“Basically, we’ll need to do two things. Determine the best way to get you out of here. And then figure out where you’re going to go,” Mr. Kipling said.
“Japan?” Simon Green suggested.
“No. Definitely not.” I didn’t want to lead the rest of my family straight to my brother.
“The Balanchines have many friends all over the world. We will find something suitable,” Mr. Kipling said.
I nodded. “I need to arrange for Natty and Imogen, of course.”
“Of course,” Mr. Kipling said. “I promise that Simon Green or I will check on them every day that you are gone. But the truth is, I see no reason that things should change.”
“But what if my relatives or the press become interested in Natty’s welfare once I’m gone?”
Mr. Kipling considered this. “I could become Natty’s legal guardian if you’d like.”
“You would do that for me?”
“Yes. A long time ago, I worried it would complicate our business arrangement but I’ve been thinking about this possibility since Galina’s death, and I think it is the best way I can help you. I would have made the same offer last year but everything progressed so rapidly after Leo shot Yuri Balanchine. And then it didn’t seem as if there would be a need once you had resolved things with Charles Delacroix. But maybe this would be the best way to settle things once and for all.”
“Thank you,” I said.
Simon Green looked at Mr. Kipling. “The other thing we could do is send Natty to a boarding school out of state or country. This might be simpler in the short term. Forgive me, Stuart, but you have a bad heart and the timing of the application itself might raise eyebrows.”
A nurse came into the room. “Ms. Balanchine needs to rest now.”
Mr. Kipling kissed me on the cheek. “I am very sorry I did not advise you better.”
“You tried, Mr. Kipling. You told me not to go back to Trinity. You told me to avoid Win. I didn’t want to listen. I always think I’m being so smart, but then later, it turns out I’ve made so many mistakes.”
Mr. Kipling took me by the handcuffed hand. “This isn’t completely your fault, Anya. Nowhere near it.”
“When will I stop being so wrong all the time?”
“You have a good heart. And a good brain, too. But you are young and a human being, after all, and so allowances must be made.”
V
I TAKE MY LEAVE
I SPENT THE NEXT FIVE DAYS handcuffed to a bed while I planned my escape from Liberty. In the hospital, my visitors weren’t really restricted and this came in incredibly handy. Someday, I would have to thank whoever had poisoned me. Perhaps someday, I would. (Yes, readers, I had been poisoned and, had I had the time to reflect on the matter at all, the source would have been completely obvious.)
My time was spent in the following manner: Tuesday morning, the first person who came to visit was Yuji Ono. “How is your heart?” he asked by way of greeting.
“Still beating,” I told him. “I thought you were meant to be gone on Monday.”
“I found reason to extend my stay.” He bowed, then genuflected by the side of my bed so that his lips landed by my ear. He whispered, “Simon Green tells me that you wish to leave New York. This is good. I think you should go somewhere you can learn the business.”
“I can’t go to Japan,” I said.
“I know that, though for my own reasons, I wish it were otherwise. I think I have an alternative for you. Sophia Bitter’s family has a cacao farm on the west coast of Mexico. You will be able to take a boat there and the connection to Balanchine Chocolate is not so obvious that anyone will think to look for you.”
“Mexico,” I said. “I’m a city girl, Yuji.” A Mexican farm sounded so far from everything and everyone I had ever known.
“Don’t you think your father would have wanted you to see where cacao is grown?” Yuji asked.
I had no idea what Daddy would have wanted and I wasn’t even sure that I cared.
“Would you yourself not like to know what the source of all this misery is?” Yuji waved his gloved hand around the gray hospital room.
I told him I had never thought much about it.
“Do you trust me, Anya?” He took my handcuffed hand. “Do you believe that I, of all people, want what is best for you?”
I thought about this. Yes, I decided, I did trust him as much as I trusted anyone.
“I trust you,” I said.
“Then know I do not say this lightly when I tell you that this is where I want you to go. You will be better able to run Balanchine Chocolate someday if you know a bit about how cacao is grown. And this will make you a superior partner for me. A superior business partner, I mean.” He dropped my hand and moved in even closer to me. “Don’t be frightened, Anya.”
“I’m not.” I looked him in the eye. “Nothing frightens me anymore, Yuji.”
“The warmth and sunshine will be good for you, and you will not be lonely, as Sophia’s family is very kind. If it matters to you, it will be easy for me to invent reasons to come and see you.”
What difference did it make where I went, really? I was leaving the only home I had ever known. “I don’t speak Spanish,” I said with a sigh. I had taken Mandarin and Latin in school.
“Many people will speak English there,” Yuji said.
And so it was decided. I would take my leave in the predawn hours of Sunday morning.
Tuesday afternoon brought Scarlet and she was crying again. I told her that if she wept every time she saw me, I wouldn’t want her to come anymore. She sniffled and declared dramatically, “I’ve had to end things with Gable!”
“Scarlet, I’m sorry,” I said. “What happened?”
She held up her slate. On the screen was the picture of Win and me in the dining hall underneath the headline Charles Delacroix had shown me two days earlier: “Charles Delacroix’s Mob Connections.”
“I’m the one who’s sorry, Annie. Gable took this picture, and worse, he sold it!”
“What do you mean?”
“He got a long-lens camera phone for his eighteenth birthday,” Scarlet began. (NB: You may recall that minors weren’t allowed to have camera phones.) “And when I saw the picture yesterday morning, I knew someone from our school had taken it. And I doubted it was one of the teachers, so that only left the kids over eighteen. I turned to Gable. ‘Who would do such a thing to Annie?’ I asked. ‘Who would be so low? Doesn’t she have it hard enough?’ And he wouldn’t really answer me. And I knew, I just knew! And then I pushed him as hard as I could. So hard he lost his balance and fell to the ground. And I stood over him, screaming, ‘Why?’ And he’s saying, ‘I love you, Scarlet. Don’t do this!’ And I’m like, ‘Answer the question, Gable. Just tell me why.’ And finally, he sighs, and he says it wasn’t anything against you or Win. He’d done it for the money. Someone had approached him weeks ago, saying they would pay big bucks if he could deliver a picture of Anya Balanchine and Win Delacroix in a compromising situation. And then Gable tried to justify his actions by saying that you owed him this money because of how much he’d lost because of you, like his foot and his good looks and such. And then he said someone else would have taken that picture anyway, if not him.”
At this point, Scarlet started to cry again. “I feel like such an incredible fool, Annie!”
I told her that it wasn’t her fault. “I wonder how much money he got.”
“I don’t know. But I hate him. I hate him so much!” She was by the door, bent over and sobbing. I wanted to comfort her, but I didn’t have much mobility on account of the handcuffs.
“Scarlet, come over here.”
“I can’t. I disgust myself. I let that snake back into your life. You warned me about him. I just never thought you would be the one to get hurt.”