Summer's Awakening (45 page)

'What causes the star in a star sapphire?' she asked him.

'Microscopic tubes as fine as hairs. Most stars have four or six points, but occasionally one sees a twelve-point star. A cat's eye is a similar effect, but with one ray of light crossing the stone. A yellowish green chrysoberyl with a good cat's eye effect is amazingly like a real cat's eye.'

'Although I know it's fashionable, I've never been crazy about tiger's eye. Do you like it?' she asked him.

'Not too much. There's a blue variety called hawk's eye which you might like better. As soon as we get on the train I want to see what you've got there.' He tapped the portfolio she had brought with her.

'I hope you won't be disappointed. I'm not sure the kind of jewels I should like to wear are what other women would like. Also, I don't know nearly enough about the technical side. I've been reading about the "trembling" ornaments which were fashionable in the last century, and I've done two designs which should tremble. But they may not be workable.'

It wasn't long before they were comfortably ensconced in the train and Raoul was studying her careful pen-and-wash drawings. She knew her ideas were completely different from the flower motifs of much conventional jewellery or the abstract shapes of more avant-garde designs.

Much of her inspiration came from shapes she had admired at Cranmere, such as the broken pediment on an eighteenth-century bookcase which she had translated into a necklace and bracelet. Several designs were for pieces which had more than one function; a necklace which unclipped to form two slim bracelets or one thick one; ear-rings which doubled as clips; pearls which could be worn as a triple strand or a single long rope.

She waited in silence while he went slowly through the folder. She wished she knew what he was thinking. Perhaps he was bracing himself for the unpleasant task of telling her the designs were no good.

At last he looked up, a slow smile spreading from his eyes to his mouth.

He said, 'Have you heard of the French sculptor, Auguste Rodin?'

'Of course. He sculpted that lovely statue, The Kiss.'

Raoul nodded. 'Rodin said,
I invent nothing. I rediscover.
This is what you've done. You've taken ideas from the architecture of ancient Greece and applied them in a new way. Also I think your multi-purpose designs are very good for the young career-women who want a few pieces of good jewellery to help project a successful image. Memorable jewels are fine for very rich women; the widows, wives or girl-friends of millionaires. But a career-girl needs jewels which can be worn many times like a classic silk shirt or a wool blazer.'

As he had in the taxi, he reached out and took her hand in his.

'It's a failing of most young designers to create for grand occasions only,' he told her. 'Everyday life doesn't inspire them. You've struck a balance between the exquisite flights of fancy and the more practical pieces. That's good. I'm pleased.'

'I'm so glad.' She squeezed his hand in an unself-conscious expression of relief and elation. 'I was afraid you'd think them hopeless.'

'Au contraire,
they're better than I expected—and my expectations were high. It'll take a little time to set up a promotion, but by next fall we should be ready to launch you. Do you want to use your real name or a
nom de guerre?'

'I don't know. I haven't given it any thought.'

'Why not use your first name on its own? It's sufficiently unusual to stick in people's minds. That way you won't have to change your name when you get married, or continue to use your maiden name. That can be a problem in Europe although here women often add their husband's name to their own... Summer Roberts Rockefeller, or whatever it might be.'

Their hands were still linked but just then the guard came by to check their tickets and Raoul, who had insisted on buying her ticket for her, had to take out his billfold.

After the interruption, he said, 'I think
Summer for Santerre
would look good in our advertisements. How does it strike you?'

'Like a pipe-dream which, by some miracle, seems to be coming true,' she answered, smiling. 'If, three years ago, a fortune-teller had predicted that today I'd be living in America and going away for the weekend with a top New York jeweller who was going to use my designs, I'd have dismissed it as nonsense.

A man walking past overheard this and turned to look at them in a way which made her realise the ambiguity of her remark.

'You realise he is putting the worst possible construction on that,' said Raoul, with a teasing glance. His expression changed. 'For my part, I'd be very happy if we were going to be
à
deux
this weekend. But I think if I'd suggested that, you wouldn't have accepted the invitation.'

She turned to glance out of the window for a few moments. Then she looked at him again, and said, 'No, you're right... I shouldn't. For several reasons. For one thing it would have involved either having to tell Emily lies, or not setting the kind of example I want to set her. You can't advise your pupil against something and then go ahead and do it yourself. It's like telling your children not to smoke with a cigarette in your mouth.'

'And the other reasons?' he enquired.

'I don't think people who have any kind of working relationship can be... more than friends. Do you?'

'It can complicate life,' he agreed. 'You said "several" reasons. Is there another?

She nodded, a little reluctant to admit to this one, yet confident that Raoul would never take pleasure in deriding her as James did.

'I know it must seem strange, at my age, but there are reasons why... why I've never had a lover,' she told him. 'I guess the longer you postpone it, the more momentous it becomes. Now I'd just as soon wait for my husband. I know it's incredibly old-fashioned.'

He said quietly, 'I don't think so. The permissive society is played out. It's had a long run and now the pendulum's swinging in the other direction, as it always has throughout history. Can I ask you why you've never had a lover? Any girl with your looks must have had to resist one hell of a lot of persuasion.'

She debated telling him the truth, but instinct told her that no one ever liked to be disillusioned.

She said. 'Not really. I'd no sooner started college than I had to go home and nurse my aunt. After she died I was cut off from the world by my job as Emily's tutor. It's not hard to resist temptation when it doesn't come your way.'

He looked at her thoughtfully for a moment. 'You haven't mentioned the basic reason for saying no if I'd asked you to spend the weekend alone with me.'

'The basic reason?'

'That you didn't like me well enough.'

'I like you very much, Raoul; and one of the reasons I like you is that you don't... rush your fences.'

