"Tell me what your life was like in Glace Bay," Philip said.
"It would take at least five minutes." Lara smiled.
"No, I'm serious. I really want to know."
She talked about the boardinghouse, but she could not bring herself to talk about her father. She told Philip the story of Charles Cohn, and Philip said, "Good for him. I'd like to meet him one day."
"I'm sure you will."
Lara told him about her experience with Sean MacAllister, and Philip said, "That bastard! I'd like to kill him!" He held Lara close and said, "No one is ever going to hurt you again."
Philip was working on a concerto. She would hear him play three notes at a time, over and over and then move on, practicing slowly and picking up the tempo until the different phrases finally flowed into one.
In the beginning Lara would walk into the drawing room while Philip was playing and interrupt him.
"Darling, we're invited to Long Island for the weekend. Would you like to go?"
Or, "I have theater tickets for the new Neil Simon play."
Or, "Howard Keller would like to take us out to dinner Saturday night."
Philip had tried to be patient. Finally, he said, "Lara, please don't interrupt me while I'm at the piano. It breaks my concentration."
"I'm sorry," Lara said. "But I don't understand why you practice every day. You're not giving a concert now."
"I practice every day so I can give a concert. You see, my darling, when you put up a building and a mistake is made, it can be corrected. You can change the plans or you can redo the plumbing or the lighting or whatever. But at a recital there is no second chance. You're live in front of an audience and every note has to be perfect."
"I'm sorry," Lara apologized. "I understand."
Philip took her in his arms. "There's the old joke about a man in New York carrying a violin case. He was lost. He stopped a stranger and said, 'How do you get to Carnegie Hall' 'Practice,' the stranger said, 'practice.' "
Lara laughed. "Go back to your piano. I'll leave you alone."
She sat in her office listening to the faint strains of Philip playing and she thought, I'm so lucky. Thousands of women would envy me sitting here listening to Philip Adler play.
She just wished he did not have to practice so often.
They both enjoyed playing backgammon, and in the eve ning, after dinner, they would sit in front of the fireplace and have mock-fierce contests. Lara treasured those moments of being alone with him.
The Reno casino was getting ready to open. Six months earlier Lara had had a meeting with Jerry Townsend. "I want them to read about this opening in Timbuktu," Lara said. "I'm flying in the chef from Maxim's for the opening. I want you to get me the hottest talent available. Start with Frank Sinatra and work your way down. I want the invitation list to include the top names in Hollywood, New York, and Washington. I want people fighting to get on that list."
Now, as Lara looked it over, she said, "You've done a good job. How many turndowns have we had?"
"A couple dozen," Townsend said. "That's not bad from a list of six hundred."
"Not bad at all," Lara agreed.
Keller telephoned Lara in the morning. "Good news," he said. "I got a call from the Swiss bankers. They're flying in to meet with you tomorrow to discuss the joint venture."
"Great," Lara said. "Nine o'clock, my office."
"I'll set it up. "
At dinner that evening Philip said, "Lara, I'm doing a recording session tomorrow. You've never been to one, have you?"
"No. "
"Would you like to come and watch?"
Lara hesitated, thinking about the meeting with the Swiss. "Of course," she said.
Lara telephoned Keller. "Start the meeting without me. I'll get there as soon as I can."
The recording studio was located on West Thirty-fourth Street, in a large warehouse filled with electronic equipment. There were 130 musicians seated in the room and a glass-enclosed control booth where the sound engineers worked. It seemed to Lara that the recording was going very slowly. They kept stopping and starting again. During one of the breaks she telephoned Keller.
"Where are you?" he demanded. "I'm stalling but they want to talk to you."
"I'll be there in an hour or two," she said. "Keep them talking."
Two hours later the recording session was still going on.
Lara telephoned Keller again.
"I'm sorry, Howard, I can't leave. Have them come back tomorrow."
"What's so important?" Keller demanded.
"My husband," Lara said. And she replaced the receiver.
When they returned to the apartment, Lara said, "We're going to Reno next week."
"What's in Reno?"
"It's the opening of the hotel and casino. We'll fly down on Wednesday."
Philip's voice was filled with distress. "Damn!"
"What's the matter?"
"I'm sorry, darling, I can't."
She was staring at him. "What do you mean?"
"I thought I had mentioned it. I'm leaving on a tour Mon day."
"What are you talking about?"
"Ellerbee has booked me on a six-week tour. I'm going to Australia and..."
"Australia?"
"Yes. Then Japan and Hong Kong."
"You can't, Philip. I mean...why are you doing this? You don't have to. I want to be with you."
"Well, come with me, Lara. I'd love that."
"You know I can't. Not now. There's too much happening here." Lara said miserably, "I don't want you to leave me."