Part 12 (1/2)

You like snow? Isabella looked at her in surprise.

No. But it would keep you at home, without me having to run my a.s.s off just to make sure you don't get out of line.

Isabella laughed at her, and they walked on, past blocks of boutiques that housed delights from Cardin, Ungaro, Pierre D'Alby, and Yves Saint Laurent. There were art galleries and coiffures by Sa.s.soon.

Checking out the compet.i.tion? Natasha watched her, amused. Isabella was drinking it all in, her eyes sparkling with pleasure. She was a woman who loved every facet of her work.

Why not? Their things are very pretty.

So are yours.

Isabella executed a half bow as they strolled on. It was the Faubourg St.-Honor+! of New York, a s.h.i.+mmering necklace of bright, priceless gems, strung together, enhancing each other, a myriad of treasures hidden in each block.

You really love it, don't you?

What, New York? Isabella looked surprised. She liked it. It intrigued her. But love ' no ' not yet. Even after her year there she had been glad to go back to Rome.

No. Fas.h.i.+on. Something happens to you, just looking at clothes.

Aahhh ' that.

Christ, I'd have gone nuts if I'd had to go on modeling.

That's different. Isabella looked at her wisely, the keeper of secrets rarely bestowed.

No, it's not.

Yes it is. Modeling is like a lifetime of one-night stands. There are no love affairs, no tender lovers, no betrayals, no broken hearts, no marriages, or precious offspring. Designing is different. There is history, drama, courage, art. You love the clothes, you live with them for a while, you give birth to them, you remember their fathers, their grandfathers, the dresses of other collections, other times. There is a romance to it, an excitement, an ' She broke off, then laughed at herself. You must think I'm mad.

No. That's how I feel about the people in my books.

Nice, isn't it? The two women looked at each other in perfect understanding.

Very.

They were almost home. As they rounded the corner onto Park Avenue Natasha felt the first flakes of snow.

See, I told you. Not that I suppose that will keep you at home. But there was no harm in this. They could walk like this in the evening. It hadn't been risky after all.

No, it won't. I couldn't have stayed in the apartment. Not for very long.

Natasha nodded quietly. I know.

She also knew that Isabella would not be satisfied forever with a brief evening stroll.

Chapter FIFTEEN.

Mamma! Guardi! ' It snowed!

And indeed it had. A foot-deep blanket covered the entire surface of New York. And from the cozy warmth of the apartment all four of them watched the swirling storm. It hadn't stopped since Natasha and Isabella had returned to the apartment the evening before.

Can we go play in it?

Isabella glanced at Natasha, who nodded and offered to lend them the appropriate clothes. School was of course closed. The city had come to a complete stop.

We'll go after breakfast. Isabella glanced at her watch. And after she called Bernardo in Rome. She had reached Hong Kong too late the previous evening and she hadn't dared call him that night. She absented herself from the boys quickly, closed the door to her office, and picked up the phone.

Where were you last night? I figured you'd call me around four.

How charming. My manners are not as bad as that, Bernardo. That is why I waited till this morning.

Kindly signora.

Oh, shut up. She was smiling, and in a good mood. The Hong Kong fabric is hopeless. We'll have to go with the alternate plans.

What alternate plans? He sounded baffled.

Mine of course. Did you tell Gabriela to hold everything?

Obviously. That's what you wanted. I practically had to pick her up from a dead faint on the floor.

Then you should thank me. In any case I worked out everything yesterday. Now, do you have pen and paper?

Yes, madame.

Good. I've got it all worked out. First the couture collection, then we'll do the rest. Starting with number twelve, the red lining is now yellow. The fabric number in our storeroom is two-seven-eight-three FBY ' Fabia-Bernardo-Yvonne. Got that? Number sixteen, seventeen, and nineteen ' On she went until she had covered the entire line. Even Bernardo was stunned.

How in G.o.d's name did you do that?

With difficulty. By the way, the additional pieces in the ready-to-wear collection won't cost that much more. By using fabric we've got in stock, we're saving a h.e.l.l of a lot of money.

Indeed they were, Bernardo thought with admiration. And she had spelled out every single b.l.o.o.d.y fabric. She knew every piece, every roll, the yardage available, the textures, the shades.

And if thirty-seven in the couture line looks awful, tell her to skip it, Isabella continued. We probably ought to just forget it and only leave it in as number thirty-six in the blue.

Which one is that? He was overwhelmed. In a day she had done the work of a month. In one morning she had salvaged the entire summer line. Only in speaking to Gabriela again the previous evening had he realized how potentially disastrous the absence of the fabric from Hong Kong could have been.

Never mind which one that is. Gabriela will know. What else is new?

Today, nothing. Everything's quiet on the home front.

How nice for you. In that case I'm taking a vacation today.

You're going out? He sounded horrified.