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of control or misbehaved, went to a wild party, or did something outrageous or irresponsible, miraculously Liam seemed to be there. Most recently, they had gone to lunch together on a lazy Sunday afternoon, drank too much wine, took a cab to the airport afterward, and went to Marrakech for four days. Xavier said he had never had so much fun in his life. He called his mother when he got back. She'd been worried after he hadn't returned her calls for nearly a week.
“Let me guess,” she said when he finally surfaced again, and told her where he'd been. “That Liam character was part of it.” She could almost predict it now. Every time Xavier did something unexpected or slightly insane, the next thing he said to her was that Liam had been with him. “He must be completely mad. His wife must be a saint.”
“She's a good sport,” Xavier conceded easily, “although she gets a little fed up with it sometimes. She works, and she expects him to keep an eye on the kids.”
“She's probably supporting him, and the kids,” Sasha said knowingly. She knew other artists like him, though none quite so exuberant or as indifferent to accepted standards of behavior, from what Xavier said at least. “If I were in her shoes, I'd kill him.”
“I think she threatened to a few times. I don't think the trip to Morocco was a high point in their marriage.”
“No small wonder. He sounds like one of those children I wouldn't let you play with when you were little, because they always got you in trouble. One of these days he will, or get himself into some mess that will be awkward to get out of.”
“He's not mean-spirited, and he never does anything dangerous. He just likes to have a good time, and he hates being told how to behave. I think he grew up with a lot of rules or something. He's allergic to doing what's expected of him. He likes to have free rein.”
“Apparently. I can hardly wait to meet him,” Sasha said ruefully. In fact, she was hoping, if he ever sent her slides, that she would hate his work. He sounded like a headache she just didn't need. Although sometimes people with his energy and personality had enormous talent. What artists like Liam needed, according to Sasha, was to be harnessed, scolded severely, and whipped into shape, or they forgot to get to work. Although Xavier claimed Liam was diligent and conscientious about his painting. He was just irresponsible about everything else. And Xavier was still determined to introduce them. He was convinced that Suvery was the perfect gallery for his friend. But so far, Xavier had never been able to get them together, much to Sasha's relief.
Sasha spent the month of July in New York, but never went near the house in the Hamptons. She just couldn't, and told Tatianna to use it. Sasha didn't even want to see it. And in August, she went to St. Tropez for two weeks to visit friends. She felt oddly detached these days and rootless. She spent the rest of the month in the house in Paris, feeling like a marble in a shoebox. The whole world felt too big for her now without Arthur. Her life was like a pair of shoes that no longer fit. She had never felt so small in her entire life. Even when her father died, she had Arthur around constantly to buffer it for her. Now she had no one, except memories of him, and occasional visits with her kids.
She went back to New York at the end of August, and was finally brave enough to go to Southampton over the Labor Day weekend. It was the first time she had been back in nearly a year, and in some ways it was a relief. It was like finding a piece of him again, a piece she had sorely missed. The closet was still full of his things, and when she looked at their bed, she remembered the last time she had seen him. He had whispered that he loved her the morning she left, she had kissed him, and he went back to sleep. The memories were overpowering here, and she spent hours thinking of him and walking on the beach. But here, finally, she felt the healing begin.
She went back to the gallery looking better after the Labor Day weekend. For nearly a month now, she had been toying