A puzzled frown creased Barry's forehead. "What is
it?" His careful finger touched one of the clear crystal prisms hung on a glittering silver chain. There was a tiny, exquisitely painted violet on each prism. "What do I do with it?"
"It's a wind chime," Tania said softly, her own finger touching a prism with caressing delicacy. "We're going to hang it on a branch of the tree in your courtyard, in the back. Then, whenever the wind blows, it will make lovely music for you. Wind chimes are very special, Barry. They can do all kinds of wonderful things. They give you pleasure, they soothe away your pain. Sometimes they can even help to save your life. Wind chimes are magia."
Barry's gaze was suddenly alert. "That's a foreign word, isn't it? Jamie said you were a foreigner. What does it mean, Tania?" A few years older than Barry, Jamie was the little boy who lived next door.
"It's a Hungarian word meaning magic," she answered. "And I'm not a foreigner. I'm Hungarian, but I'm soon going to be an American citizen like my friend Barry."
"Jamie says you're Russian and your papa was a colonel in the Russian Army before he was killed in Afgh—"
"Jamie is wrong," she said tersely, her face clouding. "My father may have been Russian, but I'm Hungarian." She drew a deep breath and forced a smile. "I'll tell you all about it some other time. Right now I think we'd better go out back and hang up these wind chimes, don't you?"
When Marguerite Montclair made an appearance in the courtyard a short while later, Tania was just climbing down from the oak tree, while Barry sat cross-legged on the ground below, supervising her descent with ponderous instructions and multiple shouts of warning as she carefully traversed her way through the branches.
Barry spared his mother a brief glance before resuming his duties. "Hi, Mom. Tania brought me a wind chime."
"So I see," Marguerite said as she watched apprehensively while Tania negotiated the last few feet of a branch before she jumped lightly to the ground. "Was it necessary to hang the blasted thing at the very top of the tree? You could have been hurt, Tania."
"Nonsense," Tania said, rubbing her hands briskly on her jeans. "I'm a world-class tree climber, and I had Barry down here choreographing my every move. You can tell Michael that in twenty years his son is going to give him some stiff competition." She grinned at Barry, who still sat on the ground, and he grinned in response. "We're an unbeatable team, aren't we?" He nodded contentedly, his eyes on the prisms glittering in the sunlight high above them. "And it had to be high up so Barry could just open his bedroom window and hear the chimes."
"I can see how vitally important that would be." Marguerite's tone was soft, revealing her warm affection for Tania. "Sometimes I think you're just as young as Barry." She reached out her hand and pulled her son to his feet. "Now that you've accomplished this major undertaking, suppose you go change your clothes and wash up, young man. Tania will wait for you here." She dropped down onto the redwood seat that encircled the tree and watched Barry run up the stone steps and inside the screen door. "Sit down and relax, Tania. Heaven knows you won't get much opportunity to do so this afternoon. Children are absolutely hyper—especially when they're out on a jaunt." She made a face. "You spoil him, you know. He takes advantage of you."
"I enjoy it." Tania sat down and stretched her legs out lazily before her. "How can he take advantage of me when I enjoy it as much as he does?" She darted her friend a mischievous glance. "You're aware, of course, that I'm completely in love with him."
"Well, I'm glad there's one member of the masculine gender who can stir a response from you," Marguerite commented. "Poor Tyler has been having a difficult enough time of it."
"You know very well I'd make Tyler perfectly miserable if I let him talk me into a commitment," Tania said with a grin. "He likes his life very much as it is. I may add a little occasional color, but my flamboyance would grate on him unmercifully if he had to put up with it on a daily basis."
"Then, why not find someone else?" Marguerite asked. "You're absolutely nuts about kids. Isn't it time that you had a child of your own?"
"Why should I bother, when I can borrow a charmer like Barry whenever I feel the urge? There's plenty of time for that later. I have a career that keeps me pretty busy at the moment." Her gaze was suddenly thoughtful. "What about you, Marguerite? From what I hear, you were considered an exceptional dancer before you married Michael. Didn't you ever regret giving it up when you became pregnant with Barry?"
