The Jewels of Tessa Kent

by Judith Krantz

  “A few months effort? Eighteen years of neglect. Do you think that’s a fair balance, Polly?”

  “Of course not. There’s never going to be any fair balance. Forget you ever heard the word ‘fair’; leave it out of your vocabulary. Tessa Kent can never make up to you the vital things that she didn’t do while you were growing up. Not ever. But do you have to hold so tightly onto the crime, Maggie? Isn’t there ever going to be any forgiveness? Not the slightest bit, no matter what she does to try to earn it?”

  “Hell, I can’t deal with you, Polly. You’re almost as manipulative as she is. I feel totally awful. My energy level is down to my shoes.”

  “PMS?”

  “God no. I don’t even believe there is such a thing … I’ve never had it anyway, not so I’ve noticed, maybe because I’ve been so irregular all my life. I haven’t even had a period in ages. I had a dry spell like this when I first came here and was working as a temp. It’s stress that’s getting to me. Seriously getting to me. She’s driving me crazy and so are you, Ms.-life-isn’t-fair-Guildenstern. Did you think up that idea all by yourself? I’m going downstairs to see if Barney’s home yet. He was going to work a little late tonight.”

  “How’s my bright-eyed boy?”

  “Bliss. Pure bliss.” Maggie brightened and stood up, ready to leave, all thoughts of Tessa driven from her head. “If it weren’t for this auction I’d say that my life is so utterly glorious it’s frightening. I never guessed I could love anyone like this. We were born for each other, and don’t give me that theory of yours that you knew it all along, from the first day you saw us together.”

  “But I did,” Polly said serenely. “I should have written it down and mailed it in a sealed letter to myself and waited till now to give it to you—then you’d believe me.”

  “But you would have been wrong because if it had happened then it wouldn’t have worked out. Now is the perfect timing, and the rest of our lives will be the perfect time.”

  “I know this is a ludicrously old-fashioned idea, but has the thought of getting married crossed your mind?” Polly asked casually as they walked toward her door.

  “Oh, we have eons to think about that,” Maggie said with fine disregard. “We’re together and we’ll never be apart—but marriage?—all those deadly formalities? Having to see Madison and Tyler again? We’ll simply have to elope, but all in good time. What’s the rush? Living in sin is so much fun—as you ought to know.”

  “Jane and I would get married if we could,” Polly said wistfully. “I’d just like to have the legal opportunity. If you decide to go the traditional route, will you let me give the wedding?”

  “Oh, you mistreated, generous creature, of course!” Maggie cried, remorsefully, hugging her friend with such enthusiasm that she all but lifted her feet off the floor. “I’d even let you pick out my dress, or else I’d end up in slinky black velvet or something equally unbridal.”

  “Go find Barney. Just thinking about weddings makes me cry,” Polly said, pushing Maggie out the door.

  Tessa carefully checked the laden tables that room service had just brought up to her apartment. Almost from the start of the auction planning she’d invited the press department to an early breakfast every Friday morning so they could sit around in comfort, assess the work done in the past week, and get a jump on the next week’s plans.

  It was the only way to keep herself firmly focused on the progress of the complications of the publicity schedule, Tessa had decided, after a few meetings at S & S had been interrupted by unrelated phone calls or questions from the members of the press office who were handling the publicity on S & S’s other auctions.

  With Liz Sinclair, Juliet Tree, Penn’s rep, and occasionally Monty Foy, who was composing the part of the text that related to the history and quality of the jewels themselves, Tessa had weekly meetings at S & S to work on the layout of the catalog, which was almost ready to be printed and mailed. Never, everyone agreed, had jewels been photographed so imaginatively and alluringly, never would there be better shots of an owner wearing the jewels in the company of intensely famous people at seriously glamorous parties, and certainly never had there been an auction catalog that contained, in the owner’s own words, her thoughts about the occasions on which she had bought or been given the jewels, and her memories about the times she best remembered wearing them.

