"Darling," she said, "I can't find my jewels. When I went out to the living room, the door to the suite was wide open."

When they took inventory, it seemed that her earrings and necklace were missing, along with Billy's cuff links and several hundred dollars in cash.

She clutched him and buried her head in his chest. "It's terrifying to think they were right here in the room while we were sleeping."

Billy called the manager and demanded to know what kind of security they had in this G.o.dd.a.m.n hotel.

"I think their att.i.tude is appalling," Alysha said after their initial interview with the hotel manager and the head of security.

"More worried about covering their a.s.ses than solving the crime."

That evening, the head of security knocked on the door and said they were still investigating. "Mr. Laube, can I ask you how long you've known Ms. de Sante?" Outraged, Billy threatened to move out that very night.

"Don't worry," Billy told Alysha later. "Between my insurance company and the hotel's, we'll reimburse you for your jewelry, if you can just give me an appraisal."

"Oh, darling, that's so sweet of you."

"No, it was sweet of you to buy me those cuff links. I'd just like to get my hands on the b.a.s.t.a.r.d who swiped them."

"There was a gentleman looking for you earlier," her doorman told her when she arrived home that night. "He wouldn't leave his name. I think he was trying to serve you with some kind of legal doc.u.ment. Of course I told him that you were out of town."

"There must be some mistake," she said, but Saul called the next day to confirm that she should indeed expect a subpoena.

"They're seeking a summary judgment of default and they want to depose you."

"I have no idea what any of that means," she said, "and I told you I just need a little more time."

"You can dodge the summons for a few days or a week, but sooner or later you'll have to give your deposition. And you're going to have to pay off the loan."

"Tell those nasty lawyers I'm far too busy at the moment for their silly deposition." The gala was only three days away, for one thing, and she was on the seating committee, which had to finalize the a.s.signment of tables today, a very delicate operation that involved accommodating the large egos of major donors, separating enemies, and rewarding friends. And she had her final fitting at Valentino.

She instructed her doormen to tell all callers, except for Mr. Laube, that she was in Paris.

The night of the gala, Alysha wore the strapless white lace Valentino with a black bodice. And she had meanwhile taken Billy to Dunhill for a made-to-measure single-breasted tux with peaked lapels. He couldn't quite believe it cost three thousand dollars, but she told him that such a G.o.dlike build deserved custom suiting.

Lincoln Center's plaza, framed by the soaring columns of the opera house, Avery Fisher and the New York State Theater, seemed to Alysha a suitable stage for the great occasion. Billy took her arm as they disembarked at the drop-off area and escorted her up the steps. The photographers lining the red carpet began to stir, repeating her name as they readied themselves for her entrance.

They began to snap; then one of them stepped forward. "Alysha de Sante?"

"Yes?"

He handed her a yellow envelope. "You've been served."

"What the h.e.l.l?" Billy said.

Alysha dropped the envelope, but on second thought, she realized that she could hardly leave it behind, and so she asked Billy to pick it up for her, the whole scene recorded as the cameras continued to flash, Alysha repairing her smile and leading the bewildered Billy through the gauntlet, turning to see Kip and Mary Trotter, who were right behind them, witnesses to the whole fiasco.

"What was all that about?" Billy asked, blinking and frowning, once they were inside.

"Oh, darling, I didn't want to bore you with my problems," she said in a quavering voice. She realized she had to present her own version of events before he heard any malicious gossip, or, G.o.d forbid, read an unflattering account in some column. But first she had to fulfill her role as gala cochair and escort of the evening's distinguished honoree.

"Whatever it is, it's nothing we can't fix," he said, squeezing her hand. The collective p.r.o.noun thrilled her even more than his compa.s.sionate expression; it was true-truer than he could possibly imagine-that with his help, her problems would simply vanish. It was all so simple, really. She would bare her soul to him and he would rescue her.

Mary Trotter took her by the elbow. "Anything wrong?"

"Everything is absolutely wonderful," Alysha replied.

And indeed it was. She and Billy circulated through the crowd, accepting compliments. Alysha knew everyone and introduced Billy to those dignitaries with whom he was not yet acquainted, including the director of the ballet and the mayor. At one point when they became separated, she introduced herself to Zach Hunter, the actor, who would be more or less a contemporary of Billy.

"Very nice to meet you," he said, looking over her shoulder.

