outside business hours, but they spent long hours talking in Dorothea's office, and the advice she gave Serena was always excellent. Particularly in regard to Margaret Fullerton, who for the moment had stopped being a problem. Serena was just too successful for her slanderous reports to have any effect. And Dorothea was pleased for her.
“I hope you're enjoying this, Serena, because it's fun while it lasts, but it doesn't last forever. You'll make a bundle of money. Put it away, do something sensible with it”—Dorothea had started her own agency, but Serena had no ambition in that vein—”and realize that it's only for a time. You have your day and then it's someone else's tum.” But she had been impressed from the first with the way Serena handled it. She was an intelligent girl, with a sense of direction, and she didn't fool around. She worked hard and she went home, and whatever else she did no one ever knew. Dorothea was tired to death of models who got drunk and arrested, who caused disturbances, bought sports cars and cracked them up, got involved with international playboys, and then attempted suicide in the most public manner possible, and then of course failed. Serena wasn't like them. She went home to her little girl, and Dorothea always suspected that there were few men in her life, and even at that, only very circumspect dates, there hadn't been anyone serious since her husband.
That summer Serena had been in New York for a year, and she was so busy that she could barely spend a minute with Teddy. Fortunately for her, Vanessa was in camp for two months.
By the middle of August Serena was so booked up with jobs every day that she asked Dorothea to stop scheduling so many. She needed some time off and she had decided to give herself at least a week before Vanessa came back.
“Can't you put them off for a couple of weeks?” She looked pleadingly at Dorothea.
Dorothea looked at the waiting list of people begging for Serena, and smiled at her with a knowing look. “You're a lucky lady, Serena. Just look at this.” She handed the list briefly to Serena, who shook her head and groaned as she fell into a chair. he was wearing a white linen skirt, a little red and white striped halter, and red sandals, with red and white bracelets all up and down one arm. She looked like a peppermint stick as she stood there, all fresh and blond and young and groomed to perfection, and it was easy to see why half the photographers in town wanted to use her, not to mention at least a dozen in Italy, France, Germany, and Japan. “You know, I almost envy you. I'd like to think it was like this for me. But I'm not sure it was. On the other hand”—she smiled again—”you have a much better agency than I had in my day.” Serena laughed and ran a hand through her hair.
“So can you get me a break in the next couple of weeks, Dorothea? I really need it. I haven't been away all year.” Teddy had fled to Newport a few days before, and she really envied him his time at the seashore. He had offered to take her to the Cape, but ever since Vanessa had gone, she had been doubly busy, and she hadn't been able to get away. Now at least, if she could have some time to herself, she could go out to the Hamptons, or even stay in town and, luxury of luxuries, stay in bed for a few days!
“I'll see what I can do.” She mused over the list again. “The only one I actually don't think I can change is Vasili Arbus.” She glanced at the name.
“Who's that?”
“You don't know him?” Dorothea looked surprised.
“Should I?”
“The British think he's another Andy Morgan. He's half English, half Greek, and totally crazy, but”—she thought about him for a moment—”he does extraordinarily good work.”
“As good as Andy?” After a year in New York Serena knew them all, and Andy Morgan had also become a friend. She occasionally met him for lunch at the studio between jobs, and when they had a shooting together, they stayed on after hours to talk about work. There was nothing physical about the relationship, but she was very fond of him as a friend and a colleague.
Dorothea was still pondering the question. “I don't know. He's awfully good. His work is