Danielle Steel - 44 Charles Street

Chris made comments as they walked along, and Francesca told him who some of the artists were. She loved being there with him, and they stayed until nearly eight o’clock, and after that they took a cab to a party she’d been invited to at a restaurant called Bed, where people sat and lay on mattresses and ate dinner. Every conversation they heard around them was about art and artists, the quality of the show, the expensive pieces that had already sold. Francesca ran into a lot of people she knew and introduced them to Chris. She was having a ball and loved every minute of it, and he was enjoying himself too. This was her world, and it fascinated him. Everyone seemed to know her.

They didn’t get back to the hotel until two A.M., after stopping at another party hosted by a dealer at a disco. They danced for a little while and then went home, and fell into bed in their stark white room at the Delano. They were dead to the world when Ian woke them up the next morning. He had just bought a Christmas tree with Marya, and they were making decorations. They were going to bake some of them to hang on the tree, and he sounded excited. Chris smiled at Francesca proudly after they hung up. Ian promised to call them back later.

“He’s such a great kid, isn’t he?” Chris said, cuddling up to her in bed.

“Yes, he is,” she agreed, “and so are you.” She kissed him, and they got up a few minutes later. And an hour after that they were back at the fair. They stayed there all day until Chris begged for mercy, and said he couldn’t look at another piece of art. They had almost finished with Art Basel by then, and she still wanted to see Red Dot and Scope, but she agreed to take a break, and spend an hour with him at the pool. He lay gratefully next to her, and looked ecstatic, as he held a beer.

“Jesus, they’re not kidding when they say this is the biggest art fair in the world.” She laughed at his look of exhaustion. There was still a lot she wanted to see, although she didn’t think they’d get to all the fairs. She had five on her list for the next day. They weren’t going back to New York till the afternoon, on Monday, and that still didn’t give them time to see it all.

By Sunday, Chris said he was on art overload, and she laughed and said he looked just like Ian. He wanted to go back to the hotel and watch football. So she agreed to meet up with him later that afternoon.

They had dinner at a trendy restaurant in South Beach that night, with her father and Avery and his dealer, who was a fascinating man. Chris had an interesting conversation with him about Italian art in the Middle Ages, which he had studied in school, and enjoyed a lengthy conversation with Francesca’s father about his work. The two men seemed to get along famously, and Avery winked at Francesca from across the table, while she listened to their conversation with one ear. So far so good. She could tell from her father’s expansiveness with Chris that he liked him, and she was pleased. “I really like your guy,” Avery commented to her in a whisper as they left the restaurant. “And I can tell your dad does too.” It would have been hard not to. Chris was intelligent, interesting, solid, nice to be with, and loved what he was learning about her world.

It was a nonstop art bath all weekend, and by Sunday night even Francesca was tired and happy to go back to the hotel. There were only three more shows she wanted to see the next day, and Chris flatly refused and said he was going to lie by the pool. She didn’t mind his doing that. There was so much to see, and so many people she knew, that she was fine being on her own. And she and Avery went to two of the smaller art fairs together, set up in small hotels, on Monday morning.

“I really like Chris,” Avery said casually as they strolled through the booths. “And so does your father. He’s intelligent and fun to talk to, and crazy about you. I like that a lot for you,” Avery said, smiling at her.

“I’m crazy about him too. I’m not renting to any more roommates when Marya leaves, by the way. Chris and I are going to split it.” Avery was relieved, and started chatting with a friend from a gallery in Cleveland, when Francesca heard her cell phone ring in her purse. It was Chris, and he sounded panicked.

“Where are you? How fast can you get back here?”

“I’m at one of the smaller fairs at some hotel near the beach. Why? What happened?” There was a lot of noise from people talking around her, and poor cell service in the hotel. She stepped into a hallway to try and hear him better. She had no idea what he was talking about, but she had never heard him sound so frightened.

“Kim grabbed Ian. From school. She’s got him.” He was in tears.

“Oh my God. How did that happen?” Francesca was panicked for Chris and Ian. Especially Ian. They knew that she had gotten out of jail two weeks before, and was at a fancy rehab in New Jersey. She was due to stay there till Christmas, but she could walk out of it anytime she wanted to, and Chris had been sure she would. He had told Marya to be careful. They had hardly gone out all weekend, except to buy the tree. She had kept Ian busy making decorations and baking cookies.

“She showed up at his school this morning and said she had visitation with him and was taking him to a doctor’s appointment for a booster shot. And they believed her. I guess Ian was happy to see her, and went with her. The school just called me to verify it. But she had already run out the back door. I don’t know where he is,” Chris said. “I have no idea what she’ll do with him, or where she’ll go.”

“She can’t be that crazy,” Francesca said, trying to calm him down, and he shouted at her for the first time ever.

“Yes, she is!” he roared over the phone. “I’m going to kill his fucking school. They know he’s not supposed to be with her without supervision. I gave them a copy of the court order. How fast can you get back here? Where are you? There’s a one o’clock flight to New York. I want to be on it.”

“I’m not sure exactly where I am. We went to another fair before this.”

“I’ll pack your stuff. Meet me at the airport. United Airlines.” Francesca went back to find Avery and told her what had happened. And Avery looked as worried as she was.

“Do you think he’ll be all right? She wouldn’t hurt him, would she?”

“I don’t think so. Not intentionally. She’s more likely to hurt herself, doing something crazy. Maybe she just wants to scare Chris, or show him she can do whatever she wants. She’s pretty nuts.” All she could think of was the list of horrors she had heard at the hearing. But Ian was eight years old now. He was resourceful and could take care of himself better than most kids his age. He had had to whenever he was with his mother.

Francesca kissed Avery goodbye in haste, ran outside and caught a passing cab, and told him to take her to the airport. She was wearing running shoes, jeans, and a T-shirt, but she would have boarded the plane in a bathing suit to be with Chris. He looked frantic when she found him at the airport. He had just checked her bags in, and was carrying her coat.

“Maybe she took him to her apartment,” she suggested. “Can you call the police?”

“I already did,” he said, looking tense. He looked as though his nerves were raw. “I don’t know why Ian went with her. He knows better, and he knows he’s not supposed to.”

“She’s his mother,” Francesca said gently, as they ran toward the gate. They had barely made it, and were the last passengers on the flight.

“She’s not answering her cell phone. The police are looking for her now. I told them I think Ian is in danger. And I believe he is. The woman is insane.”

They boarded the plane, and took their seats. And Chris hardly spoke on the flight. It was the longest three hours of her life, watching him, and knowing he was dying inside. He was terrified for his son. Francesca didn’t even try to talk to him after a while. She just held his hand. Chris drank two straight scotches on the plane. And he dozed for a few minutes after that. There was nothing they could do until they landed.