Portrait of a Love (18 page)

Leo grinned and held out his hand. “Very briefly. I had other things on my mind, I’m afraid. How do you do.”

Bob shook hands composedly. “Do I offer you my congratulations, Senator?”

“You do. And call me Leo. After all, we’re practically going to be brothers-in-law.”

Bob’s face relaxed slightly. “I’m so glad, Isabel,” he said, and looked at her.

She was radiant. “So am I.”

“I told her she owed it to you,” Leo said amiably. “After all, you’ve housed her for years. We’ll buy a nice big house and you can come for long visits.”

Bob’s face relaxed completely and he grinned.
“You
owe that to me,” he said. “You’re taking my cook.”

“Yep. And I’m taking her right away, too.” He looked at Isabel. “How would you like to come back to Charleston with me and be married?”

She sighed. “It sounds wonderful.”

“Well,” said Bob, “I have heard you’re a man of action.”

Leo chuckled.

“Where is Ben?” Isabel asked suddenly.

“We’re staying at the Essex House. He can fly us home tomorrow.”

“Great,” said Isabel faintly. “Ben,” she explained to Bob, “is Leo’s brother. Leo’s
young
brother. He just got his flying license.”

“That’s terrific.”

“Yes, isn’t it. Oh, well,” Isabel said philosophically, “if we go down, at least we’ll go down together.”

“He’s very good,” Leo said firmly. “And now, since you have to pack, I’ll be off. I’ll pick you up tomorrow morning. At nine sharp.”

“His ancestors were generals,” Isabel said excusingly to Bob. “Both revolutionary and Confederate. He just can’t help organizing.”

Bob ignored her. “I’ll make sure she’s ready,” he said to Leo. “And now, to add to my previously demonstrated tactfulness, I will retire and allow you to say good night alone.”

“Bob,” Isabel said, “you are a prince.”

“I know,” he returned modestly, and went off down the hall. Leo turned to Isabel.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said softly.

“Yes.” She looked up at him out of eyes that were wide and dark and unspeakably beautiful. “I love you so much,” she said.

“I thought you meant it,” he said. “That stuff about never marrying because of your art. I really thought you meant it.”

“I thought I did, too,” she replied softly.

He put his arms around her and held her close. “It made sense, you know.” His cheek was against her hair. “It made such damn good sense.”

“It might have made sense, but it wasn’t true. You have to be open to life, Bob told me. And he was right. You have to live if you want to create. And without you, I don’t seem to be any good at living.”

“Well, I’m sure not any good at living without you.” His voice sounded oddly husky.

Isabel closed her eyes. “I wish you didn’t have to go.”

“So do I, honey. So do I.”

After a minute she pushed him away. “Well, you can tell you mother to book the church and hire the organist. All your old girlfriends can get out their handkerchiefs.”

“Are you serious?” he asked. “Could you really stand a big wedding?”

“Leo, your mother’s heart will be broken if we just stand up in front of the priest with a couple of witnesses.”

A very slow smile started at the corners of his eyes. “True,” he said.

“Would Paige like to be my maid of honor?”

The smile spread to his mouth. “She’d love it.”

“Well, then ...”

“One month,” he said. “I’ll give Mama one month. If she can’t organize a wedding in that time, I’m going to drag you off by myself.”

“She’ll manage,” said Isabel. “After all, she’s a Sinclayeh.”

“So she is,” he murmured. “And so will you be too, honey.” And he bent to kiss her again.

Copyright © 1984 by Joan Wolf

Originally published by New American Library [ISBN 0451130022]

Electronically published in 2013 by Belgrave House

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

No portion of this book may be reprinted in whole or in part, by printing, faxing, E-mail, copying electronically or by any other means without permission of the publisher. For more information, contact Belgrave House, 190 Belgrave Avenue, San Francisco, CA 94117-4228

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This is a work of fiction. All names in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to any person living or dead is coincidental.