They smiled at each other. Then he turned back to the first drawing in the portfolio and began to discuss each design with her.

His house on the outskirts of Old Lyme was an early eighteenth-century clapboard saltbox, simply, even sparsely furnished and in total contrast to the designer-decorated perfection of his apartment in the city.

'The Sinclairs won't be here till later. Andrew flies everywhere in his own plane. They'll be landing at Groton-New London airport and picking up a rental car,' he explained.

'What part of Canada are they coming from?'

'Toronto. He's a vice-president of an international automobile corporation which might make him sound dull. He's not. Nancy used to be a model. Now she has a boutique in Yorkville which is Toronto's most sophisticated shopping area. When she hears about the belt and wrist-band you made for my sister, she'll want you to design for her. She specialises in unusual clothes and accessories, a lot of them imported from Europe.'

It was around six o'clock when the Sinclairs arrived in a Hertz car. Within an hour Summer felt as if she had known them for years.

Nancy, six feet tall, with the long bones and languid movements of a giraffe, made Summer feel almost petite by comparison. She had a cloud of dark hair with a white streak growing from her forehead. Whether this
m
è
che blanche
was natural or put in for dramatic effect, it was difficult to judge. She was probably in her late thirties and her husband was some years older, possibly forty-five. They were already casually dressed for a country weekend when they arrived, and Andrew looked more like a farmer or rancher than a top-level corporation man.

Raoul had arranged for them to dine at one of the best restaurants in New England, the Copper Beech Inn at Ivoryton.

'The name of the town comes from the industry which a family called Comstock set up. A lot of the ivory keys for pianos and organs were made there,' he explained, as they drove across the Baldwin Bridge to the west bank of the river. 'The Copper Beech was originally the Comstocks' mansion. I'm told that before it was turned into an inn, it was in such a terrible state that the fire department were going to burn it down for practice. Now the food they serve is so good you have to reserve a table a long time ahead, especially at weekends.'

'Didn't Katharine Hepburn start her career at the Ivoryton Playhouse?' said Nancy.

'I believe so. Her family had a summer place at Fenwick which is on this side of the river, down by Long Island Sound.'

'She was always one of my idols,' said Nancy. That incredible voice and those cheekbones. You have them, too,' she told Summer. 'I wish I did. In my modelling days I could make up to look like I had them for the camera, but it took a lot of what my husband calls "plaster" to achieve that effect.'

Remembering the time when her cheekbones and most of her other bones had been invisible, Summer hoped that tonight she would be able to choose what to eat. Last night's dinner at the Pierre followed by three more nights of gourmet eating could do a lot of damage to her figure. If she wanted to stay a size eight, next week she would have to counterbalance this weekend with a few days on programme.

As they drove through Essex with its handsome houses and tall trees she could understand Raoul's liking
for
all these unspoilt river towns. Like Nantucket and Cranmere, they had the serenity of places which had a long history and where many people who lived there had
known
each other all their lives,
and
their parents and grandparents before them.

'Do you live in Toronto or outside it?' she asked Nancy.

'A few minutes' walk from Bloor Street which is the equivalent of midtown Fifth Avenue or Regent Street in London,' Nancy told her. 'But even though Toronto is a big city, somehow it has a nice friendly feeling about it. I wouldn't ever travel by subway in New York. It's dirty and I don't feel safe down there. In Toronto visitors are always amazed at how clean our subway is... the whole city, for that matter. We love living there but I think it may not be long before Andrew has to move to Detroit. Before that happens, Raoul must bring you to stay with us.'

This last remark made Summer wonder if Nancy was under the impression that she was his girl-friend.

She said, 'That's very nice of you. I'd love to see Toronto, but unfortunately I'm not a free agent. I think my pupil's uncle is planning to send us to Switzerland before long.'

'Oh, yes, you work for the man behind Oz, don't you? What's he like?'

'Very nice,' said Summer, making a private joke.

In the sense in which nice was usually used—which was how Nancy would take it—there could scarcely be a less appropriate term to describe the man who employed her. But the true definition of nice was exacting and discriminating, and those were attributes which did apply to him, but Summer didn't feel inclined to give Nancy a more detailed assessment of his character. Apart from the loyalty she owed him as his employee, the ninth Marquess of Cranmere, as James had been for a brief time, was not an easy person to describe.

Charming, when he chose to be. Crushingly sarcastic when he didn't. Sometimes friendly, sometimes withdrawn, the man was a mass of contradictions; an enigma she had yet to solve and perhaps never would.

They dined in the Inn's dark-panelled Comstock Room, making their choices from a menu of interesting dishes which proved to be as good although considerably less expensive than those the best restaurants of New York and Toronto had to offer. The two men decided to begin with baby trout in a mustard sauce followed by Beef Wellington. Summer settled for watercress soup and turbot with shrimps, a choice which made Nancy say, 'I'll go along with that.'

While the men were discussing the wine list, she added, 'Andrew is a gourmet but I'm not crazy about rich food, and especially not anything sweet. I could live for a week on grapefruit and cottage cheese. All my customers are on reducing diets and I have trouble keeping my weight up. Do you have the same problem?'

Summer said, 'Not really. My weight stays pretty constant. But, like you, I haven't a sweet tooth.' Not any more, she added mentally.

She hadn't been slender for long enough not to get a boost from being taken for a naturally slim person.

During dinner the conversation was general, but when they returned to the house the two men fell to talking about America's foreign policy and after a while Nancy turned to Summer and said, 'I have to confess that politics bore me. Could I look at the jewellery designs you've done for Raoul'—he had mentioned them during dinner—'or are they strictly under wraps?'