Christmas in the City - Jill Barnett Page 0,18

weak excuse they'd both seen through, D.L. had wanted to buy Lilli something to make her forget the sadness of her past.

So he did the most natural thing—he took her to Tiffany's.

She looked at the diamonds and found them "nice." She agreed with the bald-headed clerk that they did rather look like stars. But D.L. could sense the diamonds wouldn't put the stars back into her eyes.

Sapphires were "okay," the perfectly cut rubies and emeralds were reduced to "those red and green stones," and the pearls? D.L. wondered if he could ever look at pearls again and not picture in his mind the gut-wrenching pain he had seen in Lilli's face.

She had looked at the pearls as if they were her shame. She muttered something about the gates to Heaven, then quietly asked every person in the store if they didn't think that pearls looked like angel tears.

Two hours later, while Lilli was across the store looking into another display case, he'd covertly bought the diamonds and some of "those red and green stones," then asked that they be delivered. The jewelry clerk had sighed with relief and went into the back rooms, wiping his shiny head with a handkerchief.

When they finally stepped from the store, she wore a pair of flawless and exquisite diamond earrings set in platinum that would have made a society matron faint from joy. He knew she'd selected them only out of charity. He had tricked her. He'd casually mentioned that the clerk had ten children and worked solely on commission.

And she did wear one other piece—a plain gold pin in the shape of wings. It was the only thing that had caught her eye. And its purchase was what finally made her brighten.

But now it was that night, and they were riding in his carriage to the opera house, where this evening's symphony performance opened the holiday concert season. It was at these functions where D.L. actually did most of his business. They weren't obligatory. They were necessary.

Lilli sat across from him, extraordinarily quiet, but looking as if she had just stepped from the pages of a fairy tale. A snow queen—in the white Worth gown and a fur-lined silk cape, her pale blond hair piled regally high on her head, where silver combs caught the carriage light. At his request, she was wearing the diamonds.

The tension in the carriage was thick as gold bars and seemed almost as impenetrable. He, a man who had dealt with the most difficult men in the business world, could not seem to deal with one woman named Lillian.

He had the feeling that he could do little right where she was concerned. The day had been nothing but tension. He felt as if he kept doing and saying exactly the wrong thing.

She had taken his breath away tonight when she'd come down the stairs—walking, not via the banister. And he'd complimented her. He had thought compliments made a woman feel better about herself.

Lilli had looked as if she might cry, or throw something.

Now, as the carriage moved through the damp and icy streets, she just stared out the fogged window, oddly silent and with no light in her eyes.

"You're still unhappy."

She looked at him sadly and shook her head. "Not really."

"I don't understand. I've sat here for the last few minutes trying to figure out what the hell is wrong." He could hear the edge of anger in his voice. He thought to soften his words and added, "I meant what I said."

"When?"

"Tonight. When you came downstairs. I told you how you looked.

"Yes." She turned back to the window again. "I remember. You said I wear wealth beautifully."

From her tone, one would have thought he'd told her she had a wart on her nose. He had felt so damned awkward. All day, no matter what, he couldn't do anything to please her. It annoyed the hell out of him.

The next moment the carriage stopped where the street ended and the opera house reigned. He shoved open the door and silently helped her down, holding her arm as he led her along the sidewalk. Just ahead of them, New York society crowded outside and on the steps like cattle hungry for hay.

On the walks and along the neighboring buildings were spectators, out to get a glimpse of Vanderbilts and Rockefellers. And beggars, out to get what they could. The indigent lined the sidewalks, clinging to worn woolen mufflers and rusty tin cans.

Lilli took one look at them and stopped