“I like you too. And I don't know how to thank you.”

“Don't. Just get your ass to that go-see. I'll call and tell them you'll be late.” She shooed Serena out of her office, but just before she reached the door, she turned again with a smile and whispered, “Thank you.”

Dorothea's eyes were damp when the door closed, and ten minutes later she was on the phone, arranging a meeting with Margaret Fullerton.

The meeting between Dorothea Kerr and Margaret Fullerton was short but not very sweet. When Margaret discovered what the meeting was about, her eyes went icy. But Dorothea didn't give a damn. She told her to stay out of Serena's career, or without a moment's hesitation Dorothea would sue her.

“Am I to understand that you are her representative?”

“No, I am the president of her modeling agency. And I mean what I say.”

“So do I, Mrs. Kerr.”

“Then we understand each other.”

“May I suggest that your client change her name. She no longer has any right to it.”

“Legally, I believe she does. But that's of no importance. She's not using your name, she is using her own title.”

“Characteristically vulgar.” Margaret Fullerton stood up. “I believe you've said everything you came here to say.”

“Not quite, Mrs. Fullerton.” Dorothea stood to her full height. She had once been a very tall and very beautiful model. “I want you to know that I have hired an attorney for Serena, as of this morning. He will be made fully aware of your harassment, of your already costing Serena one job, and if there is any further problem, the press will have a field day. Won't your fancy friends just love reading about you in the Daily News.”

“I believe that is an empty threat.” But it was obvious that Margaret Fullerton was livid. She had never been threatened before, and she had seldom met her match, certainly not in another woman.

“I wouldn't try my luck if I were you. I mean every word I say. Serena is going to be the most successful model in this town, with or without your interference, so you'd better adjust yourself to it.” And then as she turned in the doorway before she left, she looked scornfully over her shoulder.

“I would think you'd be embarrassed after all you've done. You know, sooner or later those things get out. And I suspect you won't like it.”

“Is that a threat?” Her hands were trembling as she stood and glared at her opponent.

“As a matter of fact,” Dorothea said, smiling sweetly, “yes.” And then she was gone, leaving Margaret Fullerton wanting to kill her.

Margaret spoke to Teddy that night and put it to him plainly. “I forbid you to see that woman.”

“You can't forbid me to do anything. I'm a grown man. What will you do—have me fired?” Serena had already told him the story.

“I can change my will at any time.”

“Be my guest. I've never given a damn about your money. I'm a physician. I can make my own way. In fact I'd prefer to.” “Perhaps you'll have to. I mean every word I've said.” “And so do I. Good night, Mother.” He had hung up on her then, and she burst into tears. For the first time in her life she knew what it meant to feel powerless. But not for long. Margaret Fullerton was a woman of ingenuity and determination. And she'd be damned if Serena Fullerton—or whatever she called herself —would win the next round.





37

“Well, famous lady, how does it feel to be the hottest model in New York?”