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"I had to build some courage."
But she did sit, took the cup. Margo recognized the everyday Doulton her mother had used. How many times had she nagged Ann into teaching her the names, the patterns, of the china and crystal and silver of Templeton House? And how many times had she dreamed about having pretty things of her own?
Now the cup warmed her chilly hands, and that was enough.
"You look wonderful," she told Laura. "I can't believe it's been nearly a year since I saw you in Rome."
They'd had lunch on the terrace of the owner's suite at Templeton Rome, the city spread beneath them lush with spring. And her life, Margo thought, had been as full of promise as the air, as glittery as the sun.
"I've missed you." Laura reached out, gave Margo's hand a quick squeeze. "We all did."
"How are the girls?"
"Wonderful. Growing. Ali loved the dress you sent her for her birthday from Milan."
"I got her thank-you note, and the pictures. They're beautiful children, Laura. They look so much like you. Ali's got your smile, Kayla has your eyes." She drank tea to wash away the lump in her throat. "Sitting here, the way we used to imagine we would, I can't believe it's not all just a dream." She shook her head quickly before Laura could speak, tapped out the cigarette. "How's Peter?"
"He's fine." A shadow flickered into Laura's eyes, but she lowered her lashes. "He had work to finish up, so he's still at the office. I imagine he'll just stay in town because of the storm." Or because he preferred another bed to the one he shared with his wife. "Did Josh find you in Athens?"
Margo tilted her head. "Josh? Was he in Greece?"
"No, I tracked him down in Italy after we heard—when the
news started coming through. He was going to try to clear his schedule and fly out to help."
Margo smiled thinly. "Sending big brother to the rescue, Laura?"
"He's an excellent attorney. When he wants to be. Didn't he find you?"
"I never saw him." Weary, Margo rested her head against the high back of the chair. That dreamlike state remained. It had been barely a week since her life had tilted and poured out all of her dreams. "It all happened so fast. The Greek authorities boarding Alain's yacht, searching it." She winced as she remembered the shock of being roused out of sleep to find a dozen uniformed Greeks on deck, being ordered to dress, being questioned. "They found all that heroin in the hold."
"The papers said they'd had him under observation for over a year."
"That's one of the facts that saved my idiotic ass. All the surveillance, the evidence they'd gathered, indicated that I was clean." Her nerves still grinding, she tapped another cigarette out of her enameled case, lighted it. "He used me, Laura, finagling a booking here where he could pick up the drugs, another there where he could drop them off. I'd just had a shoot in Turkey. Five miserable days. He was rewarding me with a little cruise of the Greek Isles. A pre-honeymoon. That's what he called it," she added, sending out smoke in a stream. "He was smoothing out all the little hitches on his amicable divorce, and we'd be able to come out in the open with our relationship."
She took a steady breath then as Laura patiently listened. Studying the smoke twisting toward the ceiling, she continued. "Of course, there was never going to be a divorce. His wife was perfectly willing to have him sleep with me as long as I was useful and the money kept coming in."
"I'm sorry, Margo."
"I fell for it, that's the worst of it." She shrugged her shoulders, took one last, deep drag, and crushed the cigarette out. "All the most ridiculous cliches." She couldn't hate Alain for that nearly as much as she hated herself. "We had to keep our affair and our plans out of the press until all the details of his divorce settlement could be worked out. On the outside we would be colleagues, business partners, friends. He would manage my career, use all of his contacts to increase the bookings and my fees. And why not? He'd nailed me some solid commercials in France and Italy. He'd finalized the deal with Bella Donna that shot me to the top of the heap."
"I don't suppose your talent or your looks had anything to do with your being chosen as spokeswoman for the Bella Donna line."
Margo smiled. "I might have gotten it on my own. But I'll never know. I wanted that contract so badly. Not just the money, though I certainly wanted that. But the exposure. Christ, Laura, seeing my own face on billboards, having people stop me on the street for my autograph. Knowing I was doing a really good job for a really good product."
"The Bella Donna Woman," Laura murmured, wanting Margo to smile and mean it. "Beautiful. Confident. Dangerous. I was so thrilled when I saw the ad in Vogue. That's Margo, I thought, my Margo, stretched out on that glossy page looking so stunning in white satin."
"Selling face cream."
"Selling beauty," Laura corrected firmly. "And confidence."
"And danger?"
"Dreams. You should be proud of it."
"I was." She let out a long breath. "I was so caught up in it all, so thrilled with myself when we started to hit the American market. And so caught up in Alain, all the promises and plans."
"You believed in him."
