Chapter 11

Allegra worked hard for Henry, and enjoyed every minute of it. The tasks she performed for him were varied, and she learned a great deal about his music, how he created, what inspired him, the incredible discipline he had. Sometimes he worked straight through the night without stopping, and the creative forces in him fueled him. She came to understand too that the losses and sorrows he'd had in his life, like the loss of contact with his children, somehow transformed into the music he created. She agreed with Carly's initial assessment that he was a genius. She loved learning from him, and didn't mind working hard for him, nor the long hours.

Allegra didn't work as late or as much as Henry did, but she was always willing to stay late if he asked her to or gave her extra projects at the last minute. It felt like an honor to be part of his creative process, and to make life easier for him with the things she did. He said she was the most organized person he'd ever met.

She moved two weeks after she came to work for him, having found a furnished apartment she liked in West Hollywood. It was in a small, quaint, Spanish-style building. The furniture was vintage with a nice look to it. The apartment was neat and cozy, and there was a pool she rarely got a chance to use. But on the occasional weekends Henry didn't ask her to work on something that came up at the last minute, she enjoyed being in her apartment alone. He was so intense with his constant activity that sometimes she loved having time to herself to do absolutely nothing, and just be lazy in her apartment. It didn't happen often, which made time to herself even more precious. She used the time to read and even did some writing.

Henry was constantly in motion, constantly creating, always working on something new, and she handled all the details around him, which freed him up to do his work. When Jordan came to collaborate with him, he marveled at everything Allegra did, and couldn't keep his eyes off her. And Henry's famous short-fused temper had never surfaced in the time she worked for him. Like all creative people, he had his moody days and his quirks, but on the whole she found him surprisingly reasonable, easy to work for, and always kind to her.

She called Pippa in New York from time to time and told her about Henry. Pippa was glad for her that she had left New York and taken the job in L.A. Allegra was thriving, with a job she loved, working for a man who was teaching her a great deal, and enriching her life with everything he exposed her to. Allegra had no regrets about leaving New York. She felt as though she could breathe again.

She never heard from Shep, and still worried about him. She wasn't even sure she'd know if something happened to him since she was no longer listed as his next of kin, and his parents would never contact her since they didn't know they'd been married. She tried not to think about it. Her divorce papers arrived at the end of the year, right before Christmas. And even though she knew about them, it was a shock. It was like an eraser wiping clean the blackboard of an important part of her life. She had loved him for eight years, a third of her life. For years, he had been her only friend. She sat and stared at the papers when she got them, and could remember every important moment between herself and Shep. She wondered if he could too, or if he had banished her from his mind as well as his heart. He had said that he was leaving her to protect her from the damage he could do to her. But if he had loved her, she thought he would have left the army and tried to get the help he needed. Instead he went back for more, and must be irreparably destroyed by now. It was a tragic loss for them both. But with time, and her new life in L.A., she was slowly recovering from the blow and the loss. Getting the official papers set her back again.

She stayed in bed for the entire weekend after she got the divorce papers and didn't speak to anyone. She didn't have any friends in L.A. Henry never gave her enough time off to meet people, or make friends, or find a man. Her job for him was all-consuming, but she loved it, so she didn't mind. And she loved how protective he was, like a guardian angel, always watching over her, guiding her, teaching her, and advising her.

When she worked particularly late, he invited her to stay for dinner, and Louise served them on trays in the library, or at the dining table when they weren't too rushed to get back to work. Sometimes they ate sandwiches in the studio, so he could continue listening to soundtracks while she watched, and he let her listen too.

When he was composing the score for a film, he watched it normally at first, then without sound to concentrate on the actors' facial expressions, then he listened to the dialogue without the images, to hear the inflections of their voices. Then he read the script and made notes. And then, finally, he began to write the music, and it flowed. He would stay with it all through the night if he had to, to capture what he heard in his head. It was the music of his soul.

Allegra had learned not to interrupt him. She was just there, in the background, if he needed anything, or wanted her to listen to some part of it. She was never lonely while she worked for him. She didn't have time to be. After a year of being constantly at his side, she had perfect instincts for whatever he might want from her, and she anticipated his every need.

