Overnight their lives together changed.
Lara said to Keller, "I'm going to be working at home from now on. Philip needs me."
"Sure. I understand."
The calls and get-well cards kept pouring in, and Marian Bell proved to be a blessing. She was self-effacing and never got in the way. "Don't worry about them, Mrs. Adler. I'll handle them, if you like."
"Thank you, Marian."
William Ellerbee called several times, but Philip refused to take his calls. "I don't want to talk to anyone," he told Lara.
Dr. Stanton had been right about the pain. It was excruciating. Philip tried to avoid taking pain pills until he could no longer stand it.
Lara was always at his side. "We're going to get you the best doctors in the world, darling. There must be someone who can fix your hand. I heard about a doctor in Switzerland..."
Philip shook his head. "It's no use." He looked at his bandaged hand. "I'm a cripple."
"Don't talk like that," Lara said fiercely. "There are a thousand things you can still do. I blame myself. If I hadn't gone to Reno that day, if I had been with you at the concert, this never would have happened. If..."
Philip smiled wryly. "You wanted me to stay home more. Well, now I have nowhere else to go."
Lara said huskily, "Someone said, 'Be careful what you wish for, because you might get it.' I did want you to stay home, but not like this. I can't stand to see you in pain."
"Don't worry about me," Philip said. "I just have to work a few things out in my mind. It's all happened so suddenly. I...I don't think I've quite realized it, yet."
Howard Keller came to the penthouse with some contracts. "Hello, Philip. How do you feel?"
"Wonderful," Philip snapped. "I feel just wonderful."
"It was a stupid question. I'm sorry."
"Don't mind me," Philip apologized. "I haven't been myself lately." He pounded his right hand against the chair. "If the bastard had only cut my right hand. There are a dozen left-handed concertos I could have played."
And Keller remembered the conversation at the party. "Half a dozen composers wrote concertos for the left hand. There's one by Demuth, Franz Schmidt, Korngold, and a beautiful concerto by Ravel."
And Paul Martin had been there and heard it.
Dr. Stanton came to the penthouse to see Philip.
Carefully, he removed the bandage, exposing a long angry scar.
"Can you flex your hand at all?"
Philip tried. It was impossible.
"How's the pain?" Dr. Stanton asked.
"It's bad, but I don't want to take any more of those damned pain pills."
"I'll leave another prescription anyway. You can take them if you have to. Believe me, the pain will stop in the next few weeks." He rose to leave. "I really am sorry. I happen to be a big fan of yours."
"Buy my records," Philip said curtly.
Marian Bell made a suggestion to Lara. "Do you think it might help Mr. Adler if a therapist came to work on his hand?"
Lara thought about it. "We can try. Let's see what happens."
When Lara suggested it to Philip, he shook his head.
"No. What's the point? The doctor said..."
"Doctors can be wrong," Lara said firmly. "We're going to try everything."
The next day a young therapist appeared at the apartment. Lara brought him in to Philip. "This is Mr. Rossman. He works at Columbia Hospital. He's going to try to help you, Philip."
"Good luck," Philip said bitterly.
"Let's take a look at that hand, Mr. Adler."
Philip held out his hand. Rossman examined it carefully. "Looks as though there's been quite a bit of muscle damage, but we'll see what we can do. Can you move your fingers?"
Philip tried.
"There's not much motion, is there? Let's try to exercise it."
It was unbelievably painful.
They worked for half an hour, and at the end of that time Rossman said, "I'll come back tomorrow."
"No," Philip said. "Don't bother."
Lara had come into the room. "Philip, won't you try?"
"I tried," he snarled. "Don't you understand? My hand is dead. Nothing's going to bring it back to life."
"Philip..." Her eyes filled with tears.
"I'm sorry," Philip said. "I just...Give me time."
That night Lara was awakened by the sound of the piano. She got out of bed and quietly walked over to the entrance of the drawing room. Philip was in his robe, seated at the piano, his right hand softly playing. He looked up when he saw Lara.
"Sorry if I woke you up."
Lara moved toward him. "Darling..."
"It's a big joke, isn't it? You married a concert pianist and you wound up with a cripple."
She put her arms around him and held him close. "You're not a cripple. There are so many things you can do."
"Stop being a goddamn Pollyanna!"
"I'm sorry. I just meant..."
"I know. Forgive me, I" - he held up his mutilated hand - "I just can't get used to this."
"Come back to bed."
"No. You go ahead. I'll be all right."
