Indiscretions - Elizabeth Adler [136]
“She’s getting an enormous ready-made family,” commented Paris as India and Aldo cut their wedding cake. “I always thought India was the one who missed not having a family most. You had the Lancasters and I—well, I’ve always been a loner.”
Isolated for a moment in the middle of the crowd, the sisters remembered their mother.
“Poor Jenny,” sighed Venetia. “How she would have loved all this.”
“She should have been here to see India married.” Paris’s face tightened with remembered anger. “I still believe that something was wrong about it all, you know.”
“It’s odd you should say that. I told Fitz McBain what had happened and he felt the same way, just that it wasn’t right. He even said that he would look into it for us. He had people in Los Angeles who could find out things. I’m not sure what he intended to do, or what he expected to find, but …” Vennie shrugged away the memory quickly. “Anyway, this isn’t the place to be talking about such things. We should be enjoying India’s day. Oh, look out, here come some more cousins bearing champagne. …”
India and Aldo were to spend their honeymoon at the palazzo, the first people to use the grand yellow suite that had been hastily finished for them. The Contessa, tactfully, was to spend some time with her relatives in Florence, leaving the young couple alone to enjoy their privacy.
“I should have hated to go away and miss all the fun,” confided India as Paris helped her out of her bridal gown later. Vennie had slipped off her shoes and was sprawled on India’s bed, listening. “There are the fireworks and then there’ll be dancing in the village square. Oh, it’s all so perfect—I just wish you two could be as happy as I am.” She turned to Venetia. “Vennie, what’s all this about Fitz McBain?”
Venetia sat up, blushing, “Oh, that’s all over—at least I suppose it is.”
“Oh, really?” India’s tone expressed disbelief. “Then why’re you going back to the Fiesta?”
“I was here anyway, in the Mediterranean, and it was easy somehow.”
“Yeah?” India sat beside Vennie on the bed. “How about some advice from an old married woman? Just think what Jenny would have done in the same situation. It’s the advice Paris gave me. Remember, Paris? And it worked! Vennie, don’t hang around in limbo wondering whether the guy loves you. Think what Jenny would have done—and do it.”
“It’s all so complicated, though….”
“Why? Because of Morgan? Come on, Vennie, think things through—if it weren’t for Morgan, would there be any obstacle between you and Fitz?”
“He’s already told me to forget him, but I’m not sure if it’s only because of Morgan.”
“Well? Why not find out?” India glanced at her watch. “I must get changed. Aldo will be waiting for me.”
Swept back once more into the circle of India’s happy enthusiasm, Vennie had no time to think about what had been said until the next morning as she waited with Paris for her flight to Nice.
“I’m not like Jenny,” she confessed. “I can’t just go up to a man and ask him if he loves me. What if he said no? And he might. I might have been just a passing fancy, a pretty girl on a warm tropical night.”
“It’s up to you, Vennie. It’s your life.”
Paris was very quiet this morning. She was returning to her lonely life in her studio, thought Venetia, and here I am, selfishly worrying only about my own problems.
“What will you do now?” she asked.
Paris shrugged. “I can’t bear to go back to modeling. Anyway, after all those good Italian meals I’d be no use to Mitsoko—he wants his girls to be all bone. I have a few ideas for resort wear. I thought I might make some things and try to sell them to the boutiques in St. Tropez and Monte Carlo. You know, quick, fun, sporty things. It’s a long way from couture, but I’ve changed, Vennie. I’m willing to start at the bottom now. Anything, just to get a foot through the fashion door.”
“Don’t think of it as the bottom—think of it as a beginning,” said Vennie