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“I’m fine.”
“No wonder,” he exclaimed. “You forgot your cane!”
“How foolish of me.” Babe’s vision was filming and she did her best to hold tears at bay.
Billi snapped his fingers. “Carlos, be good enough to get Mrs. Devens’s cane? It’s in the house.”
On the approach to the armory, the car had to maneuver around clots of stopped limousines. Gawking crowds pushed against police sawhorses. Police patrolled on foot and on horseback, struggling to keep order.
Searchlights mounted on wheeled platforms strafed low-hanging clouds, and as Billi took Babe’s hand to help her to the curb, dozens of flashbulbs popped. “God save us from New York’s brigade of professional event watchers,” Billi shouted.
With his help and the help of her cane, Babe climbed the red-carpeted steps.
Inside, extraordinary-looking women milled about with their escorts. They had obviously dressed to make a statement, but the clothes Babe saw struck her as loud and careless, probably overpriced as well, and they made her feel like a limping refugee from a time capsule.
People swarmed to Billi in flurries of adulation. “You remember Babe Devens,” he kept saying, “my partner.”
Yes, they remembered Babe. Hi, Babe. But they loved Billi. Billi, phone me and let’s set up that lunch… Billi, when are we going to have di
Kiss kiss.
Darling’s and chéri’s and caro’s peppered the cooing and shoving. Babe kept smiling and nodding, fighting to keep her balance and fighting to keep the fight from showing. To reach their seats Billi had to pull her through wall after wall of fashion hangers-on.
By the time they found their places in the center bleachers, Babe’s breath was harsh and hurting in her chest.
She had reserved the seats next to them for Ash, but Dunk arrived with Countess Vicki instead.
“Ash is still in detox,” Dunk shouted. “She can’t even have visitors yet.”
“So you’ll just have to put up with me.” Countess Vicki planted a kiss on Babe’s cheek. “You look glorious, Babe, as always, and so sweet and sentimental in that frock.” She leaned across to scream at Billi, “Also liebe Billi, der Tag ist jezt, nicht wahr?”
Billi smiled. “Ja, ja.”
When the building lights dipped, a wild wind of applause gusted through the armory. There was a moment of darkness and stiff silence and then, with a thirty-speaker blare of recorded music, banks of stagelights came up, flooding the runway.
The first ma
“Billi!” Countess Vicki screamed. “Su-blime!”
Babe frowned. The ma
A creamy-voiced British actor delivered the amplified voice-over.
Applause mounted as the ma
Before she had even turned, the second ma
Once the fifth ma
She squirmed as Billi’s eighty-five ma
The big outfit of the line—the one that got the greatest applause and that seemed to be the clearest statement of the house’s esthetic—was a chartreuse blazer of crumpled silk linen. The jacket had been loaded with beading and more passimetrie than a Turkish dress uniform, and it was falling off the ma
By some miracle of luck or coordination, the ma
“Well. Babe,” Billi cried over the mounting applause, “what do you think of our little girl?”
It took Babe a moment’s shock to recognize that the ma
“What the hell else is tradition for?” he laughed.
The one tradition he had stuck with was to close the show with a wedding gown.
The lights dimmed suspensefully and came up again on a runway that was, for the first time since the evening had begun, empty. The speakers blared an eerily electronic Bridal Chorus.
Billi’s tallest, ski
Babe sat rigid, not moving. What she saw went through her brain like a knife.
A sheath of black leather—cut tight down to the pelvis, flaring into a skirt below the knees—covered the ma
Babe’s blood was beating a drum in her head. The image of a steel-mouthed mask flashed before her.
“The bride wore boots!” Countess Vicki yelped. “Billi, I want that gown—the count and I are going to confirm our vows this spring, and that is going to be the look!”
The next few moments passed like caterpillars crawling over Babe’s skin.
Applause exploded and a spotlight swept the bleachers, searching for Billi and finally, when he rose, escorting him down to the runway through a congratulating roar of high-fashion color and gemstone.
Bowing, Billi exuded pride and satisfaction. Letting his eyes drop half closed, he spread his arms wide, embracing the crowd.
The di
The buzz at the tables was that Billi’s line was glitzy, sexy, fu
Everyone said Babe must be so pleased for her company, and she made a pleased face.
Champagne was served with the meal. The guests toasted Billi and Babe, and somewhere down the line of toasts someone made a speech about Cordelia’s wacky charm.
Cordelia remained imperturbably there, a perfectly coiffed presence with a cigarette dangling from her lips.
Babe had two espressos, hoping one of them would persuade her she still had the capacity to think. As dessert soufflés were being served, she excused herself.
Billi’s dark eyes questioned her.
She promised him she could get home safely. “It’s just a little headache from all the fun and excitement.”
As Babe lifted the phone in her bedroom, her mind was finally made up. She felt energized, as though all her synapses were at last firing.
It took twelve seconds for the call to click through.
“Allo?”
“Mathilde, it’s Babe. I’m sorry to call you at this hour, but—”