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Danielle Steel: Crossings

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Crossings: краткое содержание, описание и аннотация

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In a sense both Armand and Liane were in shock until the end of the summer. Odile had been dead for six months by then, and they both realized one September afternoon, as they sat in the garden at the Consulate, looking at the roses and speaking of Odile, that neither of them was crying as they spoke of her. Armand even told a funny story at Odile's expense and Liane laughed. They had survived it. They would live through it, each one because of the other. Armand had reached out a hand and taken Liane's long, delicate fingers in his own and held them. The tears sparkled then in his eyes as he looked at her.

“Thank you, Liane.”

“For what?” She tried to pretend she didn't know, but she did. He had done as much for her. “Don't be silly.”

“I'm not. I'm very grateful to you.”

“We've needed each other for the past six months.” She said it openly and directly, her hand comfortable in his. “Life is going to be very different without her.” It already was, for them both.

He nodded, thinking quietly to himself over the past six months. “It is.”

Liane went up to Tahoe for two weeks then, before going back to college, and her father was relieved to see her. He still worried about her a great deal, and he was still concerned about her helping Armand constantly. He himself was only too aware that it was too much like her constant devotion to him. And Odile de Villiers had long since convinced Harrison that Liane needed other pastimes than caring for a lonely man. She was a young girl, and there was much that she should do. The year before, she had been scheduled to make her debut, but when Odile fell ill, she had refused.

Harrison brought it up to Liane again in Tahoe, saying that she had mourned for long enough and that the debutante parties would do her good. She insisted that they seemed silly to her, and wasteful somehow, all that money spent on dresses and parties and dances. Harrison stared at her in amazement. She was one of the richest young women in California, heiress to the Crockett Shipping lines, and it seemed extraordinary to him that the thought of the expense should even cross her mind.

In October, when she went back to Mills, she had less time to help Armand with his dinner parties, but he was on his feet again and fending well for himself, although he still felt Odile's absence sorely, as he confessed to Harrison when they had lunch together at his club.

“I won't lie to you, Armand.” Harrison looked at him over a glass of Haut-Brion ‘27. “You'll feel it for a long time. Forever. But not in the same way you did at first. You'll feel it in a moment … a remembered word … something she wore … a perfume … But you won't wake up every morning, feeling as though there's a two hundred thousand pound weight on your chest, the way you did at first.” He still remembered it all too clearly as he finished his wine and the waiter poured him a second glass. “Thank God, you'll never feel quite that agony again.”

“I would have been lost without your daughter.” Armand smiled a gentle smile. There was no way to repay the kindness, to let his friend know how much the child had helped him, or how dear she was to him.

“She loved you both dearly, Armand. And it helped her get over losing Odile.” He was a wise and canny man, and he sensed something then, even before Armand did, but he said nothing. He had a feeling that neither of them knew how much they needed each other, with or without Odile. Something very powerful had grown between them in the past six months, almost as though they were connected, as though they anticipated each other's needs. He had noticed it when Armand came up to Tahoe for the weekend, but he had said nothing. He knew that his instincts would have frightened them both, especially Armand, who might feel that he had in some way betrayed Odile.

“Is Liane very excited about the parties?” Armand was amused at Harrison's excitement. He knew that Liane didn't really care a great deal. She was making her debut more to please her father, being well aware of what was expected, and dutiful above all. He liked that about her. She was not dutiful in a blind, stupid way, but because she cared about other people. It was important to her to do the right thing, because she knew how other people felt about it. She would have preferred not have come out at all, yet she knew that her father would have been bitterly disappointed, so she went along with it for him.

“To tell you the truth”—Harrison sighed and sat back in his seat—“I wouldn't admit it to her, but I think she's outgrown it.” She suddenly seemed much more grown-up than nineteen. She had grown up a great deal in the past year, and she had been called upon to act and think as a woman for so long that it was difficult to imagine her with the giggling girls going to a grand ball for the first time.

And when the moment came, the truth of her father's words was more evident than ever. The others came out, blushing, nervous, frightened, excited to the point of being shrill, and when Liane sailed out slowly on her father's arm at her ball, she looked nothing less than regal in a white satin dress, her shimmering golden hair caught up in a little basket of woven pearls. She had the bearing of a young queen on her consort's arm, and her blue eyes danced with an inimitable fire as Armand watched her with a stirring in his soul.

The party Harrison gave for her was the most dazzling party of all. It was held at the Palace on Market Street, with chauffeured limousines pulling up directly to the inner court. Two orchestras had been hired to play all night, and the champagne had been sent from France. Liane wore a white velvet gown, trimmed with white ermine in delicate ropes all around the hem. The gown, like the champagne, had been sent from France.

“Tonight, my little friend, you look absolutely like a queen.” Liane and Armand circled the room slowly in a waltz. He was there as Harrison's guest. Liane was escorted by the son of one of her father's oldest friends, but she found him stupid and boring and was pleased with the reprieve.

“I feel a little silly in this dress,” she had said, grinning. For an instant she had looked fifteen again, and suddenly, with a quick shaft of pain, Armand had longed for Odile. He wanted her to see Liane too, to share the moment, drink the champagne … but the moment passed, and he turned his attention to Liane again.

“It's a pretty party, though, isn't it? Daddy went to so much trouble …” she said, but was thinking “so much expense.” It always irked her a little, made her feel a little guilty, but he supported worthwhile causes too, and if it made him happy, then why not. “Have you enjoyed yourself, Armand?”

“Never more than at this exact moment.” He smiled, at his most courtly, and she laughed at the chivalry, so unusual from him. Usually he treated her like a child, or at least a younger sister or a favorite niece.

“That doesn't even sound like you.”

“Oh, doesn't it? And what exactly do you mean by that? Am I usually rude to you?”

“No, you usually tell me that I haven't given the butler the right set of fish forks from the safe … or the Limoges is too formal for lunch … or—”

“Stop! I can't bear it. Do I say all that to you?”

“Not lately, although I confess, I miss it. Are you getting on all right?”

“Not half as well lately. They don't even know which Limoges I mean, with you …” For a moment he wondered at what she had been saying. What she had been describing sounded like a marriage, but he couldn't have been like that with her … or could he? Was he so accustomed to Odile knowing all, that he had simply expected Liane to step into her shoes? How extraordinary of him, and how totally insensitive, but how much more extraordinary still that Liane had actually done all that she had for all those months. Suddenly it made him realize more than ever that he had missed her terribly since she had turned her attention back to school, not so much for the selection of the right Limoges, but because it had been so comforting to talk to her after a luncheon, or a dinner party, or in the morning, on the phone.

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