After lunch of lobster salad followed by raspberries and cream she lazed and slept most of the afternoon. Klaus and Johanna's menfolk walked to the next house, several hundred yards away, to visit a friend. Johanna, firmly telling Rezia she didn't need to go with them if she preferred to sunbathe, refused to move from her hammock, waved them off and promptly went to sleep.
At six Rezia showered and changed into her party dress. Designed by her mother, in dull gold taffeta, it was close fitting but with a skirt that flowed smoothly over her hips to widen into fullness. The bodice was cut low, but fringed with a creamy lace ruffle that gave it an air of demureness at variance with the seductive cut.
They drove to a house some miles away, Klaus explaining that their hosts, Betty and Bob Delaney, had huge parties whenever they were there, and invited everyone from miles around.
A friendly couple, they made Rezia welcome, and ushered them out to another wide terrace where people were dancing. It was a dream, to be here in Klaus's arms, swaying to old-fashioned smoochy music as he held her close.
Later she was tidying her hair in Betty's bedroom when, through the half-open door to the hall, she heard Klaus's name.
'Who's Klaus's latest?' a faintly bored female voice asked.
'Lord knows. Not his usual type, is she.'
'Has he a usual type? She's unlike Gina, I admit.'
'Green eyes! You've never forgiven him for dropping you.'
There was a tinkling laugh. 'The other way about, pet. That guy tries to imply he's irresistible, but without his money I doubt many of his women would put up with his temper! Do you know – '
The voice receded, and Rezia shook herself. How could she have eavesdropped? She wasn't like that. Yet she'd been incapable of movement. So Gina had once been one of Klaus's women. The thought gave her a sudden pang. Then she took herself to task. She wasn't one of his women, he'd taken pity on her and invited her to a party, that was all. Yet for a crazy moment she admitted she wanted to be. She was becoming far too attracted to the man, and it wouldn't do. They inhabited different worlds.
*
She left the room slowly, and almost unconsciously took her camera out of her bag. She had some snaps from the swim, but Klaus looked so handsome in evening dress she wanted more. It would have to be her last chance. To retain her sanity she must in future avoid him.
Klaus was standing in front of the buffet table. It was laden with plates, glasses and cutlery, salads and platters of meat. He was talking to a remarkably pretty girl who was gazing adoringly into his eyes. Rezia discreetly took a couple of pictures, and was about to take a third when, from across the room, there was a commotion.
It happened so quickly that Rezia, concentrating on the camera, took several more shots before she noticed the disturbance. A burly, red-faced man almost ran across, shouting something, and took a wild swing at Klaus. Unprepared, Klaus staggered backwards and fell, arms flailing, into the buffet.
As two men grabbed the drunk, Betty ran across to the girl, who had dissolved into tears. Others pulled Klaus upright, his suit, face and hair liberally smeared with scraps of meat, salads, and sauces.
Rezia heard Felix speak, just behind her. 'Damned fool. Just married, and too jealous for comfort. Let me get you another drink.'
Had he cause to be jealous? The girl had seemed eager to encourage Klaus's attentions, so was it as innocent as he pretended?
Felix led her across to a small table and some time later Klaus, who had tried to clean up as best he could, but with little success, came across too, followed by Bob.
'Klaus, I'm so sorry. That's the last time that fool comes here.'
Klaus shrugged. 'Not your fault, but if love makes a guy lose his cool like that, I hope I never experience it.'
'Come next week? There won't be many more weekends for good sailing weather.'
'Sorry, Bob, it's Miami and Arlene next weekend.'
*
They left soon afterwards, Klaus saying he didn't dare dance again for fear of transferring lettuce and tomato onto Rezia's dress.
Or risk offending other men, she thought. He seemed to be well-known as a flirt, from the comments she'd overheard.
'What was all that about?' Rezia asked as they drove away.
'A new and jealous husband,' Klaus said, his tone disparaging. 'He's well over forty, never been married before, and acquires a pretty young wife. He's terrified she'll get bored and leave him. He'd have been better off not marrying, he left it too late. He can't adapt.'
Klaus must be in his mid-thirties, Rezia thought. Did his comment apply to himself? Did he rule out marriage? Then she caught herself up guiltily. She was risking falling into the same trap as many other women did, when a good-looking, attractive man paid them flattering attention. He was attractive, she admitted. But she must beware of his reputation, and not allow herself to become too involved. If she relaxed her guard it would be very easy to fall in love with him, and then she'd be hurt.
On Sunday they sailed in the morning, and all too soon the weekend was over. They drove back to Manhattan as its spectacular skyline was silhouetted against one of the most glorious sunsets Rezia had ever seen. It shaded from the palest pink to rose, lilac and deep violet. She spent the rest of the drive taking photos, to Klaus's amusement.
*
For the next week Rezia worked hard. She was by now familiar with those galleries where the portraits she needed were located, in both the Met and the Frick. Because she worked early most mornings, and occasionally in the evenings, Frank insisted she took some time off during the afternoons. She was tempted to sleep, but being in New York was an opportunity not to be missed. She walked in Central Park, looked at the outcrops of the Manhattan schist, the very hard rock of the island which supported the huge skyscrapers, took a boat out on the lake, and began to know her way along some of the winding paths.