"My gentleman friend, Billy Laube, is a big fan of yours," Alysha said. "I know he'd be delighted to meet you."

"Billy Laube? You mean, like, the Laube Foundation?"

She nodded, pointing to Billy, who stood a head above the crowd a few yards away. "Come say h.e.l.lo to Billy."

She led him over and introduced them. Billy seemed relieved to see Alysha and delighted to meet a movie star. It turned out they had a friend in common, someone in Los Angeles named Ray Stark. They engaged in an enthusiastic exchange, much of it relating to the Denver Broncos football team. When they separated to find their respective tables, Alysha said, "Who was was that man?" that man?"

"You didn't recognize Zach Hunter? Are you that young? He's an actor, a movie star. At least he was. I thought you knew him."

"He introduced himself and told me I was the most beautiful woman in the room. I thought perhaps he did look familiar. But then he kept talking to me, so I thought I would introduce him to you so he would know I had a boyfriend."

"Wow," Billy said. "Zach Hunter was. .h.i.tting on you. And you didn't even know it."

"Perhaps he was was a little before my time, or else he is more popular here than in Europe," she said, taking his arm and leading him to the table. a little before my time, or else he is more popular here than in Europe," she said, taking his arm and leading him to the table.

The evening was an unalloyed triumph, and anyone expecting to see Alysha nervous or humbled was disappointed. She took the stage after appetizers and introduced Billy at some length, and he gave a very charming and self-deprecating speech that she had written for him with the help of her Wellesley-educated a.s.sistant. The performances were first-rate; even Billy seemed to enjoy the show, which at twenty minutes was just long enough to satisfy the faithful without alienating the banker husbands who had to be at work early the next morning. She knew there was a little buzz concerning the events out on the red carpet, but she chose to rise above it. All that mattered was what Billy thought. The rest of them would follow in his wake.

"You were wonderful," she told him, safely in the car shortly after eleven.

"You're the wonderful one," he said, throwing his big lumberjack arm around her and pulling her close. "I was worried about you."

"You're sweet," she said, "but I don't want you to worry. I'm used to these attacks. They are jealous of me, and they wish to see me suffer, but I won't give them the satisfaction." She buried her head in his shoulder.

"Who? Who's attacking you?"

"The children."

"Children?"

"My late husband's children. They hate me-they want to ruin me. They are contesting the beastly will and they have frozen my a.s.sets. My lawyers tell me we will win in the end, but before we do, I may lose my house in Southampton. Maybe even my apartment. Oh, Billy, I didn't want you to become mixed up in this nasty business."

"Well, it sounds like you need somebody to get mixed up in it. What was the summons all about?"

"It's about the mortgage. They're going to foreclose on my beautiful house."

"n.o.body's going to foreclose on anything. Not if I have anything to say about it."

"I can't ask you to rescue me."

"You don't have to ask," he said, pulling her closer.

The next day, Billy canceled his lunch date and walked over to Cartier to look at rings. He'd almost proposed to her last night in the car, but he had old-fashioned ideas about propriety and presentation. He wanted to do it right. He wanted to have the ring and the proper setting for the proposal. Casting his mind about for a place, he realized that Alysha would be the person who would know the perfect location. In the past few weeks he had come more and more to rely on her. He realized that he liked this feeling of surrender, of being taken care of. She seemed to know everyone and everything. All he had to do was show up and be himself. They made a good team.

After fifteen minutes in the store, his head was spinning. Emerald cut, marquise cut, pear and princess ... color and clarity. And he was shocked by how much you could spend on a fairly modest-looking diamond ring. Billy had little experience with jewelry. Most of the jewelry he'd given his first wife had originally belonged to his mother.

"I'm going on my break," the salesgirl said, "but my colleague will be happy to help you." She indicated a slim young man in a tight black suit, whose hair was combed to a peak in the center of his head.

"Mr. Laube, isn't it?" he said.

Billy nodded, surprised at being recognized by such an unlikely figure.

"Miss de Sante is a client," he said cheerfully. "A very fine lady. A very refined lady, I should say."

Billy nodded, wondering how this odd young fellow knew so much about him.

"I'm sorry you didn't like the cuff links," he said.

"I beg your pardon?"

"The cuff links. That Miss de Sante bought for you. She said they weren't your cup of tea."

"Cuff links? What are you talking about? You mean the sapphire cuff links?"

