She slipped into her seat in braille class, and Baxter teased her mercilessly. “So now the head of the school is carrying your books for you, eh?”
“Oh, shut up,” she chuckled. “He took me to get dry jeans.”
“Did he help you put them on?”
“Will you stop? No. He rolled them up.” Baxter hooted softly under his breath and continued to razz her about it all morning.
“I hear he's cute, by the way.”
“I think he's old,” Annie said matter-of-factly. Brad Parker hadn't been hitting on her. He was just being helpful, and acting like a head of school. “Besides, I didn't see you helping me get off my ass outside when I fell on the ice.”
“I can't,” Baxter said simply. “I'm blind, you ninny.”
“And don't call me a ninny!” They were like twelve-year-olds. The teacher called them to order, and a little while later, Baxter added, “I think he's thirty-eight or thirty-nine.”
“Who?” She was concentrating on her braille homework, and was furious to discover she had gotten almost half of it wrong. It was harder than she thought.
“Mr. Parker. I think he's thirty-nine.”
“How do you know?” She sounded surprised.
“I know everything. Divorced, no kids.”
“So? What's that supposed to mean?”
“Maybe he has the hots for you. You can't see him. But he can see you. And three people have told me you're gorgeous.”
“They're lying to you. I have three heads and a double chin on each. And no, he was not hitting on me. He was just being
“There's no such thing as
“It doesn't matter if he is,” Annie said practically. “Thirty-nine is too old. I'm only twenty-six.”
“Yeah, that's true,” Baxter said matter-of-factly. “You're right, he is too old.” And with that, they both went back to work, trying to master braille.
When Annie got home from school that evening, both her older sisters were still out, and so was Candy. And Mrs. Shibata was about to leave. Annie fed the dogs, and started her homework. She was still working on it when Tammy came home at seven. She heaved a sigh as she came through the door, took off her boots, and said she was exhausted when she saw Annie, and asked her how her day was.
“It was fine.” She didn't tell her that she had fallen. She didn't want her to worry, and they got nervous about things like that, and worried that she might hit her head. After brain surgery five months before, that would not be a good thing. But she had only hit her bottom. Sabrina came home half an hour later and asked if anyone had seen Candy. She had called her on her cell phone several times that afternoon, and it went to voice mail every time.
“She must be working,” Tammy said practically, as she started dinner. She wasn't a baby after all, even if they treated her that way, and she had a major career. “Did she tell you what she was doing today?” she asked Annie, who shook her head, and then she remembered. “She was doing some kind of shoot for an ad this afternoon. She said she'd come home this morning and pick up her portfolio and her stuff.” She usually carried a bag full of makeup and other things with her when she worked.
“Did she?” Sabrina asked, and Annie reminded her she'd been at school so she didn't know.
“I'll look,” Sabrina said, and ran up the flight to Candy's room. The portfolio and work bag, a giant Hermes tote in dark red alligator, were still there. She carried Zoe around in it sometimes too. But Zoe had been home all day with the other dogs. It gave Sabrina a strange feeling to see the portfolio and bag in her room. She wondered if she should call Candy's agency to see if she had checked in, but she didn't want to act like a cop. Candy would have been furious if she did, even if her intentions were good, which they were. She just worried about her baby sister.
“Well?” Tammy asked when Sabrina came back down to the kitchen. They were all downstairs by then except Candy, who still hadn't appeared.
“Her stuff is all in her room,” Sabrina said, with a worried look.
They called her several times after dinner, but her phone still went to voice mail. It was obviously turned off. Sabrina wished she had asked her for Marcello's phone number, but she hadn't, only his address, and she couldn't drop by to ask him where her sister was. Candy would have gone insane. He lived in a good neighborhood at least, if that meant anything. And at midnight they still hadn't heard a word from her. Tammy and Sabrina were still up, and Annie had gone to bed.
“I would hate being a parent,” Sabrina said miserably to Tammy. “I'm worried sick about her.” Tammy didn't want to admit it, but she was getting concerned too. It was unlike Candy to just disappear like that and not check in. They didn't know what to do. And then Tammy remembered that there was a hotline at her agency to call anytime day or night, for models who had problems. Some of them were still very young, came from other cities or countries, and needed help or advice. Tammy looked it up in Candy's address book and found it. She dialed the number, got an answering service, and asked to be put through to the head of the agency if that was possible. A sleepy voice answered two minutes later. It was Marlene Weissman herself.
Tammy apologized for calling at such a late hour, but said they were concerned about their sister, Candy Adams. She hadn't come home since the night before, and they hadn't heard from her after she went out with a friend.
Marlene Weissman sounded instantly concerned. “She didn't show up for a shoot today. She's never done that before. Who was she with last night?”
“The man she's currently going out with, he's some sort of Italian prince. Marcello di Stromboli, he's quite a bit older than she is. They were going to a party on Fifth Avenue.”
Marlene was now wide awake. She spoke quickly and distinctly. “The man's a phony and a bullshitter. He has some money, and preys on models. He's had some problems with the law, and he's roughed up two of my girls. I had no idea he was still going out with Candy or I would have said something to her. He usually goes after younger girls than she is.”
“They've been in the papers a number of times,” Tammy said, feeling weak at the knees.
“I know. I just assumed he had moved on by now. He usually does. Do you know where he lives?”
“She gave us the address.” She read it off to Marlene.
“I'll meet you there in twenty minutes. I think we'd better go up there. He may have her there, drugged up or worse. Do you have a boyfriend or a husband?” she asked bluntly.
“My sister does,” Tammy said.
“Bring him. If he won't let us in, we'll call the police. I don't like this guy, he's trouble.” It was everything Candy's sisters didn't want to hear. Thank God they had called her.
Sabrina called Chris and woke him up, explained what was happening, and he said he'd pick them up in a cab in ten minutes. Tammy wasn't sure if they should wake Annie to tell her they were leaving. She was sound asleep, and there was no reason to think that she should wake up while they were gone. The two women bundled up and put heavy coats and boots on. It was snowing hard when Chris picked them up, and he said he was lucky to find a cab at twelve-thirty on a snowy night. They were at Marcello's address ten minutes later, slipping and sliding across the icy streets. Marlene was already there, in a mink coat over jeans. She was an attractive gray-haired woman in her late fifties with a silky voice.
She spoke in an authoritarian manner to the doorman, and said the prince was expecting them, and not to bother to call. She was so daunting that the doorman followed her instructions, aided by a hundred-dollar bill, and let all four of them up. He told them it was apartment 5E. They were silent in the elevator, and Tammy could feel her heart beating as she looked at the older woman, with her hair pulled back in a slick chignon, and the elegant mink coat.
“I don't like this at all,” she said softly, and the others nodded.
“Neither do we,” Sabrina answered, holding tightly to Chris's hand. He still looked half asleep, and wasn't entirely sure what was going on or what they hoped to find. It seemed obvious to him that if Candy was there, she wanted to be, and might be furious at the four intruders who had come to rescue her. Particularly if she didn't want
