The following morning when Lara arrived at Cameron Center, the entire staff was waiting to congratulate her.

"It's wonderful news!"

"It was such a big surprise to all of us!..."

"I'm sure you'll be very happy... "

And on it went.

Howard Keller was waiting in Lara's office for her. He gave her a big hug. "For a lady who doesn't like classical music, you sure went and did it!" Lara smiled. "I did, didn't I?"

"I'll have to get used to calling you Mrs. Adler."

Lara's smile faded. "I think it might be better for business reasons if I keep using Cameron, don't you?"

"Whatever you say. I'm sure glad you're back. Everything is piling up here."

Lara settled in a chair opposite Howard. "Okay, tell me what's been happening."

"Well, the West Side hotel is going to be a money-losing proposition. We have a buyer lined up from Texas who's interested in it, but I went over to the hotel yesterday. It's in terrible shape. It needs a complete refurbishing, and that's going to run into five or six million dollars."

"Has the buyer seen it yet?"

"No. I told him I'd show it to him tomorrow."

"Show it to him next week. Get some painters in there. Make it look squeaky clean. Arrange for a crowd to be in the lobby when he's there."

He grinned. "Right. Frank Rose is here with some new sketches. He's waiting in my office."

"I'll take a look at them."

"The Midland Insurance Company that was going into the new building?"

"Yes. "

"They haven't signed the deal yet. They're a little shaky."

Lara made a note. "I'll talk to them about it. Next?"

"Gotham Bank's seventy-five million loan on the new project?"

"Yes? "

"They're pulling back. They think you're getting overex tended."

"How much interest were they going to charge us?"

"Seventeen percent."

"Set up a meeting with them. We're going to offer to pay twenty percent."

He was looking at her, aghast. "Twenty percent? My God, Lara! No one pays twenty percent."

"I would rather be alive at twenty percent than dead at seventeen percent. Do it, Howard."

"All right."

The morning went by swiftly. At twelve-thirty Lara said, "I'm going to meet Paul Martin for lunch."

Howard looked worried. "Make sure you aren't lunch."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean he's Sicilian. They don't forgive and they don't forget."

"You're being melodramatic. Paul would never do any thing to harm me."

"I hope you're right."

Paul Martin was waiting for Lara at the restaurant when she arrived. He looked thin and haggard, and there were circles under his eyes, as though he had not been sleeping well.

"Hello, Lara." He did not get up.

"Paul." She sat down across from him.

"I left some stupid messages on your answering machine. I'm sorry. I had no idea..."He shrugged.

"I should have let you know, Paul, but it all happened so fast."

"Yeah." He was studying her face. "You're looking great."

"Thank you."

"Where did you meet Adler?"

"In London."

"And you fell in love with him just like that?" There was a bitter undertone to his words.

"Paul, what you and I had was wonderful, but it wasn't enough for me. I needed something more than that. I needed someone to come home to every night."

He was listening, watching her.

"I would never do anything in the world to hurt you, but this just...just happened."

More silence.

"Please understand."

"Yeah." A wintry smile crossed his face. "I guess I have no choice, have I? What's done is done. It was just kind of a shock to read about it in the newspapers and see it on television. I thought we were closer man that."

"You're right," Lara said again. "I should have told you."

His hand reached out and caressed her chin. "I was crazy about you, Lara. I guess I still am. You were my miracolo. I could have given you anything in the world you wanted except what he could give you - a wedding ring. I love you enough to want you to be happy."

Lara felt a wave of relief sweep through her. "Thank you, Paul."

"When am I going to meet your husband?"

"We're giving a party next week for our friends. Will you come?"

"I'll be there. You tell him that he had better treat you right, or he'll have to answer to me."

Lara smiled. "I'll tell him."

When Lara returned to her office, Howard Keller was waiting for her. "How did the luncheon go?" he asked nervously.

"Fine. You were wrong about Paul. He behaved beauti fully."

"Good. I'm glad I was wrong. Tomorrow morning I've set up some meetings for you with..."

"Cancel them," Lara said. "I'm staying home with my husband tomorrow. We're honeymooning for the next few days."

"I'm glad you're so happy," Howard said.

"Howard, I'm so happy it scares me. I'm afraid that I'll wake up and find this is all a dream. I never knew anyone could be this happy."

He smiled. "All right, I'll handle the meetings."

"Thank you." She kissed him on the cheek. "Philip and I are giving a party next week. We expect you there."

