“Is he well? And your mother?”
“They’re both fine, thank you.”
Maggie had come around the table to more easily chat with her. “Frank was with Eastern Engineering then, though he went out on his own ten years ago.” She looked over to find her husband engrossed in an animated discussion with Web, and she smiled indulgently. “You’ll have to excuse him. I know it’s rude for us to barge in on your dinner this way, but he’s so fond of Brian that he simply had to stop in and say hello.”
Marni smiled. “It’s perfectly all right. Have you known … Brian long?”
“Several years. Our daughter is—was—a model. When she first went to Brian to be photographed, she was pretty confused. He was wonderful. I really think that if it hadn’t been for him, she would have ended up in a sorry state. She’s married now and just had her first child.” Maggie beamed. “The baby’s a jewel.”
“Boy … girl?” Out of the corner of her eye, Marni saw Web standing with one hand in his trousers pocket. He looked thoroughly in command, totally at ease and very handsome. She realized that she was proud to be with him.
“A boy. Christopher James. He’s absolutely precious.”
Marni retrained her focus on Maggie. “And you’re enjoying him. Do they live close by?”
“In Washington. We’ve been down several times—”
“Come on, sweetheart,” Frank cut in. “The car’s waiting, and these folks don’t need us taking any more of their time.”
Maggie turned briefly back to Marni. “It was lovely meeting you.” Then she gave Web a kiss and let her husband guide her off.
“Sorry about that,” Web murmured, sitting down again. He pulled his chair closer to the table.
“Don’t apologize.” It was the first time she’d ever met any friends of Web’s. “They seemed lovely. Maggie was mentioning her daughter. They’re both in your debt, I take it.”
He shrugged. “She was a sweet kid who was lost in the rat race of modeling. Maggie and Frank say that she was ‘confused,’ and she was, but she was also on drugs and she was practically anorexic.”
“Isn’t that true of lots of models?”
“Mmm, but it was particularly sad with Sara. She had a good home. Her folks are loaded. I’m not sure she even wanted to model in the first place, but she had the looks and the style, and she somehow got snagged. If she hadn’t gotten out when she did, she’d probably be dead by now.”
Marni winced. “What did you do for her?”
He grew more thoughtful. “Talked, mostly. I took the pictures and made sure they were stupendous. Then I tried to convince her that she’d hit the top and ought to retire.”
“And just like that she did?”
“Not … exactly. I showed her my morgue book.”
“Morgue book?”
“Mmm. I keep files on everyone I’ve photographed, with a follow-up on each. I have a special folder—pictures of people who made it big, then plummeted. When I’m feeling sorry for myself about one thing or another, I take it out, and it makes me grateful for what I’ve got. I don’t show it to many people, but it gave Sara something to think about. She came back to see me often after that, and I finally convinced her to see a psychiatrist. Maggie and Frank are terrific, but Sara was their daughter, and the thought that she’d actually need a psychiatrist disturbed them.”
“But it worked.”
“It helped. Mostly what helped was meeting her husband. He’s a rock, a lawyer with the Justice Department, and he’s crazy about her. He supported her completely when she decided to go back to school to get the degree she missed out on when she began modeling.” He cleared his throat meaningfully. “I think the baby has interrupted that now, but Sara knows she can go back whenever she’s ready.”
“That’s a lovely story,” Marni said with a smile. “I’ll bet you have lots of others about people you’ve photographed.” She propped her elbow on the table and set her chin in her palm. “Tell me some.”
For the next hour, he did just that. There was a modesty to him, and she had to coax him on from time to time, but when he got going his tales fascinated her every bit as much as those he’d told fourteen years before had done. The years evaporated. She listened, enthralled, thinking how exciting his life was and how he was fully in control of it.
By the time they’d finished their second cup of coffee, they’d fallen silent and were simply looking at each other. Their communication continued, but on a different level, one in which Marni was too engrossed to analyze.
“Just like old times,” Web said quietly.
She nodded and smiled almost shyly. “I could sit listening to you for hours. You were always so different from other people. You had such a wealth of experience to draw on. You still do.”
“You’ve got experience of your own—”
