"You know better than that, Becky. Why should she? She loves us too. In all the important senses of the word, we're her parents. She knows what that means as well as we do. But that doesn't mean she won't want to see her sisters. If someone told me tomorrow I had two sisters I'd never known, I'd want to see them too, but it wouldn't make me love you any less, or Megan." But Rebecca was still frightened and they talked about it long into the night. Rebecca wanted to keep their pact of silence, and David felt that they owed it to Megan to tell her. It took them another full day to resolve it. And when they finally called, John felt relief sweep over him, he had been going crazy in his hotel room. But he didn't want to leave until he knew where things stood, and he didn't want to press them.

She invited him to come to their house in Tiburon that night, and the three of them talked for a long time about the difficulties of telling Megan after so many years that she was adopted, and it was obvious that Rebecca was still fearful, but David was both adamant and supportive. He told John that his only request was that they wanted to tell Megan themselves, and in person. She was due home in two weeks for a brief vacation, and they would tell her then. They would call him as soon as she knew, and he was welcome to speak to her after that and set up the meeting that Arthur Patterson wanted so badly. And John had no recourse but to accept. They had all the cards in their hands and he wanted to do the right thing for them, and for Megan.

He went home that weekend, and called Arthur Patterson at home. It was obvious that he was not doing well, and John knew he had given up going to the office. He explained that he had found the Abramses, and that they wanted to tell Megan themselves. It meant waiting two weeks, but Chapman felt there was no choice. It was the only decent thing to do, and Arthur reluctantly agreed, and hoped he lived long enough to complete his mission.

"What's left to do now?" he asked John.

"Wait to hear from them. Then I'll set up the meeting with Megan and the others. Alexandra is ready to come when I call her, and I still have to deal with Hilary. But I don't want to do that until the last minute." He instinctively sensed that the later he did it, the more likely she might be to come to the meeting. "That gives us another two weeks to cool our heels. I'll let you know if I hear anything sooner."

"Thank you, John." And then, unexpectedly, "You've done a fine job. I'm amazed that you've found them."

"So am I." John smiled at his end. He had never really thought he would, and he had ... and in a few weeks they would be back together, and his job would be over. Part of him felt bereft at the thought, and another part felt relieved and he thought of what Eloise had said when they had lunch. He would be free when it was over.

Chapter 25.

The call came from the Abramses in two and a half weeks, as promised, and John could tell from the strain in David's voice that telling Megan hadn't been easy for them.

"She took it very well." His voice broke, "We were very proud of her ... we always have been...." and then he went on, sounding stronger. "She said she'd call you herself when she gets back to Kentucky, if you'd like to talk to her."

"Would it be possible for me to talk to her now?" John asked carefully, and David had conferred with someone at the other end and then handed the phone to someone, whose voice John recognized within moments. Without the French accent, she sounded just like Alexandra, she had the same intonations, the same voice, the same laughter.

"Mr. Chapman?"

"Yes."

"This is all something of a surprise." She sounded matter-of-fact, and young, but very pleasant.

"I'm sorry about that. I truly am."

"It couldn't be helped. I understand you wanted to speak to me."

"I did. I was hoping to meet you in Kentucky briefly before I set up the meeting. When do you suppose you could come to Connecticut to meet with the others?"

"I won't know that till I get back. My schedule won't be set until the day I return. But I could call you then, if you like."

"I'd appreciate it very much." And she did. She called punctually the day she arrived, and John wondered if that meant she was anxious to meet the others or if she was just that kind of person.

She told him that she would be free to see him, in Kentucky, that Sunday afternoon, between one and five. And she would be able to come to Connecticut for two days three weeks later, but no sooner.

Chapman frowned as he listened to her, wondering if Arthur would live that long, and he shared his concerns with her.

"I can try and trade with one of the other docs, but it won't change things by more than a few days. We're terribly understaffed, and you'll see what we're up against when you come down here."

"You could make it in three weeks though?"

"I could. Unless there were a major emergency, but I can never predict that."

