If Tomorrow Comes by Sidney Sheldon

24

Tracy’s house in Eaton Square was a haven. It was in one of the most beautiful areas in London, with the old Georgian houses facing tree-filled private parks. Nannies in stiffly starched uniforms wheeled their small charges in status-named prams along the graveled paths, and children played their games. I miss Amy, Tracy thought.

Tracy walked along the storied old streets and shopped at the greengrocers and the chemist on Elizabeth Street; she marveled at the variety of brilliantly colored flowers sold outside the little shops.

Gunther Hartog saw to it that Tracy contributed to the right charities and met the right people. She dated wealthy dukes and impoverished earls and had numerous proposals of marriage. She was young and beautiful and rich, and she seemed so vulnerable.

“Everyone thinks you’re a perfect target,” Gunther laughed. “You’ve really done splendidly for yourself, Tracy. You’re set now. You have everything you’ll ever need.”

It was true. She had money in safe-deposit boxes all over Europe, the house in London, and a chalet in St. Moritz. Everything she would ever need. Except for someone to share it with. Tracy thought of the life she had almost had, with a husband and a baby. Would that ever be possible for her again? She could never reveal to any man who she really was, nor could she live a lie by concealing her past. She had played so many parts, she was no longer sure who she really was, but she did know that she could never return to the life she had once had. It’s all right, Tracy thought defiantly. A lot of people are lonely. Gunther is right. I have everything.

She was giving a cocktail party the following evening, the first since her return from Venice.

“I’m looking forward to it,” Gunther told her. “Your parties are the hottest ticket in London.”

Tracy said fondly, “Look who my sponsor is.”

“Who’s going to be there?”

“Everybody,” Tracy told him.

Everybody turned out to be one more guest than Tracy had anticipated. She had invited the Baroness Howarth, an attractive young heiress, and when Tracy saw the baroness arrive, she walked over to greet her. The greeting died on Tracy’s lips. With the baroness was Jeff Stevens.

“Tracy, darling, I don’t believe you know Mr. Stevens. Jeff, this is Mrs. Tracy Whitney, your hostess.”

Tracy said stiffly, “How do you do, Mr. Stevens?”

Jeff took Tracy’s hand, holding it a fraction longer than necessary. “Mrs. Tracy Whitney?” he said. “Of course! I was a friend of your husband’s. We were together in India.”

“Isn’t that exciting!” Baroness Howarth exclaimed.

“Strange, he never mentioned you,” Tracy said coolly.

“Didn’t he, really? I’m surprised. Interesting old fella. Pity he had to go the way he did.”

“Oh, what happened?” Baroness Howarth asked.

Tracy glared at Jeff. “It was nothing, really.”

“Nothing!” Jeff said reproachfully. “If I remember correctly, he was hanged in India.”

“Pakistan,” Tracy said tightly. “And I believe I do remember my husband mentioning you. How is your wife?”

Baroness Howarth looked at Jeff. “You never mentioned that you were married, Jeff.”

“Cecily and I are divorced.”

Tracy smiled sweetly. “I meant Rose.”

“Oh, that wife.”

Baroness Howarth was astonished. “You’ve been married twice?”

“Once,” he said easily. “Rose and I got an annulment. We were very young.” He started to move away.

Tracy asked, “But weren’t there twins?”

Baroness Howarth exclaimed, “Twins?”

“They live with their mother,” Jeff told her. He looked at Tracy. “I can’t tell you how pleasant it’s been talking to you, Mrs. Whitney, but we mustn’t monopolize you.” And he took the baroness’s hand and walked away.

The following morning Tracy ran into Jeff in an elevator at Harrods. The store was crowded with shoppers. Tracy got off at the second floor. As she left the elevator, she turned to Jeff and said in a loud, clear voice, “By the way, how did you ever come out on that morals charge?” The door closed, and Jeff was trapped in an elevator filled with indignant strangers.

Tracy lay in bed that night thinking about Jeff, and she had to laugh. He really was a charmer. A scoundrel, but an engaging one. She wondered what his relationship with Baroness Howarth was: She knew very well what his relationship with Baroness Howarth was. Jeff and I are two of a kind, Tracy thought. Neither of them would ever settle down. The life they led was too exciting and stimulating and rewarding.

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