Judith McNaught - Remember When

Cole lifted his gaze from the brochure and looked at Diana. She was talking to Corey and looked perfectly composed, but she was noticeably paler than she'd been earlier. He knew how miserable she'd felt about making a conspicuous entrance, and he knew how much she must be dreading having to model that necklace.

Missy Desmond was looking at her own brochure and evidently reached the same conclusion. "Poor Diana Foster!" she exclaimed. "I wonder why she didn't ask them to find someone else to model that necklace."

Cole thought the answer to that was obvious: since Diana's name was already in the printed brochure, she wouldn't have been able to withdraw without calling it to the attention of one thousand people.

Across the table, Haley Mitchell, who had felt more than a little slighted that Cole Harrison had apparently recognized Diana Foster from their teenage acquaintance but not herself, watched his gaze stray yet again to Diana, and so did her husband, who'd been drinking steadily from the moment the meal began. Leaning sideways, Peter whispered, "Diana seems to have made a new conquest. Harrison can't keep his eyes off of her."

"Just like you can't," Haley snapped back, incensed that her husband had dared to mention Diana's name to her and even more enraged because what he said about Cole Harrison was true. Turning to Missy Desmond, she said, "The reason Diana Foster didn't let someone else model that necklace is because she couldn't bear to pass up being in the spotlight, not even for five minutes." She leaned forward and included her friend, Marilee Jenkins, in the conversation. "Have you noticed that tonight she's playing the martyr? Just look at that brave little smile she's wearing."

"I feel rather sorry for her," Mrs. Canfield admitted. "What Daniel Penworth did to her was inexcusable."

"No, it was unavoidable, " Haley argued. "Diana was like a noose around his neck. He didn't love her, and he tried to let her down gently, but Diana wouldn't give up. People think that Diana is sweet and kind, but the truth is she doesn't care about anybody or anything except herself and that stupid arts-and-crafts magazine that she runs."

Marilee Jenkins seconded all that with a nod. "I don't blame Dan one bit!"

Cole waited for someone else at the table to come to Diana's defense. Mrs. Canfield looked uneasy and Missy Desmond looked bewildered, but no one spoke a word in Diana's behalf. The auctioneer announced that the first of the ladies' items was about to be auctioned, and Cole deliberately turned his shoulder to his dinner partners.

A few tables away, a slender redhead arose to applause and began to model a magnificent diamond necklace she was wearing. She carried the whole thing off with the ease and aplomb of someone who knew she was born to be admired and "on display," smiling as she moved about the crowd, and her husband opened the bidding. As soon as her husband bid, another man at their table instantly topped his bid, grinning as he deliberately forced the husband to go higher. After that the bidding was rapid, frequently accompanied by bursts of laughter around the room, which made Cole correctly assume that the husband's friends were cheerfully forcing the husband to pay more and more.

Cole rather enjoyed watching the game, which was played with gusto as each wife and girlfriend arose to model her desired auction item, and each man involved bore the expense forced on him by his friends, who bid against him with blase humor. His gaze kept straying to Diana's table, wondering how she was reacting, but as each item was awarded to the lady who was already wearing it, he noticed that her expression grew subtly more somber and tense.

When the time was finally nearing to auction off the necklace she was wearing, she began to fidget with it, her long fingers curling around it and then slowly flattening over it as if she wanted either to hide it or tear it off. Her entire body seemed to freeze as the auctioneer proclaimed, "Ladies and gentlemen, the next item to be auctioned off is an extraordinary example of the workmanship of a bygone era—a remarkably fine amethyst-and-diamond necklace, being shown by Miss Diana Foster."

Cole understood why she would naturally dread being the focal point of so many fascinated gossips, but not until she actually slid back her chair to stand up did he belatedly realize that her embarrassment was going to be compounded a hundred times by the conspicuous absence of Dan Penworth, who should have been bidding on that necklace. He watched her rally and manufacture a smile as she arose, and at the same time he heard whispers erupt around the room.

At the table behind him, a man jokingly remarked that Dan had probably married his Italian girl to avoid the cost of Diana Foster's necklace, and everyone laughed.

Cole felt anger and protectiveness begin to simmer inside him— emotions that leapt into steady flame as the clueless auctioneer beamed at Diana and then at the crowd in obvious expectation that her own man would open the bidding. "Opening bid will be fifteen thousand dollars. Do I have fifteen thousand dollars?" He paused, bewildered by the awkward silence. "This necklace is a bargain at twice that amount. "Will someone give me ten thousand dollars?" His expression cleared and he nodded. "Yes, thank you, Mr. Dickson."

The bidding paused at $13,000 so that a prospective purchaser could have a closer look at it. "Poor Diana," Mrs. Canfield said, addressing her remarks to Cole. "I knew her papa very well. He'd have bought her that necklace just to put an end to this."

"Diana needed to be knocked down a peg or two, and everyone knows it," Haley Mitchell argued. "She's a conceited bitch."

Franklin Mitchell had the grace to look a little embarrassed at his daughter-in-law's language, if not her venom. He glanced at his inebriated son as if he expected him to say something, but when Peter spoke, it wasn't to contradict his wife. "Diana has always had a very high opinion of herself," he informed Cole.

"It's the truth," the senior Mrs. Mitchell said coldly.

Unaware of the very personal reasons the people at his table had for disliking Diana and relishing her plight, Cole mistakenly assumed everyone else in the ballroom was just as heartless and just as vengeful.

In his mind he saw a lovely, dainty teenager holding out a sack filled with food, her smile sunny and soft as she contrived to give him food and simultaneously spare his pride. "Could you possibly find some room for some of these canned peaches, Cole? My grandmother loves cooking and canning, but we're running out of storage space in the pantry... I hope you can help us eat some of Gram's potato salad and chicken; she made enough for an army last night!" He remembered other things, such as how perfectly neat and clean she always seemed to be, from the tips of her polished loafers to the tips of her fingers, their nails neatly filed but never polished.

Interlaced with his reverie was the auctioneer's voice: "I have thirteen thousand dollars—Do I have fourteen thousand dollars? I have thirteen thousand dollars."

"Peter," Haley said suddenly, her voice filled with excited malice. "Buy that necklace for me. I want it."

"Final warning, ladies and gentlemen," the auctioneer intoned.

Peter Mitchell looked at Diana, who was two tables away "modeling" her necklace, and he called out in a loud, slurred voice, "Wait—we'd like a closer look!"

Cole watched Diana turn and move obediently toward their table. He already knew that Diana had originally believed her faithless fiancé would be buying the necklace for her tonight. Now it suddenly occurred to him that she'd undoubtedly bought the purple gown she was wearing because it set the amethysts off to perfection.

He watched Diana's smile wobble as she paused across from him and subjected herself to Mitchell's leering at her breasts; he saw her fingers lift to the largest stone at the bottom of the necklace to show it to him—the long, slender, womanly fingers that had once been a girl's hand holding out offerings to him.