"I understand." She was businesslike and very firm for a young woman of thirty-one, and while she had the same voice, she seemed very different from the others. She was intent on a single purpose, and she had been brought up with values and traditions much different from those of Hilary or Alexandra. She was h.e.l.l-bent on helping unfortunates and fighting the war on poverty. It was something Alexandra had certainly never thought of, and Hilary had been far too busy surviving to concern herself with the more esoteric problems of the ma.s.ses. It was intriguing how different they were. And John remembered something Alexandra had said to him in Paris.

The kaleidoscope had taken yet another turn and produced a totally different image ... this time the demons had been turned into snow-covered mountains.

He agreed to come to Kentucky the following Sat.u.r.day afternoon, and would meet her at the hospital during her free time there. He thanked her for spending it with him, and he confirmed the date for the meeting with her sisters. They set it for September first, and he called Arthur as soon as he hung up. And the following morning he called Alexandra on the Riviera. They had a terrible connection, but eventually the line cleared and she could hear him.

"Already?" She sounded excited. "You've found them both?" It was amazing. "Where was Megan?"

He smiled at her gentle voice. She already spoke of her like a sister she had never lost, who had merely been gone on a long vacation. "She's a doctor in Kentucky."

"Oh my G.o.d. And Hilary's all right?"

"Yes. I've seen her."

"Has she agreed to come on the first?" She held her breath waiting for the answer, and her hopes were dashed as soon as John told her he hadn't called her.

"I don't want to give her too much time to think about it. I'll give her a call in a week or so."

"What if she goes away?" Alexandra was worried.

"Don't worry. I'll find her." They both laughed and a moment later they hung up, and Alexandra hurriedly called her mother. She was staying at Cap d'Antibes, at the Hotel du Cap where she always stayed. And Henri had finally relented on her exile.

"Maman?"

"Yes, darling, is something wrong?"

Alexandra sounded breathless, and suddenly very young, like one of her own daughters.

"He's found them both."

"Both what?" She had just gotten up and was drinking her coffee and reading the Herald Tribune. Herald Tribune. She couldn't imagine what Alexandra might have lost that someone else might have found. "What on earth are you talking about?" She couldn't imagine what Alexandra might have lost that someone else might have found. "What on earth are you talking about?"

"My sisters! Chapman found them both!" She sounded ecstatic and Margaret's blood suddenly ran cold. She had somehow hoped that he wouldn't find them.

"How nice." She tried to force herself to sound happy. "Are they well?"

"One of them is a doctor, the younger one, and the other one, Hilary, works for a television network in New York."

"They sound like quite an ill.u.s.trious group. And you're a baroness. They ought to make a movie about you." But she was not amused, and Alexandra knew it.

"Don't worry, Maman. It's not going to change anything. Please know that."

Margaret wished she could be sure of that. Her fears were not so different from those of Rebecca Abrams. "When are you meeting them?"

"On the first of September. I just got the call. I'm going to Connecticut."

"What are you going to tell Henri?"

"I haven't figured that out yet. I thought maybe I'd tell him I was going with you ... or perhaps on business for you."

"He won't believe that."

"No. But I can hardly tell him the truth. I'll think of something." They talked for a moment longer and then hung up, and five minutes later Margaret called her back, and her first words stunned Alexandra.

"I'm going with you."

"What? ... Maman ... you can't...."

"Why not?" She had made up her mind, and thought it an excellent idea, aside from providing Alexandra with the alibi that she needed. Besides, that way she could keep an eye on things, and stay close to Alexandra. She was desperately afraid of that meeting.

"It's such a lot of trouble for you. You weren't even going back to Paris until the end of September. You told me you were going to Rome for a few weeks."

"So? I can go to Rome in October. Or on the way back from New York. All I wanted to do was visit Marisa"-one of her oldest friends-"and buy some decent shoes. But I'd much rather go to New York with you," and then, almost shyly, "... if you'll have me."

"Oh Mother ..." Tears sprang to her eyes as she thought of it. She sensed how frightened Margaret was, but she didn't need to be. No one, no blood relative, no husband, no friend, could ever replace her. "Of course I'd love you to come. It just seems like such an imposition."

"Don't be ridiculous. I'd be a nervous wreck if I stayed here." And then she had a totally crazy idea, but she liked it. "Shall we take Axelle and Marie-Louise?" Alexandra's face lit up at the thought. She didn't like just leaving them at the end of the summer, even for only a few days. And Henri couldn't possibly object to a family trip like that.

