Crossings Read Free Page B

back to Mills, she had less time to help Armand with his dinner parties, but he was on his feet again and fending well for himself, although he still felt Odile's absence sorely, as he confessed to Harrison when they had lunch together at his club.
    “I won't lie to you, Armand.” Harrison looked at him over a glass of Haut-Brion ‘27. “You'll feel it for a long time. Forever. But not in the same way you did at first. You'll feel it in a moment … a remembered word … something she wore … a perfume … But you won't wake up every morning, feeling as though there's a two hundred thousand pound weight on your chest, the way you did at first.” He still remembered it all too clearly as he finished his wine and the waiter poured him a second glass. “Thank God, you'll never feel quite that agony again.”
    “I would have been lost without your daughter.” Armand smiled a gentle smile. There was no way to repay the kindness, to let his friend know how much the child had helped him, or how dear she was to him.
    “She loved you both dearly, Armand. And it helped her get over losing Odile.” He was a wise and canny man, and he sensed something then, even before Armand did, but he said nothing. He had a feeling that neither of them knew how much they needed each other, with or without Odile. Something very powerful had grown between them in the past six months, almost as though they were connected, as though they anticipated each other's needs. He had noticed it when Armand came up to Tahoe for the weekend, but he had said nothing. He knew that his instincts would have frightened them both, especially Armand, who might feel that he had in some way betrayed Odile.
    “Is Liane very excited about the parties?” Armand was amused at Harrison's excitement. He knew that Liane didn't really care a great deal. She was making her debut more to please her father, being well aware of what was expected, and dutiful above all. He liked that about her. She was not dutiful in a blind, stupid way, but because she cared about other people. It was important to her to do the right thing, because she knew how other people felt about it. She would have preferred not have come out at all, yet she knew that her father would have been bitterly disappointed, so she went along with it for him.
    “To tell you the truth”—Harrison sighed and sat back in his seat—“I wouldn't admit it to her, but I think she's outgrown it.” She suddenly seemed much more grown-up than nineteen. She had grown up a great deal in the past year, and she had been called upon to act and think as a woman for so long that it was difficult to imagine her with the giggling girls going to a grand ball for the first time.
    And when the moment came, the truth of her father's words was more evident than ever. The others came out, blushing, nervous, frightened, excited to the point of being shrill, and when Liane sailed out slowly on her father's arm at her ball, she looked nothing less than regal in a white satin dress, her shimmering golden hair caught up in a little basket of woven pearls. She had the bearing of a young queen on her consort's arm, and her blue eyes danced with an inimitable fire as Armand watched her with a stirring in his soul.
    The party Harrison gave for her was the most dazzling party of all. It was held at the Palace on Market Street, with chauffeured limousines pulling up directly to the inner court. Two orchestras had been hired to play all night, and the champagne had been sent from France. Liane wore a white velvet gown, trimmed with white ermine in delicate ropes all around the hem. The gown, like the champagne, had been sent from France.
    “Tonight, my little friend, you look absolutely like a queen.” Liane and Armand circled the room slowly in a waltz. He was there as Harrison's guest. Liane was escorted by the son of one of her father's oldest friends, but she found him stupid and boring and was pleased with the reprieve.
    “I feel a