One afternoon, feeling guilty at enjoying herself so much, and telling herself this was background to her work, she went to the International Center of Photography. It proved so fascinating she was almost late for her next appointment, and decided she had to entrust herself to one of the yellow cabs. Her first experience of these, from the airport when she arrived, had not endeared her to them. Most drivers, she heard, spoke no English, and many had little idea of the geography of the city. She ought to make herself familiar with the subway system, but most of the time she could walk to where she was working, and enjoy the varied architecture and the bustling street life.
And every spare moment she spent with Klaus. It was useless telling herself she ought to avoid him. He had other ideas. Every evening she came home to find small gifts, flowers or phials of perfume, bath essences or boxes of chocolates, gift wrapped and placed prominently on her dining table or the middle of her bed. They were always accompanied by a note, saying he'd booked a table at a restaurant and would be calling for her soon.
They dined in small restaurants in Greenwich Village. One day he had tickets for the ballet at one of the theatres in the massive Lincoln Center complex, and one evening they walked to a small cinema where early silent movies were being featured that season.
They talked, and Rezia found it difficult to drag herself away to bed, knowing she had another early start the next morning. They were making so many discoveries about one another, their similar tastes in music and art, and a passion for musicals and old black and white movies. He didn't again kiss her, but he invaded her dreams, and she told herself she had to be careful. This was an interlude, part of the magic of these few weeks.
Soon, at the weekend, he'd be in Miami with the mysterious Arlene. Despite his attentions, she knew it could not last. His references to how little time they had, and plans for when he returned, the places he'd take her to, were no more than the practised techniques of a man who liked to sweep his girlfriends off their feet. She determined to keep hers on the ground. She didn't believe in instant romance. How she wished she did!
*
Then on the Friday evening all her preconceptions fell apart.
They had dined at a small but elegant Mexican restaurant, talking for hours longer than they usually did, and it was almost midnight when they arrived home. As they stepped out of the elevator Rezia was startled by a bright flash as a camera light bulb went off in her face.
'What's that?' she gasped, but Klaus had reacted with swift efficiency. Thrusting her aside he landed one effective punch on the photographer's jaw, and as the man subsided to the carpet he bent over him and unhooked the camera strap from round his neck.
'How did you get in here?' he demanded as he looked at the camera and deleted all the photos. He tossed the camera back contemptuously. 'Think yourself fortunate you've have got it back. Now go, and don't let me see you again.'
Silently, the man scrambled to his feet and scuttled through the doors leading to the stairs.
Klaus put his arm round Rezia's shoulder and led her into her apartment.
'I'm sorry, my darling, I'd hoped to keep you out of this sort of thing.'
'What sort of thing? Who was that man, and why should he be taking photos of us?'
Klaus shrugged. 'A private eye, hired by that buffoon at the party, I expect. Hoping to catch his wife here, I imagine. Forget him. Are you OK?'
'Yes, just startled. But how did he get in? I thought visitors here were strictly vetted before they let them past the doorman?'
'They are, normally.'
He picked up the phone and Rezia went to put on the coffee pot. Klaus was sitting on the big settee when she came back with a tray, staring through the window at the lights of Manhattan. He was frowning.
'The doorman said he'd visited here before, so he didn't prevent him from coming up,' he said abruptly.
'Here? This apartment? You mean he knows Gina?'
'I suppose so. She knows all sorts of odd people. Forget him, darling, and come and sit with me. I shall be on a plane in eight hours, and I don't know how I can endure the time away from you.'
'It's only a few days,' she murmured before he kissed her and prevented more words. He was so much a part of her life now she'd ceased to worry about the future. She was determined to enjoy the present.
Klaus released her and ran his hand through his hair. 'A few days which will seem like a month. I can't think of anything but you. Rezia, my sweet, come with me. Forget your job. I want you to myself, not tied to old dead painters.'
'I can't!' she exclaimed, more startled than she had been by the camera flash. 'Klaus, we've only known each other for a couple of weeks.' And he'd said only last Saturday, less than a week ago, that he didn't want to fall in love.
'A couple of days was all I needed to know I wanted you. I tried to resist, I didn't want my life to change, but it has.'
For a crazy minute she was tempted to believe him. Then, reluctantly, she shook her head. 'Not yet, Klaus .'
'Don't you love me?'
'I think I do,' she murmured. How could she tell him it was his love she doubted? A man like him, rich, handsome, successful, courted by beautiful sophisticated American women, had certainly had dozens, probably hundreds of girlfriends. He'd probably said these words more times than he could recall. If she let herself believe him, she would risk heartbreak. If she let herself get more involved with him, it would be even harder when, as would undoubtedly happen, it all ended.
He kissed her briefly, but to her relief did not try to persuade her to change her mind.
'This clearly isn't the right time to try and convince you,' he said lightly. 'When I get back, though, it will be a different matter.'
*