Chapter 34

Their last night in New York was happy and sad and emotional. They had dinner at the Cote Basque, and Henri and Alexandra brought the girls, Margaret came, at Alexandra's insistence, and Hilary had said something about bringing a friend, which Alexandra thought was a little unusual, but she didn't dare question her sister. But she was secretly thrilled when the friend turned out to be John Chapman. She had always liked him, and she could tell Henri approved of John, looking very handsome in a dark suit, with his quiet ways, and obvious intelligence and good breeding. The group got on famously. Margaret entertained them all, and Henri even let the girls drink champagne at dinner. It was a perfect culmination of the trip, and everyone hugged and kissed good night as though they might never see each other again. Although Hilary and John had insisted on coming to the airport the next day when the others left for Paris.

It was a classic scene with Axelle carrying an enormous doll under each arm, Marie-Louise clutching her new magic kit, from her Aunt Hilary of course, Alexandra's trophies from Bergdorf and Bendel's seemed

virtually limitless, and Margaret's stack of Louis Vuit-ton seemed to have grown considerably in a mere ten days as Henri attempted to keep track of it all, hold the tickets, and rescue the passports from Axelle's busy little hands. And meanwhile Hilary and Alexandra were talking a mile a minute, promising to meet again as soon as possible. Hilary was thinking of spending Christmas with them in St. Moritz, unless Megan came to New York, in which case she'd come in the spring instead, but in spite of all the words and the frantic talk, the final moment came anyway, as Margaret shepherded the girls onto the plane, waving at Hilary every inch of the way, and Henri left the two women alone, standing apart from his wife, chatting with John, and suddenly Hilary looked into her sister's eyes and began to cry as she reached out to her.

“Axie, I can't leave you again ...” She choked on the words, and Alexandra held her tight.

“I know . . . promise me you'll be all right.” They were crying again, and Hilary thought she would never let go this time. It was too much like the past, the red curls in her arms, the little girl she had loved. “. . . Axie ... I love you . . . Axie, I ...” The echoes of the past rang out in her ears as Alexandra held her tight. “I'll see you soon and I'll call you all the time from Paris.” Henri was beckoning her toward the plane and she knew she had to go. They would be closing the door in a moment, but she couldn't let her go, couldn't leave her alone. And then John walked quietly up to them, and gently took Hilary from her, holding her in his powerful arms as she stood there with tears streaming down her cheeks.

“Have a good trip, Alexandra. Well see you soon.” John said in his quiet voice, as Alexandra slowly

pulled away, her eyes blinded by tears as she looked at Hilary, her eyes huge, her face deathly pale, as John quietly held her, and Alexandra waved for a last time with a tearful smile, and Hilary stared after her and whispered familiar words, “Good-bye, Axie,” she waved and then smiled slowly through her own tears and Alexandra disappeared into the plane with her husband.

“It's all right, sweetheart . . .” John whispered to Hilary as he held her tight, and suddenly for the first time in her life, she felt safe. She looked up at him, and he smiled. “It's all right, Hillie. . . .” He held her tightly in his arms and she knew that he was telling her the truth. “Everything's going to be all right now.”