s wrong, Harry? What’s the problem?”

“The problem is that I’ve finally taken some time to do all the things we always dreamed of doing and never had the time to do. And we’ve been so happy here, I don’t ever want to leave.”

“Darling, can’t we go and do the interview and then come back? It’s only a few hours’ flying time; we don’t even have to give up our suite.”

“No, Lily, it’s not that simple. Once I get back, I’ll be deluged. There will be other interviews, and Renaud’s will be insisting on my doing that tour. I was kind of hoping I could avoid all that this time. But now …”

“Look, darling, even if we have to leave home, we’ll be together. We’ll still have each other.”

“Lily, you’re the most wonderful woman in the world to be so understanding. But as soon as this is over, we’ll go off together to a deserted island somewhere. And I mean it—no calls, no publisher’s demands, no newspapers. I’m not even sure I’ll even write another book.”

“Well, we’ll see.” Lily smiled at the thought.

“Don’t laugh, Lily. I really mean it.”

B
ACK IN NEW YORK
, they instantly realized that
The Genesis
was not just a book, but a phenomenon. It had surpassed everyone’s wildest expectations and seemed destined to reign on the bestseller list week after week. And the critical accolades were pouring in faster than they could be pasted into scrapbooks.

“Harry Kohle’s masterpiece” was the consensus. A few critics even went so far as to speculate about a Pulitzer Prize.

Like
The Wars of Archie Sanger
, the new book had a universality which touched people of all backgrounds, but it also had a poignancy which stirred the deepest emotions. The research Harry had done in Israel had laid the groundwork for a vision of a point in history that had never been so eloquently and grippingly conveyed.

Lily could only rejoice for Harry as he basked in the commercial and critical acclaim. He needed this validation; he needed to know that his instincts about
The Genesis
had been exactly right.

Yet after the first few weeks it became evident that Harry’s current success was on a much vaster scale than that of his earlier works. There were pyramids of books in the store windows on Fifth Avenue—Scribner’s and Doubleday—with Harry’s larger-than-life image hanging behind them. Hollywood was already negotiating for the rights and promising him total creative control, dangling the carrot of the new star Marlon Brando for the male lead and Anna Magnani for the female.

And then the
Time
cover story came out, with a striking, enigmatic photograph of Harry, and his fortune was sealed.

He couldn’t go anywhere in public without being mobbed. There was no way to avoid the media’s probing glare. Harry was hounded. His time was booked for weeks. In February, he was honored at a black-tie gala given by the Literary Critics Circle, which had just awarded him its annual fiction prize. The vast ballroom of the Waldorf-Astoria was filled to capacity. Lily sat at the head table with him while speaker after speaker lauded his book.

But when Harry finally rose, he said, “I thank you for all the kind words and appreciate the honor you have awarded me. But I wish to make it perfectly clear to everyone present that none of this could have happened without my lovely wife, Lily, who has supported, sustained, and inspired me through the years, and who inspires me still. Lily?”

Lily could hardly believe her eyes. This thanks was so unexpected. But Harry was clapping and motioning for her to take a bow. The crowd applauded enthusiastically. Lily rose gracefully, murmured “Thank you,” then took her seat again, gratified that Harry should choose so public a forum in which to acknowledge his love.

Later that evening, she agreed readily when Harry told her about the short publicity tour planned for him. “San Diego, Los Angeles, San Francisco. A few book signings, some interviews, maybe a radio show or two. Do you mind, darling?”

“Oh, no, Harry. It sounds wonderful—I’ve never seen most of those places before.”

At first Lily was aglow to see the enormous response that greeted
The Genesis.
She was thrilled to see Harry bask in the glory. Wherever they went—sometimes to as many as several cities a day—the crowds were always overwhelming. But as Renaud’s began adding more and more stops to the itinerary and the pace became more and more hectic, Lily again began to find herself pushed aside in the whirl. And there was little Harry could do to help her.

And it wasn’t only that. Something had happened to Harry. At first, he had taken a detached, almost ironic view of his publicity. But now, it was as if he had begun to believe his own press. He began to lap up the praise, becoming even boastful of his triumph.

Harry had lived with acclaim ever since his
Archie Sanger
days, but he had never felt the effect of that fame beyond the perimeter of New York City. Intellectually, he understood that people across the country treasured his work, but he’d never before come in contact with the adoring hordes. No one could have remained unaffected by the nationwide hubbub, but Lily was unhappy to see Harry’s ego affected so dramatically.

As she sat in the back of the limousine, waiting for Harry to break free of the crowd in front of the civic auditorium in Portland, where he’d just given a reading from his book, Lily couldn’t help but fear that he was slipping away from her yet again.

Orchestrating this whirlwind tour were Kate Hathaway, the publicist from Renaud’s, and Roy Flatt, the tour manager. They took care of everything: planes, trains, hotels. Lily didn’t even have to pack or unpack a suitcase for either herself or Harry, so extensive was their control. As the days went by, she found herself feeling more and more superfluous.

It was becoming almost embarrassing the way Harry made a big point of bringing her forward to give her credit. The initial thrill of hearing him introduce her as “my wonderful wife, Lily” was gone. She well understood that no one in the crowd could care less about her.

For a while Lily feared she was becoming jealous of her own husband’s success. But after an honest examination of her own mind, she knew that there was much lacking in Harry’s behavior of late, for all the praise he gave her.

Suddenly Harry didn’t seem to mind the fanfare and the thrill of being in public demand. As the days passed, he neglected Lily more and more, speaking little of the trip he’d spoken of so fondly.

And the gulf between them widened.

