In Milan, Lara and Philip Adler checked into the Antica Locanda Solferino, a charming hotel with only twelve rooms, and they spent the morning making passionate love. Afterward, they took the drive to Cernobbia and had lunch at Lake Como, at the beautiful Villa d'Este.
The concert that night was a triumph, and the greenroom at La Scala Opera House was packed with well-wishers.
Lara stood to one side, watching as Philip's fans surrounded him, touching him, adoring him, asking for autographs, handing him little gifts. Lara felt a sharp pang of jealousy. Some of the women were young and beautiful, and it seemed to Lara that all of them were obvious. An American woman in an elegant Fendi gown was saying, coyly, "If you're free tomorrow, Mr. Adler, I'm having an intimate little dinner at my villa. Very intimate."
Lara wanted to strangle the bitch.
Philip smiled. "Er...thank you, but I'm afraid I'm not free."
Another woman tried to slip Philip her hotel key. He shook his head.
Philip looked over at Lara and grinned. Women kept crowding around him.
"Lei era magnifico, maestro!"
"Molto gentile da parte sua," Philip replied.
"L'ho sentita suonare il anno scorso. Bravo!"
"Grazie." Philip smiled.
A woman was clutching his arm. "Sarebbe possibile cenare insieme?"
Philip shook his head. "Ma non credo che sarai impossibile."
To Lara, it seemed to go on forever. Finally, Philip made his way over to Lara and whispered, "Let's get out of here."
"S��!" Lara grinned.
They went to Biffy, the restaurant in the opera house, and the moment they walked in, the patrons, dressed in black tie for the concert, rose to their feet and began applauding. The maitre d' led Philip and Lara toward a table in the center of the room. "It's such an honor to have you with us, Mr. Adler."
A complimentary bottle of champagne arrived, and they drank a toast.
"To us," Philip said warmly.
"To us."
Philip ordered two of the specialties of the house, osso buco and penne all'arrabbiata. All during supper they talked, and it was as though they had known each other forever.
They were constantly interrupted by people coming up to the table to compliment Philip and to ask for autographs.
"It's always like this, isn't it?" Lara asked.
Philip shrugged. "It goes with the territory. For every two hours you spend onstage, you spend countless more signing autographs or giving interviews."
As if to punctuate what he was saying, he stopped to sign another autograph.
"You've made this tour wonderful for me." Philip sighed. "The bad news is that I have to leave for Venice tomorrow. I'm going to miss you a lot."
"I've never been to Venice," Lara said.
Lara's jet was waiting for them at Linate Airport. When they arrived there, Philip looked at the huge jet in astonishment.
"This is your plane?"
"Yes. It's going to take us to Venice."
"You're going to spoil me, lady."
Lara said softly, "I intend to."
They landed in Venice thirty-five minutes later at Marco Polo Airport where a limousine waited to drive them the short distance to the dock. From the dock they would take a motorboat to the island of Giudecca, where the Cipriani Hotel was located.
"I arranged for two suites for us," Lara said. "I thought it would be more discreet that way."
In the motorboat on the way to the hotel, Lara asked, "How long will we be here?"
"Only one night, I'm afraid. I'm giving a recital at La Fenice, and then we head for Vienna."
The "we" gave Lara a little thrill. They had discussed it the night before. "I'd like you to stay with me as long as you can," Philip had said, "but are you sure I'm not keeping you from something more important?"
"There is nothing more important."
"Are you going to be all right by yourself this afternoon? I'm going to be busy rehearsing."
"I'll be fine," Lara assured him.
After they had checked into their suites, Philip took Lara in his arms. "I have to go to the theater now, but there's a lot to see here. Enjoy Venice. I'll see you later this afternoon." They kissed. It was meant to be a brief one, but it turned into a long, lingering kiss. "I'd better get out of here while I can," Philip murmured, "or I'll never be able to make it through the lobby."
"Happy rehearsal." Lara grinned.
