“I was thinking,” she said, looking at him honestly, “that I think I've read about you.”

“Have you?” He looked amused. “Let's see, you wouldn't have read about my marriage to Brigitte, she was my first wife and we were both nineteen. She was the sister of a boy I knew at Eton. But my second wife perhaps, Anastasia Xanios.” She loved the way his tongue slipped over his words, his accent was delicious. “You might have read about her, or perhaps Margaret”—he looked at her with his big black eyes—”the queen's cousin.” He was so outrageous that she laughed.

“How many times have you been married?”

“Four.” He answered her honestly.

She counted backward in her head and looked at him with a grin that matched his own. “Then you left one out.”

He nodded, but the smile dimmed. “The last one.”

“Which one was she?” Serena had not yet understood that this was not like the others.

“It was … she was French. She was a model.” And then he looked at Serena with dark, tragic eyes. “She died from an overdose last January. Her name was Hélène.”

“Oh, I'm so sorry.” She reached out and touched his hand. “I really am. I lost my husband too.” All she could think of was what he must have felt when his last wife had died. She still remembered the incredible pain of losing B.J. and it had been more than four years.

“How did your husband die?” Vasili was looking at her now gently.

“In Korea. He was one of the first casualties, just a few days before war was declared.”

“Then you've been through it too.” He looked at her oddly. “It's so strange. Everyone jokes about it… married four times … another wife. But each time it's different. Each time …” He looked at Serena and she almost wanted to cry. “Each time I love as though it were the first time … and Hélène, she was only a child. Twenty-one.” Serena didn't ask why she had done it. She assumed that the girl had committed suicide with sleeping pills, it was the only kind of drug overdose she could imagine. He shook his head then and held tightly to Serena's hand. “Life is a strange place sometimes. I very seldom understand it. But then again” —he cocked his head to one side with a boyish smile—”I no longer try. I live my life from day to day.” And then he sighed softly. “I have my work, my friends, the people I work with. And when I'm behind the camera, I forget it all.”

“You're lucky.” Serena knew only too well that hard work dulled the pain. “You don't have any children, Vasili?”

“No.” He looked sad and then shrugged with a small smile. “Maybe I haven't met the right woman yet. Have you children, Serena?”

“One. A little girl.” His eyes lit up at her answer.

“What is her name?”

“Vanessa.”

“Perfect. And she is blond and looks exactly like you?” His eyes danced.

“No. She is blond and looks exactly like her father.” Serena laughed.

“He was handsome?” Vasili looked intrigued.

“Yes.” But it all seemed very far away now. Four years was a long time.

“Never mind, little one.” He leaned over and kissed her cheek and she had to remind herself that he was not a friend but a photographer she was going to work with. But it seemed hard to believe that she hadn't known him for years. She felt oddly comfortable with him now, and captivated, as though he had flown her to a foreign land. He might as well have, she realized as the car stopped a few minutes later and they got out. They were at a seafood restaurant at Sheepshead Bay. It looked fairly scruffy, but inside was the rich smell of steamed clams and melted butter, fish cooked in herbs, and fresh bread being warmed. They had a marvelous lunch, undisturbed by anyone, and it was close to five o'clock when they emerged.

“That was absolutely divine.” Her stomach felt full, she felt comfortable and relaxed. She would have liked to stretch out somewhere for a nap, as Vasili put an arm around her shoulders and swung his sweater in the air. It certainly didn't feel like an afternoon when she should have been working. She looked at him with a warm smile, and he stood aside with a bow, as the chauffeur opened the door and she got back into the car. Once ensconced beside her, he leaned forward and gave the driver instructions, and she realized a few minutes later that they were not going home. “Is this another adventure?” After all, Sheepshead Bay was not her usual luncheon fare. But Vasili only smiled secretively and took her hand. She could no longer bring herself to feel pressed about the time, or agitated. She had nowhere to go except home, and there was no one there. “Where are we going?” She leaned back against the comfortable upholstery with a smile.

“To the beach.”

“At this hour?” She looked surprised but not alarmed.

“I want to see the sunset with you, Serena.” It seemed an odd idea but she didn't really want to object. She was more comfortable with this man than she had been with anyone in years. And more than that, she was happy. He suffused her with a kind of joie de vivre that she hadn't remembered in a very long time, if ever.

The driver knew exactly where Vasili wanted him to go, and he drove through assorted ugly little suburban communities, until he reached the right one, and drove the enormous Bentley sedately up to a small pier. There was a ferry boat tied up and bobbing in the water, and their timing had been perfect, there were already half a dozen people aboard.

“Vasili?” For the first time Serena looked worried. “What is this?”

“The ferry to Fire Island. Have you been there before?” She shook her head. “You will love it.” He looked so sure about what he was doing that she was no longer unnerved. “We won't stay long. Just long enough to see the sunset and walk on the beach, and then we'll come home.” For some reason she trusted him, everything about him seemed to suggest to her that she would be safe with him. He had a way of imparting the impression that he was totally in control and one could rely on him.

Hand in hand with Vasili she boarded the ferry, and they set off for Fire Island. The ride took half an hour, and they got out on the island on a narrow little pier, and then he walked with her straight across the island to a beach that took her breath away, it was so lovely. It stretched out for miles, a narrow sandspit in the ocean, perfect white sand, and soft waves for almost thirty miles.

“Oh, Vasili, it's incredible.”

“Isn't it?” He smiled. “It always reminds me of Greece.”

“Do you come here often?”

He shook his head slowly, his black eyes burning into hers. “No, Serena, I don't. But I wanted to come here with you.” She nodded, and then turned away, not sure of what to say. She didn't want to play games with him. But he was so open and so appealing, and he had a magnetic quality about him that drew her to him. They walked on the beach for a while, and then sat down to watch the sunset, and they sat that way for what seemed like hours, in the growing dusk, his arm around her shoulders, each of them listening to his own dream. At last he stood up slowly and pulled her to her feet, she had her sandals shoved into her pockets, her hair was loose and blowing softly in the wind, and he touched her face with his hand, and then very gently he leaned toward her and kissed her, before walking slowly down the beach with her, and then back to the pier. They said little on the ferry ride home, and she was astonished to realize that in the last few minutes of it she fell asleep with her head on his shoulder. But he was that kind of man. He teased her about it once they were back in the Bentley, and they laughed and joked on the rest of the ride home. An hour after they had stepped off the boat from Fire Island she was in front of her door on East Sixty-third Street, and it was difficult to explain what had happened in the past eight hours. It was just after ten o'clock, and she felt as though she were returning from a magical journey with this extraordinary black-eyed man.

“See you tomorrow, Serena.” He said it very gently, and did not try to kiss her again. She nodded, with a smile, and waved as she unlocked the outside door and disappeared into the building, and as though in a dream she drifted up the stairs.





38

“You should be very pleased.” Her voice was gentle, and his face was very near to hers.