Sweet Revenge by Nora Roberts Page B

surface she’d taken it philosophically. Her life was full and rich and progressing along the route she had mapped out as a girl in New Jersey. But there was a place in her heart thathad grieved. Over the years Celeste had continued to send gifts to the girl she considered her godchild, and had been amused by the quaint and formal notes of acknowledgment Adrianne had sent back to her.
    She was ready to love the child. In part because she was married to the theater, arid that love affair would never produce children. And in part because Adrianne was Phoebe’s.
    Celeste tapped out her cigarette before reaching into a shopping bag and taking out a red-haired china doll. It was dressed in blue velvet trimmed in white. Celeste had chosen it because she thought the little girl would enjoy having a doll with the same color hair as her mother. And she didn’t have any idea of what to say to the child, or to Phoebe.
    When she heard the flight announced, she was up and pacing again. It wouldn’t be long now. The deplaning, the trip through customs. There was no reason for the nagging worry at the base of her skull.
    Except that the cablegram had said so little.
    Celeste remembered each word, and, like a good actress, put her own inflection on them.
    CELESTE. I NEED YOUR HELP. PLEASE HAVE TWO TICKETS FOR NEW YORK AT THE PAN AMERICAN COUNTER AT ORLY. THE TWO O’CLOCK FLIGHT TOMORROW. MEET ME IF YOU CAN. I HAVE NO ONE ELSE. PHOEBE.
    She saw them the moment they passed through the doors, the tall, striking redhead and the doll-like girl. They huddled close together, hands joined, bodies brushing. Celeste found it odd that for a moment she couldn’t be certain who was reassuring whom.
    Then Phoebe looked up. A range of emotions raced across her face, relief dominant. Before the relief, Celeste had recognized terror. Moving quickly, Celeste crossed to her.
    “Phoebe.” Putting everything but friendship on hold, Celeste hugged her close. “It’s so good to see you again.”
    “Celeste, thank God. Oh, thank God you’re here.”
    The desperation concerned her much more than the fact that the words were slurred from drinking. Careful to keep her smile in place, she looked down at Adrianne.
    “So this is your Addy.” Celeste touched a hand lightly tothe child’s hair, noting the shadowed eyes and signs of exhaustion. She was reminded of pictures of survivors of disasters, the same flat, vulnerable look of shock. “You’ve had a long trip, but it’s nearly over now. I have a car right outside.”
    “I’ll never be able to repay you,” Phoebe began.
    “Don’t be ridiculous.” She gave Phoebe a last quick squeeze, then handed the shopping bag to Adrianne. “I brought you a present to celebrate your visit to America.”
    Adrianne looked at the doll, stirring enough energy to trace a finger down the sleeve of the gown. The velvet reminded her of Duja, but she was too tired to cry. “She is pretty. Thank you.”
    Celeste lifted a brow in surprise. The child sounded as exotic and as foreign as she looked. “Let’s get your bags and go home, where you can relax.”
    “We don’t have any bags.” Phoebe nearly swayed, then steadied herself with a hand on Celeste’s shoulder. “We don’t have anything.”
    “All right.” Questions could wait, Celeste decided as she slipped an arm around Phoebe’s waist. A look told her the child could stand on her own. “Let’s go home.”
    Unlike her experience in Paris, Adrianne noticed little of her drive from the airport into Manhattan. The limo was quiet and warm, but she couldn’t relax. As she had during the long flight across the Atlantic, she carefully watched her mother. She tucked the doll Celeste had given her under her arm and kept Phoebe’s hand firmly in her own. She was too weary to ask questions, but was ready to run.
    “It’s been so long.” Phoebe looked around as if coming out of a trance. A little pulse beside her mouth kept jumping as her eyes darted from