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I lowered my head to the pillow he had placed against the arm of the couch and opened my eyes. He was standing before me, looking down, smiling.

"Good. See, how easy it will be."

He returned to his easel and began. Time seemed to pass more slowly than it had yesterday. We didn't take a break until lunch. When he announced we would eat lunch, he handed me the sheet I wore yesterday. I clipped and draped it around me. Again, we had sandwiches and wine. Tony talked about some of the exciting marketing ideas he was developing for the portrait dolls. The more he talked, the more relaxed I became. He surprised me though when we returned to the work.

"You don't have to stand. I need a rear view now," he told me.

"What should I do?"

"Just lie down on your stomach," he said. I hesitated. "Go on. I'll take the sheet off you when I'm ready."

I did as he asked. He set up another canvas and then he came to the couch. First, he stroked my hair.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"Yes."

"Good. Then let's begin again," he said and reached under my chin to unclip the sheet. He lifted it from me and stood looking down. "Perfect," he muttered, almost inaudibly. He returned to his easel and worked. Hours seemed to go by before he groaned as he had yesterday.

"Not right," he said. "Just not right." I looked at him. He was staring at me, his fingers pinching his chin. Then he approached me. "Just relax." He brought the palm of his hand to the small of my back. He ran it up to my neck and then back down, only not stopping where he started, but going over my buttocks. He lingered there, pressing his fingers softly into me. Then he stood up, sighed, and returned to his canvas.

He worked with a new frenzy. Touching me truly inspired him. This time when he stopped for the day, he looked exhausted. He seemed barely able to speak.

"We're finished for today," he declared. I put on my cotton shift and joined him at the easel. Once again, I thought he had captured my likeness well, but the body he had drawn and painted was more my mother's than my own. He saw my look of surprise.

"It's how I see you," he explained. "It's how you are on the tips of my fingers." The look in his eyes made my heart flutter. He kissed me on the forehead and said, "You're wonderful. You could turn anyone into an artist."

I didn't know what to say. His words

embarrassed and flattered me at the same time, but having him hold his eyes on me so intently made me quiver. Finally, he gathered his things together and we left the cottage. I followed him through the maze, through the long shadows and corridors. My body was in such turmoil, caught in the midst of a storm of feelings. When we finally came out of the maze, I felt as if I had left a dream world and reentered reality.

I hurried into the house and up to my suite, not even stopping to see if my mother had returned from Boston. I had to close the doors quickly and catch my breath. My body still tingled with the memory of Tony's fingers running over me, turning me into the woman he wanted me to be.

fourteen DADDY'S RETURN

. I heard my mother coming up the stairs to her suite. She was laughing and talking quite excitedly to one of our maids. I hurried-to my door just as she went by.

"Momma," I called. She turned quickly. "Oh, Leigh. I was just talking to Tony about you downstairs. He said everything was going wonderfully. I'm so happy. Give me a minute to shower and change and then come to my suite so I can tell you all about this wonderful play I saw in Boston and this fabulous hotel my friends and I stayed in. It was luxury beyond luxury," she said and swept on toward her suite.

"Momma," I cried, stopping her. "I want to talk to you now."

"Now?" She shook her head at me. "Really, Leigh, you must give me a little time to myself so I can make myself presentable again. You know how I despise traveling."

"But Mamma . . ."

"I'll let you know when I'm ready. It won't be long," she promised and went on before I could offer any further protest.

But it was nearly two hours before she finally did send for me. She had showered and dressed and done her hair and makeup first because two of Tony's business friends were coming to dinner with their wives.

"Now what's so urgent?" she asked as I came into her bedroom. She was at her vanity table making some finishing touches on her hair and looked at me in her mirror.

"It's about my modeling for the portrait doll," I said. She seemed not to be listening. I waited as she played with some loose strands. Finally, she turned to me.

"What?"

"I can't go on with this, Momma," I said and started to cry. She jumped up and went to her door to close it quickly.

"What is it? You can't do this now, make a scene. You want one of the servants to hear you? And our guests will be arriving any moment for dinner. What's wrong?" she exclaimed, her voice frantic.