of it all. In their disguises they had been totally free to flirt and laugh and let emotions soar. Now, within the space of a few moments, it was all different. She looked atNick’s handsome face, then at the others in the group. Obviously they all knew each other, had grown up together, felt at ease with each other. Just as she and Rosie did, and Archie and Bridget and the people who made up
her
world.
That
was her life. This was Nick’s.
Only Nick noticed when she got up from her chair.
“Halley?”
She smiled down at him. “I want to see Sylvia.”
“But only for a minute,” he said. “Hurry back.” Then he was distracted by a question from one of the others, and Halley walked off quickly. The cooling night air was refreshing, and she felt the cobwebs in her mind gently blow away. Nick was still caught in the fantasy, but logical Halley wasn’t. Too bad. It was a lovely fantasy. The masquerade had been fun, but she was exhausted, and her feelings for this lovely fairy tale were growing too real to play with anymore.
No, she knew what she had to do. She’d take her money and run, as they say. Take her dreams and tuck them away, before the masquerade was dropped completely.
It would be lovely if fantasies came true, she thought as she searched for Sylvia and Herb Harrington, but they couldn’t. Halley Finnegan couldn’t be a contessa. No, even if fantasies could come true, she couldn’t be a contessa, not by the farthest stretch of the imagination. That was the clincher, because it didn’t take any imagination at all to turn Nick into a real-life baron. The thought made her strangely sad.
“It was wonderful!” she told Sylvia after Herb had sent a servant for her bags. The two stood alone on the wide fan of steps in front of the house.
“You’re sure you can’t stay a few more hours?” Sylvia looked genuinely disappointed.
“Yes, and I’m terribly sorry.” She watched Rosie’sbags being loaded into the tiny Volkswagen that the servant had driven to the entrance. Had it been only yesterday when she’d arrived? It seemed a lifetime ago. Impulsively, she hugged Sylvia before starting down the steps.
Halfway down, she stopped and turned around.
“Yes, dear?” Sylvia said.
“I truly
did
have a wonderful time. I wonder if you’d mind telling the Baron how much I enjoyed his company, and that perhaps we’ll meet again … maybe in Antibes?” She smiled up at her hostess.
Sylvia nodded. “Or perhaps even in Philadelphia,” she said wisely.
As Halley watched, a hint of a smile lighted the older woman’s face, then she turned and walked slowly back into her lovely home.
Four
Halley sat behind the desk in the tiny library office, her legs twisted around the straight wooden legs of the chair. A small smile played at the edges of her lips. She turned a page of the heavy book, and a fine puff of dust filled the air. “Ah-choo!”
“God bless you, Halley Finnegan! And where in heaven’s name have you been?”
“I’ve been to London to visit the queen.” Halley smiled up at her friend Rosie and slipped her glasses to the top of her head.
“You’re not very funny, Finnegan. At the very least I deserve a full report. Those were
my
clothes, you know.”
“Rosie, of that I was very, very aware. There was no way on earth they could have been mine!”
“You didn’t call last night.”
“I was bushed.”
“How bushed? And
why
were you bushed, living in the lap of luxury for two days?” Rosie leaned against the desk and sipped coffee from a Styrofoam cup.
“You’re not supposed to have coffee in the library.”
“You’re not supposed to have that positively X-rated,sensuous smile on your face while you read”—she flipped over the book resting open in front of Halley—“
Post Civil War Cemeteries!
That
definitely
doesn’t deserve a smile!”
“I like cemeteries. And I liked the weekend,” she added softly.
“Hah! Now we’re getting down to the
her
world.
That
was her life. This was Nick’s.
Only Nick noticed when she got up from her chair.
“Halley?”
She smiled down at him. “I want to see Sylvia.”
“But only for a minute,” he said. “Hurry back.” Then he was distracted by a question from one of the others, and Halley walked off quickly. The cooling night air was refreshing, and she felt the cobwebs in her mind gently blow away. Nick was still caught in the fantasy, but logical Halley wasn’t. Too bad. It was a lovely fantasy. The masquerade had been fun, but she was exhausted, and her feelings for this lovely fairy tale were growing too real to play with anymore.
No, she knew what she had to do. She’d take her money and run, as they say. Take her dreams and tuck them away, before the masquerade was dropped completely.
It would be lovely if fantasies came true, she thought as she searched for Sylvia and Herb Harrington, but they couldn’t. Halley Finnegan couldn’t be a contessa. No, even if fantasies could come true, she couldn’t be a contessa, not by the farthest stretch of the imagination. That was the clincher, because it didn’t take any imagination at all to turn Nick into a real-life baron. The thought made her strangely sad.
“It was wonderful!” she told Sylvia after Herb had sent a servant for her bags. The two stood alone on the wide fan of steps in front of the house.
“You’re sure you can’t stay a few more hours?” Sylvia looked genuinely disappointed.
“Yes, and I’m terribly sorry.” She watched Rosie’sbags being loaded into the tiny Volkswagen that the servant had driven to the entrance. Had it been only yesterday when she’d arrived? It seemed a lifetime ago. Impulsively, she hugged Sylvia before starting down the steps.
Halfway down, she stopped and turned around.
“Yes, dear?” Sylvia said.
“I truly
did
have a wonderful time. I wonder if you’d mind telling the Baron how much I enjoyed his company, and that perhaps we’ll meet again … maybe in Antibes?” She smiled up at her hostess.
Sylvia nodded. “Or perhaps even in Philadelphia,” she said wisely.
As Halley watched, a hint of a smile lighted the older woman’s face, then she turned and walked slowly back into her lovely home.
Four
Halley sat behind the desk in the tiny library office, her legs twisted around the straight wooden legs of the chair. A small smile played at the edges of her lips. She turned a page of the heavy book, and a fine puff of dust filled the air. “Ah-choo!”
“God bless you, Halley Finnegan! And where in heaven’s name have you been?”
“I’ve been to London to visit the queen.” Halley smiled up at her friend Rosie and slipped her glasses to the top of her head.
“You’re not very funny, Finnegan. At the very least I deserve a full report. Those were
my
clothes, you know.”
“Rosie, of that I was very, very aware. There was no way on earth they could have been mine!”
“You didn’t call last night.”
“I was bushed.”
“How bushed? And
why
were you bushed, living in the lap of luxury for two days?” Rosie leaned against the desk and sipped coffee from a Styrofoam cup.
“You’re not supposed to have coffee in the library.”
“You’re not supposed to have that positively X-rated,sensuous smile on your face while you read”—she flipped over the book resting open in front of Halley—“
Post Civil War Cemeteries!
That
definitely
doesn’t deserve a smile!”
“I like cemeteries. And I liked the weekend,” she added softly.
“Hah! Now we’re getting down to the
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