"That's a wonderful idea. The three of you can stay in New York while I go to Connecticut, and then we can all have a little fun before we go back to Paris. The girls don't start school until the eleventh."

"Marvelous, I'll call the Pierre and make the reservations today. You call the airlines. What day will we arrive?"

"Friday is the first ... maybe we should fly on Thursday, the thirty-first of August."

"Perfect. I'll make reservations for ten days. We can always change them if you want to come back sooner."

"Maman ..." There was a lump in her throat the size of a fist as she thought of the only mother she had ever known. "I love you."

"Everything's going to be fine, darling. Just fine." And for the first time since John Chapman had appeared at the rue de Varenne, she really thought so.

Alexandra didn't say anything to Henri for another week. And then she mentioned it casually to him one afternoon as they lay on the terrace.

"My mother wants me to go to New York with her, at the end of the summer." She said it easily but he looked up at her angrily. He was still angry at her for her supposed transgression before they'd left Paris. They had never discussed it again, but she knew he hadn't forgiven her.

"What's that all about now?"

"Nothing. She has some business to take care of in New York. Some investments of her family's that need looking into, and she asked me to come along and bring the girls."

"That's ridiculous. Why would you go to New York in August?" He was suspicious of both of them, and the plot they were obviously cooking up against him.

"It's actually not till the very end of August. And it might be fun for the girls to do something a little different."

"Nonsense. You can go to New York some other time, this winter without the children." But the harshness of his words sent a chill down her spine. He didn't know it, but nothing was going to stop her from going, or from taking her children with her.

"No, Henri. I'm going now. With my mother. And And the children." the children."

He bolted to a sitting position and stared at her angrily. "Aren't you getting rather independent suddenly, Alexandra? May I remind you that I make the decisions here, for you, as well as the children." He had never put it quite so bluntly, but it was true, or had been until then. But slowly, things had begun to change, since John Chapman had come to Paris.

"I don't think this is worth getting excited about, Henri. It's an invitation from my mother, for myself and the girls."

"And if I forbid you to go?" His face was red with unspent fury, and her shocking behavior.

"I will have to go anyway. My mother has asked me to come with her."

"Your mother is not an invalid. I'll call her myself and tell her you're not going." But this time Alexandra stood up and faced him. She spoke in a quiet voice, but there was no mistaking the steel beneath the velvet.

"I do not wish to disobey you, but I must go to New York with my mother."

"Why? Tell me that. Give me one valid reason."

"It's too complicated to explain. It's all family business."

"Alexandra, you're lying to me." He was right, but she had no choice, the truth was too frightening to share with him.

"Please don't say that. I won't be gone long. Just a few days."

"Why, dammit, why?" He pounded his fist on the gla.s.s table and she jumped.

"Henri, please, you're being unreasonable." And she was frightened that he would force her to tell him. "My mother wants to visit her family, and she wants me to come along. There's nothing wrong with that."

"What's wrong with it is that I didn't say you could go, and I see no reason for you to do so."

"Perhaps because I want to."

"You don't make those kinds of decisions for yourself. You are not a single woman."

"Nor am I a slave. You can't decide everything for me, for heaven's sake. This is the twentieth century, not the Dark Ages."

"And you are not some sort of modern women's libber to do as you please. Or if that's what you wish, Alexandra, you may not do it under my roof. Please keep that in mind before you start making your own travel arrangements."

"This is ridiculous. You act as though I've committed a crime."

"Not at all. But it is I who decide what you'll do when. That's how it's been for fourteen years, and I see no reason to change it."

"And if I do?" she asked ominously. For the first time in her life the way he treated her truly rankled. She knew he was a kind and decent man, but he ran her life in such a way that she was no longer happy with it. And what's more, she knew it.

"You'll have trouble with me if you try out this independence. I'm warning you now."

"And I'm telling you, as politely as I can, that I'm going to New York with my mother on the thirty-first of August."

"That remains to be seen. And if I let you go, you are not taking my daughters. Is that clear?" It was all a power play and she suddenly hated him for it. All he needed was a whip to complete the image he was making.

"Are they prisoners here too then?"

"Is that how you see yourself?"