“Well, famous lady, how does it feel to be the hottest model in New York?”
“I don't know.” She smiled at him as she sat next to Teddy on the floor one Sunday with the paper. “I'm too exhausted to feel a thing.” And then she looked at him with an impish smile. “It's all your fault, you know, Teddy.”
“Nah, it's all because you're so ugly.” He leaned over to kiss her on the cheek and then a question came into his eyes. “Have you had any dates?”
She wondered why he asked, but she was noncommittal. “I haven't really had time.” And then she decided to be honest with him. He was her best friend, after all. “But I'd like to. I think I'm finally ready. Why, do you have anyone in mind?” It was the first time he had ever asked her.
“To tell you the truth,” he said, looking a little shy, “I have a friend who's a surgeon who's been begging me to introduce you to him. If doctors had lockers, his would be plastered with pictures of you.”
She laughed at the image. “Is he nice?” Lately she really had been wishing to meet a man. It had taken her four years to get over Brad, but suddenly she led a different life now. In San Francisco her life was too reminiscent of him, but in New York everything was different. “Would I like him?”
“Maybe. He's divorced. And he may be a little too quiet.”
Serena laughed. “Are you telling me I'm loud?”
“No.” He grinned at her like a brother. “But you've got awfully glamorous, kid. Maybe you'd want someone more flamboyant.”
“Have I really changed that much?” The thought shocked her. Brad hadn't been flamboyant. He had been loving and solid and strong. That was what she still wanted now, but on the other hand she wasn't the same girl Brad had married. She had been nineteen then and it seemed an aeon ago, those years after the war when she was so dependent on him. She wasn't dependent on anyone now, except, in a very relaxed way, Teddy. “Why don't you arrange a dinner with your friend?” It was obvious that she was interested, and it was there that Teddy saw the greatest change in her. Six months before she would have refused instantly.
But as it turned out, the dinner never came to be. Serena's schedule was impossible to rearrange. In truth, she didn't have time to have dinner with Teddy's friend. After trying a few times to arrange it, Teddy finally gave up, not quite sure of his own reasons, still uneasy about the depth of his feelings for her. The agency kept her going at fever pitch. Even Vanessa complained about it sometimes. “I never see you anymore, Mommy.” But on her daughter's seventh birthday Serena had gone all out and taken her and four of her friends to the circus. It had been a grand event, and Vanessa had forgiven her for the chaos of the past few months.
But things did not improve after Christmas. She had literally one day off for Christmas, and spent it with Vanessa and Teddy, but the next morning she was running through the snow in a bathing suit and a fur coat for Andy Morgan, leaping into the air with her blond mane flying straight up. Two weeks later she was sent to Palm Beach for a shoot there, then to Jamaica, back to New York, off to Chicago. She managed to take Vanessa with her each time she went, which wreaked havoc with the child's schoolwork, but she worked on it with Vanessa every night when she finished work, and she was so happy doing what she did mat somehow it made everyone forgive her for the long hours that she was busy.
By the following summer Kerr had raised her rate to two hundred dollars an hour and “The Princess” was the talk of New York and a prize for every photographer in the country. Dorothea Kerr kept a close watch on her career and controlled everything she did with an iron hand, which pleased Serena. She valued the older woman's guidance and they had become friends. They seldom saw each other outside business hours, but they spent long hours talking in Dorothea's office, and the advice she gave Serena was always excellent. Particularly in regard to Margaret Fullerton, who for the moment had stopped being a problem. Serena was just too successful for her slanderous reports to have any effect. And Dorothea was pleased for her.
“I hope you're enjoying this, Serena, because it's fun while it lasts, but it doesn't last forever. You'll make a bundle of money. Put it away, do something sensible with it”—Dorothea had started her own agency, but Serena had no ambition in that vein—”and realize that it's only for a time. You have your day and then it's someone else's tum.” But she had been impressed from the first with the way Serena handled it. She was an intelligent girl, with a sense of direction, and she didn't fool around. She worked hard and she went home, and whatever else she did no one ever knew. Dorothea was tired to death of models who got drunk and arrested, who caused disturbances, bought sports cars and cracked them up, got involved with international playboys, and then attempted suicide in the most public manner possible, and then of course failed. Serena wasn't like them. She went home to her little girl, and Dorothea always suspected that there were few men in her life, and even at that, only very circumspect dates, there hadn't been anyone serious since her husband.
That summer Serena had been in New York for a year, and she was so busy that she could barely spend a minute with Teddy. Fortunately for her, Vanessa was in camp for two months.
By the middle of August Serena was so booked up with jobs every day that she asked Dorothea to stop scheduling so many. She needed some time off and she had decided to give herself at least a week before Vanessa came back.
“Can't you put them off for a couple of weeks?” She looked pleadingly at Dorothea.
Dorothea looked at the waiting list of people begging for Serena, and smiled at her with a knowing look. “You're a lucky lady, Serena. Just look at this.” She handed the list briefly to Serena, who shook her head and groaned as she fell into a chair. he was wearing a white linen skirt, a little red and white striped halter, and red sandals, with red and white bracelets all up and down one arm. She looked like a peppermint stick as she stood there, all fresh and blond and young and groomed to perfection, and it was easy to see why half the photographers in town wanted to use her, not to mention at least a dozen in Italy, France, Germany, and Japan. “You know, I almost envy you. I'd like to think it was like this for me. But I'm not sure it was. On the other hand”—she smiled again—”you have a much better agency than I had in my day.” Serena laughed and ran a hand through her hair.