Danielle Steel - Full circle

“How long have you been doing this?”

He grinned boyishly. “This is my second year. Actually, this should be my first, but they invited me to the Cotillion by mistake last year. And all the rest of the coming out balls, so I went.” He rolled his eyes with a grin, “What a pain in the ass.” And then he looked ap-praisingly at her, and took a sip of his scotch. “And how did you find your way here?”

“By cab.” She smiled sweetly at him and he grinned.

“Lovely date you had.” The sarcasm dripped from his words again and she laughed. “Engaged to him yet?”

“No, thanks.”

“That shows at least minimal good judgment on your part.” He spoke in a lazy, laconic way, with the accent of the upper crust, and yet he seemed to be laughing at it all, and Tana was amused by him. There was something outrageous about the boy, as proper as he was, as well dressed. But at the same time there was a shocking irreverence which showed through and suited her mood perfectly. “Do you know Chandler, then?”

The young man smiled again. “We went to the same boarding school for two years. He plays a great game of squash, stinks at bridge, bandies himself pretty well on the tennis court, flunked math, history, and biology, and has absolutely nothing between his ears.”

Tana laughed in spite of herself. She didn't like him anyway, but it seemed an almost surgically accurate, albeit unkind, portrait of him. “That sounds about right. Not nice, but right.”

“They don't pay me to be nice.” He looked mischievous as he sipped his drink again, and made an obvious appraisal of her cleavage and small waist.

“Do they pay you to do anything?”

“Not yet, actually.” He smiled benevolently at her. “And with luck they never will.”

“Where do you go to school?”

He frowned, as though he had just forgotten something somewhere, and then gazed blankly at her. “Do you know … I can't seem to remember.” He smiled again as she wondered what that meant. Maybe he wasn't going to college at all, although he didn't look that type either. “What about you?”

“Green Hill.”

The impish smile appeared again, with one eyebrow raised. “How ladylike. Majoring in what? Southern plantations, or pouring tea?”

“Both.” She grinned and stood up. “At least I go to school.”

“For two years anyway. Then what, princess? Or is that what tonight is all about? The Great Hunt for Husband Number One.” He pretended to speak into a megaphone. “Will all candidates line up against the far wall. All healthy young white males with pedigrees … have your father' D&B's in hand, we will also want to know your schools, blood type, whether or not you drive, how large your personal trust is and how soon you come into it…” He went on as she laughed at him, and he lowered his voice. “Seen any likely ones so far, or are you too madly in love with Chandler George?”

“Much.” She began to walk slowly towards the main ballroom and he followed her, just in time to see her escort kissing the chubby redhead on the other side of the room.

The tall dark handsome young man turned to Tana somberly. “I've got bad news for you. I think you're about to be jilted, princess.”

She shrugged and met the green eyes so like her own. “Them's the breaks, I guess.” There was laughter in her eyes. She didn't give a damn about Chandler George.

“Would you like to dance?”

“Sure.”

He whirled her around the floor expertly. There was something very dashing and worldly about this boy which seemed to belie his youth. One had the feeling that he had been around, although Tana didn't know where, or even who he was, a circumstance he remedied at the end of the first dance.

“By the way, what's your name, princess?”

“Tana Roberts.”

“My name's Harry.” He looked at her with the boyish grin and she smiled, and then unexpectedly he swept her a low bow. “Harrison Winslow the Fourth, actually. But Harry will do.”

“Should I be impressed?” She was, but she wouldn't give him the satisfaction of letting him know.

“Only if you read the social columns regularly. Harrison Winslow the Third usually makes an ass of himself, in cities that circle the globe … Paris and London most of the time, Rome when he has time … Gstaad, Saint Moritz … Munich, Berlin. And New York when he has absolutely no choice, and needs to fight with the trustees my grandmother left in charge of her very handsome estate. But he isn't very fond of the States, or of me, come to think of it.” He spoke in a flat monotone as Tana watched, wondering what was going on inside of him, but there was no clue as yet. “My mother died when I was four. I don't remember her at all, except once in a while, something comes back in a wave … like a perfume … or a sound, her laughter on the stairs when they went out … a dress that reminds me of her, but that's probably impossible. She committed suicide. ‘Highly unstable,’ as my grandmother used to say, ‘but a pretty piece.’ And poor Dad's been licking his wounds ever since … I forgot to mention Monaco and Cap d'An-tibes. He licks his wounds there too. With helpmates, of course. There's a regular one he parks in London for most of the year, a very pretty one in Paris … one with whom he likes to ski … a Chinese girl in Hong Kong. He used to take me along when I wasn't in school, but eventually I got too disagreeable, so he stopped. That, and…” the eyes grew vague, “… other things. Anyway,” his eyes came back into focus and he smiled cynically at Tana again, “that's who Harrison Winslow is, or at least one of them.”

“And you?” Her voice was soft and his eyes were sad. He had told her more than he had intended to. But it was also his fourth scotch, and although it hadn't hurt his feet when they danced, it had loosened his tongue, not that he cared. Everyone in New York knew who Harry Winslow was, both father and son. “Are you like him?” She doubted it. For one thing, he hadn't had time to develop all those skills. He couldn't have been much older than she, after all.

He shrugged carelessly. “I'm working on it.” And then he smiled again. “Beware, lovely one! Beware!” And with that, he swept her into his arms and onto the dance floor again, and she saw her mother watching them. She watched them for a long time, and then inquired of someone who he was, and she didn't look displeased.

“Do you see your father very much?” She was still thinking of what he had said as he whirled her around the floor. It sounded like a lonely life … boarding schools … his mother dead by suicide when he was four … the father halfway around the world most of the time, and obviously a libertine.

“Actually, no. He doesn't have time.” For just a minute, he sounded like a very young boy, and she was sorry for him, but he was quick to turn the tables on her. “What about you? What's your story, Tana Roberts, other than the fact that you have deplorable taste in men?” He glanced in the direction of Chandler George crushing the little redhead to him, and they both laughed.

“I'm single, eighteen years old, and I go to Green Hill.”

“Jesus. How dull. What else? Any major loves?”

Her face slammed shut, and he noticed it. “No.”

“Relax. I meant other than Chandler, of course.” She relaxed a little again. “Although admittedly, he's hard to beat.” Poor guy, they were both being rotten to him, but he was the dullest boy she had ever known, and he was an easy target for the scorn of his peers. “Let's see, what else? Parents? Illegitimate children? Dogs? Friends? Hobbies? Wait,” he patted his pockets, as though he had misplaced something. “I should have a form here somewhere…” They both laughed. “All of the above … ? none of the above … ?”