He sat up all night, thinking about his future, and he wondered angrily, What future?
Lara and Philip had dinner together every evening, and after dinner they read or watched television and then went to sleep.
Philip said apologetically, "I know I'm not being much of a husband, Lara. I just...I just don't feel like sex. Believe me, it has nothing to do with you."
Lara sat up in bed, her voice trembling. "I didn't marry you for your body. I married you because I was wildly head over heels in love with you. I still am. If we never make love again, it will be fine with me. All I want is for you to hold me and love me."
"I do love you," Philip said.
Invitations to dinner parties and charity events came in constantly, but Philip refused them all. He did not want to leave the apartment. "You go," he would tell Lara. "It's important to your business."
"Nothing is more important to me than you. We'll have a nice quiet dinner at home."
Lara saw to it that their chef prepared all of Philip's favorite dishes. He had no appetite. Lara arranged to hold her meetings at the penthouse. When it was necessary for her to go out during the day, she would say to Marian, "I'll be gone for a few hours. Keep an eye on Mr. Adler."
"I will," Marian promised.
One morning Lara said, "Darling, I hate to leave you, but I have to go to Cleveland for a day. Will you be all right?"
"Of course," Philip said. "I'm not helpless. Please go. Don't worry about me."
Marian brought in some letters she had finished answering for Philip. "Would you like to sign these, Mr. Adler?"
Philip said, "Sure. It's a good thing I'm right-handed, isn't it?" There was a bitter edge to his voice. He looked at Marian and said, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to take it out on you."
Marian said quietly, "I know that, Mr. Adler. Don't you think it would be a good idea for you to go outside and see some friends?"
"My friends are all working," Philip snapped. "They're musicians. They're busy playing concerts. How can you be so stupid?"
He stormed out of the room.
Marian stood there looking after him.
An hour later Philip walked back into the office. Marian was at the typewriter. "Marian?"
She looked up. "Yes, Mr. Adler?"
"Please forgive me. I'm not myself. I didn't mean to be rude."
"I understand," she said quietly.
He sat down opposite her. "The reason I'm not going out," Philip said, "is that I feel like a freak. I'm sure that everybody's going to be staring at my hand. I don't want anyone's pity."
She was watching him, saying nothing.
"You've been very kind, and I appreciate it, I really do. But there's nothing anyone can do. You know the expression. 'The bigger they are, the harder they fall'? Well, I was big, Marian - really big. Everybody came to hear me play...kings and queens and..." He broke off. "People all over the world heard my music. I've given recitals in China and Russia and India and Germany."
His voice choked up, and tears began rolling down his cheeks. "Have you noticed I cry a lot lately?" he said. He was fighting to control himself.
Marian said softly, "Please don't. Everything's going to be all right."
"No! Nothing's going to be all right. Nothing! I'm a goddamn cripple."
"Don't say that. Mrs. Adler is right, you know. There are a hundred things you can do. When you get over this pain, you'll begin to do them."
Philip took out a handkerchief and wiped his eyes. "Jesus Christ, I'm becoming a damn crybaby."
"If it helps you," Marian said, "do it."
He looked up at her and smiled. "How old are you?"
"Twenty-six."
"You're a pretty wise twenty-six, aren't you?"
"No. I just know what you're going through, and I'd give anything if it hadn't happened. But it has happened, and I know that you're going to figure out the best way to deal with it."
"You're wasting your time here," Philip said. "You should have been a shrink."
"Would you like me to make a drink for you?"
"No, thanks. Are you interested in a game of backgammon?" Philip asked.
"I'd love it, Mr. Adler."
"If you're going to be my backgammon partner, you'd better start calling me Philip."
"Philip."
From that time on, they played backgammon every day.
Lara received a telephone call from Terry Hill.
"Lara, I'm afraid I have some bad news for you."
Lara readied herself. "Yes?"
"The Nevada Gaming Commission has voted to suspend your gambling license until further investigation. You may be facing criminal charges."
It was a shock. She thought of Paul Martin's words. "Don't worry. They can't prove anything." "Isn't there something we can do about it, Terry?"
"Not for the present. Just sit tight. I'm working on it."
When Lara told Keller the news, he said, "My God! We're counting on the cash flow from the casino to pay off the mortgages on three buildings. Are they going to reinstate your license?"
"I don't know."
Keller was thoughtful. "All right. We'll sell the Chicago Hotel and use the equity to pay the mortgage on the Houston property. The real estate market has gone to hell. A lot of banks and savings and loans are in deep trouble. Drexel Burnham Lambert has folded. It's the end of Milken honey."