  When Tessa studied the photographs, culled from Fiona’s scrapbooks, she found herself at a strange distance from them. Yes, there she indisputably was, not more than eight years ago, in a pale-blue satin strapless Givenchy gown, dancing with the king of Spain at a ball in Venice, wearing yards of cornflower-blue Kashmir sapphires as lightly as if they were bubbles; there she was laughing with Tom Hanks, Tom Cruise, and Kevin Costner at an opening night party of some Imagine Entertainment comedy, only three years ago, in a short, unadorned black satin shift and a throwaway pair of oval diamond earrings of fifteen carats each that Graf of London had found for her. They could easily look, to the untutored eye, as if they were costume jewelry, because the diamonds were that startlingly pure bright, flawless Fancy Vivid Yellow that only the Sultan of Brunei also possessed. They were set in a nine-million-dollar pair of earrings, each carat costing three hundred thousand dollars … but there she wasn’t. Not really. Another world, another life, another woman. Her emotional removal was a blessing, Tessa thought, or else she might well have felt regret at the way she had chosen to use these six priceless months of her life, as it became more and more certain that Maggie wasn’t going to soften one whit toward her, no matter how much time they spent in the same room.

  The concierge announced the first of the troops from S & S, and soon they were all gathered around the tables, helping themselves to heaping platefuls of the enormous breakfast Tessa had provided—everything from croissants for the delicate eaters, to scrambled eggs and smoked salmon, or baked ham and sausages with pancakes, for those in the majority who jumped at the prospect of a hearty breakfast, instead of their usual fare.

  What great girls they were, Tessa thought, as they took time to enjoy their food before they started on the business at hand. Now that she’d gotten to know them, or rather now that they’d gotten to know her, a genuine relationship of easy warmth and camaraderie had come about. She felt as young as they were; the sixteen or seventeen years that separated her from Aviva and Joanne seemed nonexistent. This is what it would have been like to have a big family of daughters, Tessa thought, except that love, maternal love, would have been allowed to enter the way she looked at all of them … there would be love in the way they looked at her. She’d be able to casually smooth Dune’s hair, or kiss Janet’s cheek. They’d be bound together, even if they disagreed, bound for life. She’d be there when they met the men they were going to marry, she’d hold their children, she’d go to the birthday parties … oh, the path not taken! And if she hadn’t had children other than Maggie, this might have been a breakfast party she was giving for her daughter, this group of girls might be Maggie’s bridesmaids, and she’d be the mother of the bride, Tessa thought dreamily, the mother hen, deep into the fascinating details of invitations and menus … no wonder people had big weddings.

  The atmosphere at this morning’s breakfast was especially exciting, Tessa realized, coming back to the present moment, because tomorrow, on Saturday morning, she, Maggie, and Dune were leaving on a nonstop United Airlines flight to Sao Paulo, where the first foreign exhibition of the highlights from the collection would take place the following Monday night. S & S was giving a gala reception in the ballroom of the luxurious Maksoud Plaza Hotel, where they were all staying, to which every potential bidder in South America had been invited. On Tuesday and Wednesday there would be wall-to-wall private appointments for those women who wanted to try on the jewels and inspect them carefully, since they couldn’t be taken out of their cases during the exhibition. Dealers would have to travel to New York before the auction for the same privilege. Sao Paulo, the South American equival
ent of New York, was not just a center of vast wealth and big business but a hub of journalism, and a press conference had been called for Monday afternoon, which hundreds of reporters from all over South America were expected to attend.

  Security was as important as publicity in any foreign exhibition and Tessa, Maggie, and Dune would be traveling on one plane and the jewels on another. The jewels would be accompanied to the airport in New York by one large group of inconspicuous security men and would be met by another such group hired by S & S’s Sao Paulo office. A heavy force of Brazilian police would keep the jewels under armed surveillance during every second of their stay in Brazil.

  While the others were in the middle of breakfast, Maggie, who was seated close to the door of the living room, put down her plate and slipped quickly out, unnoticed by anyone but Tessa. After a few minutes of hesitation, Tessa followed her. Did Maggie even know that the guest bathroom was around the corner and down the hall?

