Someone started a game of hide-and-seek in the garden. Nora hid behind a palm tree until the girl who was It went past; then she ran laughing down the dim paths, skimming the gravel in her high heels until, in the shadow of a bronze centaur, someone grabbed her arm and pulled her to a halt. Nora almost fell, but the person pulled her upright and kissed her, roughly. “Good night, my dear,” he said. Raclin’s voice.
“Hey!” she said warningly. She felt too good to be really angry, she understood the kiss was all part of the night’s game, but still, you could take a game too far.
He kissed her again, more smoothly this time, and then the gravel crunched as he moved away.
It was a very good kiss, she realized too late. “Good night,” she said uncertainly.
She walked across the grass toward the house. It was almost dawn. The lawn was flattened, littered with crumpled napkins, wineglasses, a pair of lace panties. The pool was empty of lovers, but the man who’d had the affair on Jupiter was sleeping on one of the recliners, his glasses askew. In the brightening air, Nora noticed vaguely that his skin was not actually black, or brown, but dark green.
From under the covers, Nora groped for the ringing telephone. Maggie’s voice in her ear, clear but faint. “Nora? Is that you?”
“Maggie?” Blinking, Nora sat up in bed. It took her a moment to realize where she was. “My God, I missed the wedding, didn’t I? I got lost in the woods, and I just—I just forgot about it.” What on earth had she been thinking? “Luca and Chris must be furious.”
“Oh, no, no, no.” Maggie laughed, sounding tinny. The phone was the old-fashioned kind, squat and black. “No need to apologize. I hear that you went to a fabulous party last night. I’m so envious! I mean, the reception was fine, but compared to one of Ilissa’s parties—?”
“You’ve heard of her?”
“You never heard of her? I’m shocked! She’s famous!”
Nora lowered her voice. “Who is she, exactly? She has the most extraordinary friends. Last night was like something out of Fellini.”
Maggie laughed again. “She’s one of those people who’s famous for being herself.”
“Nice work if you can get it,” Nora said. “She’s been super sweet to me, I must say. I can’t wait to tell you about my adventure. How did you track me down here? Could you come pick me up?”
“There’s no hurry. The person I just talked to said Ilissa is completely happy to have you stay. Why not take a few days to enjoy yourself? How often do you get to be in a Fellini film?”
“True,” Nora said, considering. “But you’re driving back tonight, right?”
“Oh, maybe, I’m not sure. Seriously, you don’t get a chance to meet someone like Ilissa every day. People like that are magical. For once in your life, Nora, you should spend some time with people who can appreciate how wonderful you are, and show you how to really live.”
“Well, last night
“It’s exactly what you need,” Maggie said. “Oops, I have to run. Have a wonderful time, darling.”
“Maggie, wait, I left my phone at the cabin, I don’t have your number—”
“Have fun!”
She was gone. Nora hung up, slightly puzzled. It was unlike Maggie, always hyperorganized, to be so cavalier about her own schedule, and she couldn’t repress a faint feeling of hurt that, for some reason, Maggie seemed to be trying to keep the conversation brief. Then she saw what must have happened: Maggie had met someone at the reception, and had changed her own plans as a result.
And what she had just said was true. This was an opportunity, an open door, of a kind Nora had never come across before. What had Maggie said? These people could show her how to live. Live all you can, it’s a mistake not to. After just a few hours with Ilissa and her friends, everything looked different: softer, brighter, rich with possibility.
The clock on the mantelpiece chimed two o’clock. She realized with a start that she’d slept half the day away. Getting out of bed, Nora approached the mirror tentatively, remembering how she had collapsed into bed without even taking off her makeup; she must look like hell.
But the face that looked out at her was still as luminous and assured as when Ilissa had shown it to her the night before. Nora ran her tongue along her lips, thinking that she had never really noticed how full they were, or how long her eyelashes were, or how elegantly her cheekbones caught the light. Her face smiled back at her, calmly amused that anyone would even doubt its beauty.
A knock at the door. Moscelle, trim and pretty in a riding habit, asking if Nora would like to go riding this afternoon. “I’d like to,” Nora said regretfully, “but I don’t really know how to ride.” Her experience with horses totaled some pony rides and a few painful hours on a stubborn gelding when she was fifteen. But Moscelle said not to be silly. “Ilissa has a sweet mare you can ride. And there’s a spare habit that should fit you beautifully. So no excuses!”
The mare was beautiful, jet black with a single white diamond on her forehead, and once mounted, Nora discovered there was none of the vertiginous jolting that had made her cling to the saddle horn in the past. They took a sun-dappled path that wound through the smooth trunks of beech trees, and the horse seemed to know exactly where Nora wanted to go, stepping like a dancer. This was riding as she had imagined it from the horse books she’d read in grade school. Having the right mount must make all the difference.
Vulpin dropped back to ride beside her. He started by asking her about her studies, but she found that she wasn’t interested in talking about school. She asked him about Ilissa instead, and he began to reminisce; evidently he had known Ilissa since he was a small child. Nora gathered that Ilissa came from some sort of wealthy aristocratic family in another country, but he was frustratingly vague as to exactly where. Asked directly, Vulpin shrugged and said that it was hard to explain, they had moved around so much. He dropped a few references to the war, or wars, which Nora found confusing. Apparently Ilissa had played some sort of courageous role in saving a large number of people. There had been great privation and suffering.
“Does Ilissa know Anastasia, by chance?” Nora asked archly, and then felt a little embarrassed. Vulpin only looked amused. She kept trying to think of the right questions to ask, something that would help her sort out the details of Ilissa’s past without being rude, but she kept getting carried away in the currents of Vulpin’s deep, soothing voice.
They caught up to Gaibon and Moscelle. Gaibon grinned at Nora and asked how she had enjoyed the party last night—had she fallen in love?
“Oh, I’m not ready to fall hard for just anyone,” Nora said. “I’m going to take my time to pick and choose.”
Gaibon seemed to find this very funny. “Oh, you’ll be a prize. Ilissa has a knack, you know. When she takes someone in hand—well, you wouldn’t know them afterward. They might not even know themselves. She’s done a nice job with you, especially the lips,” he added. “Almost too pretty, eh, Vulpin? Our friend’s a lucky man.”
“Stop teasing Nora, you’re making me jealous,” Moscelle said. Gaibon laughed and said something else, and Vulpin responded sharply, both of them speaking in long, lilting, incomprehensible syllables. Nora looked from one to the other. Then Vulpin said cheerfully that it was time to head back. He rode ahead with Gaibon, neither of them speaking until they were too far away for Nora to hear what they said.
“What was all that about?” Nora asked Moscelle. Moscelle only laughed and said that Gaibon was flirting too much and that she, Moscelle, would have to keep a close eye on him at the party tonight. Nora was surprised: “Another party?”
“Yes, a big one, not like last night. That was a little quiet, don’t you think? I think Ilissa was just a tiny bit embarrassed by how quiet it was. But she’s had all day to plan this one.”
They started down a long driveway, and at first Nora thought they had made the wrong turn. The house ahead of them, basking in the late afternoon sun, was all slate-roofed gables and rose-colored brick, much older than the house she remembered from yesterday, and she started to say something to Moscelle. But Ilissa was waiting for them, slim and white in a dress that swayed around her legs as though it had never heard of gravity. Next to her was a boxy black car. “We’re late, my dear,” she said, holding her hand out for Nora.