"It will turn around," Lara said.
"It had better turn around fast. I've been getting calls from the banks about our loans."
"Don't worry," Lara said confidently. "If you owe a bank a million dollars, they own you. If you owe a bank a hundred million dollars, you own them. They can't afford to let anything happen to me."
The following day, an article appeared in Business Week. It was headlined: CAMERON EMPIRE SHAKY - LARA CAMERON FACING POSSIBLE CRIMINAL INDICTMENT IN RENO. CAN THE IRON BUTTERFLY KEEP HER EMPIRE TOGETHER?
Lara slammed her fist against the magazine. "How dare they print that? I'm going to sue them."
Keller said, "Not a great idea."
Lara said earnestly, "Howard, Cameron Towers is almost fully rented, right?"
"Seventy percent, so far, and climbing. Southern Insurance has taken twenty floors, and International Investment Banking has taken ten floors."
"When the building is finished, it will throw off enough money to take care of all our problems. How far away are we from completion?"
"Six months."
Lara's voice was filled with excitement. "Look what we'll have then. The biggest skyscraper in the world! It's going to be beautiful."
She turned to the framed sketch of it behind her desk. It showed a towering glass-sheathed monolith, whose facets reflected the other buildings around it. On the lower floors were a promenade and atrium, with expensive shops. Above were apartments and Lara's offices.
"We'll have a big publicity promotion," Lara said.
"Good idea." He frowned.
"What's the matter?"
"Nothing. I was just thinking about Steve Murchison. He wanted that site pretty bad."
"Well, we beat him to it, didn't we?"
"Yes," Keller said slowly. "We beat him to it."
Lara sent for Jerry Townsend.
"Jerry, I want to do something special for the opening of Cameron Towers. Any ideas?"
"I have a great idea. The opening is September tenth?"
"Yes."
"Doesn't that ring a bell?"
"Well, it's my birthday..."
"Right." A smile lit up Jerry Townsend's face. "Why don't we give you a big birthday party to celebrate the completion of the skyscraper?"
Lara was thoughtful for a moment. "I like it. It's a wonderful idea. We'll invite everybody! We'll make a noise that will be heard around the world. Jerry, I want you to make up a guest list. Two hundred people. I want you to handle it personally."
Townsend grinned. "You've got it. I'll give you the guest list to approve."
Lara slammed her fist down on the magazine again. "We're going to show them!"
"Excuse me, Mrs. Adler," Marian said. "I have the secretary of the National Builders Association on line three. You haven't responded to their invitation for the dinner Friday night."
"Tell them I can't make it," Lara said. "Give them my apologies."
"Yes, ma'am." Marian left the room.
Philip said, "Lara, you can't turn yourself into a hermit because of me. It's important for you to go to those things."
"Nothing is more important than my being here with you. That funny little man who married us in Paris said, 'For better or for worse.'" She frowned. "At least I think that's what he said. I don't speak French."
Philip smiled. "I want you to know how much I appreciate you. I feel like I'm putting you through hell."
Lara moved closer to him. "Wrong word," she said. "Heaven."
Philip was getting dressed. Lara was helping him with the buttons on his shirt. Philip looked in the mirror. "I look like a damned hippie," he said. "I need a haircut."
"Do you want me to have Marian make an appointment with your barber?"
He shook his head. "No. I'm sorry, Lara. I'm just not ready to go out."
The following morning Philip's barber and a manicurist appeared at the apartment. Philip was taken aback. "What's all this?"
"If Mohammed won't go to the mountain, the mountain comes to Mohammed. They'll be here every week for you."
"You're a wonder," Philip said.
"You ain't seen nothin' yet." Lara grinned.
The following day, a tailor arrived with some sample swatches for suits and shirts.
"What's going on?" Philip asked.
Lara said, "You're the only man I know who has six pairs of tails, four dinner jackets, and two suits. I think it's time we got you a proper wardrobe."
"Why?" Philip protested. "I'm not going anywhere."
But he allowed himself to be fitted for the suits and shirts.
A few days later a custom shoemaker arrived.
"Now what?" Philip asked.
"It's time you had some new shoes."
"I told you, I'm not going out."
"I know, baby. But when you do, your shoes will be ready."
Philip held her close. "I don't deserve you."
"That's what I keep telling you."
