Until the End of Time: A Novel Read online

  Helene’s father had died two months earlier in Paris, shortly before Jack, and her mother was sad, living alone. She tried to get Helene to return to Paris, but jobs were scarce after the war, and she had been in the States for nine years by then, and didn’t want to go back, and convinced her mother to join them in Philadelphia. Jenny was only five years old then, but she remembered moving from Pittston with her mother, and her grandmother arriving in the States to live with them.

  The two women started a seamstress shop in Philadelphia after Thérèse, Helene’s mother, arrived from Paris. Jenny had called her “Mamie,” in the French tradition, and learned to speak French from her. The shop did well, and once one of the Main Line socialites discovered them, they became all the society ladies’ “best little secret,” copying Paris gowns for them. Thérèse’s skill was remarkable, and Helene did the simpler work, lacking her mother’s training. They made some beautiful dresses and earned a good income, which eventually sent Jenny to Parsons, where her own career began.

  Jenny’s first internship one summer, while still at school, was working for Oleg Cassini, during the time when he was making dresses for Jackie Kennedy when she was First Lady, and Jenny saw her there a few times, selecting designs for important occasions. Her mother and grandmother had been excited to hear of it, and proud when Jenny graduated, and landed the job at Vogue.

  The two women were always excited to hear about what Jenny was doing. They subscribed to Women’s Wear Daily just so they could read about her. Their little couture shop and the money Jenny’s father had left them had served them well. Bill had been incredibly impressed by Jenny when he met her, and even more so when he learned her history and met her mother and grandmother. He thought they were three remarkable women, and his wife most of all. The five years of their marriage had flown by, and he loved her more than ever. His life had been improved by her immeasurably, and Jenny insisted that hers had been too. He was supportive of everything she did. She was still at Vogue when he saw her first, on a snowy day in New York, when she was running a shoot outside the Plaza, and in spite of the weather, he had stopped to watch.

  Jenny had been running around the models like a shepherd dog, herding them back to their places, as the snow fell. She was wearing a huge fur hat herself, which she later told him was a policeman’s hat she had bought on the black market in Moscow, while on another shoot. And she was wearing jeans, boots, and a big down man’s coat. Everyone on the set looked frozen, and Jenny was moving too fast to care, as she watched the photographer and models, and made constant adjustments to their clothing or their hair. Bill had noticed them, as he hurried past on his way to a meeting, and something made him stop. He liked to say that it was fate. He looked at Jenny and stood there for so long in the falling snow watching her that she turned and glanced at him, and he smiled at her. She smiled back as the snow landed on her lashes and the Russian fur hat. He just kept standing there, mesmerized by her, feeling foolish. He had just graduated from law school the year before and was working for his family law firm with his father and brothers, but he was bored by what he was doing, and everything about Jenny exuded joy.

  He continued watching the photo shoot in front of the Plaza, getting soaked himself by the snow, and during a break he approached her, and could have kicked himself afterward for what he said. He felt like a moron, but he didn’t know what else to say. He walked toward her and extended his card to her, and burbled the words.

  “If you ever need a lawyer …,” he said, as she grinned.

  “I hope not,” she answered, pocketing his card politely, and he had the distinct impression she would throw it away as soon as he left. Why would she need a lawyer? He didn’t dare tell her how beautiful she was, or how mesmerized he was by her. His business card was the only thing that had come to mind as a way of telling her his name and how to reach him, not that she would. She was watching the photographer out of the corner of her eye, as she talked to Bill for a minute, and then nodded and told Bill she had to go back to work. As he walked away, feeling desolate, he could hear her talking to the photographer in French. He was certain he would never see her again. And she hadn’t told him her name or how he could reach her. She was concentrating on her shoot, and Bill was sure she thought he was an idiot, with his ridiculous comment when he gave her the business card. He was haunted by her for days and thought she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. She was full of life, and when he had looked into her eyes, he felt like he could see her soul.

  He had his secretary call several magazines to see if any of them had had photo shoots in front of the Plaza that day, and he eventually found out that it was Vogue. A very unfriendly voice at the magazine said that if he left a message they would give it to her but they wouldn’t give him her name. Feeling even more stupid and awkward than the first time, he asked the girl to say that “Bill Sweet had called to say hello” and left his number. He was sure he’d never hear from her. And after that, he put Jenny out of his mind and went back to work. He was doing estate work for a client, and the prospect of doing that for the rest of his life was not a cheering one. But that was what the men in his family did. None of them seemed to mind it, and his brothers, both of whom were older than he was, actually liked their work, as partners of the firm. It was one of the most respected law firms in New York, and had been founded by his great-grandfather. They were blue bloods serving other blue bloods, just as they had for generations. It had never dawned on Bill to do anything else.

  A week later, he was driving to Boston to meet with one of their clients, about setting up trusts for his grandchildren, when he stopped to get gas halfway there. It was March, it had been a long, bitter-cold winter, and it was snowing again. He got out of his car, while the attendant filled his tank, when a rental truck lumbered in, and a woman jumped out impatiently waiting for service. He watched her for a minute, and as she turned toward him, squinting in the snow, he saw the Russian fur hat again. And this time he was absolutely certain that their meeting was fated. How could he run into the same woman twice? He had thought he’d never see her again. He was smiling when he walked toward her, and she looked up at him in surprise. He acted as though they’d already met.

