The Promise - By Danielle Steel Page 0,70
up, intrigued.
“Because everything in my life changed very suddenly, so much so that I became a new person. The painting was part of that old life, that old me. It hurt too much to bring it with me.” Marion almost winced at the words.
“I see. Well, the world hasn't suffered a loss, from what I can see anyway. You're a marvelous photographer. Who got you started? Undoubtedly one of the local greats. There are so many out here.”
But Marie only shook her head, with a small smile. It was strange. She had come here to hate this woman, and now she found that she couldn't. Not quite. She didn't like her. But she couldn't hate her, either. She looked so tired and frail beneath the bravado and the pearls. She wore a death mask carefully concealed with good makeup, but beneath the veneer lurked the sorrows of autumn, with winter already clutching at her heels. Marie forced herself back to the woman's question, trying to remember what that question was…. Oh, yes.
“No, actually, it was a friend who got me started. My doctor, in fact. He's been responsible for getting me launched as a photographer. He knows everyone in town.”
“Peter Gregson.” The words were soft and dreamy on Marion Hillyard's lips, as though she hadn't meant to speak them, and then they were both shocked into silence.
“Do you know him?” Why had the woman said that? Did she know? But she couldn't. Had Peter … No, he'd never do that.
“I… yes …” Marion hesitated for a long moment and then looked at her squarely. “Yes, Nancy, I do. He did a beautiful job on you.” It was a long shot. A wild guess. But she had to say it, even if she made a fool of herself. She had to know.
“There must be some misunderstanding. My name is Marie—” and then, like a rag doll, she crumpled. There were tears in her eyes as she stood up and walked away to stand at the window with her back to the room. “How did you know?” The voice was shattered and angry. The voice of two years before. Marion sat back in her chair, tired but relieved. Somehow it comforted her to know she had been right. She had not made this difficult trip for nothing. “Did someone tell you?” Marie demanded.
“No. I guessed. I don't even know why. But I had a feeling the first time Ben mentioned you to us. The details fit.”
“Did—” Goddamn. She wanted to ask her about him. She wanted to … Would this never leave her life? Would they never go away? “Why did you come here? To reconfirm our little deal?” Marie wheeled on her heels at the window, to stare at the woman who tormented her. “To make sure I'd stick with my promise?”
“You've already proven that.” Marion's voice was tired and gentle, and uncharacteristically old. “No, I'm not even sure I understand it myself, but I came to see you. To talk to you. To find out how you are, if indeed it was you.”
“Why now? Why should I be so interesting after two years?” Suddenly there was venom in Marie's voice, and hatred in her eyes. The she had dreamed of spewing for months. “Why now, Mrs. Hillyard, or were you just curious to take a look at Gregson's work? Was that it? Well, how do you like your four hundred-thousand-dollar baby? Was it worth it?”
“Why don't you answer that? Was it? Are you pleased?” She hoped so. She suddenly, desperately hoped so. They had all paid such a high price for that new face. It had been wrong. Suddenly she was sure of it. But it was too late. They were not the same people anymore. She could see that in the girl as much as she could in Michael. It was far, far too late, for either of them. They would have to find their dreams somewhere else. “You're a very beautiful girl now, Marie.”
“Thank you. Yes, I know Peter did a good job. But it was like making a deal with the devil. A face for a life.” With a ragged sigh Marie sank into a chair.
“And I'm the devil.” Marion's voice trembled as she looked at the girl. “I suppose it's an obscene thing to say to you now, but at the time I thought I was doing the right thing.”
“And now?” Marie looked at her squarely. “Is Michael happy? Was it worth getting rid of me,