They were in a meeting at the office. Howard Keller was saying, "We're losing the shopping mall in Los Angeles. The banks have decided to call in the loans."
"They can't do that."
"They're doing it," Keller said. "We're overleveraged."
"We can pay the loans off by borrowing on one of the other buildings."
Keller said, patiently, "Lara, you're already leveraged to the hilt. You have a sixty-million-dollar payment coming up on the skyscraper."
"I know that, but completion is only four months away now. We can roll the loan over. The building's on schedule, isn't it?"
"Yes." Keller was studying her thoughtfully. It was a question she never would have asked one year ago. Then she would have known exactly where everything stood. "I think it might be better if you spent more time here in the office," Keller told her. "Too many things are becoming unraveled. There are some decisions that only you can make."
Lara nodded. "All right," she said reluctantly. "I'll be in tomorrow morning.
"William Ellerbee is on the telephone for you," Marian announced.
"Tell him I can't talk to him." Philip watched her as she returned to the phone.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Ellerbee. Mr. Adler is not available just now. Can I take a message?" She listened a moment. "I'll tell him. Thank you." She replaced the receiver and looked up at Philip. "He's really anxious to have lunch with you."
"He probably wants to talk about the commissions he's not getting anymore."
"You're probably right," Marian said mildly. "I'm sure he must hate you because you were attacked."
Philip said quietly, "Sorry. Is that the way I sounded?"
"Yes."
"How do you put up with me?"
Marian smiled. "It's not that difficult."
The following day William Ellerbee called again. Philip was out of the room. Marian spoke to Ellerbee for a few minutes, then went to find Philip.
"That was Mr. Ellerbee," Marian said.
"Next time tell him to stop calling."
"Maybe you should tell him yourself," Marian said. "You're having lunch with him Thursday at one o'clock."
"I'm what?"
"He suggested Le Cirque, but I thought a smaller restaurant might be better." She looked at the pad in her hand. "He's going to meet you at Fu's at one. I'll arrange for Max to drive you there."
Philip was staring at her, furious. "You made a lunch date for me without asking me?"
She said calmly, "If I had asked you, you wouldn't have gone. You can fire me if you want to."
He glared at her for a long moment, and then he broke into a slow smile. "You know something? I haven't had Chinese food in a long time."
When Lara arrived from the office, Philip said, "I'm going out for lunch on Thursday with Ellerbee."
"That's wonderful, darling! When did you decide that?"
"Marian decided it for me. She thought it would be a good idea for me to get out."
"Oh, really?" But you wouldn't go out when I suggested it. "That was very thoughtful of her."
"Yes. She's quite a woman."
I've been stupid, Lara thought. I shouldn't have thrown them together like this. And Philip is so vulnerable right now.
That was the moment when Lara knew she had to get rid of Marian.
When Lara arrived home the following day, Philip and Marian were playing backgammon in the game room.
Our game, Lara thought.
"How can I beat you if you keep rolling doubles?" Philip was saying, laughing.
Lara stood in the doorway watching. She had not heard Philip laugh in a long time.
Marian looked up and saw her. "Good evening, Mrs. Adler."
Philip sprang to his feet. "Hello, darling." He kissed her. "She's beating the pants off me."
Not if I can help it, Lara thought.
"Will you need me tonight, Mrs. Adler?"
"No, Marian. You can run along. I'll see you in the morning."
"Thank you. Good night."
"Good night, Marian."
They watched her leave.
"She's good company," Philip said.
Lara stroked his cheek. "I'm glad, darling."
"How's everything at the office?"
"Fine." She had no intention of burdening Philip with her problems. She would have to fly to Reno and talk to the Gaming Commission again. If she were forced to, she would find a way to survive their cutting off the gambling at the hotel, but it would make it a lot easier if she could dissuade them.
"Philip, I'm afraid I'm going to have to start spending more time at the office. Howard can't make all the decisions himself."
"No problem. I'll be fine."
"I'm going to Reno in the next day or two," Lara said. "Why don't you come with me?"
Philip shook his head. "I'm not ready yet." He looked at his crippled left hand. "Not yet."
"All right, darling. I shouldn't be gone more than two or three days."
Early the following morning when Marian Bell arrived for work, Lara was waiting for her. Philip was still asleep.
"Marian...you know the diamond bracelet that Mr. Adler gave me for my birthday?"
"Yes, Mrs. Adler?"
"When did you see it last?"
She stopped to think. "It was on the dressing table in your bedroom."
"So you did see it?"
