“You really believe that?” He seemed surprised.

“I do.”

“I'm a little more cynical than that.” So was Armand, and maybe most men were, but she still believed in things happening fairly in life, at least most of the time. It still didn't explain early deaths or children who were hurt or died, and yet most of the time she believed that life doled out the right rewards. Hillary would get hers. And Nick would too. “But I hope you're right, my friend.” She liked what he had just said, it was precisely what she felt for him. They had become friends. “I hope we see you in Paris some time, if you and Armand aren't all swallowed up by diplomatic life.”

“And you by your own steel deals.” She smiled at him and finally withdrew her hand from his. “They say that things happen quickly on ships, friendships, romances, and that back on land everyone becomes normal again and forgets.” She looked into his eyes and he slowly shook his head.

“I won't forget you. If you ever need a friend, call. Burnham Steel is in the Paris book. Over here we're called Burnham Compagnie.” She liked the idea of knowing where he would be, and yet she couldn't imagine a call like that. Her life with Armand was very complete. Nick was far more likely to need them.

They stood quietly then for a time, looking out to sea, and at last Liane looked at her watch with a sigh and then at Nick. “My husband works too hard, I'm afraid. I was going to wait up for him, but I think I ought to get to bed. Tomorrow is the last day on the ship, and I'll have a lot of packing to do.” They had brought so much, but there had been so many gala events, the theater, the captain's dinners, she had to dress for lunch and then again for tea every day. Even keeping to their rooms as much as they had, she had worn a great many clothes. It was easier for the men, spending every evening in white tie and tails. “It's funny, we've only been on the ship for ten nights, but it feels more like ten weeks.”

He smiled. “It does to me too.” But he was anxious to arrive now. He'd had enough. And he was glad that they only had one more day. And then he had a thought as he looked at Liane. “Can I interest you in another tennis match tomorrow?”

“I'd like that, unless Armand is free.” And she was hoping that he would be. She liked Nick, but she was desperately hungry for some time with her husband.

“Of course. I'll look for you tomorrow morning, and you can let me know then.”

“Thank you, Nick.” She looked at him for a long time, and then gently touched his arm. “Everything will be all right, you know. You'll see.”

He only smiled in answer and waved as she left. “Good night.” She was an unusual woman, he thought to himself. He only wished he had met her ten or twelve years before, but he had been only twenty-six then. She was the kind of woman who understood older men, and he assumed that her father had been responsible for that. She would never have been interested in him. Nor would he. What he had wanted ten years before was excitement and flash, women who took his breath away and danced all night. He couldn't imagine Liane doing that. She was too solid, too sedate, too wise … and yet, he thought to himself, he would have liked to see her running barefoot through a garden in the middle of the night… or in a swimming pool, or with her hair loose on a beach … she filled him with a sense of quiet, happy beauty. And as he returned to his new studio room, adjoining the Deauville suite, he realized that for the first time in a long time, he felt peace.





“

“In my room.”