"You're damn right I did," Marguerite said bluntly. "I still do sometimes." She shrugged. "It was a question of choices. You know how demanding a dancer's life is, Tania. I wanted to be with my son during these first important years. I couldn't have both." Her lips twisted. "Unfortunately, a dancer is only in her prime physically for a pitifully short time. It will be too late for me to go back to dancing by the time Barry doesn't need me any more. Hell yes, I regret it." She glanced at Tania's stricken face, and suddenly she grinned. "But not enough to give up Michael and Barry. They're a pretty potent argument for the life of domestic bliss."
"Yes, they would be," Tania said softly. "I might
almost be tempted to take the step myself to have a darling like Barry."
Marguerites lips curved in amusement. "You're putting the cart before the horse, aren't you? I believe, even in this day of test-tube babies, a man is still essential to initiate the procedure." Marguerite's eyes were twinkling. "Can't you think of anyone you might consider for the job?"
Cool silver eyes burning in a golden, rough-hewn face. Now, what idiocy had made that mental picture emerge suddenly? Tania thought impatiently. She had seen Jared Ryker for only a few minutes, and that had been over two weeks ago. Why should she remember that face with such vivid clarity now? "Nary a one," she said lightly. "So I guess I'll have to settle for being an adopted aunt." Her face lit up with sudden mischief. "Though there is one possibility. Are you sure that rich old man you told me about is dead?"
"What rich old man?" Marguerite's brow creased in puzzlement.
"The one with all the hair and the long fingernails," Tania said vaguely.
"Howard Hughes?" Marguerite asked. "Well if he's not there's a passel of heirs and a battery of lawyers who are going to be very disappointed. Why?"
"He's the only rich old man I can think of who would be eccentric enough to pay a fortune in dollars for my small fair body." She cast a rueful glance down at her slight form in the shapeless sweater. "Though I can't imagine even him being that eccentric."
Marguerite shook her head dazedly. "You've lost me somewhere. Go back and start over. Who's offered to pay a fortune for your body?"
Her eyes dancing with amusement, Tania related in detail her interview with Edward Betz. "I may never get an offer like that again," she ended, her lips quirking. "Do you think I should have taken him up on it?"
"I think you should have socked him in the nose," Marguerite said indignantly. "I can't see why in hell you're so amused. Why aren't you insulted?"
Tania shrugged. "Why should I be? Everyone has his own set of values. That money probably meant a lot to that old man. If anything, I should be complimented."
"Tania, you're absolutely hopeless." Marguerite sighed. "You never react as I think you're going to. I'm surprised that you didn't take the old pervert up on his offer just to soothe his fevered brow."
"I might have," Tania said with a grin, "if I hadn't gotten the impression that wasn't the portion of his anatomy that was fevered." She chuckled as she got to her feet. "Besides, I had another commitment—to my favorite man. And now I think I'd better go and get him, so we can be on our way." She checked her watch. "Its almost one now. I'll drop Barry back here at five. That will give me an hour to get to my photography class."
"My God, Tania, don't you ever rest?" Marguerite asked. She frowned as her gaze traveled critically over Tania's slight form. "You look as though you're going to blow away any minute. Have you lost weight?"
"Perhaps a little, but not enough to matter."
She lifted a brow. "And why should I rest if I'm not tired?"
"Because you should be tired, damn it," Marguerite said crossly. "Not only do you have rehearsals and actual performances every day, but you're always pushing yourself to go to some class or other. You don't even allow yourself time to breathe."
"I like to learn new things," Tania protested. "It's not as if I looked at it as some kind of chore. It's terribly exciting to learn new skills."
"You're also going to find it terribly exhausting if you don't slow down," Marguerite said grimly. She held up
her hand as Tania opened her mouth to protest. "Don't tell me. I've heard it all before. There's nothing for me to worry about. This marathon of activities isn't going to faze you at all. You have eŕb Right?"
"Right," Tania said with an affectionate grin. "Besides, after tonight's performance, I'll have two weeks to rest before we start rehearsals for the new ballet. I'll be able to loll around the entire time if I please."
