Part 33 (1/2)

”Mine.”

”Do you remember signing this?”

Every month she okayed hundreds of proofs. ”I don't recall,” she said.

Next he pulled out a school photograph. ”Can you, please, identify this person?”

”Yes,” she said. ”That's Nathaniel Fine, our former intern.”

”Did you see Bebe Blake, uh, make s.e.xual advances to Mr. Fine?”

Magnolia stretched her mind back to December. She remembered going into the fas.h.i.+on closet. She recalled hearing a rustle and a con versation between Bebe and Polo. But did she actually see Bebe do anything to him? The fas.h.i.+on closet had been filled with racks of clothing which stood between her and the couple like size-four artillery. Had she simply, based on the conversation she'd overheard, imagined the worst?

”Miss Gold?” the attorney asked.

”I don't recall,” she said-and said again, and again, and again.

”As a decision maker, how would you describe Bebe Blake?”

Wally broke in. ”I object.”

”I'll rephrase. Do you think it's fair to describe Ms. Blake as unpre dictable?”

Magnolia thought it over. ”Yes.”

”Did Ms. Blake have a clear vision for her magazine?”

Magnolia ruminated and shook her head. ”No.”

”Did the staff like Ms. Blake?”

Did some of the staff like Bebe? Probably, considering how Ameri cans devoured celebrity gossip as if it were hot-b.u.t.tered popcorn. ”I honestly don't know,” she finally answered. The questions bombarded her until she wanted to crawl under the nineteenth-century confer ence room table. The next time she had insomnia, she would recon struct this legal snooze.

”Thank you, Ms. Gold,” the attorney said. ”That will be all. I appreciate your help.” James Skyler, Esq., smiled coolly at Magnolia as he put down his pen and legal pad. She and Wally walked to the street and his waiting car.

”You did good,” he said.

”Really?” She sighed. ”Scary won't call me as a witness, will they?”

Wally threw his arms up in the air, then caught his crutches before they fell. ”Don't think about it,” he said. ”Compartmentalize.”

”I can't,” Magnolia said as the two of them started driving uptown.

”My mind is a big, open loft, which is currently a mess.” She turned to look at Wally. ”Will you come to the trial-for moral support?”

”C'mon, you'll be fine,” he said. ”Bebe's lawyer will try to get you to admit Jock attempted to cramp her style, usurp her good name, force a different editor on her, and make her life unadulterated h.e.l.l.

You decide if it's true or not. I don't need to be your little pit bull.”

”You do!” Magnolia said.

”Okay, Mags. Then you and I are breaking up before the Mrs.

changes the locks.”

Chapter 3 9.

Guts and Roses.

”You must be Magnolia,” said a tall, thin man with black hair curling over his collar. He kissed her on both cheeks.

”Abbey was right. You are beautiful.”

”Thank you,” Magnolia said, standing in Abbey's foyer. ”Abbey for got to mention your eyes. Not many of us have green eyes.” His were like olives, lightly flecked with caramel. If you took his face apart, feature by feature, you wouldn't expect it to be rea.s.sembled in such a handsome fas.h.i.+on. His nose was long. Under his eyes were slight shadows, faintly lavender, like matching bruises. But it all worked, especially the smile, which fanned a delicate web of early lines toward each silver-laced temple.

”When the Moors invaded France, they left behind green eyes,” he said. ”In Brazil, with all their mixed bloodlines, green eyes exist in the most exotic medleys of skin and hair. Green eyes come when opposites attract.” His accent was heavy, and his voice low. ”Daniel Cohen,” he said. ”I am so happy we finally meet.”

”I see you've found each other,” Abbey said, linking her arm through both his and Magnolia's. Next to Daniel, she looked even more fragile than usual. She wore a white lace minidress, its high neck pinned with a garnet and diamond b.u.mblebee Magnolia had never seen.

”From Daniel,” Abbey said, touching the brooch. ”His great grandmother's.”

”Because Abbey reminds me of a bee-small, busy, making sweet ness and beauty wherever she lands.”

If an American man had said this, Magnolia would have wanted to stick a finger down her throat. From Daniel, the sentiment sounded poetic.

”The dress suits you, Magnolia,” Daniel said.

”I knew it would,” Abbey added. ”I found it in the Paris flea mar ket and wanted you to have it for tonight.”

That morning a messenger had delivered a large, white box tied with a silky bow and filled with layers of chartreuse tissue paper.

Magnolia pulled out a chocolate brown velvet dress, cut deep at the decollete, which was frosted with lace and beads. The skirt, layered with rows of small, horizontal ruffles, was longer than Magnolia's usual length. ”For tonight-with your spiky, brown boots,” the note from Abbey commanded. It was a dress that Magnolia would have never tried on in a store. She was fairly sure it made her resemble a poodle, especially because Abbey had requested she wear her hair, which hadn't been cut in three months, loose and curly.

”You don't think I'm old for ruffles? I'm feeling like I escaped from the Moulin Rouge.”

”You can bring it off,” Abbey said.

When she had tried on the dress, Magnolia wondered if perhaps tonight would be some kind of covert costume ball and everyone would be similarly coiffed and clothed. That, however, was not the case. The rest of the crowd-which, when she arrived, already over flowed Abbey's foyer, dining room, and living room and stood deep in the hall leading to her bedroom and library-wore the usual black and charcoal wools of a Manhattan Sunday night in March.

Servers in tuxedos circulated with trays bearing white roses-her favorite flower-and tuna tartare; flaky, Brie-filled biscuits; and roasted red peppers and chevre on tiny baguettes. In the corner of the living room, a pianist played jazz, and the piano sounded-for the first time ever-perfectly in tune. Abbey had put in all three leaves of her dining room table and set it with an old-world damask cloth, tall white tapers in mismatched sterling silver holders, and her usual garden of flowered Limoge. For a centerpiece, hundreds of ranuncu lus and lilies of the valley were packed tight with miniature white roses in an ornate silver ice bucket.

”How did you pull off this party so quickly?” Magnolia asked when Daniel rushed over to greet a handsome older couple and a woman about Magnolia's age, all regal and slim.

”It's amazing how freedom can kick-start your engine,” Abbey said.

”Turns out, our divorce was about the only thing Tommy and I agreed on. He met someone else, and wanted to move fast. Let me keep everything. The minute the paperwork was signed, I felt I could fly.”