The four of them sat together at the bar at Ernie’s in San Francisco: Kate, Roy, Lily, and Harry. Kate had arranged for Harry’s picture to be taken with Victor Gatti, the proprietor. She busily directed the photographer while Lily gazed about her, admiring the crimson damask walls and velvet banquettes and the warm glow of the Baccarat chandeliers.

Then she suddenly heard a woman tourist behind her exclaim, “Look, George! That’s Harry Kohle. Maybe we can get his autograph.”

After a brief wait they found themselves settled at the banquette laid with gold and white Limoges china and heavy silver. The conversation resumed.

“I heard from Renaud’s today,” Roy began. “They’re very anxious that you expand the tour to the Midwest.”

“What would that entail?”

“Kansas City, Chicago, Detroit, Indianapolis, points in between.”

Lily listened with a growing sense of tension as they discussed the plan. Now the Midwest. How she’d been counting the days until their final stop in Seattle. The prospect of more weeks looming before them was too daunting. Suddenly, all she wanted to do was lie down.

As soon as dessert was served, she rose. “If you’ll all excuse me, I think I’ll go back to the hotel.”

“Lily, darling, are you feeling all right?” Harry asked, concerned.

“Yes, of course, dear. I just have a slight headache.”

Back in their suite at the St. Francis, Lily put on her dressing gown, but instead of lying down, she went to the window and looked out at Union Square.

Again she considered those idyllic months when Harry had deliberately put Lily first. She had been so sure they had conquered the forces pulling them apart. But now there was no use fighting it: Her husband belonged to the world, and she was going to have to recognize that inevitable fact.

Before, she might have blamed him, but even she could see the seductive appeal of fame. The months they’d shared after his return from Israel had been more precious than ever in retrospect. Lily consoled herself with that knowledge that all the clamor would at least subside. In the meantime, she knew what she must do. Just as during that time long ago in Hollywood, she was not needed now. If she stayed, the rift between them was bound to grow. The only way she could keep him was to let him go. He must be free to see the tour through to the end without worrying about her. She would wait for his return at home.

When Harry came in an hour and a half later, he found her still awake. “How are you feeling, darling? Is your headache still bothering you?”

“No, thank you, dear. I’m feeling better.”

“I’m glad. I would have come back earlier, but I didn’t want to disturb you in case you were trying to sleep.”

“That was sweet of you. Actually, I’ve been doing some thinking.”

“Mmmm?”

“About us, Harry.” She paused, then continued slowly. “Harry, you don’t need me around to worry about on this tour; you barely have enough time to sleep and eat as it is. Frankly, I’m just in the way.”

“What are you saying, Lily?” Anger flashed in his eyes.

“I’m saying that I think that perhaps the time has come for me to go back to New York.”

Harry struggled to suppress his rage. How could she even suggest leaving? Everything was going beautifully. The tour was a smash success, the arrangements superb. What could she possibly object to? He had thought she was enjoying herself. For his part, he loved having her by his side—but obviously, the feeling wasn’t mutual.

She told him she felt superfluous. What the hell did that mean? Lily did not tell Harry that she felt he was becoming swept up by his own publicity. But Harry sensed it in her resolve to return now. Well, he was through with feeling guilty, about Lily or anyone else. And much as he wanted her to stay, he wasn’t going to beg her. Not again.

“If that’s what you want, Lily.”

“Well, it’s not really what I want. But I think it would be for the best. And it will only be for a few weeks.”

“You’re right,” he said curtly. “You’re absolutely right.”

And on that cold note, they went to bed.

W
HEN SHE ARRIVED IN
New York, no one was there to meet her. Ellis was out of town for the day and Mary and Joe were down at The Meadows, supervising some renovations.

The apartment was dark and quiet as she entered, and despite all her brave resolutions, Lily felt forlorn. She kicked off her shoes and went to the living room. She started a fire, then poured herself a stiff brandy and curled up under an afghan. She took a long swallow, then cradled the glass in her hand musingly and gazed at the shimmering reflection of firelight on the amber liquid.

The room was still, save for the hiss of the logs on the grate. For weeks she had been lonely in the middle of a crowd. Now she was lonely on her own, suddenly questioning the wisdom of her plan. She had been so convinced that this course would be best for their marriage, but now …

At last she fell into a troubled slumber, but she woke the next morning feeling refreshed, full of certainty in her plan. She had done the best thing for them both, she was convinced. She was filled with an energy and happiness she hadn’t felt since they left Bermuda. She was going to get on with her life. And the person to help her do that was Ellis. She picked up the phone and dialed his office.

“Lily!” came his surprised voice a minute later. “Where are you?”

“I’m back in town, Ellis.”

“When did you get in?”

“Last night, late.”

“Nothing wrong, I hope?” he asked tentatively.

“Oh no—not at all. But there are a few things I’d like to talk to you about. Are you free for lunch?”

“For you I am,” he replied, mentally making a note to cancel two appointments. “Say, ‘21’ at twelve-thirty?”

Lily was looking forward to seeing him. She felt a warm glow as he rose from his table to greet her. Until this moment, she hadn’t realized how she had missed him.

He kissed her cheek. “It’s wonderful to see you, my dear. It seems as if you’ve been gone forever.”

Lily smiled ruefully. “It seems like that to me, too.”

“How is Harry doing?”

“He’s fine.”

“From all reports, the tour has been like the Second Coming.”

“It certainly has.”

“Why did you decide to come back?”

She hesitated, hating to lie to Ellis, but she couldn’t be disloyal to Harry. Finally she said, “Well, Harry wanted me to stay—begged me to stay—but when it developed that the tour was going on to the Midwest, I decided that the time had come for me to get on with some of my own activities.”

“Did you enjoy being on the road?”