"Fat chance."
"Well, I admit I'd probably be totally insane if I did absolutely nothing for the entire time. But I'm planning to go up to Tyler's house party in Connecticut after the performance tonight. That will give me a long weekend in which to relax. Is that good enough?"
"It's better than nothing, I suppose," Marguerite said, making a face. She also stood up, and gave Tania's braid an affectionate tug. "Come on, let's go find Barry. Maybe after squiring an energetic five-year-old for four hours you'll change your mind about the length of your R and R in Connecticut. You may definitely need a rest cure."
She could hear the telephone ringing as she searched for her key, and she muttered a far-from-polite imprecation beneath her breath. There was nothing that annoyed her more than standing out in the hall not knowing how long the damned phone had been ringing and feeling the urgency to answer it. It would probably stop ringing just as she picked it up, she thought crossly as she threw open the door, kicked it shut behind her, and hurried to the cream-colored princess phone on the table in the foyer.
"Hello."
"Tania?" Marguerite sounded worried. "I thought you'd have been home forty-five minutes ago."
Tania tossed her purse on the table and dropped
down on the cushioned bench. "I should have been," she said as she stretched her jean-clad legs before her. "I had to sign a few autographs at the stage door."
"More than a few, I'd guess, judging from what Michael said about your performance tonight. How many curtain calls did they bring you back for?"
"Twelve," Tania said with satisfaction. "Michael was right. I was utterly fantastic."
"I don't doubt it." Marguerite chuckled. "Does that put you any closer to your goal of becoming the greatest ballerina in the world?"
"Well, it's another step in the right direction. Give me two more years and I just may get there."
"If you don't have a breakdown from exhaustion first," Marguerite said grimly. "Michael told me your relaxing little weekend has suddenly escalated into a full-scale bash, with you presiding as hostess."
"Only for tonight," Tania said in a tone calculated to soothe. "Tyler had one of his rare attacks of impulsiveness and invited everyone in the company up to Connecticut to mark the closing of our most successful engagement." She laughed. "Now, I couldn't refuse him, could I? I make it a practice never to discourage any variation in Tylers careful routine. Are you coming to the party?"
"Have you ever tried to get a babysitter at midnight?" Marguerite asked dryly. "No, Michael and I are going to have to pass on this one. I only called to remind you not to burn the candle at both ends just so Tyler can show you off as a feather in his cap."
Tania felt a warm rush of affection. "No danger of that," she said lightly. "I only do what I want to do these days. No one uses me for anything, not even Tyler."
"Except Barry."
"Except Barry," Tania conceded softly. "That's an entirely different situation." She straightened. "Thanks for your concern, Marguerite, but I'll be fine. I'm not a
bit tired. Now, I really must run. I only came home to change before driving up to Connecticut. I'll call you when I get back to town."
After she'd hung up the receiver she checked her watch and made a face. She was definitely going to be late, and Tyler wouldn't be at all pleased. She picked up her purse, paused to fasten the chain lock on the front door, and then strode briskly through the bright, modem living room toward the bedroom. She would have to rush if she wasn't to be the last guest to arrive at Tyler's party. Well, it would serve him right for assuming she'd be honored and pleased to act as hostess at this little soiree, she thought crossly. He should know by now how she detested that sort of thing.
In fact, it was possible that Tyler's impromptu party and champagne breakfast weren't really a celebration for the company. He might have thought it a brilliant stroke to surround her with her own friends while dazzling his corporate acquaintances with the glamour of an artist such as she. She hadn't the least doubt that this party of Tyler's would encompass a certain amount of business as well as pleasure. Like many self-made tycoons, he was totally unable to separate the two.
Forty minutes later she quickly finished weaving a silver-and-diamante ribbon through her braid and fastened it with a diamond star brooch where the shining tresses nestled against the curve of her breast. The simple, but elegant piece of jewelry added just the touch of festive elegance that the simple black velvet gown needed, she thought with satisfaction. Even Tyler couldn't fault her appearance this evening.