The party took place the following Saturday at the pent house. There was a lavish buffet and more than a hundred guests. Lara had invited the men and women she worked with: bankers, builders, architects, construction chiefs, city officials, the city planners, and the heads of unions. Philip had invited his musician friends and music patrons and bene factors. The combination proved to be disastrous.

It wasn't that the two groups did not try to mix. The problem was that most of them had nothing in common. The builders were interested in construction and architecture, and the musicians were interested in music and composers.

Lara introduced a city planner to a group of musicians. The commissioner stood there, trying to follow the discussion.

"Do you know what Rossini felt about Wagner's music? One day he sat his ass on the piano keys and said, 'That's what Wagner sounds like to me.' "

"Wagner deserved it. When a fire broke out at the Ring Theater in Vienna during a performance of Tales of Hoff mann, four hundred people burned to death. When Wagner heard about it, he said, 'That's what they get for listening to an Offenbach operetta.' "

The commissioner hastily moved on.

Lara introduced some of Philip's friends to a group of real estate men.

"The problem," one of the men said, "is that you need thirty-five percent of the tenants signed up before you can go co-op."

"If you want my opinion, that's a pretty stupid rule."

"I agree. I'm switching to hotels. Do you know the hotels in Manhattan now are averaging two hundred dollars a room per night? Next year..."

The musicians moved on.

Conversations seemed to be going on in two different lan guages.

"The trouble with the Viennese is that they love dead composers...."

"There's a new hotel going up on two parcels, between Forty-seventh and Forty-eighth streets. Chase Manhattan is financing it... "

"He might not be the greatest conductor in the world, but his stick technique is genau...."

"...I remember a lot of the mavens said that the 1929 stock market crash wasn't a bad thing. It would teach people to put their money in real estate...."

"...and Horowitz wouldn't play for years because he thought his fingers were made of glass..."

"...I've seen the plans. There's going to be a classic base rising from three floors from Eighth Avenue, and inside an elliptical arcade with lobbies on three sides...."

"...Einstein loved the piano. He used to play with Rubin stein, but Einstein kept playing off beat. Finally, Rubinstein couldn't stand it anymore, and he yelled, 'Albert, can't you count?'..."

"...Congress must have been drunk to pass the Tax Reform Act. It's going to cripple the building industry... "

"...and at the end of the evening when Brahms left the party he said, 'If there's anyone here I've forgotten to insult, I apologize.' "

The Tower of Babel.

Paul Martin arrived alone, and Lara hurried over to the door to greet him. "I'm so glad you could come, Paul."

"I wouldn't have missed it." He looked around the room. "I want to meet Philip."

Lara took him over to where Philip was standing with a group. "Philip, this is an old friend of mine, Paul Martin."

Philip held out his hand. "I'm pleased to meet you."

The two men shook hands.

"You're a lucky man, Mr. Adler. Lara's a remarkable woman."

"That's what I keep telling him." Lara smiled.

"She doesn't have to tell me," Philip said. "I know how lucky I am."

Paul was studying him. "Do you?"

Lara could feel the sudden tension in the air. "Let me get you a cocktail," she said to Paul.

"No, thanks. Remember? I don't drink."

Lara bit her lip. "Of course. Let me introduce you to some people." She escorted him around the room, introducing him to some of the guests.

One of the musicians was saying, "Leon Fleisher is giving a recital tomorrow night. I wouldn't miss it for the world." He turned to Paul Martin, who was standing next to Howard Keller. "Have you heard him play?"

"No. "

"He's remarkable. He plays only with his left hand, of course."

Paul Martin was puzzled. "Why would he do that?"

"Fleisher developed carpal-tunnel syndrome in his right hand about ten years ago."

"But how can he give a recital with one hand?"

"Half a dozen composers wrote concertos for the left hand. There's one by Demuth, Franz Schmidt, Korngold, and a beautiful concerto by Ravel."

Some of the guests were asking Philip to play for them.

"All right. This is for my bride." He sat down at the piano and began to play a theme from a Rachmaninoff piano concerto. The room was hushed. Everyone seemed mesmer ized by the lovely strains that filled the penthouse. When Philip rose, there was loud applause.

An hour later the party began to break up. When they had seen the last guest to the door, Philip said, "That was quite a party."

"You hate big parties, don't you?" Lara said.

Philip took her in his arms and grinned. "Did it show?"

"We'll only do this every ten years," Lara promised. "Philip, did you have a feeling that our guests were from two different planets?"

He put his lips to her cheek. "It doesn't matter. We have our own planet. Let's make it spin...."