  The door to the guest bathroom was open and the room was empty. Where had she disappeared to? Tessa wondered. Had Maggie simply left the meeting for some reason? Worried, she looked next in the empty bathroom off the library and finally went to her own bathroom, where a large, mirrored dressing room and closet were separated by an inside door from the toilet.

  The door to the dressing room from the hallway wasn’t entirely closed, and as Tessa stood outside, unwilling to disturb Maggie, she heard the unmistakable noises of vomiting, violent and uncontrollable, relieved for seconds as Maggie gasped for breath. Finally, after a long period of dry heaves, she heard Maggie flush the toilet twice, let herself out of the locked toilet, and cross the marble floor toward the sink.

  Holy Mary, Mother of God, Tessa thought, morning sickness. There was nothing else it could be. She’d never forgotten that sound. She’d bet all she owned that what Maggie had wasn’t stomach flu, the excuse she’d invented for her own mother. Tessa found herself clasping her arms across her breasts with her hands at her throat, as she closed her eyes and automatically whispered a prayer.

  Don’t go in, she told herself, fiercely trembling with the desire to rush to Maggie; don’t you dare to go in. Remember what happened the last time you intruded on her right to privacy. She’s pregnant but you may not, you must not, discuss it with her. She’s pregnant with your grandchild, but you must seem not to know. She’s pregnant and you don’t know who the father is, she’s pregnant and you don’t know when she’ll have the baby, or if she’ll have the baby, and you may not, dare not, must not ask! All you can do is thank the God you no longer worship and pray the prayers you no longer think do any good.

  Hastily, Tessa blotted tears of excitement and joy from her eyes and fled down the corridor to rejoin the others.

  Maggie gazed wide-eyed at herself in the mirror over the sink. She spit out the mouthwash she was gargling because she was grinning so widely that she’d almost swallowed a mouthful. Good God Almighty, so this was why she hadn’t had a period in so long! PMS, stress … no, a baby, Barney’s baby. Contraception didn’t always work, she’d always known that, but she hadn’t guessed how marvelous it would be when it didn’t. What would Barney say, what would Polly say, what would Liz Sinclair say? What difference did it make what anyone said, Maggie thought, her heart jumping with wild happiness. What would Tessa say when she found out she was going to be a grandmother? She frowned at herself in the mirror. Tricky, all this, especially leaving for Brazil tomorrow. She’d just sit on the delicious knowledge, hug it to herself, until she’d had a chance to tell Barney. She gargled one more time, splashed her face with cold water, reapplied her lipstick, and set off sedately for the living room. There had better still be some croissants left … she was starving!

  36

  Maggie frowned and consulted her watch once again as she and Tessa waited in the VIP lounge for their eight A.M. flight to Sao Paulo. Dune should have joined them at least a half hour ago. How could she, the most obsessively reliable of all her assistants, have failed to realize how vitally important it was for her to be on time this morning? The plane would be ready to load in twenty minutes.

  “Miss Horvath? There’s a phone call for you,” an attendant said, “you can pick up right here.” Maggie grabbed the phone and listened grimly as Dune, sobbing with anger at herself, informed her in disbelieving outrage that she’d broken her ankle running for a taxi and was calling from a pay phone in a hospital emergency room, where she was waiting to have it set.

  “Damn it, Dune, why’d you wait till the last minute to call?”

  “I’ve been trying to get someone to replace me first. I’ve tied up the phone here for an hour. I tried Janet four times, the last time just a minute ago, but all I get is her goddamned machine. I’m sure she’s at her boyfriend’s place till Monday. Then I tried Lee but she and her guy are out of town. I called Aviva and Joanne and those two both, can you believe it, both, left for hot weekends last night, according to their roommates. They didn’t leave numbers where they can be reached and they’re not expected back till late Sunday night. While the cat’s away … I thought checking on their availability was more important than calling you with bad news.”