And Philip was gone.
Lara telephoned Howard Keller.
"Where are you?" Keller demanded. "I've been trying to reach you."
"I'm in Venice."
There was a pause. "Are we buying a canal?"
"I'm checking it out." Lara laughed.
"You really should be back here," Keller said. "There's a lot going on. Young Frank Rose brought in some new plans. I like them, but I need your approval so we can get..."
"If you like them," Lara interrupted, "go ahead."
"You don't want to see them?" Keller's voice was filled with surprise.
"Not now, Howard."
"All right. And on the negotiations for the West Side property, I need your okay to..."
"You have it."
"Lara...are you feeling all right?"
"I've never felt better in my life."
"When are you coming home?"
"I don't know. I'll stay in touch. Good-bye, Howard."
Venice was the kind of magical city that Prospero might have created. Lara spent the rest of the morning and all afternoon exploring. She roamed through St. Mark's Square, and visited the Doge's Palace and the Bell Tower, and wandered along the crowded Riva degli Schiavoni, and everywhere she went she thought of Philip. She walked through the winding little side streets, crammed with jewelry shops and leather goods and restaurants, and stopped to buy expensive sweaters and scarves and lingerie for the secretaries at the office, and wallets and ties for Keller and some of the other men. She stopped in at a jeweler's to buy Philip a Piaget watch with a gold band.
"Would you please inscribe it 'To Philip with Love from Lara'?" Just saying his name made her miss him.
When Philip returned to the hotel, they had coffee in the verdant garden of the Cipriani.
Lara looked across at Philip and thought, What a perfect place this would be for a honeymoon.
"I have a present for you," Lara said. She handed him the box with the watch in it.
He opened it and stared. "My God! This must have cost a fortune. You shouldn't have, Lara."
"Don't you like it?"
"Of course I do. It's beautiful, but..."
"Ssh! Wear it and think of me."
"I don't need this to think of you, but thank you."
"What time do we have to leave for the theater?" Lara asked.
"Seven o'clock."
Lara glanced at Philip's new watch and said innocently, "That gives us two hours."
The theater was packed. The audience was volatile, applauding and cheering each number.
When the concert was over, Lara went back to the greenroom to join Philip. It was London and Amsterdam and Milan all over again, and the women seemed even more nubile and eager. There were at least half a dozen beautiful women in the room, and Lara wondered which one Philip would have spent the night with if she were not there.
They had supper at the storied Harry's Bar and were warmly greeted by the affable owner, Arrigo Cipriani.
"What a pleasure to see you, signore. And signorina. Please!"
He led them to a corner table. They ordered Bellinis, the specialty of the house. Philip said to Lara, "I recommend starting with the pasta e fagioli. It's the best in the world."
Later Philip had no memory of what he had eaten for dinner. He was mesmerized by Lara. He knew he was falling in love with her, and it terrified him. I can't make a commitment, he thought. It's impossible. I'm a nomad. He hated to think about the moment when she would leave him to go back to New York. He wanted to prolong their evening as long as possible.
When they had finished supper, Philip said, "There's a casino out on the Lido. Do you gamble?"
Lara laughed aloud.
"What's so funny?"
Lara thought about the hundreds of millions of dollars she gambled on her buildings. "Nothing," she said. "I'd love to go."
They took a motorboat to Lido Island. They walked past the Excelsior Hotel and went to the huge white building that housed the casino. It was filled with eager gamblers.
"Dreamers," Philip said.
Philip played roulette and within half an hour had won two thousand dollars. He turned to Lara. "I've never won before. You're my good-luck charm."
They played until 3:00 A.M., and by that time they were hungry again.
A motorboat took them back to St. Mark's Square, and they wandered through the side streets until they came to the Cantina do Mori.
"This is one of the best bacaros in Venice," Philip said.
Lara said, "I believe you. What's a bacaro?"
"It's a wine bar where they serve cicchetti - little nibbles of local delicacies."
