Jewels (54 page)

Isabelle looked at her oddly then. There was something she wanted very much. Not as much as a divorce, or a child, but at least it would give her life some meaning. She had been thinking of it for a long time, but given die estrangement between them, she felt she couldn’t ask her.

“I’d like a store,” she whispered, and Sarah looked surprised.

“What kind of store?” Sarah imagined she meant some kind of boutique. But she didn’t.

“Whitfield’s.” She was absolutely certain.

“In Rome?” Sarah had never even thought of it. The Italians had Buccellati and Bulgari. She had never even considered opening in Rome, but it was certainly an intriguing idea, although Isabelle was a little young to run it. “It’s an interesting idea. But are you sure?”

“Absolutely.”

“What if you succeed in divorcing him, or you simply decide to leave, divorced or not, then what do we do?”

“I won’t. I like Italy. It’s Lorenzo, and my life with him, that I hate. But it’s wonderful there.” Her face lit up for the first time. “I have terrific friends, and the women are so chic, they wear tons of great jewelry. Mother, it would be a huge success, I promise.” Sarah couldn’t disagree with what she said about the Italian women, anyway, but it was a new idea to her, and she had to digest it.

“Let me think about it. And you think about it too. Don’t enter into this hastily. It’s an enormous amount of work, and a tremendous commitment. You’ll work very hard, endless hours. There’s more to this than dressing up. Talk to Emanuelle … talk to Julian…. You have to be very sure before you do this.”

“It’s all I’ve wanted for the last year, I just didn’t know how to ask you.”

“Well, you have.” Sarah smiled at her. “Now let me think about it, and talk to your brothers.” And then she grew serious again. “And let me think about how I can help you with Lorenzo.”

“You can’t,” Isabelle said sadly.

“You never know.” In her heart of hearts, Sarah suspected that all it would take was money. In the right way, at the right time. She just hoped the moment would come soon, so Isabelle didn’t have to be married to him for much longer.

They sat and talked for another hour and then walked slowly back to the store arm in arm. It warmed Sarah’s heart to feel close to her again, she hadn’t in years, not since she was in her teens and losing her had been so painful. In its own way, it had been almost as sad as losing Lizzie, because in many ways, Isabelle had been dead to her. But she was back now, and Sarah’s heart felt lighter.

Isabelle left her outside the shop, and went to have tea with an old friend, a girl she had gone to school with who was just getting married. Isabelle envied her her innocence. How nice it would have been to start over. But she knew there was no hope of that for her. Her life, empty as it was, would end with Lorenzo. At least if her mother let her open the store, it would give her something to do, and she could concentrate on that, instead of sitting at home and hating him, and crying every time she saw a baby, as she thought of the babies she would never have. She could have lived without children if she loved him, or without his love if she had a child to console her, but to have neither was a double punishment, and sometimes she wondered what she’d done to deserve this.

“She’s too young,” Phillip said absolutely when Sarah called him. She had already discussed it with Julian and he thought it was an intriguing idea. He liked some of the old Buccellati things, and many of the new designs young Italian designers were doing. He thought they could do something very exciting in Rome, different from both Paris and London, each of which had their own style, and their own clients. London had the Queen and the old guard, and Paris had the flash and the dash, the chic and the very rich, and the nouveau riche. And Rome would have all the greedy stylish Italians who devoured jewelry.

“We could get someone to help her run it, that’s not important.” Sarah brushed his objections aside. “The real question is if Rome is the right market.”

“I think it is,” Julian said quietly, on the same call with them.

“I think you don’t know what you’re talking about, as usual,” Phillip snapped, and Sarah’s heart ached. He always did that. Julian was everything he wanted to be, and everything he wasn’t. Handsome, charming, young, adored by everyone, and particularly by women. Phillip had become increasingly stuffy over the years, so much so that he almost seemed to dry up, and instead of being sensual, he was sneaky. He was forty years old, and much to her chagrin, Sarah thought he looked more like fifty. Being married to Cecily hadn’t helped anything, but it had been his choice, and she was still the kind of wife he wanted, respectable, dull, well-bred, and usually absent. She spent most of her time in the country with her horses. And she had just recently bought a horse farm in Ireland.

