The Promise - By Danielle Steel Page 0,52

for it with everything I had.”

They exchanged Merry Christmases as she left, but there was a tinselly echo to the words, an emptiness that still bothered Faye as Marie Adamson pulled at her white fedora and walked off with a jaunty wave back at her friend of two years. It was almost as though she were saying good-bye to those two years and walking into a new life, leaving behind everything she had once loved.

Chapter 18

When Marie left Faye's office she caught a cab and headed straight to Union Square. She had already made the reservation; all she had to do now was stop off and pay for the ticket. It would be the first trip she had taken in years, the first since the weekend she and Michael had spent in Bermuda. It had been Easter and… She forced the thought from her mind as the cab headed down Post Street into the down-town traffic. Fred sat on her lap staring at the cars passing by and occasionally turning to look at his mistress. He sensed something different; there was an electricity about her that even the little dog could feel as she pulled a cigarette out of her handbag and lit it.

“Right here, miss?” The driver had stopped on the corner of Powell and Post, next to the Saint Francis Hotel, and Marie quickly nodded.

“This will be fine.” She paid the fare, opened the door of the cab, and let Fred hop out onto the pavement. She quickly followed, stubbed out the cigarette, and looked around. The ticket office was only a few steps away, and she was rapidly inside. For once, there wasn't even a line, but it was still early in the day. Her appointments with Faye were always at eight forty-five. Were… had been … She suddenly realized again that she was through now. Free. Finished. Done. She was no longer seeing a psychiatrist. The thought frightened her a little. She felt both liberated and lonely, like celebrating and crying all at once.

“May I help you?” The girl behind the counter looked at her with a smile, and Marie smiled back. “Are you picking up tickets?”

“Yes, I am. I made reservations last week. Adams … McAllister.” It was strange using the old name again; she hadn't in two months. But even the trip was symbolic. Legally, her name would be changed on January first. When she returned she would no longer be Nancy McAllister, she would be Marie Adamson, for good. But when she left she would still be Nancy. It was almost like a wedding trip, all by herself. It was the final step in the endless process that had taken almost two years. Marie Adamson was finally, officially going to be born. And Nancy Mc-Allister could be forgotten forever. Hell, Michael had forgotten her; now she could forget her too. There was no one left to remember. Peter had seen to that. No one who had ever known her before would recognize her now. The delicate, perfectly etched face was someone other women dreamed of being, but no one she had known for the past twenty-four years. She wasn't a stranger anymore, but neither was she Nancy McAllister. And the voice was different, too, smoother, deeper, more controlled. It was a subtle voice with sexual overtones, and she liked the way people listened to her now, as though she had more to say now that she had a different way of saying it. Her hands were graceful and delicate, her movements smoother and more mature after the ballet classes Peter had finally let her take once his work was far enough along. Yoga had added to the whole. And all of it completed the picture of Marie Adamson.

“That'll be a hundred and ninety-six dollars.” The girl glanced at the computer and then the customer standing before her. She couldn't take her eyes off her—the perfect features, dazzling smile, and a grace when she moved that held everyone's attention. Everything about her made you want to ask, “who is she?” Marie wrote out her check, received her ticket, and walked back out into the December sunlight of Union Square. She held Fred in her arms so he wouldn't get stepped on, and smiled to herself as she wandered across the square. It was a beautiful day and she had a beautiful life. She was going away over the holidays; she was through with all those endless operations; she was starting a new life, a