"Why, yes. Is something wrong?"
"I'm afraid there is. The bracelet is missing."
Marian was staring at her. "Missing? Who could have...?"
"I've questioned the staff here. They don't know anything about it."
"Shall I call the police and...?"
"That won't be necessary. I don't want to do anything that might embarrass you."
"I don't understand."
"Don't you? For your sake, I think it would be best if we dropped the whole matter."
Marian was staring at Lara in shock. "You know I didn't take that bracelet, Mrs. Adler."
"I don't know anything of the kind. You'll have to leave." And she hated herself for what she was doing. But no one is going to take Philip away from me. No one.
When Philip came down to breakfast, Lara said, "By the way, I'm getting a new secretary to work here at the apartment."
Philip looked at her in surprise. "What happened to Marian?"
"She quit. She was offered a...a job in San Francisco."
He looked at Lara in surprise. "Oh. That's too bad. I thought she liked it here."
"I'm sure she did, but we wouldn't want to stand in her way, would we?" Forgive me, Lara thought.
"No, of course not," Philip said. "I'd like to wish her luck. Is she...?"
"She's gone."
Philip said, "I guess I'll have to find a new backgammon partner."
"When things settle down a bit, I'll be here for you."
Philip and William Ellerbee were seated in a corner table at Fu's restaurant.
Ellerbee said, "It's so good to see you, Philip. I've been calling you, but..."
"I know, I'm sorry. I haven't felt like talking to anyone, Bill."
"I hope they catch the bastard who did this to you."
"The police have been good enough to explain to me that muggings are not a high priority in their lives. They equate it just below lost cats. They'll never catch him."
Ellerbee said hesitantly, "I understand that you're not going to be able to play again."
"You understand right." Philip held up his crippled hand. "It's dead."
Ellerbee leaned forward and said earnestly, "But you're not, Philip. You still have your whole life ahead of you."
"Doing what?"
"Teaching."
There was a wry smile on Philip's lips. "It's ironic, isn't it? I had thought about doing that one day when I was through giving concerts."
Ellerbee said quietly, "Well, that day is here, isn't it? I took the liberty of talking to the head of the Eastman School of Music in Rochester. They would give anything to have you teach there."
Philip frowned. "That would mean my moving up there. Lara's headquarters are in New York." He shook his head. "I couldn't do that to her. You don't know how wonderful she's been to me, Bill."
"I'm sure she has."
"She's practically given up her business to take care of me. She's the most thoughtful, considerate woman I've ever known. I'm crazy about her."
"Philip, would you at least think about the offer from Eastman?"
"Tell them I appreciate it, but I'm afraid the answer is no."
"If you change your mind, will you let me know?"
Philip nodded. "You'll be the first."
When Philip returned to the penthouse, Lara had gone to the office. He wandered around the apartment, restless. He thought about his conversation with Ellerbee. I would love to teach, Philip thought, but I can't ask Lara to move to Rochester, and I can't go there without her.
He heard the front door open. "Lara?"
It was Marian. "Oh, I'm sorry, Philip. I didn't know anyone was here. I came to return my key."
"I thought you'd be in San Francisco by now."
She looked at him, puzzled. "San Francisco? Why?"
"Isn't that where your new job is?"
"I have no new job."
"But Lara said..."
Marian suddenly understood. "I see. She didn't tell you why she fired me?"
"Fired you? She told me that you quit...that you had a better offer."
"That's not true."
Philip said slowly, "I think you'd better sit down."
They sat across from each other. "What's going on here?" Philip asked.
Marian took a deep breath. "I think your wife believes that I...that I had designs on you."
"What are you talking about?"
"She accused me of stealing the diamond bracelet you gave her, as an excuse to fire me. I'm sure she has it put away somewhere."
"I can't believe this," Philip protested. "Lara would never do anything like that."
"She would do anything to hold on to you."
He was studying her, bewildered. "I...I don't know what to say. Let me talk to Lara and..."
"No. Please don't. It might be better if you didn't let her know I was here." She rose.
"What are you going to do now?"
"Don't worry. I'll find another job."
"Marian, if there's anything I can do..."
"There is nothing."
"Are you sure?"
"I'm sure. Take care of yourself, Philip." And she was gone.
Philip watched her leave, disturbed. He couldn't believe that Lara could be guilty of such a deception, and he wondered why she hadn't told him about it. Perhaps, he thought, Marian did steal the bracelet, and Lara had not wanted to upset him. Marian was lying.