Part 18 (1/2)

I'll remember that next time. But frankly, I prefer Scotch. She handed it to him, and he grinned. Where's Natasha?

Dressing for dinner and a gallery opening.

And you, Cinderella?

The usual. I'm going out for my walk.

You're not afraid to do that, Isabella? He looked at her with sudden concern.

I'm very careful. She didn't even stroll back on Madison Avenue anymore. It's not very exciting, but it helps. He nodded.

May I join you tonight?

She answered quickly. Sure.

They waited until he had finished his drink and Natasha had left for the evening before they went out. They covered her usual route and a bit more, jogging part of the way and strolling the rest of the way home. She always felt better once she'd done that. As though her body were crying out for exercise and fresh air. It still wasn't enough, but it was better than nothing.

Now I know how those poor little dogs feel, locked up in apartments all day.

I feel that way in my office sometimes.

Yes. She looked at him reproachfully. But you can get out.

He seemed to be thinking about something then as they returned to the apartment, but the boys set upon them quickly, in their pajamas now, with freshly washed hair, and the moment was lost. Isabella watched him with them for half an hour as they wrestled and played. Corbett seemed to be having a good time. He had a lovely way with children, as he did with everyone. But it pleased her to see the children with him. He was their only man. Hattie finally arrived on the scene though and despite frantic protests took them both off to bed.

Do you want to stay for dinner?

I'd love it.

In the kitchen they ate a cozy dinner that Hattie had left for them to serve themselves fried chicken and corn on the cob and dripped b.u.t.ter over their plates. After dinner they wandered to the back of the house and settled down in Natasha's pleasant little den. Isabella put on some music, and Corbett comfortably stretched his long legs.

I'm awfully glad I went to that benefit last week. Do you know I almost didn't go?

Why not?

I thought I'd be bored. He laughed at the thought of it, and Isabella did too.

Were you?

Hardly. And not for an instant since then.

Neither have I. She smiled at him easily and was surprised when he took her hand.

I'm glad. I'm so sorry for what you've been through.

I wish I could change all that. But he couldn't, and he knew it. Not yet.

Life isn't easy sometimes, but as you said, we always survive.

Some do, some don't. But you're a survivor. So am I.

She nodded, agreeing. I think my grandfather taught me that. No matter what happened, what went wrong, he picked himself up and did something better immediately afterwards. Sometimes it took him a little time to catch his breath, but he always managed to do something spectacular. I admire that.

You're a great deal like him, he said, and she smiled her thanks. Why did he finally sell the business?

He was eighty-three and tired and old. My grandmother was dead, and my mother had no interest in the business. I was the only one left. And I was too young. I couldn't have run Parel then. Though I could now. Sometimes I dream of buying it back and merging it with San Gregorio.

Why haven't you?

Amadeo and Bernardo always insisted that it didn't make sense.

Does it? To you?

Maybe. I haven't totally ruled it out.

Then maybe one day you'll buy it.

Maybe. One thing's for sure: I'll never sell out what I have. She was referring to San Gregorio.

Was there a question of that? He looked away as he asked her.

Not for me. Never. But my director, Bernardo Franco, keeps trying to push in that direction. He's a b.l.o.o.d.y fool. I'll never sell.

Corbett nodded knowingly. I don't think you should.

One day the business will belong to Alessandro. I owe him that. Again Corbett nodded, and the conversation turned to other things music and travel, the places they had lived as children, and why Corbett had never had a child.

I was afraid I wouldn't have time for one.

And your wife?

I'm not really sure she was the type. In any case she agreed with me, and we never had one, and now it's a little too late.

At forty-two? Don't be absurd. In Italy men much older than you have children all the time.

Then I'll run out and have one immediately. What do I do? Put an ad in the paper?

Isabella smiled at him from the opposite end of the tiny couch. I shouldn't think you'd have to do anything as drastic as that.

He smiled softly. Maybe not. And then, not even knowing how it happened, she saw him draw closer, put his hands on her shoulders. She felt herself drift into his arms. The music was playing in the distance and there was a pounding in her ears as Corbett kissed her and she clung to him as to a life raft in a heavy surf. He kissed her gently and she felt it deeply as she sensed her whole body reach out for him until she pulled away with a little lurch.

Corbett! No! She startled herself but was quickly comforted by the look in his eyes. It was a look of gentle loving from a man she trusted, with whom she felt totally safe. How did that happen? Her eyes were misted with tears of confusion and, perhaps, a touch of joy.

Well, let's see, I slid along the couch here, then I put my hand here' . He was laughing at her kindly, and she couldn't do anything but laugh too.

That was terrible, you shouldn't do that, Amadeo Suddenly she stopped. There was no Amadeo. Quick tears rose to her eyes. But he took her back in his arms and held her close to him as she cried.

No, Isabella, don't. Don't look behind you, darling. Think of what I told you: The pain won't go on forever. This is very, very new.

But he was grateful as he held her that Amadeo had been gone for almost eight months. It was long enough for her to be ready, to at least consider someone else.