Free Wanderlust by Danielle Steel Page B

sand. And beside her, Violet wore white, with her black hair. Together, they made quite a pair. It was a photograph Audrey would have loved to have taken. She was taking photographs constantly. And when she had them developed at a laboratory in Nice, the others commented on how good she was. Even Picasso said so one day, glancing at the prints she was sifting through. He had eyed them with interest and then looked at her with his piercing eyes. You have talent, you know. You shouldn't waste it. He spoke severely and it had startled her. Photography was something she enjoyed. She had never thought of it as something not to be wasted. But she had been impressed by his tone. She was impressed by everything happening around her, and she loved it.
    Why don't you stay? Violet asked as they lay on the beach.
    In Antibes?
    In Europe, I mean. This seems like just the right place for you. She was watching Audrey's eyes, they looked so wistful now, as she thought of leaving.
    I'd love that, Violet. But it wouldn't be fair.
    To whom?
    My grandfather mainly ' he needs me there ' perhaps one day. She didn't want to say when, but perhaps when he was no more. This had given her a taste of her life's dream. She could always come back. One day. If she was lucky.
    It doesn't seem fair, you know, to have to give up your life like that.
    Audrey looked quietly at her. I love him, Vi. It's all right.
    But what about you? You can't live like that forever, Audrey. And then she looked at her curiously. Don't you want to get married and have a life of your own one day? It seemed so strange to her not to have that. She had loved James for so long. She couldn't begin to imagine life without him.
    Maybe. I don't really give it much thought. This is my life. Maybe I'm not meant to be married ' maybe that's not in The Plan for me. They exchanged a smile and lay back on the sand. For the first time she felt that even if she never married at all, it would no longer be such an evil fate. It was pleasant being free, especially here, in the summer of 1933, in Cap d'Antibes on the Riviera.
    They went to a party later that night, at the Murphys' again, a costume party this time, and as always Gerald Murphy himself was the most marvelous of all. He was handsome and meticulous, yet he was so much more than that. He was elegant as few men ever were, elegant and imaginative, and so perfect in every detail that one wanted to sit in a corner and stare at him all night. He was one of those rare, rare people whose plumage was so fine, so delectable, that everyone admired him. He had been voted Best Dressed by his class at Yale in 1912, and they didn't even know the half of it then. Twenty years later, he was much, much more wonderful, and his wife Sara was divine. She used to wear her pearls on the beach at Antibes, and insisted it was good for them. as she sat chatting with Picasso in his eternal black hat.
    It was a glorious summer for all of them, although less so for the Murphys than years before. They were still battling their son Patrick's TB, but at least they were all there, and there was something special and golden about each day. Audrey felt the magic spell too, as she and Violet strolled along on the beach day after day, watching the children, squinting into the sun, and feeling the sand on their legs as they lay lazily and shared a lifetime of stories and laughter and confidences. Lady Vi was the sister Audrey had never had before, the responsible one, the good friend, older by only two years, and twins in their souls. It was almost like coming home finding her, and something warm and solid was built between them that Audrey had never experienced before. And she valued it more each day. And James was happy to have her around, they were a comfortable threesome, always, and he never showed the least inappropriate interest in his wife's friend. He was a gentleman and a brother and that was all.
    What are you really going to do when you go home, Aud? Violet was