Remembrance (34 page)

“Well, we have what we need here, Serena. What about you? Just how interested in all this are you? Very, a little? Enough to work your tail off? Do you just want a job or do you want a career? Because I want to know now before we waste our time on someone who doesn't give a damn about the job.”

“I care very much about the job.” She sounded sincere and she was, but for Dorothea it wasn't enough.

“Why? Are you in love with this business? Or with yourself?”

“No.” Serena faced her squarely. “I have a little girl.”

“And that's the only reason?”

“It's part of it. This is the only way I know to make a living, and it's a good living. I like the work.” She looked at Dorothea with a sparkle in her eyes. “To tell you the truth, I'm anxious to try my luck in New York.” Her excitement was beginning to show and the older woman smiled.

“You're divorced?”

“I'm a widow, with a small pension from the army. That's it.”

Dorothea looked intrigued. “Korea?” Serena nodded. “What about your family, don't they help?”

“They're all dead.”

“And his?”

Serena began to look unhappy, and Dorothea was quick to pick up on where not to tread. “Never mind. If you say you need it for your little girl, then obviously you need it. I just hope the kid has a big appetite, to keep you wanting to go out and work.” She gave Serena one of her very rare smiles, and then she looked serious again. “What about the title?” She sighed softly. “I did a little research on it, and I gather it's genuine, Serena. How do you feel about using it? Does it go against the grain?”

Serena smiled softly. “Yes, but that doesn't matter. I came here to do something with you. As you put it, for a career, not a job. If that makes a difference”—she almost gulped thinking of her grandmother—”go ahead, use it.”

“It should help us create an image. Princess Serena. ‘The Princess.’” She looked thoughtful for a moment. “I like it. I like it very much. What about you? How does it feel?”

“It sounds a little silly to me now. I've been Serena Fullerton for a long time, and I never really used the title. It seemed more a part of my grandmother.”

“Why?” Dorothea looked at her squarely. “You look like a princess, Serena. Or don't you know that yet?” In truth Serena did not, as Teddy knew only too well. She had no idea how lovely she was, and in a way that was part of her charm. “In any case wait till you start seeing your pictures all over town, you'll know it then. And”—she gnawed at a pencil and then grinned—”since you are a princess, we will ask a royal price. One hundred dollars an hour for Princess Serena. We'll give them the impression that you don't need it, that this is all a lark, and if they want you, they'll have to pay through the nose. A hundred an hour.” Serena was breathless at the thought. A hundred an hour? Would she get any work? “Okay, we'll put your book together for you. You come back tomorrow, Serena. Get plenty of rest, do your hair and nails and face to perfection. Wear something simple and black, and be here at nine thirty. Tomorrow we send you out with your book, and you start work. But I warn you, we're only going to use you for the big jobs, at a hundred dollars an hour, you're going to be bypassing a lot of the less important work. What that means is that you're stepping in at the top, you're in the big leagues, and you're going to have to be perfect. Anything less and they'll laugh both you and me right out of this town.”

“I'll do my very best.” The green eyes were filled with terror, and she felt twenty-seven going on two. “I promise.”

“Don't promise. Just do it.” Dorothea Kerr's eyes hardened as she stood up. “If you don't, princess or no, you'll be canned.” And with that, she turned on her heel and left the room.

36

It was a month later when Margaret Fullerton saw the first ad. A full page in
The New York Times
for a new line of cosmetics. They had done a rush job to get Serena in on the shoot, but it was a sensational picture. Margaret Fullerton had the page folded on her desk the next time Teddy came to dinner. She didn't say anything until coffee was served in the library downstairs, and then gingerly she took the newspaper page off of her desk, touching it as though it might be poisoned.

Her eyes raised slowly to her son's, and she looked at him for a long moment with slowly simmering anger.

“You didn't tell me she was in town. I assume you know?” Her eyes drove into her son's. She knew that he had remained in touch, and that he was excessively fond of Vanessa. Many times he had tried to soften Margaret toward the child, but to no avail, and Margaret was sure that Serena would have let him know she was in New York. “Why didn't you tell me?”

