Page 106 of Willow (DeBeers 1)

'Absolutely brilliant people working for them," Asher said.

I listened to them go on and on about their guests for the party, rattling off the names of businesses, chain stores. Clothing designers, drug company heirs. CEOs of major corporations, a veritable Who's Who of wealth and power in America.

All on our little doorstep." Bunny said proudly. "And all for you, dear." she pointed out. "Asher. Thatcher. and I will introduce you to everyone and anyone you wish to meet."

"I'm exhausted just thinking about it," I said. I was serious, but that made them laugh.

Afterward. I went to my room to change, and Thatcher called to tell me he was sorry but he would be tied up with meetings all the way through dinner. I told him I was fine and not to be concerned.

"What have you been doing with yourself?" he asked suspiciously.

"Enjoying the day," I said. "But organizing the information I have already gathered as well.'

"Good. I'd hate to be responsible for your failing your course," he quipped. However, there was some concern in his tone. I had the feeling he had already spoken with Bunny, who was giving him a minute-by-minute report on my comings and goings. Maybe it wasn't a good idea to stay here after all.

At precisely two-thirty, I made my way toward the beach house, hoping that my mother was sitting outside and having her tea again with Linden, When I turned the corner. however.

I saw no one was there. Disappointed. I walked out toward the beach and stood looking at the ocean, wondering if I should just go knock on the door and ask to speak with her.

"Isabel Amou." I heard, and turned to see her standing behind me. She was wearing a light white shawl over her shoulders and a sleeveless white dress. She was barefoot, and her hair was down,

"Hello," I said.

She studied me a moment and then smiled softly and folded her arms under her breasts.

"Walk with me." she said, starting off to her left.

I caught up quickly, my heart thumping so hard I thought I would fold up on the beach like some limp chiffon scarf.

"How is your father?" she asked after we had walked in silence for nearly a minute.

I stopped. She stopped and turned to me. "You know who I am?"

"Of course," she said. "First. I could see him in you the moment I set eyes on you, and second..."

"What?"

"Your name." She laughed softly. "A long time ago. I heard of a nanny named Isabella whose charge had nicknamed her Amou"

I remembered her letter to Daddy.

Subconsciously. perhaps, I had used the name hoping to give myself away.

"Yes, he told you that."

It wasn't a very subtle clue."

"Did he keep in touch with you much?"

"I have some letters," she said, smiling softly-- at the memory of each and every word on the stationery, I was sure. "It was more difficult for me to write to him, but I did what I could, Did he send you to me?"

Not directly, no. but I think he wanted me to meet you someday," I said.

"Wanted?"

Every muscle in her body, every tiny muscle in her face, froze in anticipation. The tears in my eyes were answer enough.

"When?" she asked, holding her breath.