He nodded. "The ones she returned last week."

"That's impossible," Billy said.

"Perhaps I'm mistaken," the clerk said.

"She returned them?"

"That was my impression."

"This happened ... recently?"

"Yes, last week."

"Could I see these cuff links?"

"You want to look at them again?" the clerk asked nervously.

"I think I need to see them," Billy said.

The day after the gala, the calls started coming in at eleven. All the girls agreed the night had been a big success. They a.s.sured Alysha that she and Billy were the cutest couple in town, and several wanted to know when they could expect an announcement.

When she hadn't heard from Billy by two, she decided to check in. His secretary said he was in a meeting.

"Did you give him my previous message?" she demanded the next time she called, told that he was still unavailable.

"I give Mr. Laube all of his messages." From the first time they'd spoken, Alysha hadn't liked her att.i.tude, and she vowed to get rid of her, perhaps sooner rather than later.

"If you value your job at all, I strongly suggest that you tell Mr. Laube I'm on the phone."

"I'm sorry, Mr. Laube is unavailable."

This woman was simply intolerable, but Alysha was stymied. At one time, she'd found it charming that Billy was one of the last men on earth subsisting without benefit of a cell phone, but now it was simply infuriating. "Tell Mr. Laube it's urgent that he call me at home immediately."

At eight and again at eight-thirty she called the Carlyle, where the switchboard operator told her that Mr. Laube was not accepting calls.

"I'm his fiancee," Alysha said. "I demand to speak to him."

"I'm sorry, but my instructions were very clear."

"How dare you tell me I can't speak to my fiance? I demand to speak to the manager."

But the buffoon of a manager was no more cooperative than the switchboard operator, and he seemed unmoved when Alysha told him that she was a very good friend of the owner and would have them both fired.

The next day, his awful secretary told her that Billy was out of town. Two days later, she heard from a friend that he was shooting at an estate in Norfolk. She couldn't understand what had gone wrong. He'd been so loving, so concerned, the night of the gala. Someone must have poisoned him against her. Someone had told him something, but what? Of course she knew she had enemies; a girl in her position was naturally a target of jealousy and resentment. Could someone have told him about Riyadh? If she had the opportunity, she would tell him that it wasn't her choice, that she was barely sixteen when her mother had arrived one day at the convent, after an absence of almost a year, and taken her away, promising a great adventure, reminding her about the prince, who'd seen her the previous summer in Monaco.

Billy was still traveling when she sat through her deposition a month later. Her lawyer prevented her from answering most of the questions, but once they were alone, he turned gloomy. "I can stave off a summary judgment for a few weeks at best," he said. "We've got to come up with some kind of plan."

That night, she called Mary Trotter and asked her to dinner the following Thursday, having heard that Mary was giving a party that night for Jake Taplow, the software billionaire.

"I'm so sorry," Mary said, "but I'm afraid we're busy that night."

"Perhaps we could combine our little soirees."

"I don't think so, Alysha."

"Well, you're actually the first couple I've called, so I could easily postpone my dinner and join you that night."

"I don't think you'd feel comfortable, darling." She paused. "Sonja Grossman's coming, and I know how you two feel about each other."

"That's silly. I don't have anything against Sonja." She was more than willing to be magnanimous about her former stepdaughter, if necessary.

"Well, I'm glad to hear it, but Sonja seems to be nursing some silly grudge. I certainly haven't ever discussed it with her, but I think it's safe to say she's not your biggest fan, and I'd hate to subject you to an awkward situation. And the fact is, she's bringing Billy Laube as her date. They met in London and apparently he gave her a ride home on his plane, and, well, honestly, Alysha, I wouldn't dream of putting you in that position. I think it's terrible the way he dropped you; everyone's saying it's practically a breach of promise. It's shameful, but honestly, what can I do? My hands are tied. I had no idea they were an item when I invited Sonja. But let's by all means get together this weekend in Southampton, just the three of us."

2008.

How It Ended I like to ask married couples how they met. It's always interesting to hear how two lives became intertwined, how of the nearly infinite number of possible conjunctions this or that one came into being, to hear the first chapter of a story in progress. As a matrimonial lawyer, I deal extensively in endings, so it's a relief, a sort of holiday, to visit the realm of beginnings. And I ask because I've always enjoyed telling my own story-our story, I should say-which I've always felt was unique.