“I didn't think you cared.” It was something of a lie, but his eyes didn't waver.

“The child is here too?”

“Yes.”

“Are they living here?”

“They are.”

And then, with a look of disdain, “As I suspected, the tramp is still incredibly vulgar.”

Teddy looked momentarily stunned. “Mother, how in God's name can you say that? She's not only gorgeous, she's elegant as hell, and aristocratic. Look at that picture.”

“She's nothing but a whore and a model. This, my dear boy, is all artifice, and in an extremely vulgar profession.” But she had noticed with some interest that the line of cosmetics was owned by a company for which she served on the board of directors. “I assume you've seen her.”

“I have.” His heart was pounding with restrained anger. “And I plan to see her again, her and Vanessa, as often as I can. That child is my niece and Serena is my brother's widow.”

“Your brother had eminently regrettable taste in women.”

“Only in the one previous to Serena.” Match point. Pattie had all but destroyed Greg, and he was now an obvious alcoholic. “You know.” He glared down at his mother as he stood up. “I really don't think I want to sit here while you do a hatchet job on Serena.”

“Why? Are you sleeping with her too? Undoubtedly you and half of New York by now.”

“My God!” It was a roar from Teddy. “What do you have against her?”

“Everything. She destroyed my son's career, and indirectly she killed him. Isn't that enough? Your brother is dead because of that woman, Teddy.” But there was no grief in her eyes, only fury and vengeance.

“He was killed by the war in Korea, for chrissake, or doesn't that count? Are you so hellbent on your vendetta that you can't admit the truth? Haven't you done enough to her? If it were up to you, she would have starved after Brad died. She has supported that child for almost four years alone, worked herself to the bone, and you have the nerve to look down on her, and if it's any of your goddamn business, she's still faithful to my brother.”

“How would you know that?” The older woman's eyes narrowed with interest.

But Teddy was beyond wisdom or control. “Because I've been in love with her for years. And do you know what? She won't have me. Because of Brad, and because of you. She doesn't want to come between us. Christ”—he ran a hand through his hair—”I wish she would.”

“Do you? I'm sure it could be arranged. And in the meantime, my boy, I suggest you open your eyes. The reason she won't have you most likely is because she knows I'm too smart for her and she knows there would be no profit in it.”

“Do you think that's why she married Brad?”

“Without a doubt. I'm sure she had every confidence that, if need be, she could overturn our little contract.”

“Then why didn't she try?” His voice was still uncomfortably raised, and his mother looked at him with an expression of annoyance.

“I suppose her lawyers advised her not to.”

“You make me sick.”

“Not nearly as sick as I'll make you if you don't stay away from that woman. She's a cheap little trick, and I won't have her using you the way she used Brad.”

“You don't run my life.”

“Don't be so sure. How do you think you got appointed for training with your fancy surgeon?” He looked at her with horror and almost visibly cringed.

“Did you do that?”

“I did.” For a moment he felt ill, and he made an instantaneous decision to quit the next day, and then knew almost as quickly that he would be giving up the opportunity of a lifetime. For the first time in his life his mother had him by the balls, and he hated her for it.

“You're a despicable woman.”

“No, Theodore.” Her eyes were hard and cool, like highly polished marbles. “I am a powerful and intelligent woman. You'll admit that it makes an interesting combination. And a dangerous one. Keep that in mind, and do stay away from your little friend.”

He stared at her for a moment, bereft of words, and then turned on his heel and left the room. Margaret Fullerton heard the front door slam less than a minute later.

It was not unlike the sound Serena heard the next morning at the agency as she waited outside Dorothea Kerr's office. The door slammed, the walls shook, and suddenly Dorothea stood before her. “Get into my office.” She almost shouted it at Serena, who looked utterly stunned as she followed Dorothea into her office.

“Is something wrong?”

“You tell me. That cosmetics ad you did that ran in
The New York Times
… the ad agency received a call from the parent company, telling them that if they ever used you again they'd lose the account. Now how would you explain that? You seem to have come to New York not with a clean slate but with some old scores to be settled. And frankly I don't want your goddamn wars interfering with my business. Now what the hell is going on?”