She made a gamin face at the sophisticated beauty reflected in the mirror of her vanity table. She dusted a little powder over her nose and quickly got to her feet. That hadn't been at all fair to Tyler, she thought remorsefully. He never commented on her casual,
sometimes tomboyish ensembles, but she was well aware he much preferred her more glamorous alter ego.
She plucked the black velvet cloak from its hanger in the closet and draped it about her shoulders. Well, she would see this weekend that Tyler got exactly what he wanted. She would be the charming, sophisticated hostess to his guests and wouldn't indicate by even the tiniest yawn how bored and restless she was. He deserved at least that from her, after all he'd done for her in the past two years. He'd been a warm, understanding friend and had guided her career with a firm, benevolent hand that had propelled her to the top of her profession. Yes, Tyler deserved a great deal more consideration than she gave him.
The shrill buzz of the phone caught her just as she was carrying the small blue-gray suitcase she'd packed earlier from the bedroom to the living room. Marguerite again? No, it couldn't be. It was the house phone, from the lobby. Who on earth could be wanting admittance at this time of night?
"Miss Orlinov? Dave Lennox from Ever Ready Delivery Service." The male voice was buoyantly cheerful. "We have a gift for you from Mr. Tyler Windloe. May I bring it up?"
"A gift?" Tania's brow knotted in puzzlement. "But I'm just leaving to join him now. Why wouldn't he wait to give it to me himself?"
"I really couldn't say, Miss Orlinov." The voice was politely noncommittal. "All I know is that we received a call this evening to drive out to Mr. Windloes estate in Connecticut and pick up a package to deliver to you when you arrived home from the theater. He was quite insistent you receive it before you left."
"I see," she said slowly. Estate? That was the first time she'd ever heard Tyler's New England farm described as an estate, but who was she to argue terms?
Though she'd worked very hard to eliminate any trace of accent from her own speech in the last three years, she was still guilty of an occasional lapse in comprehension. Perhaps a small farm operated by a gentleman for pleasure, not profit, could be called an estate. "Then, I suppose you'd better bring it up." She pressed the security release for the door to the lobby, set the suitcase down, and sank down on the cushioned phone bench to wait.
This was the second apparently impulsive thing Tyler had done within an eight-hour period, she t
hought with a tiny smile tugging at her lips. Maybe her own impulsiveness was becoming contagious after all, or possibly Tyler realized that she might be a little annoyed with him and wanted to pour oil on troubled waters.
She leaned back against the padded back of the bench with a faint sigh and rested her head against the wall. Maybe she was a little tired. She certainly wasn't feeling her usual enthusiasm at the prospect of the next few days. She could usually find something to arouse her interest in any situation, but being on display as Tyler's charming little protégée was going to be quite a challenge to her imagination. Oh, well, it would only be for a few days, and she would be back in New York. Then she'd be free to pursue her own interests until it was time to resume rehearsals. Perhaps she'd take in those lectures on the Tutankhamen era that the Metropolitan was sponsoring. She felt her spirits lift at the thought and instinctively sat up straighter on the seat, her dark eyes brightening with eagerness.
That same eagerness was curving her lips in a smile a moment later when she opened the door in answer to the knock. Over the brass chain lock, she peered up into the young, clean-cut face of the delivery man. He was dressed in a uniform consisting of dark blue slacks, crisp white shirt, and a waist-length jacket with Ever Ready
Delivery Service emblazoned in gold over the right breast pocket. He held a long, white beribboned floral box.
"Miss Orlinov?" The sandy-haired man's bright blue eyes were admiring as he grinned boyishly at her. "I can't tell you how glad I am to see a smile on your face." He grimaced. "You can't imagine some of the responses we get when we deliver packages at this time of night. Our company may have a reputation for being 'ever ready,' but some of our customers don't feel the same way."
She chuckled. "I can see how you might have a problem." She slid back the chain lock and threw open the door. "Wait just a moment and I'll get you something. " She started to turn back to the table where her evening bag lay.
The Forever Dream Page 4
