Sweet Revenge

Sweet Revenge by Nora Roberts Page B

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Authors: Nora Roberts
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television.”
    Celeste breezed in, trailing cigarette smoke behind her. “As you can see, Addy’s becoming Americanized already. How’s the head?”
    “It’s been worse.”
    “If anyone had a right to tie one on, you did.” She glanced at the TV, wondering if the program was suitable for an eight-year-old. Then again, from what Phoebe had told her, Adrianne would be more shocked by
Sesame Street
than the passions of
General Hospital.
“Well, now that you’re up, I’d suggest a cup of coffee and some breakfast before we go out.”
    The light through the window hurt Phoebe’s eyes, so she turned her back to it. “We’re going out?”
    “Darling, you know I’d share anything in my closet with you, but nothing I have is going to fit you anymore than it’s going to fit Adrianne. I know you have a lot to deal with, so I thought we’d take up first things first.”
    Phoebe pressed her fingers to her eyes and fought the urge to run back to bed and toss the covers over her head. “You’re right. Addy, why don’t you go up and brush your hair, tidy up? Then we’ll go see New York.”
    “You would like to?”
    “Yes.” Phoebe kissed the tip of her nose. “Go on. I’ll call you when we’re ready to go.”
    Celeste waited until Adrianne started upstairs. “The kid adores you.”
    “I know.” Giving into her throbbing head, Phoebe sat. “Sometimes I’d think she was the reward for everything I went through.”
    “Honey, if you don’t feel like going out—”
    “No.” Phoebe cut Celeste off with a shake of her head. “No, you’re right, we’ve got to start with the basics. Besides, I don’t want to keep Addy cooped up in here. She’s been cooped up all her life. It’s money.”
    “Oh, if that’s all.”
    “Celeste, I’ve already taken enough from you. I don’t have much pride left, so I need to hang on to what I have.”
    “Okay. I’ll make you a loan.”
    “When I left, you and I were pretty much on equal terms.” On a sigh she looked around the penthouse. “You’ve gone up, and I’ve gone nowhere.”
    Celeste sat on the arm of the sofa. “Phoebe, you took a wrong turn. People do.”
    “Yeah.” She found she wanted a drink badly. To fight it off, she thought of Adrianne and the life she wanted to give her. “I have some jewelry. I had to leave most of it behind, but I did get some out. I’m going to sell it, then after I begin divorce proceedings, the settlement Abdu makes on me and on Addy will keep us well enough. Of course, I’m going back to work, so money won’t be a problem for long.” She turned to the window again to stare at the blank sky. “I’m going to give her everything, the best of everything. I have to.”
    “Let’s worry about that later. Right now I think Addy could use a couple of pairs of jeans and some sneakers.”
    Adrianne stood on the corner of Fifth and Fifty-second with one hand gripping her mother’s and the other fiddling restlessly with the buttons of her new fur-collared coat. If her brief glimpse of Paris had made that city seem like another world, then New York was another universe. And she was part of it.
    There were people everywhere, millions of them, itseemed to her, and none of them looked the same. There was no unity of dress here as there was in Jaquir. At a glance it was often difficult to tell men from women. Both sexes tended to wear their hair long. Some of the women chose to wear pants. New York had no law against it, nor against the other costume women wore—the tiny skirts that rose high above the knee. She saw men in beads and headbands, men in business suits and overcoats. There were women wrapped in mink and women in tight denim.
    No matter what they wore, they moved fast. Adrianne crossed the street between her mother and Celeste and tried to see it all at once. They filled the city, every inch, every corner, and the noise of their existence rose off the pavement like a celebration. They traveled in packs, or they traveled

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