“You look like hell. Here, use this.” She handed her a box of tissues and Serena blew her nose and took a deep breath as Dorothea poured her a glass of water, and then the tale came out, all of it, from the beginning. Of losing her family in the war, of how she had met Brad and how much she had loved him, the broken engagement to the debutante from New York, and the rage of Brad's mother. She even told her about the contract Margaret had made her sign, and then she told her of Brad's death, and the baby she had lost, and the last three years of working to support Vanessa.
“That's all of it.” She sighed deeply and blew her nose again.
“That's enough.” Dorothea was more than touched by the story —she felt a fury, a call to arms. “She must be an incredibly evil woman.”
“Do you know of her?” Serena looked bleak, there was no way she could defeat Margaret Fullerton. And after five weeks in New York, Serena knew her mother-in-law was already out to get to her. She had been afraid of her when she had decided to come to New York, but she had lulled herself into the false hope that her fears were unfounded.
“I only know her by name. But by God, now I'd like to meet her.”
Serena smiled a small wintry smile. “You'd regret it. She makes Attila the Hun look like a sissy.”
Dorothea looked her new model straight in the eye. “Don't kid yourself, sister, she's just met her match.”
“There's a difference. You're not rotten.” She sat back in her chair, looking exhausted. “The only thing for me to do is quit and go back to San Francisco.”
“If you do”—Dorothea's eyes didn't waver from her face—”I'll sue you. You signed a contract with this agency, and like it or not, I'm going to hold you to it.”
Serena smiled at the older woman's way of protecting her. “You'll lose all your clients if I stay.”
“She doesn't own every major corporation in New York. And as a matter of fact, I want to check out her tie-in with that line of cosmetics.”
“I just don't think—”
“Good. Don't think. You don't need to. Go put on a fresh face, you have a go-see in twenty minutes.”
“Mrs. Kerr, please …”
“Serena.” The head of the agency came around her desk and, without saying another word, put her arms around Serena. “You have had more rough breaks than anyone I've ever heard of. I'm not going to let you down. You need someone to protect you.” Her voice gentled almost to a whisper. “You need a friend, little one, let me at least do that for you.”
“But won't it do your agency harm?” Serena was once again seized with terror.
“It'll do us more harm if you leave, but that's not why I want you to stay. I want you to stick it out, because I want you to beat those bastards. Serena, the only way you'll do that is if you stand your ground. Do it for me … for yourself”—and then she played her trump card—”do it for your husband. Do you really think he'd want you to run away from his mother?”
Serena thought it over before she spoke. “No, he wouldn't.”
“Good. Then let's fight this one out side by side. I'll put the old bitch back in her place, if I have to go and see her myself.” And Serena knew she would.
“Don't do that.”
“Any good reason why not?”
“It'll create an open war.”
“What do you think you've already got? She called a cosmetics company and an ad agency and had you canned. I'd say that's pretty open.” Serena smiled in dismay. “Just leave all that to me. You do your job. I'll do mine. It isn't often I get to fight for someone I like, and I like you.” The two women exchanged a smile.
“I like you too. And I don't know how to thank you.”
“Don't. Just get your ass to that go-see. I'll call and tell them you'll be late.” She shooed Serena out of her office, but just before she reached the door, she turned again with a smile and whispered, “Thank you.”
Dorothea's eyes were damp when the door closed, and ten minutes later she was on the phone, arranging a meeting with Margaret Fullerton.
The meeting between Dorothea Kerr and Margaret Fullerton was short but not very sweet. When Margaret discovered what the meeting was about, her eyes went icy. But Dorothea didn't give a damn. She told her to stay out of Serena's career, or without a moment's hesitation Dorothea would sue her.
“Am I to understand that you are her representative?”
“No, I am the president of her modeling agency. And I mean what I say.”
“So do I, Mrs. Kerr.”
“Then we understand each other.”
“May I suggest that your client change her name. She no longer has any right to it.”
“Legally, I believe she does. But that's of no importance. She's not using your name, she is using her own title.”
“Characteristically vulgar.” Margaret Fullerton stood up. “I believe you've said everything you came here to say.”
“Not quite, Mrs. Fullerton.” Dorothea stood to her full height. She had once been a very tall and very beautiful model. “I want you to know that I have hired an attorney for Serena, as of this morning. He will be made fully aware of your harassment, of your already costing Serena one job, and if there is any further problem, the press will have a field day. Won't your fancy friends just love reading about you in the Daily News.”
“I believe that is an empty threat.” But it was obvious that Margaret Fullerton was livid. She had never been threatened before, and she had seldom met her match, certainly not in another woman.
“I wouldn't try my luck if I were you. I mean every word I say. Serena is going to be the most successful model in this town, with or without your interference, so you'd better adjust yourself to it.” And then as she turned in the doorway before she left, she looked scornfully over her shoulder.
“I would think you'd be embarrassed after all you've done. You know, sooner or later those things get out. And I suspect you won't like it.”
“Is that a threat?” Her hands were trembling as she stood and glared at her opponent.
“As a matter of fact,” Dorothea said, smiling sweetly, “yes.” And then she was gone, leaving Margaret Fullerton wanting to kill her.
Margaret spoke to Teddy that night and put it to him plainly. “I forbid you to see that woman.”
“You can't forbid me to do anything. I'm a grown man. What will you do—have me fired?” Serena had already told him the story.
“I can change my will at any time.”
“Be my guest. I've never given a damn about your money. I'm a physician. I can make my own way. In fact I'd prefer to.” “Perhaps you'll have to. I mean every word I've said.” “And so do I. Good night, Mother.” He had hung up on her then, and she burst into tears. For the first time in her life she knew what it meant to feel powerless. But not for long. Margaret Fullerton was a woman of ingenuity and determination. And she'd be damned if Serena Fullerton—or whatever she called herself —would win the next round.
37
For the next month Vanessa almost never saw her mother. She saw baby-sitters and her uncle Teddy, and her mother came home exhausted every night at seven or eight or nine o'clock, too tired to eat, or talk or move. She would sink into a hot bathtub, and sometimes go directly to bed. Teddy was himself enormously busy at the hospital, spending five and six hours a day in surgery, and he had to be up at four o'clock every morning. But nonetheless he found time to help Serena out. It was the least he could do to counterbalance his mother's continuing subtle efforts to destroy her. She never did quite enough to be sued by Dorothea Kerr's attorneys, but whenever she could, she put a spoke in Serena's wheels. She had even insinuated to the press that Serena was not a princess but a charwoman from Rome, who had scrubbed floors in a palazzo, from whence she had adopted her title. She failed to mention, of course, that the palazzo had once belonged to Serena's parents. And it seemed useless to Serena to try to tell them the true version. Besides, she was too busy to care, and every night when she came home she was exhausted. She had lost fourteen pounds in two months from hard work and worry. But the photographs that were daily being shot of her were the most striking Teddy had ever seen. She seemed to get more beautiful and more skilled with each job she did, and it was impossible to believe that she hadn't been doing this in New York and Paris and London for years. There was nothing of the novice about her. She was good at what she did, and she worked hard. Even Dorothea Kerr said that The Princess was a pro. She was known around town now by her title, and from the very first moment no one even flinched at her fee. She had already put aside a very tidy sum of money, and she had been proud that she had been able to pay Vanessa's tuition at a wonderful little private school on Ninety-fifth Street. It was run in a totally European manner, and all of the classes were taught in French. Already in two months Vanessa had become bilingual, and it reminded Serena once again that one day she wanted to teach her Italian too. But now she had no time. She was too busy working. And Teddy was filled with admiration for her.