“Is your hair natural?”
“Yes.”
She then turned to the woman in beige. “I'd like to see her without all those clothes on, and then I think we ought to send her to Andy. Don't mess around with any of the others.” The woman in beige nodded and made a rapid note. “I want to have something on her in the next two days. Can you do that?”
“Of course.” It would mean everyone working overtime, including Serena, but if Dorothea Kerr wanted “something on her” in two days, they would move heaven and earth to see that it was done. “I'll call him right away.”
“Fine.” Dorothea nodded at Serena then and walked away quickly. The door to her office closed almost instantly, and Serena's head began to spin. A minute later, as she listened to the conversation, she realized that Andy was Andrew Morgan, the most important fashion photographer on the East Coast. An appointment was made for later that morning, and before that she had to go to the hairdresser for a trim.
“Do you know how to find it?” The anonymous woman in beige looked sympathetic and then patted Serena's hand. “You know, she really liked you. She wouldn't have wanted shots on you in two days if she didn't have something big in mind for you.” But Serena still found it all very baffling and a little hard to believe. “Are you excited?”
Serena looked at her and felt her hand tremble as she took the note with the hairdresser's address. “I think so. So much has happened in the last five minutes that I'm not sure what I feel.”
“Well, enjoy it. Not everyone gets their first shots done by Andy Morgan.” Andy Morgan? Andy? For an insane moment Serena wanted to laugh. It was almost impossible not to be overwhelmed by what was starting to happen. It couldn't be. It wasn't real. It was crazy. But she glanced at the clock and knew that she had to get moving. “Do I have to wear anything special for the photographs?” “No, Dorothea said she'd have everything sent over. She particularly liked the idea of your being a princess. I think she's going to have him play that up in the shots.” For an instant Serena felt acutely nervous, perhaps she shouldn't have told them. But it was too late to stop them now. The woman in beige explained once again all the places where she was expected, wished her luck, and then went back to the stack of composites and file cards on her desk.
She arrived at Andrew Morgan's studio at exactly eleven thirty, as she had been told. And she didn't leave it again until almost nine o'clock that night. He shot black and white and color, he did head shots, candid, high fashion, evening dresses, tennis clothes, bathing suits, ermine, chinchilla, sable, Balanciagas, Diors, Givenchys, and jewels. He did her hair up and down and her makeup subtle and heavy and wild and crazy. She had had more clothes and furs and jewels and different outfits on in nine hours with Andrew Morgan than she had worn in all of the years she had worked in San Francisco. He was a tiny elf of a man, with a wonderful smile that lit up his black eyes, horn-rimmed glasses, and a shag of silvery gray hair that fell constantly in his eyes, he wore a black turtleneck sweater and black slacks and soft kid jazz dance shoes, and he seemed to leap through the air as he took the pictures. He reminded her constantly of a dancer, and she was so totally enamored of him, that she did all that he told her to do. More than that, he seemed to cast a kind of spell as he worked. She worked tirelessly with him for hours, and it wasn't until she walked in her front door that she realized how exhausted she was. Vanessa was already asleep. She had wanted to wait up to see her mommy, but Teddy had explained that they were taking beautiful pictures of her mother, and he had told her how beautiful her mother was, and how this was something very important for her. By the time Vanessa fell asleep, he had won her over again, and he read her two stories and sang her three lullabies, and halfway through the third one she fell asleep.
Exactly two days later Dorothea Kerr called her herself and requested her to come into the office that afternoon.
When Serena arrived, her knees were almost trembling, her hands were damp, and she was feeling excessively grateful that Teddy had had another of his rare free afternoons. She had already found an agency for baby-sitters, but even they couldn't work miracles at short notice. But when she saw the photographs taken by Andy Morgan, she knew that he could. Each one was like a work of art, something to hang in a museum, and as she looked at herself she felt that she barely knew whom she was looking at. Even she had to admit that he had captured something extravagant and striking and regal, and she couldn't believe that she could look so beautiful, certainly not in real life. She looked up from the photographs and met the eyes of Dorothea Kerr, hard and gray on her own, and Dorothea leaned back in her chair and gnawed on a pair of glasses as she stared at Serena some more.
“Well, we have what we need here, Serena. What about you? Just how interested in all this are you? Very, a little? Enough to work your tail off? Do you just want a job or do you want a career? Because I want to know now before we waste our time on someone who doesn't give a damn about the job.”
“I care very much about the job.” She sounded sincere and she was, but for Dorothea it wasn't enough.
“Why? Are you in love with this business? Or with yourself?”
“No.” Serena faced her squarely. “I have a little girl.”
“And that's the only reason?”
“It's part of it. This is the only way I know to make a living, and it's a good living. I like the work.” She looked at Dorothea with a sparkle in her eyes. “To tell you the truth, I'm anxious to try my luck in New York.” Her excitement was beginning to show and the older woman smiled.
“You're divorced?”
“I'm a widow, with a small pension from the army. That's it.”
Dorothea looked intrigued. “Korea?” Serena nodded. “What about your family, don't they help?”
“They're all dead.”
“And his?”
Serena began to look unhappy, and Dorothea was quick to pick up on where not to tread. “Never mind. If you say you need it for your little girl, then obviously you need it. I just hope the kid has a big appetite, to keep you wanting to go out and work.” She gave Serena one of her very rare smiles, and then she looked serious again. “What about the title?” She sighed softly. “I did a little research on it, and I gather it's genuine, Serena. How do you feel about using it? Does it go against the grain?”
Serena smiled softly. “Yes, but that doesn't matter. I came here to do something with you. As you put it, for a career, not a job. If that makes a difference”—she almost gulped thinking of her grandmother—”go ahead, use it.”
“It should help us create an image. Princess Serena. ‘The Princess.’” She looked thoughtful for a moment. “I like it. I like it very much. What about you? How does it feel?”
“It sounds a little silly to me now. I've been Serena Fullerton for a long time, and I never really used the title. It seemed more a part of my grandmother.”
“Why?” Dorothea looked at her squarely. “You look like a princess, Serena. Or don't you know that yet?” In truth Serena did not, as Teddy knew only too well. She had no idea how lovely she was, and in a way that was part of her charm. “In any case wait till you start seeing your pictures all over town, you'll know it then. And”—she gnawed at a pencil and then grinned—”since you are a princess, we will ask a royal price. One hundred dollars an hour for Princess Serena. We'll give them the impression that you don't need it, that this is all a lark, and if they want you, they'll have to pay through the nose. A hundred an hour.” Serena was breathless at the thought. A hundred an hour? Would she get any work? “Okay, we'll put your book together for you. You come back tomorrow, Serena. Get plenty of rest, do your hair and nails and face to perfection. Wear something simple and black, and be here at nine thirty. Tomorrow we send you out with your book, and you start work. But I warn you, we're only going to use you for the big jobs, at a hundred dollars an hour, you're going to be bypassing a lot of the less important work. What that means is that you're stepping in at the top, you're in the big leagues, and you're going to have to be perfect. Anything less and they'll laugh both you and me right out of this town.”