  “I left you a message,” he said, looking at her cautiously, “but I don’t suppose you got it.” He was smiling down at her, like a kid at Christmas, and feeling foolish again. He felt fourteen years old, while she looked so cool and poised.

  “I think I did.” She smiled back at him. “You’re a lawyer, right? I haven’t gotten into any trouble yet.” She still had his card somewhere in a coat pocket or on her desk. She remembered that his name was Bill Sweet. For some reason, it had stuck in her mind.

  “What’s with the truck?” he teased her. “Are you driving away from a bank robbery, or moving furniture for a friend?”

  “I’m doing a shoot in Massachusetts.” It was a story about an important socialite, being shot by a famous French photographer. “For Vogue,” she added for good measure.

  “I tried to get in touch with you after I saw you at the Plaza. They wouldn’t tell me your name, which makes sense. I probably sounded like a stalker.” She laughed at what he said, and the earnest look in his eyes. He looked like a nice guy, and she could see he was nervous talking to her, which touched her. Most of the men she met were sophisticated and blasé.

  “They’re used to stalkers where I work. Most of the time they’re after the models, not the assistants,” she said with a wry look. Her fur hat was covered with snow again, just like the first time. He couldn’t believe he’d actually run into her again. It was the best luck he’d had in years, possibly ever.

  “Their mistake,” he answered her comment, as the attendant serviced her car. “When are you going back to New York?” he asked her, feeling breathless. What if she said it was none of his business? He was a stranger, after all. It was a Thursday afternoon, and he was going back the following night, for the weekend. He had a date on Saturday with a gir
l he’d been seeing for a month, had nothing in common with, and didn’t really like, but she was the younger sister of his brother’s wife, and Bill had nothing else to do. He knew a thousand girls just like her, but not one like Jenny. He could already tell. Everything about her was exciting and different.

  “It depends when we finish the shoot,” she said vaguely. “Saturday or Sunday. I’m driving all the props up to dress the set. I’ll be the last one to leave.” He was sorry he couldn’t offer to drive with her. He had a feeling he would have enjoyed it. She looked like she laughed a lot. There was a twinkle in her eyes.

  “Would you like to get together next week?” he asked bravely.

  “I would, but I’ve got three shoots back to back. That’s what I do. I style for the magazine, which means I’m in charge of a lot of their photo shoots, for the back of the book, the fashion section.” He nodded, trying to pretend he knew what she meant, but he didn’t. And he could hardly concentrate when he looked at her. All he could see were her beautiful big blue eyes, her smile, and her sensual lips. And he couldn’t tell if she was brushing him off or was as busy as she said.

  “Do you get a day off?” he asked, looking hopeful.

  “Once in a while. Not very often. It’s kind of like being married to your job.” She looked as if she didn’t mind it, which made him curious about her.

  “Do you like what you do?”

  “I love it.” She looked happy as she said it. “This is what I’ve always wanted to do.”

  “Drive a truck, delivering furniture?” he joked, and she laughed.

  “Yeah, something like that. You can come to one of the shoots if you want. We’re doing two in a studio next week, and one on location in Harlem, at a nightclub called Small’s Paradise. We rented it for the night. I’ll probably get a dinner break around ten P.M. You can meet me there, and we can do KFC, or a funny Chinese place we eat at sometimes when we’re uptown. It’s a dive, but the food is terrific. I can’t take long though. I’ve got four big models that night, they’re flying in from London and Milan.” It sounded like fun to him. And he would have agreed to meet her on a subway platform, with or without food.

  “Sounds good,” he confirmed, and she told him where to meet her on Thursday night, and said she’d call if anything changed. And then he thought of something he needed to know urgently. “What’s your name?”

  “Jenny Arden. You can call me at Vogue if anything changes. I have a pager, but I only use it for work.” She never gave the number out.

  “I won’t call, Jenny Arden. See you Thursday night. Have fun on your shoot this weekend.”

  They both paid for their gas, and she opened the door to the truck and got in. “It’s kind of funny we should meet like this,” she said thoughtfully as she looked at him, and he wanted to say it was something to tell their grandchildren, but he didn’t dare.

  “No big deal. I’ve just been following you for two months,” he said with a boyish grin, and she laughed.

  “See you Thursday,” she said, and waved at him as she drove away in the snow. Bill was smiling all the way to Boston, and he could hardly wait to see her again. He felt like destiny had been very, very kind.

  Their date the following week was typical of Jenny’s life while she worked for Vogue. Everything was moving slowly on the shoot. One of the models was sick, and the photographer had a temper tantrum. She didn’t get a dinner break till after midnight, and by then the Chinese restaurant was closed. Bill stood by patiently, and they went to Burger King for twenty minutes instead. He was fascinated by what she did, and stuck around for another hour, watching what happened on the set. He was impressed by how efficient she was. She had everything in control. He left around one-thirty in the morning, and when he called her the next day, to see how it went, she said they’d been there till four A.M. She said they worked all night sometimes, and as she and Bill got to know each other better, she explained that it accounted for the fact that she had no life except her work, but she didn’t seem to mind.