Bottle-glass doors led to a dark, narrow space where copper pots hung from the ceiling and dishes gleamed on a long banquette.
It was dawn before they got back to their hotel. They got undressed, and Lara said, "Speaking of nibbles "
Early the following morning Lara and Philip flew to Vienna.
"Going to Vienna is like going into another century," Philip explained. "There's a legend that airline pilots say, 'Ladies and gentlemen, we're on our final approach to Vienna Airport. Please make sure your seat backs and table trays are in the upright position, refrain from smoking until inside the terminal, and set your watches back one hundred years.'"
Lara laughed.
"My parents were born here. They used to talk about the old days, and it made me envious."
They were driving along the Ringstrasse, and Philip was filled with excitement, like a small boy eager to share his treasures with her.
"Vienna is the city of Mozart, Haydn, Beethoven, Brahms." He looked at Lara and grinned. "Oh, I forgot - you're an expert on classical music."
They checked into the Imperial Hotel.
"I have to go to the concert hall," Philip told Lara, "but I've decided that tomorrow we're going to take the whole day off. I'm going to show you Vienna."
"I'd like that, Philip."
He held Lara in his arms. "I wish we had more time now," he said ruefully.
"So do I."
He kissed her lightly on the forehead. "We'll make up for it tonight."
She held him close. "Promises, promises."
The concert that evening took place at the Musikverein. The recital consisted of compositions by Chopin, Schumann, and Prokofiev, and it was another triumph for Philip.
The greenroom was packed again, but this time the language was German.
"Sie war en wunderbar, Herr Adler!"
Philip smiled. "Das ist sehr nett von Ihnen. Danke."
"Ich bin ein grosser Anhanger von Ihnen."
Philip smiled again. "Sie sind sehr freundlich."
He was talking to them, but he could not take his eyes off Lara.
After the recital Lara and Philip had a late supper in the hotel. They were greeted by the maitre d'.
"What an honor!" he exclaimed. "I was at the concert tonight. You were magnificent! Magnificent!"
"You're very kind," Philip said modestly.
The dinner was delicious, but they were both too excited by each other to eat. When the waiter asked, "Would you like some dessert?" Philip said quickly, "Yes." And he was looking at Lara.
His instincts told him that something was wrong. She had never been gone this long without telling him where she was. Was she deliberately avoiding him? If she was, there could only be one reason. And I can't allow that, Paul Martin thought.
A beam of pale moonlight streamed through the window, making soft shadows on the ceiling. Lara and Philip lay in bed, naked, watching their shadows move above their heads. The ripple of the curtains made the shadows dance, in a soft, swaying motion. The shadows came slowly together and separated and came together again, until the two became entwined, became one, and the movement of the dance became faster, and faster, a wild savage pounding, and suddenly it stopped, and there was only the gentle ripple of the curtains.
Early the following morning Philip said, "We have a whole day and evening here. I have a lot to show you."
They had breakfast downstairs in the hotel dining room, then walked over to the Karntnerstrasse, where no cars were permitted. The shops there were filled with beautiful clothes and jewelry and antiques.
Philip hired a horse-drawn Fiaker, and they rode through the wide streets of the city along the Ring Road. They visited Schonbrunn Palace and looked at the colorful imperial coach collection. In the afternoon they got tickets for the Spanish Riding School and saw the Lipizzaner stallions. They rode the huge Ferris wheel at the Prater, and afterward Philip said, "Now we're going to sin!"
"Ooh!"
"No," Philip laughed. "I had something else in mind."
He took Lara to Demel's for its incomparable pastry and coffee.
Lara was fascinated by the mix of architecture in Vienna: beautiful baroque buildings centuries old that faced neomodern buildings.
Philip was interested in the composers. "Did you know that Franz Schubert started as a singer here, Lara? He was in the Imperial Chapel choir, and when his voice changed at seventeen, he was thrown out. That's when he decided to compose music."