She had been in his employ for a year when he had to go to England to meet with a producer. He had mentioned it when he hired her, but this was the first time he had asked her to travel with him. He was planning to go to London for a week to discuss a film they wanted him to do the score for, and he was going to Paris for a few days after that. He asked Allegra to go with him to assist him on the trip.

She had never been to Europe, and she hesitated. Henry was insistent about it, he said he needed her there as an assistant. He was adamant that he wanted her to go with him. It was just an extension of everything she did for him in L.A., and he expected her to be there. Travel had originally been part of the job description when he hired her. She was having a hard time getting out of it, she had used every excuse she could think of, and he wouldn't let her off the hook. He finally realized that she was scared.

"Why don't you want to go to London, Allegra?" he asked her late one night, in the studio, while they shared a plate of sandwiches Louise had left for them. Louise had gotten used to Allegra in the past year, and approved of how devoted she was to him. She always told him what a nice girl Allegra was, and he agreed.

"I don't know. I've never been that far away before. Maybe it has to do with never having anyone to protect me for so long. I was always having to face something new by myself." He hadn't thought of that. "Sometimes new things or being far from home scares me." She was always open and honest with him.

"But you won't be alone this time. I'll be there to protect you. And nothing bad is going to happen to you on the trip. You'll be doing all the same things to help me that you do here. I wouldn't let anything happen to you." She was afraid that she sounded like a little kid when she admitted her fear to him. She felt foolish, but she was always honest with him about her own failings, or anything she'd done wrong, which didn't happen often. But she didn't hide her mistakes from him. It was an endearing quality she had, among many. She was unfailingly honest. It touched him that she had admitted to him that she was scared.

The only thing she had never told him was about Shep and the divorce. He didn't know she'd been married. It was too personal and too painful. But she'd been candid with him about her unhappy childhood.

"Maybe I'm afraid to run into my mother in London. I really don't want to see her."

"You're not a child, Allegra. She can't hurt you anymore." He had long understood that her mother's rejection was the most devastating thing that had ever happened to her, and that she had struggled to understand it all her life.

"I know. It's stupid really. I had lunch with her before I left New York. She was perfectly pleasant. She was every time I ever saw her. She just acted like I was someone else's child. It was as though I didn't even exist. It never dawned on her that losing my grandmother mattered to me, even though we weren't close. My mother gave me my grandmother's little ruby heart pin I wear sometimes. But Mariette was her mother. It was as though she didn't even consider me related to her, as though I wasn't good enough to be part of her family. She didn't want me, so I never existed in her eyes. She didn't hate me. She didn't care about me enough to hate me, that would have required some form of emotion. And my father never cared enough to stick around. I was a duty visit he made for a few hours once every eighteen months or two years."

"They were terrible people," he said, deeply moved. All her life she had been the child that no one loved, and no one protected. He didn't know it, but she had then become the wife that her husband rejected and abandoned. Although with Shep it was more complicated, and she understood that. He had left her because he loved her. It was about how damaged he was, and how he had nearly killed her twice and was afraid it would happen again. He had no control over his night terrors and the demons lurking inside him that he had acquired in Iraq. But the final result was that, just like her parents, he had rejected her, abandoned her, and left her alone. It still felt too fresh to discuss with anyone. And in some remote part of her, she had still hoped that she would hear from him again someday. The divorce papers dashed those hopes, and confirmed that he was out of her life forever and wanted it that way.

"You don't have to see your mother while we're in London," Henry reminded her. "You'll be too busy anyway."

"I don't want to run into her on the street. I don't want to see her again. It brings back too many memories. Every time I've seen her, it takes me right back to the day she left and never said goodbye, and I spent the day terrified, hugging my bear, waiting for my father to tell me what he was going to do with me. It's too hard to see her."

"Then don't," he said simply. "Allegra the child isn't going to London. Allegra the grown-up is going, to assist me with my work." But he could only guess how deep the wounds were, and how far they went. Being abandoned by her mother had been a mortal blow to a child of six.

"I feel stupid even saying those things to you," she said, embarrassed. "I'll think about it," she said before a weekend. On Monday, she came back to work looking resolute. She looked as though she was agreeing to go to the guillotine when she told him in a voice raw with emotion that she would join him on the trip.

