But Mary had always dreamed of more.
Of bigger.
And better.
She had always wanted to travel the world, had been filled with a deep need to see what else was out there. She’d read everything she could get her hands on in the library about other countries, from compelling travel journals to somewhat dry atlases. She’d also made sure to learn English so well that she could read it fluently by the time she’d graduated from school. Alone in her bedroom as a child, she would read her English language books out loud and try to mimic the tones of the actresses starring in the subtitled American movies at the theater in Rome.
Unfortunately, all Mary’s mother had wanted was for her to settle down with a nice man who was up to the job of “taming” her wild urges and giving her babies. If Mary closed her eyes and blocked out the sounds and activity around her, she could still remember their final conversation as if it had happened yesterday.
“I will not allow you to leave,” Lucia Ferrer had declared.
But Mary had not only inherited her mother’s dark hair, flashing blue eyes, and olive complexion, she’d inherited her stubbornness as well.
“This is my chance to finally get out of this small town,” she’d retorted in rapid-fire Italian. The two of them were so similar that the years since Mary had hit adolescence had been fraught with tension. Her father had done his best to try to smooth things out between mother and daughter, and she could see the alarm in his eyes at their exchange.
“That man you met at the coffee shop wants to take you to New York so that you can bare your skin to strangers in flashy clothes after they’ve painted your face with makeup like a tramp.”
Terribly frustrated with the way her mother was automatically assuming the worst—and the fact that she wasn’t giving Mary any credit at all for knowing right from wrong—she explained again. “Randy is a scout who works with a very successful agency. He says he can get me work as a model with famous designers in Paris and London and New York City.” Lifting her chin, she declared, “There’s nothing you can say or do that will stop me from going.”
But her mother refused to see things Mary’s way. “If you leave today, don’t bother ever coming back. You will no longer be my daughter.”
In that moment, one she’d never forget, Mary had let her mother’s absolute refusal to see reason—and her own flaring temper—push her all the way out the door and away from their small country village.
But Mary had never believed her mother would stand by her threat.
She’d been wrong.
As Mary opened her eyes, she was glad of the chance to focus on the lights and excitement of downtown San Francisco at Christmastime rather than giving in to the gnawing pain in her heart that had grown bigger and bigger over the years that she'd been estranged from her parents.
But though she dearly wished she and her mother could have seen eye to eye over her career opportunities, Mary couldn’t imagine giving up the experiences she’d had all over the world or having had the chance to work with so many talented and passionate people. The past thirteen years had been exciting, lucrative and challenging. Despite the long hours and working in conditions like today, when the winter wind blew straight through the thin velvet of her dress and chilled her from the inside out, she would never complain about her career.
Gerry, one of her favorite photographers, moved to where she was standing at the side of the set with an apologetic smile on his face. “Sorry for the delay, Mary. I know it’s cold out here. Are you ready to get started again so we can finish up and then go get warm?”
Shaking off her thoughts of the past, she smiled back at him. “Absolutely.”
But instead of picking up where they’d left off, he put his hand on her arm. “I still can’t believe this is the last time I’ll get to photograph you. Please tell me you’ve changed your mind.”
Mary would have hugged him if it didn’t mean sending all of the stylists into a panic and losing another fifteen minutes to more touch-ups to her hair and makeup and clothes.
She’d had an amazing career and was still in high demand around the world for both print campaigns and runway shows, but after seeing what happened to models when they kept working past their prime, and how bitter they became when they were inevitably passed over for younger women, she’d made the decision to step into the next phase of her life.
“I’ve loved working with you, Gerry. Hopefully, we’ll work together again in a different way in the future.”
“Have you decided what you’re going to do next?”
As soon as she’d announced her retirement from modeling, Mary had been offered plenty of opportunities to consider: fashion editor for a major magazine, working with Randy at the agency, taking on an advisory role for a makeup company. As a teenager, she’d known becoming a fashion model was exactly the right choice. Now, after thirteen nonstop years, she knew she needed to take as much time as necessary to think through her next steps. And she would start by settling into the beautiful attached house she had rented last month on Nob Hill, just a few blocks from Union Square.
“As soon as I decide,” she promised her friend, “you’ll be one of the first to hear.”
As she moved back onto the set, she turned her gaze to the side and saw an extremely handsome man who was watching the shoot. He was wearing a suit, but his dark hair was a little too long and his five-o’clock shadow looked as if it hadn’t been touched for half a week, at least. His eyes were interested, like those of so many others. But something about the way he was looking at her was slightly different…as if he was looking deeper than men usually did.
Oh my.
Mary had worked with the best-looking men in the world, but none of them had ever made her feel this shock of attraction. Especially not with just one look.
The suit, frankly, looked all wrong on him. And not just because it needed better quality fabric in the hands of a top-notch tailor. Something told her that well-worn jeans and a favorite long-sleeved shirt would have accented the man’s rugged sensuality much better.
“That’s perfect, Mary,” Gerry called out to her. “Your look of longing is exactly right. Hold steady with it while I get some shots from the other side.”