  They dated haphazardly for the next few months, and they had a great time together. All other women paled by comparison, and he found he was learning everything he had never needed to know about the fashion world. But she made it interesting for him. And eventually, he admitted to her how little he enjoyed his own work.

  “Isn’t there something you can do related to the law that would be more fun?” she asked sympathetically.

  “Not in my father’s firm. They’re the best tax lawyers in New York. I thought I’d like to be a litigator at one point, or do criminal law, but my father would never forgive me if I left the firm. And it must be me—my brothers love what they do. I do as much pro bono work as I can, with the indigent, and the ACLU, and through the courts, but my father isn’t too thrilled with that either.” Bill was two years older than Jenny, but she seemed so sure about what she wanted to do, and was on her path. Most of the time he felt lost in the woods and off course. It embarrassed him to be so much less certain than she. She loved everything about her work, even the long hours and crazy situations she handled every day. None of it bothered her, and she enjoyed the challenge.

  They’d been dating for two months, when he decided to take a theology class at Columbia. It was something he had always wanted to do. He didn’t tell his father or brothers, but he told Jenny, and she thought it was a great idea. She was always encouraging and open to new ideas, and he admired that about her. In fact, he was crazy about her, and six months after they started dating, he was head over heels in love, and she admitted she was too. They had no plans to do anything about it—they just reveled in the time they spent together. And when he finished the theology class, he signed up for three more. He was taking them at night, so they didn’t interfere with his work. But he was having much more fun at school at night than at his father’s firm. By now he hated everything he did there. He had tried to question his brothers about it several times, but they both insisted they were satisfied and happy with what they did. They were both married, and their wives looked like all the girls they had grown up with. They were blond, blue-eyed debutantes, whose families had known their own for years. His older brother Tom’s mother-in-law had gone to Vassar with their mother. And neither of Bill’s sisters-in-law worked. And they’d each had two children. To Bill, they seemed like cookie-cutter lives, predictable from birth to the grave.

  Jenny was so much more interesting and came from a totally different world. Her early years in a mining town, with a coal miner father, only made her more intriguing to him, and he was impressed by her success. She had come a long way from Pittston, Pennsylvania. And he thought her mother and grandmother were lovely women who were dignified and brave. He had gone to Philadelphia with Jenny and met them both, and they had been warm and welcoming to him, unlike his own family, who couldn’t have been worse when they met Jenny. With considerable trepidation, he had taken Jenny to meet his parents at their Connecticut weekend home, over the Labor Day weekend, six months after they started dating.

  His father was jovial with her at first, but Bill knew him better and saw something cold in his eyes. And his mother conducted the interrogation about where she had grown up, where she had graduated from college, and if she’d gone to boarding school. Jenny was open and honest and ingenuous with them. She told them about her father, and moving to Philadelphia. She said she had gone to public school there, then to Parsons, and she told them about her job at Vogue. To anyone else, it would have been a success story, and they would have been impressed. To his parents, her entire history was a crime, and dating their son made it even worse. His brothers looked at her strangely, and their wives had been incredibly rude to her and ignored her completely. As far as they were concerned, a coal miner’s daughter did not belong in their midst. If they had thrown rocks at her, their message wouldn’t have been clearer. Bill was furious and humiliated by the time they left after dinner, and he apologized to Jenny profusely on the way back to New York.

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�Don’t be silly. They probably didn’t know what to expect, and they don’t meet people out of their own milieu very often. I deal with people like that all the time.” Some of the socialites they shot for Vogue were truly nasty to her and treated her like a slave. Her feelings were a little hurt this time, but Bill was so upset about it that she felt sorry for him. Clearly, she was not welcome with his family—they had made that clear—which was embarrassing for him. “Don’t worry about it,” she reassured him as they drove home. “They were probably terrified you would say you’re going to marry me,” she laughed. Bill pulled the car over and turned to look at her.

  “Jenny, that’s exactly what I have in mind,” he said in a gentle voice. “I don’t deserve you, and my family sure as hell doesn’t. I don’t care what they think, I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I love you. Will you marry me?” Jenny stared at him with wide eyes. She knew they loved each other, but she had had no idea that that was what he was thinking. She knew the world he came from, and there was no way she could fit in. They would never accept her, and she was afraid that they would punish Bill if he married her.

  “What about your parents? They’d be heartbroken if you married me,” she said sincerely with sad eyes. She didn’t want to destroy his life, but she loved him just as much.

  “I’d be heartbroken if you didn’t marry me.” He was being honest. He had intended to ask her by the end of the year, maybe at Christmas. But he loved her so much, and wanted her to know how serious he was about her. His family’s shoddy treatment of her had made him want to speak up now. He kissed her then, even before she answered, and she looked at him solemnly.