"I'm sorry I made a fuss about it."

"I'm glad you're going. That's all that matters. You need to put those ghosts to rest. And selfishly speaking, it will be wonderful for me and make everything easier. I promise to protect you," he said solemnly, and she smiled and went to her office, to start getting things organized for the trip. She had gotten a passport when she took the job, at Henry's suggestion.

Jordan Allen came by that afternoon. He always stopped in her office to talk to her. She thought he had an odd relationship with Henry, part hero worship and part envy.

"So you're going with him?" he said in a snide way she didn't like. It made it sound like she was taking advantage of Henry, which was the last thing she wanted to do. Jordan always put a spin on things. "London is a cool city. I'm sure he'll take you to all the best restaurants and parties." He sounded jealous when he said it, although he had a full life of his own.

"We're going to be working," she reminded him.

"He'll take some time off. He'll want to impress you," he said, and she looked at him, annoyed.

"That's not the kind of relationship we have. He's my boss." She made it sound like a sacred word, and Jordan laughed.

"Stranger things have happened when a boss takes his assistant on a trip. I'd want to impress you if you were going to London with me."

"Don't be ridiculous," she snapped at him. He was so much younger than Henry that she had no problem putting him in his place. "That's who you are, not who he is." He was trying to make her feel dirty and guilty and he hadn't succeeded. She knew Jordan and his reputation for chasing anything in a skirt. "Henry is a gentleman," she reminded him.

"He's a man, Allegra. And take a look in the mirror. Any man with eyes in his head would make a play for you. He's only human." It was the one part of Henry's life she didn't know about. He never discussed women with her. But Louise had told her several times that there hadn't been a serious woman, or even a lightweight one, in his life in years. He'd been too badly wounded by his ex-wife, his only wife, to ever marry again, which Allegra always reminded Louise was an area that didn't concern her. She was there to assist him, and at best they were friends. He had never made overtures to her in the past year, and she was sure he wasn't about to start now, just because they were on a trip. She had booked their two separate rooms herself at Claridge's. She had a room and he had a suite, his usual one. He went to London at least once a year, and sometimes more often, if he had a project there.

"Wait and see. It'll happen one of these days," Jordan said with his usual arrogance, trying to make her uncomfortable. She was nervous enough, without adding to it that Henry was going to make advances to her while they were away. Jordan might have done it, as he intimated, but Henry never would. That was one part of the trip she wasn't worried about, and she was feeling better about the rest. Talking to Henry openly about it made it all seem less scary. She had now reached the stage of trying to figure out what clothes to pack, which Henry considered a good sign. She was checking the weather forecasts daily in order to decide.

—

When the day finally arrived, Henry picked her up at her apartment on the way to the airport. She had two big suitcases with her, which surprised him, but he didn't comment. He didn't want to make her nervous. She apologized as soon as she got into the car. Fortunately, he'd brought the van they usually used to buy groceries for the house.

"I read two conflicting weather reports. One said it was going to be unseasonably warm, the other said it would be rainy and chilly, so I brought everything for both," she said, and he laughed. They didn't need to worry, they were both traveling first class. He had asked her to book the flight that way in case he wanted to work with her on the eleven-hour trip. So she was fully prepared to do whatever he needed, or to leave him alone if he wanted to sleep, watch a film, or listen to music.

She quietly read a book after the plane took off, and they didn't speak until lunch was served. It was an elaborate meal, and he drank wine with lunch. She didn't. She considered herself "on duty" and wanted to be alert if he needed her. They both watched movies after that, and then they both slept for the remainder of the trip. They were arriving at six a.m. local time, which gave them time to get to the hotel, shower and change, and be ready for their morning meeting, refreshed after a decent night's sleep on the plane. It was a long flight but the timing worked well.

Claridge's had sent a car for them, and Allegra's eyes were wide as they drove into the city, past several famous monuments. London was a busy, bustling city, with a combination of history and modernism. The driver took them past Buckingham Palace at Henry's request, and Allegra was instantly excited and whispered to him.