“I think we should get together on this,” Sarah said matter-of-factly. “Can you and Nigel come here, or do you want us to come to London?”

In the end, they decided that it was simpler if Nigel and Phillip came to Paris. Isabelle and Lorenzo were gone by then, and the five of them argued for three days, but in the end, Emanuelle won. She pointed out that if William and Sarah hadn’t been courageous enough to try something new and different, and almost outrageous then, there would be no Whitfield’s. And that if they didn’t continue to grow and expand, one day there wouldn’t be again. They were entering the eighties, an era of expansion. She felt they had to look to Rome, maybe even Germany. New York … the world did not begin and end in London and Paris.

“Point well taken,” Nigel said. He was looking well these days, distinguished as he always had, and Sarah dreaded thinking that he would retire one day. By then, he was in his late sixties. But unlike her son, Nigel was still thinking ahead, reaching out into the world, trying out new ideas, and daring to move forward.

“I think she’s right,” Julian added. “We can’t just sit here being self-satisfied. That’s the surest way to kill the business. Actually, I think we should have thought of this long ago, without Isabelle. This is just very good timing.”

By nightfall they had agreed, although Phillip only grudgingly. He thought another branch somewhere in England made more sense than Rome, which all of the others vetoed. Somehow he never really believed that there was any other place worth a damn, except England

Sarah called Isabelle herself that night, and gave her the news, and you would have thought she had given her the moon. The poor child was starving, for life, for love, for direction, for affection. Sarah promised to come to see her the following week, to discuss their plans. And when she did, she was intrigued that for the entire five days of her stay, she never saw Lorenzo.

“Where is he?” Sarah finally dared to ask.

“In Sardinia with friends. I hear he has a new mistress.”

“How nice for him,” Sarah said tartly, suddenly remembering Freddie coming across the lawn at their anniversary party with his hookers. She told Isabelle about it for the first time, and her daughter stared at her in amazement.

“I always knew you were divorced. But I never really knew why. I don’t think I ever thought of it when I was growing up. I never thought that you could make a mistake or be unhappy….” Or be married to a man who would bring prostitutes to her parents’ home. Even forty years later it was quite a story.

“Anyone can make a mistake. I made a big one. So did you. But eventually, I got out of it, with my father’s help. And I met your father. You’ll meet someone wonderful one day too. Wait.” She kissed her gently on the cheek and went back to the Excelsior, where she was staying.

For the next year they worked frantically on the space they rented on the Via Condotti. It was larger than the two other stores, and extremely glamorous. It was a real showplace, and Isabelle was so excited, she could hardly stand it. It was almost like having a baby, she said to friends. It was all she could eat, think, drink, talk about, and she didn’t even care anymore that she never saw Enzo. He made fun of it, and told her she was going to fall flat on her face. But he hadn’t reckoned with Sarah.

She hired a PR firm to woo the Italian press, she had Isabelle give parties, get involved in Roman society in countless ways she had never thought of. She gave to charities, gave lunches, and attended important events in Rome, Florence, Milan. Suddenly Lady Isabelle Whitfield, the Principessa di San Tebaldi, became one of the most sought-after people in Rome. And by the time they were ready to open, even her husband was paying attention. He was telling his friends about the store, talking about the fabulous jewels he was selecting himself, and the people who had already bought from him. Isabelle heard the tales, but she paid no attention. She was too busy working night and day, checking plans, talking to architects, hiring staff. Emanuelle had come to Rome for the last two months to help her, and they had hired a capable young man, a son of an old friend of hers who had worked for Bulgari for the last four years in a position of importance. They stole him easily, and he was going to help Isabelle run it. He couldn’t believe his good fortune, and he was in awe of her, but in a short time they became good friends, and Isabelle liked him. He was smart, he was good, he was nice, and he had a great sense of humor. He also had a wife and four children. His name was Marcello Scuri.

