“Not if we don’t go tonight, it isn’t. I’ll take it back to La Chanson right now unless you promise me we’re going.”
“That’s not fair. I can’t go. Can’t you see that?”
“No, I can’t see that at all. What would Grace think? You know she’d want you to go. “
Would she? Nellie thought about that. Knowing Grace, she would want her to go. Grace was always one for keeping up appearances. No matter how bad you felt inside, you kept up your social obligations. And you never, never made a spectacle of your feelings.
“Do it for Grace,” Gia said.
Nellie managed a little smile. “Very well, we shall go, although I can’t guarantee how stiff my upper lip shall be.”
“You’ll do fine.” Gia gave her one last hug, then released her. Victoria was calling from the kitchen, asking her mother to cut an orange for her. Gia hurried off, leaving Nellie alone in the foyer.
How will I do this? It has always been Grace-and-Nellie, Nellie-and-Grace, the two as one, always together. How will I do it without her?
Feeling very old, Nellie started up the stairs to her room.
8
Nellie had neglected to tell her whom the reception was for, and Gia never did find out. She got the impression it was to welcome a new high-ranking official to the Mission.
The affair, while hardly exciting, was not nearly as deadly dull as Gia had expected. The Harley House where it was being held was convenient to the U.N. and a short drive from Sutton Square. Even Nellie seemed to enjoy herself after a while. Only the first fifteen minutes or so were rough on the old woman, for immediately upon her arrival she was surrounded by a score of people asking after Grace and expressing their concern. All were members of that unofficial club of wealthy British citizens living in New York, “the colony within the Colonies.”
Buoyed by the sympathy and encouragement of her fellow Britons, Nellie perked up, drank some champagne, and actually began to laugh. Gia gave herself a pat on the back for refusing to allow her to cancel out tonight. This was her good deed for the day. The year!
Not such a bad crowd after all, Gia decided after an hour or so. There were numerous nationalities, all well dressed, friendly, polite, offering a smorgasbord of accents. The new dress fit her beautifully and she felt very feminine. She was aware of the admiring glances she drew from more than a few of the guests, and she enjoyed that. She was nearly finished with her third fluted glass of champagne—she knew nothing about champagne but this was delicious—when Nellie grabbed her by the arm and pulled her toward two men standing off to the side. Gia recognized the shorter of the pair as Edward Burkes, security chief at the Mission. The taller man was dark, dressed all in white, including his turban. When he turned she noticed with a start that he had no left arm.
“Eddie, how are you?” Nellie said, extending her hand.
“Nellie! How good to see you!” Burkes took her hand and kissed it. He was a burly man of about fifty with graying hair and a moustache. He looked at Gia and then smiled. “And Miss DiLauro! What an unexpected pleasure! You look wonderful! Allow me to introduce you both to Mr. Kusum Bahkti of the Indian delegation.”
The Indian made a small bow at the waist but did not extend his hand. “A pleasure to meet you both.”
Gia took an instant dislike to him. His dark, angular face was a mask, his eyes unreadable. He seemed to be hiding something. His gaze passed over her as if she were an ordinary piece of furniture, but came to rest and remain avidly on Nellie.
A waiter came around with a tray of champagne-filled glasses. Burkes gave one each to Nellie and Gia, then offered one to Mr. Bahkti, who shook his head.
“Sorry, Kusum,” Burkes said. “Forgot you don’t drink. Can I get you anything else? A fruit punch?”
Mr. Bahkti shook his head. “Don’t trouble yourself. Perhaps I’ll examine the buffet table later and see if you’ve put out any of those good English chocolates.”
“Are you a chocolate fancier?” Nellie said. “I adore it.”
“Yes. I developed a taste for it when I was with the London embassy. I brought a small supply with me when I came to this country, but that was six months ago and it has long since been depleted.”
“Just today I received a box of Black Magic from London. Have you ever had those?”
Gia saw genuine pleasure in Mr. Bahkti’s smile. “Yes. Superior chocolates. “
“You must come by some time and have some.”
The smile widened. “Perhaps I shall do that.”
Gia began to revise her opinion of Mr. Bahkti. He seemed to have gone from aloof to quite charming. Or was it simply an effect of her fourth glass of champagne? She tingled all over, felt almost giddy.
“I heard about Grace,” Burkes said to Nellie. “If there’s anything I can do… “
“We’re doing all we can,” Nellie said with a brave smile, “but mostly it comes down to waiting.”
“Mr. Bahkti and I were just discussing a mutual acquaintance, Jack Jeffers.”
“I believe his surname is Nelson,” the Indian said.
“No, I’m sure it’s Jeffers. Isn’t it, Miss DiLauro? You know him best, I believe.”
Gia wanted to laugh. How could she tell them Jack’s last name when she wasn’t sure herself. “Jack is Jack,” she said as tactfully as she could.
“He is that!” Burkes said with a laugh. “He recently helped Mr. Bahkti with a difficult matter.”
“Oh?” Gia said, trying not to sound arch. “A security matter?” That was how Jack was first introduced to her: “a security consultant. “
“Personal,” the Indian said, and that was all.
Gia wondered about that. What had the U.K. Mission used Jack for? And Mr. Bahkti, a U.N. diplomat—why would he need Jack? These weren’t the type of men who had use for someone like him. They were respectable members of the international diplomatic community. What could they want “fixed”? To her surprise, she detected an enormous amount of respect in their voices when they spoke of him. It baffled her.
“But anyway,” Burkes said, “I was thinking perhaps he could be of use in finding your sister, Nellie.”
Gia was looking at Mr. Bahkti as Burkes was speaking and she could have sworn she saw the Indian flinch. She did not have time to confirm the impression because she turned to give Nellie a quick warning look: They had promised Jack no one would know he was working for her.
“A marvelous idea, Eddie,” Nellie said, catching Gia’s glance and not missing a beat. “But I’m sure the police are doing all that can be done. However, if it—”
“Well, speak of the devil!” Burkes said, interrupting her and staring toward the entrance.
Before Gia turned to follow his gaze, she glanced again at Mr. Bahkti, who was already looking in the direction Burkes had indicated. On his dark face she saw a look of fury so deep, so fierce, that she stepped away from him for fear that he might explode. She searched the other end of the room to see what could cause such a reaction. And then she saw him… and her.
It was Jack. He was dressed in an old fashioned tuxedo with tails, white tie, and winged collar. He looked wonderful. Against her will, her heart leaped at the sight of him— That’s only because he’s a fellow American among all these foreigners—and then crashed. For on his arm was one of the most striking women Gia had ever seen.
9
Vicky was supposed to be asleep. It was way past her bedtime. She had tried to push herself into slumber, but it just wouldn’t come. Too hot. She lay on top of the bedsheet to get cool. The air conditioning didn’t work as well up here on the third floor as it did downstairs. Despite her favorite pink shorty pajamas, her dolls, and her new Wuppet to keep her company, she still couldn’t sleep. Eunice had done all she could, from sliced oranges—Vicky loved oranges and couldn’t get enough of them—to reading her a story. Nothing worked. Finally, Vicky had faked sleep just so Eunice wouldn’t feel bad.