Mrs. Houston pulled back and looked at Kelly. "I can't believe it's you. What are you doing in town?" "I came to see my mother, but I wanted to see you, too." "I'm so proud of you. You have no idea." "Mrs. Houston, do you remember when I asked how I could thank you? You said I could thank you by letting you see my picture in a fashion magazine. Here." And Kelly put the pile of fashion magazines in Mrs. Houston's arms. There were copies of Elle, Cosmopolitan, Mademoiselle, and Vogue. She was on the cover of each one.
"They're beautiful." Mrs. Houston was beaming. "I want to show you something." She went behind her desk and pulled out copies of the same magazines.
It took a moment before Kelly could speak. "What can I ever do to thank you? You changed my life." "No, Kelly. You changed your life. All I did was give you a little push. And Kelly-" "Yes?" "Thanks to you I've become a fashion plate."
* * *
SINCE KELLY VALUED her privacy, her fame sometimes was troublesome. The constant barrage of photographers annoyed her, and she had what amounted to a phobia of being approached by people she did not know. Kelly enjoyed being alone.
One day, she was having lunch at Restaurant le Cinq at the George V Hotel, when a badly dressed man passing by stopped to stare at her. He had the pallid, unhealthy complexion of someone who spent all his time indoors. He was carrying a copy of Elle, opened to a page of photographs of Kelly.
"Excuse me," the stranger said.
Kelly looked up, annoyed. "Yes?" "I saw your-I read this article about you, and it says that you were born in Philadelphia." His voice grew enthusiastic. "I was born there, too, and when I saw your pictures, I felt like I knew you and-" Kelly said coldly, "You don't, and I don't like strange men bothering me." "Oh, I'm sorry." He swallowed. "I didn't mean to-I'm not strange. I mean-my name is Mark Harris, and I work for Kingsley International Group. When I saw you here, I-I thought maybe you didn't like having lunch alone and that you and I could-" Kelly gave him a scathing look. "You thought wrong. Now I'd like you to leave." He was stammering. "I-I didn't mean to intrude. It's just that I-" He saw the look on her face.
"I'm going." Kelly watched him walk out the door, carrying the magazine with him. Good riddance.
* * *
KELLY HAD SIGNED to do a week of layouts for several fashion magazines. The day after her encounter with Mark Harris, she was in the models' dressing room, getting dressed, when three dozen roses arrived for her. The card read: Please forgive me for bothering you.
Mark Harris.
Kelly ripped up the card. "Send the flowers to the children's hospital." The next morning the wardrobe mistress came into the dressing room again, with a package.
"Some man left this for you, Kelly." In it was a single orchid. The card read: I hope I'm forgiven. Mark Harris.
Kelly tore up the card. "Keep the flower."
* * *
AFTER THAT, MARK Harris's gifts came almost daily: a small basket of fruit, a mood ring, a toy Santa Claus. Kelly threw them all into a wastebasket. The next gift that arrived was different: it was an adorable French poodle puppy with a red ribbon around its neck with a card:
This is "Angel." I hope you'll love her as much as I do. Mark Harris.
Kelly dialed Information and got the number of Kingsley International Group.
When their operator answered, Kelly asked, "Do you have a Mark Harris working there?" "Oui, mademoiselle." "Could I speak with him, please?" "Un moment." A minute later Kelly heard his familiar voice. "Hello?" "Mr. Harris?" "Yes." "This is Kelly. I've decided to take you up on your invitation to lunch." There was a stunned silence, then, "Really? That's-that's wonderful." Kelly could hear the excitement in his voice.
"Laurent today, at one?" "That will be great. Thank you so much. I-" "I'll make the reservation. Good-bye."
* * *
MARK HARRIS WAS standing, waiting at a table at Laurent, when Kelly strode in, carrying the puppy.
Mark's face lit up. "You-you came. I wasn't sure that-and you brought Angel." "Yes." Kelly planted the dog in Mark's arms. "She can join you for lunch," she said icily, and turned to leave.
Mark said, "I don't understand. I thought-" "Well, I'm going to explain it for you for the last time," Kelly snapped. "I want you to stop annoying me. Do you understand that?" Mark Harris's face turned a bright red. "Yes. Yes, of course. I'm sorry. I didn't-I didn't mean toI just thought-I don't know what to?I'd like to explain. Would you sit down just for a moment?" Kelly started to say no, then sat, a look of contempt on her face. Yes?
Mark Harris took a deep breath. "I'm really so sorry. I didn't mean to annoy you. I sent you those things to apologize for intruding. All I wanted was a chance to-when I saw your picture, I felt as though I had known you all my life. And then when I saw you in person and you were even more-" He was stammering, mortified. "I?I should have known that someone like you could never be interested in someone like?I-I acted like a stupid schoolboy. I'm so embarrassed. It's just that II didn't know how to tell you how I felt, and? His voice trailed off.
There was a naked vulnerability about him. "I'm just not good at?at explaining my feelings. I've been alone all my life. No one ever?when I was six years old, my parents got a divorce, and there was a custody battle.
Neither one of them wanted me." Kelly was watching him, silent. His words were resonating in her mind, bringing back long-buried memories.