get her pride back. Involving the police, the press, the public, would

only heap humiliation on top of humiliation.

"All right, not yet," Marianne said, though she had no intention of

seeing Drew waltz away unscathed. "You're sure the accountant will keep

his mouth shut, about where you are?"

"Yes. He's my accountant after all. When I told him I was getting

divorced, he went into action." It was almost funny, if such things

could be funny. "I suppose after dealing with boring trusts and such

all these years, he was excited by a fat, complicated divorce."

Divorce, she thought. It was such a huge word. Such a final one.

Marianne kept silent a moment while they walked. "He's going to find

out where you are sooner or later."

"I know." Instantly nerves replaced regret. "I just want it to be

later, when I'm sure nothing he can say or do will make me go back with

him."

"See the lawyer," Marianne urged. "Get it started."

"As soon as your plane takes off."

Marianne shuffled restlessly then popped a Lifesaver in her mouth. It

was getting so there was no place you could smoke in an airport.

"Listen, Emma, it's only been a couple weeks since-since we came out

here. Are you sure you don't want me to stay a few more days?"

"I want you to get back to your painting. I mean it," she added before

her friend could object. "When a Kennedy commissions your work, your

reputation's made. Go finish the painting before Caroline changes her

mind."

"You'll call me." Marianne heard the announcement for her Right. "Every

day."

"I will." She clung for one last minute. "When this is behind me, I'm

going to want my half of the loft back."

"It's yours. Unless I decide to marry that dentist and move to Long

Island."

"What dentist?"

"The one who wants me to have my roots planed."

Her lips curved. It was becoming almost easy to smile. "That's

certainly a novel, and disgusting, approach."

It was good, Marianne thought, to see Emma really smile again. "Yeah,

maybe, but he's got these big brown eyes. Hairy knuckles, though. I

don't know if I could fall in love with hairy knuckles."

"Especially since he'd always be sticking them in your mouth. That's

your last boarding call."

"You call me."

"Absolutely." She wasn't going to cry. Emma promised herself she wasn't

going to. But they both were. With one final hug, Marianne raced off.

Emma waited by the gate, watching through the windows as the plane

taxied back. She was alone now. On her own. Decisions, mistakes,

opinions, were hers to make again. And it terrified her. It wasn't so

long ago, she thought, she had been on her own in London. That had been

such an exciting, such a freeing, feeling. And she'd been in love.

She wasn't in love now. That was one small blessing.

As she started back toward the terminal, she scanned the crowd,