They had a leisurely dinner at a small bistro, and stopped at a wine tavern in Grinzing. Afterward Philip said, "Would you like to go for a cruise on the Danube?"
"I'd love to."
It was a perfect night, with a bright full moon and a soft summer breeze. The stars were shining down. They're shining down on us, Lara thought, because we're so happy. Lara and Philip boarded one of the cruise ships, and from the ship's loudspeaker came the soft strains of "The Blue Danube." In the distance they saw a falling star.
"Quick! Make a wish," Philip said.
Lara closed her eyes and was silent for a moment.
"Did you make your wish?"
"Yes."
"What did you wish for?"
Lara looked up at him and said seriously, "I can't tell you, or it won't come true." I'm going to make it come true, Lara thought.
Philip leaned back and smiled at Lara. "This is perfect, isn't it?"
"It can always be this way, Philip."
"What do you mean?"
"We could get married."
And there it was, out in the open. He had been thinking of nothing else for the past few days. He was deeply in love with Lara, but he knew he could not make a commitment to her.
"Lara, that's impossible."
"Is it? Why?"
"I've explained it to you, darling. I'm almost always on tour like this. You couldn't travel with me all the time, could you?"
"No," Lara said, "but..."
"There you are. It would never work. Tomorrow in Paris, I'll show you..."
"I'm not going to Paris with you, Philip."
He thought he had misunderstood her. "What?"
Lara took a deep breath. "I'm not going to see you again."
It was like a blow to the stomach. "Why? I love you, Lara. I..."
"And I love you. But I'm not a groupie. I don't want to be just another one of your fans, chasing you around. You can have all those you want."
"Lara, I don't want anyone but you. But don't you see, darling, our marriage could never work. We have separate lives that are important to both of us. I would want us to be together all the time, and we couldn't be."
"That's it then, isn't it?" Lara said tightly. "I won't see you again, Philip."
"Wait. Please! Let's talk about this. Let's go to your room, and..."
"No, Philip. I love you very much, but I won't go on like this. It's over."
"I don't want it to be over," Philip insisted. "Change your mind."
"I can't. I'm sorry. It's all or nothing."
They were silent the rest of the way back to their hotel. When they reached the lobby, Philip said, "Why don't I come up to your room? We can talk about this and..."
"No, my darling. There's nothing more to talk about."
He watched Lara get into the elevator and disappear.
When Lara reached her suite, the telephone was ringing. She hurried to pick it up. "Philip..."
"It's Howard. I've been trying to reach you all day."
She managed to hide her disappointment. "Is anything wrong?"
"No. Just checking in. There's a lot going on around here. When do you think you'll be coming back?"
"Tomorrow," Lara said. "I'll be back in New York tomorrow." Slowly, Lara replaced the receiver.
She sat there, staring at the telephone, willing it to ring. Two hours later, it was still silent. I made a mistake, Lara thought miserably. I gave him an ultimatum, and I lost him. If I had only waited...If only I had gone to Paris with him...if...if... She tried to visualize her life without Philip. It was too painful to think about. But we can't go on this way, Lara thought. I want us to belong to each other. Tomorrow she would have to return to New York.
Lara lay down on the couch, fully dressed, the telephone by her side. She felt drained. She knew it would be impossible to get any sleep.
She slept.
In his room Philip was pacing back and forth like a caged animal. He was furious with Lara, furious with himself. He could not bear the thought of not seeing her again, not holding her in his arms. Damn all women! he thought. His parents had warned him. "Your life is music. If you want to be the best, there's no room for anything else." And until he met Lara, he had believed it. But now everything had changed. Damn it! What we had was wonderful. Why did she have to destroy it? He loved her, but he knew he could never marry her.
Lara was awakened by the ringing of the telephone. She sat up on the couch, groggy, and looked at the clock on the wall. It was five o'clock in the morning. Sleepily, Lara picked up the telephone.
"Howard?"
It was Philip's voice. "How would you like to get married in Paris?"