The opening party they gave was the hit of Rome, and absolutely
everyone
in Italy was there, and several of their loyal customers from London and Paris. People came from Venice, Florence, Milan, Naples, Turin, Bologna, Perugia. They came from all over the country. Her year of carefully laid groundwork had paid off, and Sarah’s foresight had been brilliant. Even Phillip had to grudgingly admit that it was a fabulous store, and Nigel said when he saw it that if he died at that exact moment, he would die happy. It was so totally perfect for Rome, the jewelry so beautiful and so stunning, the perfect mix of old and new, showy and discreet, merely expensive and truly astounding. Isabelle was thrilled with the success of it, and so was her mother.

The young director, Marcello, did a splendid job, and so did Isabelle. Emanuelle was very proud of both of them. And both of Isabelle’s brothers praised her for her excellent results. She had done a wonderful job. And three days later when they left her to return to their own stores, the shop was off and running.

Emanuelle had already gone back the day before, to deal with a minor crisis in the Paris store. There had been a break-in, but miraculously, due to the remarkable security system of bulletproof glass and locking doors, nothing was taken. But Emanuelle had felt she should be there to bolster everyone’s spirits. The staff at the store had been pretty shaken. Protecting their stores from theft was becoming more and more complicated. But so far, in both of their shops, they had excellent security, and had been very lucky.

Sarah was still thinking of how well the opening in Rome had gone as she and Julian boarded the plane to Paris. She asked him if he’d had a good time, and he said he had. She had seen him talking to a very pretty young principessa early on, and later a well-known Valentino model. The women in Rome were certainly beautiful, but she’d had the feeling for a while that Julian was slowing down. He was about to turn thirty, and there were times when Sarah suspected that he was actually behaving. He had been quite wild for a while, but according to what she read about him in the newspapers, not lately. And as they prepared to land at Orly, he explained why.

“Do you remember Yvonne Charles?” he asked innocently and Sarah shook her head. They had been talking about business a moment before, and she couldn’t remember if the woman he mentioned was a client.

“Only the name. Why? Have I met her?”

“She’s an actress. You met her at the anniversary party last year.”

“Along with perhaps a thousand other people. At least I know I’m not slipping.” But then suddenly she did remember her, not from the party, but from something she’d read in the papers. “Didn’t she have a very scandalous divorce a few years ago … and then marry again later? Seems to me I read something about her…. Why?”

He looked very uncomfortable for a moment as the plane came in for a landing. It was unfortunate his mother still had such a good memory. But at sixty-four she was as sharp as she had ever been, as strong, and in a softer way, just as pretty. He was crazy about her, but there were times when he wished she didn’t pay such close attention to details.

“Something like that …” he answered vaguely. “Actually, she’s getting divorced again right now. I met her between two marriages”—or possibly during, knowing him—“and we just ran into each other again a few months ago.”

“What good timing.” Sarah smiled at him, sometimes he still seemed so young to her. They all did. “How lucky for you.”

“Yes, it is” There was something in his eyes suddenly that scared her. “She’s a very special girl.”

“She must be, with two marriages under her belt already. How old is she?”

“Twenty-four. But she’s very mature for her age.”

“She must be.” She didn’t know what to say to him, or where he was leading her, but she had a feeling she wasn’t going to like it.

“I’m going to marry her,” Julian said quietly, and Sarah felt as though the bottom had just dropped out of the plane as the wheels hit the runway.

“Oh?” She tried to look nonplussed, but she could feel her heart beating too hard as they landed. “When did you decide this?”

“Last week. But we were all so busy with the opening, I didn’t want to say anything until after it was over.” How considerate of him. How wonderful for him to marry a girl who was already twice divorced, and tell her. “You’re going to love her.” She hoped he was right, but she hadn’t liked any of their mates so far. She was beginning to give up on the hope that she would ever have in-laws she could even tolerate, let alone be fond of. So far she hadn’t done well at all.

“When am I going to meet her?”

“Soon.”

“How about Friday night? We could have dinner at Maxim’s before I leave Paris.”

“That would be fine.” He smiled warmly.