Serena looked totally amazed as she sat and stared, and then suddenly the light dawned. “Oh, my God … no …” Her hand flew to her mouth, her eyes filled with tears. “I'm so sorry. I'll resign from the agency at once.”

“The hell you will.” Dorothea looked even angrier. “I have eighteen bookings for you in the next two weeks. Don't play virgin in flight, just tell me what I'm dealing with. Then let me decide whether or not to kick you out. I make the decisions around here, and don't you forget it.” Serena looked awed by the woman's harsh words, but had she looked closer, she would have seen that there was concern in Dorothea's eyes. She was well aware that Serena was more than a little naive, and she had an overwhelming urge to protect her. Despite her brutal ways she had felt that from the first, although she hadn't confided her feelings to Serena. “Okay, start talking, Serena. I want to hear what this is about.”

“I'm not sure I can discuss it.” The tears were pouring slowly down her cheeks in little black mascara-filled rivers.

“You look like hell. Here, use this.” She handed her a box of tissues and Serena blew her nose and took a deep breath as Dorothea poured her a glass of water, and then the tale came out, all of it, from the beginning. Of losing her family in the war, of how she had met Brad and how much she had loved him, the broken engagement to the debutante from New York, and the rage of Brad's mother. She even told her about the contract Margaret had made her sign, and then she told her of Brad's death, and the baby she had lost, and the last three years of working to support Vanessa.

“That's all of it.” She sighed deeply and blew her nose again.

“That's enough.” Dorothea was more than touched by the story —she felt a fury, a call to arms. “She must be an incredibly evil woman.”

“Do you know of her?” Serena looked bleak, there was no way she could defeat Margaret Fullerton. And after five weeks in New York, Serena knew her mother-in-law was already out to get to her. She had been afraid of her when she had decided to come to New York, but she had lulled herself into the false hope that her fears were unfounded.

“I only know her by name. But by God, now I'd like to meet her.”

Serena smiled a small wintry smile. “You'd regret it. She makes Attila the Hun look like a sissy.”

Dorothea looked her new model straight in the eye. “Don't kid yourself, sister, she's just met her match.”

“There's a difference. You're not rotten.” She sat back in her chair, looking exhausted. “The only thing for me to do is quit and go back to San Francisco.”

“If you do”—Dorothea's eyes didn't waver from her face—”I'll sue you. You signed a contract with this agency, and like it or not, I'm going to hold you to it.”

Serena smiled at the older woman's way of protecting her. “You'll lose all your clients if I stay.”

“She doesn't own every major corporation in New York. And as a matter of fact, I want to check out her tie-in with that line of cosmetics.”

“I just don't think—”

“Good. Don't think. You don't need to. Go put on a fresh face, you have a go-see in twenty minutes.”

“Mrs. Kerr, please …”

“Serena.” The head of the agency came around her desk and, without saying another word, put her arms around Serena. “You have had more rough breaks than anyone I've ever heard of. I'm not going to let you down. You need someone to protect you.” Her voice gentled almost to a whisper. “You need a friend, little one, let me at least do that for you.”

“But won't it do your agency harm?” Serena was once again seized with terror.

“It'll do us more harm if you leave, but that's not why I want you to stay. I want you to stick it out, because I want you to beat those bastards. Serena, the only way you'll do that is if you stand your ground. Do it for me … for yourself”—and then she played her trump card—”do it for your husband. Do you really think he'd want you to run away from his mother?”

Serena thought it over before she spoke. “No, he wouldn't.”

“Good. Then let's fight this one out side by side. I'll put the old bitch back in her place, if I have to go and see her myself.” And Serena knew she would.

“Don't do that.”

“Any good reason why not?”

“It'll create an open war.”

“What do you think you've already got? She called a cosmetics company and an ad agency and had you canned. I'd say that's pretty open.” Serena smiled in dismay. “Just leave all that to me. You do your job. I'll do mine. It isn't often I get to fight for someone I like, and I like you.” The two women exchanged a smile.

“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.”