Brad's death, and the baby she had lost, and the last three years of working to support Vanessa.
“That's all of it.” She sighed deeply and blew her nose again.
“That's enough.” Dorothea was more than touched by the story —she felt a fury, a call to arms. “She must be an incredibly evil woman.”
“Do you know of her?” Serena looked bleak, there was no way she could defeat Margaret Fullerton. And after five weeks in New York, Serena knew her mother-in-law was already out to get to her. She had been afraid of her when she had decided to come to New York, but she had lulled herself into the false hope that her fears were unfounded.
“I only know her by name. But by God, now I'd like to meet her.”
Serena smiled a small wintry smile. “You'd regret it. She makes Attila the Hun look like a sissy.”
Dorothea looked her new model straight in the eye. “Don't kid yourself, sister, she's just met her match.”
“There's a difference. You're not rotten.” She sat back in her chair, looking exhausted. “The only thing for me to do is quit and go back to San Francisco.”
“If you do”—Dorothea's eyes didn't waver from her face—”I'll sue you. You signed a contract with this agency, and like it or not, I'm going to hold you to it.”
Serena smiled at the older woman's way of protecting her. “You'll lose all your clients if I stay.”
“She doesn't own every major corporation in New York. And as a matter of fact, I want to check out her tie-in with that line of cosmetics.”
“I just don't think—”
“Good. Don't think. You don't need to. Go put on a fresh face, you have a go-see in twenty minutes.”
“Mrs. Kerr, please …”
“Serena.” The head of the agency came around her desk and, without saying another word, put her arms around Serena. “You have had more rough breaks than anyone I've ever heard of. I'm not going to let you down. You need someone to protect you.” Her voice gentled almost to a whisper. “You need a friend, little one, let me at least do that for you.”
“But won't it do your agency harm?” Serena was once again seized with terror.
“It'll do us more harm if you leave, but that's not why I want you to stay. I want you to stick it out, because I want you to beat those bastards. Serena, the only way you'll do that is if you stand your ground. Do it for me … for yourself”—and then she played her trump card—”do it for your husband. Do you really think he'd want you to run away from his mother?”
Serena thought it over before she spoke. “No, he wouldn't.”
“Good. Then let's fight this one out side by side. I'll put the old bitch back in her place, if I have to go and see her myself.” And Serena knew she would.
“Don't do that.”
“Any good reason why not?”
“It'll create an open war.”
“What do you think you've already got? She called a cosmetics company and an ad agency and had you canned. I'd say that's pretty open.” Serena smiled in dismay. “Just leave all that to me. You do your job. I'll do mine. It isn't often I get to fight for someone I like, and I like you.” The two women exchanged a smile.
“I like you too. And I don't know how to thank you.”
“Don't. Just get your ass to that go-see. I'll call and tell them you'll be late.” She shooed Serena out of her office, but just before she reached the door, she turned again with a smile and whispered, “Thank you.”
Dorothea's eyes were damp when the door closed, and ten minutes later she was on the phone, arranging a meeting with Margaret Fullerton.
The meeting between Dorothea Kerr and Margaret Fullerton was short but not very sweet. When Margaret discovered what the meeting was about, her eyes went icy. But Dorothea didn't give a damn. She told her to stay out of Serena's career, or without a moment's hesitation Dorothea would sue her.
“Am I to understand that you are her representative?”
“No, I am the president of her modeling agency. And I mean what I say.”
“So do I, Mrs. Kerr.”
“Then we understand each other.”
“May I suggest that your client change her name. She no longer has any right to it.”
“Legally, I believe she does. But that's of no importance. She's not using your name, she is using her own title.”
“Characteristically vulgar.” Margaret Fullerton stood up. “I believe you've said