  “You did right. So nobody’s available. Even if Janet calls her machine, the next plane doesn’t leave till tomorrow.”

  “Why would she call her machine if she’s with her boyfriend?”

  “Good question. Maybe they’ll go to her place, probably not. I’m sorry about your ankle, Dune.”

  “Oh, Maggie!” Dune wailed. “How could I have done this to you?”

  “We should have sent a limo for you too. Don’t worry, no big deal. I can handle it alone. Feel better, take care.”

  Maggie walked over to Tessa and told her the news.

  “Oh, that poor girl! She must be miserable,” Tessa said, even as she reproached herself for being thrilled by Dune’s accident, which left them inescapably alone for the first time.

  “She is,” Maggie said, tight-lipped, as a United Airlines official arrived to escort them to the gate where they’d be boarded before anyone else.

  Tessa and Maggie, lacking the hapless Dune, each took a window seat in the two first rows of first class, one behind the other. They spent the uneventful nine-hour trip with only the most perfunctory communication, Maggie properly concerned with Tessa’s comfort while she remained entirely aloof on a personal level. In the Sao Paulo airport, at six in the evening local time, they were met by the capable, energetic, and very elegant Señora Marta Pereira, the director of the local S & S office, bearing a huge bunch of flowers for Tessa and accompanied by her two senior employees. They were driven through the immense metropolis of sixteen million people in an air-conditioned Bentley that had been rented for the occasion, and soon they were settled in their magnificent suites on the top floor of the Maksoud Plaza Hotel, built around an enormous atrium. It was spring in Brazil, although except for the temperature and the masses of spring flowers in their suites, there was no way to glimpse any countryside, even from their elevation, so sprawling was the city itself.

  Before she unpacked, Tessa phoned Sam in New York and told him about Dune’s accident.

  “Until the press conference on Monday afternoon I’m totally at loose ends here, darling. I’ve finally got Maggie to myself and it’s obvious that she’s going to keep herself so busy that I’ll never be alone with her,” she said sadly, almost with resignation. What else had she expected, anyway?

  “Tomorrow she’s planned a whole day around Marta Pereira, inspecting everything from the placement of the exhibition cases and the mike to checking on the local security staff and meeting everyone who’s going to actually handle the jewels when they’re finally put into the cases. Then she’s checking personally on all the arrangements made by the hotel catering staff and the florists even though that’s all been planned locally for weeks. Maggie’s already adopted Marta Pereira in the place of Dune, so we’ll never be alone, but there’s nothing I can do about it, I can’t tag along when
I’m unnecessary.” Tessa paused while Sam spoke.

  “What will I do? I’m going to order something light to eat and go to bed early. Nine hours on any plane trip leaves me feeling as if I have jet lag, even though we’ve gone through only one time zone. Do you miss me yet? Oh, sweetheart, say that again. And again … please. Thank you, Sam, that helps so much. It’s lucky that I brought three books with me; Sunday promises to be a long, lonely day. I’ll call often and early … if you’re out, call me back, all right? Oh, I do love you!”

  * * *

  In the middle of the night Tessa was awakened by a faint but persistent knocking on her door, coming from the circular entrance hall that led to her bedroom.

  “Who is it?” she called, startled.

  “Maggie.”

  Tessa switched on a light, jumped out of bed, and ran to open the door. Maggie stood there in her bathrobe, her face totally blank of any emotion but panic, her eyes huge.

  “I didn’t want to bother you …” she faltered, standing unsteadily in the doorway.

  “Maggie, what’s wrong?” Tessa cried, pulling her into the room.

  “I—oh, hell—I’m bleeding.”

  “Oh, no! The baby! Lie down on the bed right away, yes, flat, feet up on this pillow.”

  “How did you know—?”

  “I heard you throwing up yesterday. How long have you been bleeding?”

  “I can’t be sure. Fifteen minutes ago I woke up and went to the bathroom and noticed … it was brownish, at first, and then there was some bright red blood … so I just came here … I didn’t know what else to do …”