"You were right. I'm glad I came." She loved the elegant, old-fashioned hotel, and was delighted with her room, decorated in bright flowered chintzes. It was the most exciting adventure of her life, and she was beaming when she went to Henry's suite for the meeting. She was wearing a very chic black linen suit, and looked elegant and professional, as well as young and beautiful. Henry smiled when he saw her.

"I'm very glad you're here with me, Allegra," he said. She had ordered a full spread of coffee, tea, and pastries for the meeting. There were four of them when the producer and his team arrived, six including Allegra and Henry. She listened quietly and didn't make any comments. They were desperate to convince Henry to work on three films with them, and they tried to make it as appealing as possible. He wasn't sure he wanted to spend as much time in London as they wanted and didn't want to agree to more than one or two of their projects. Allegra enjoyed listening to the exchange, and after the lengthy meeting, he told her he was taking her to lunch.

He took her to Rules, which he said was the oldest restaurant in London, and after that, he was sending her out with the car to see the sights and do some shopping, in optimal conditions. He was going to stay at the hotel to work but said he didn't need her.

"And we're having dinner at Harry's Bar tonight, I'm a member. You should wear something a little dressy." She was startled by the invitation. He had never taken her out to dinner before, and now he was taking her out twice in one day.

"Are you sure?" She was a little unsure. "Don't you have friends you want to see?" she asked him.

"Actually, no. I want you to have a good time in London," he said, smiling at her. "We have another meeting tomorrow morning, and then I'm sending you to the Tate Modern Museum, and after that to the Tower of London, to see the Crown Jewels. Do you like the theater?" he asked her, and she nodded. "Why don't you get us tickets for tomorrow night? We might as well have some fun while we're here." He was like the father she'd never had, spoiling her.

"Shouldn't I be working?" she asked him.

"When I want you to, I'll tell you. The rest of the time you can play tourist." His suggestions were exciting and generous, and he was emphatic about wanting her to enjoy the trip.

After lunch, the driver dropped Henry off at the hotel and took Allegra to Harrods. She had only brought one simple black dress in case she needed it, and she bought a dressier black-and-white silk dress with a matching jacket, inspired by Chanel but at a better price point, to wear to dinner that night.

She looked very chic when Henry met her in the lobby in time for dinner.

"How was your tour?" he asked her, looking very fatherly and proud of her.

"Very successful." She had bought another dress too, and loved seeing the Crown Jewels at the Tower of London. She'd ordered the theater tickets he had requested. He was courting her and he didn't even know it, while telling himself he was being paternal and protective, and she deserved to be spoiled for once in her life. He wanted good things to happen to her, and for her first trip to Europe to be a smash hit.

She loved Harry's Bar, and the delicate Italian food. The crowd was very chic and very dressy. The women were wearing cocktail dresses and the men dark blue suits, as was Henry, with an impeccable white shirt and navy tie, and for an instant she remembered Jordan's insinuations about the trip, and she brushed them aside. Henry was just being kind to her and she was grateful, and he was enjoying her company. The thirty-eight-year age difference didn't bother either of them. It seemed appropriate for boss and assistant.

"If I were younger, I'd take you to Annabel's," he said to her on the way back to the hotel. "I'm a member there too. I keep up my London memberships for when I come here. I don't even know what people dance to these days," he said, laughing. "Maybe my music." And she laughed too. They'd had an easy, fun evening, and he told her about studying music at Juilliard in New York, and a year at the conservatory in Paris. His mother had been a piano teacher and his father was first violinist at the Metropolitan Opera. His entire youth had been steeped in music, which had been his passion all his life. But he had never become truly successful until he went to L.A. and got into films. He still loved classical music, but the composing he did now was his life. He was sad that his parents hadn't lived long enough to see his success. And like Allegra, Henry was an only child. He said that his parents had been wonderful to him, but very demanding about his music. They wanted him to be a concert pianist, and he almost had been. L.A. had changed all that.

He had met his ex-wife as soon as he got to L.A., she was an ingénue. He said it was a dream that turned into a disaster. She was supportive in the beginning. And then she had taken full advantage of him once he was successful, and eventually left him for a producer he knew who was more successful. It all happened so long ago that he wasn't bitter when he talked about it. His anger had cooled over the years, but he said he'd never forgive her for cutting him out of his children's lives. It was the first time Henry had talked to Allegra about his childhood. She understood his discipline now, after years and years of an education in classical music, with two hard-driving parents who were musicians, and hours of practicing every day. He had been able to enjoy none of the normal childhood pursuits, not even friends. He had to practice.

"I really wanted to play baseball like all the other kids. I felt persecuted until I was about fifteen, and then took my music seriously myself. My music is everything to me. Discipline is a good thing to have in life," he said. "Like you, Allegra. You're very disciplined too. It makes life easier."

They were back at the hotel by then, and he walked her to her room.

"Thank you for dinner," she said warmly. "I had an incredible day, thanks to you." He didn't want her to have another trauma in her life. And the time they spent together gave him the opportunity to tell her about his childhood and youth and his passion for his work.

"You deserve good times now, Allegra. Lots of them. Easy, happy days, surrounded by people who care about you, and protect you."

"Working for you is easy and happy. That's all I need." She was the most undemanding woman he'd ever known, and he enjoyed being with her, more than he had realized. He had loved being out with her that night. She was a beautiful young woman, with her long red hair straight down her back and her big green eyes. She didn't normally wear makeup at work, but she had worn a little that night. It made her eyes look even bigger, and more green. "See you at the meeting tomorrow morning," she said to him, and he left her as she walked into her room and he headed down the long hall to where the big suites were. Her room was more modest but very pretty. Everything about the trip had been perfect so far.

The rest of the trip was filled with meetings, lunches, dinners, and a play they both enjoyed. It felt more like a honeymoon than a business trip to Allegra, but she didn't say that to Henry. It seemed inappropriate to express it. She felt very spoiled. And she had visited all the high spots on his list of tourist sites to visit. After being so reluctant to come, now she hated to see it end. She had seen another side of Henry, a more relaxed side. He spoke about his boyhood and his parents, his marriage and his children more openly with her, and they grew closer as a result. He knew everything about her, and she finally told him about Shep one night at dinner. He felt sorry for her. It had been one more abandonment she didn't need. But she spoke about it calmly. It had been fifteen months since Shep left, and she was able to talk about it now. It was why she had had no interest in dating since she'd gotten to Los Angeles. She hadn't been ready, and couldn't face another disappointment. She had thrown herself into her work instead. Henry said he had felt that way after his divorce too. He was deeply sympathetic about Shep and understood the crushing blow it had been.

On her last day in London, Allegra faced a dilemma. She sat in her room with some time to spare, contemplating what to do before meeting Henry for lunch, and a few last errands. She was trying to decide whether or not to call her mother. It had gnawed at her since she arrived. She hadn't planned to, but every day she wondered if she should, if it would be different, if it would be wrong to leave without calling her, or rude. She didn't owe her mother anything, but somewhere in her heart was the hope that something might have changed and there would be some bond between them that her mother hadn't been ready for before, and maybe was now. And Allegra had grown up. She didn't want to be afraid of a ghost, which was what her mother had been in her life until then.

She finally decided to call her, and told herself she had nothing to lose, and her mother could no longer hurt her. She held her breath and dialed the number. A female voice answered and asked Allegra to hold for a moment. It took several moments for her mother to come on the line. She sounded hesitant and cautious.

"Is something wrong, Allegra?" Isabelle asked her in a chilly voice.

"No, not at all. I'm in London for work, and I just thought I'd call to say hello." It seemed pathetic that she needed an excuse, but that was the relationship they had, in fact, none. Isabelle sounded immediately relieved. She'd been afraid Allegra wanted something.

"How nice of you to call," she said in a voice she would have used with a bare acquaintance. Allegra had become the daughter who simply refused to disappear entirely, and turned up every few years, by accident, whether one wanted to hear from her or not. And Isabelle didn't. "I'm leaving on a trip tomorrow, and I'm absolutely swamped. What sort of job brought you to London?"

"I'm the personal assistant to a composer. I live in L.A. now. He works in film." Allegra wanted it to sound important, and Henry was, and she hated that she still wanted to impress her mother, as though that would make a difference. It didn't. But she knew that she herself wasn't enough, and never had been.

"How nice for you," Isabelle said vaguely. "I'm so sorry to be so busy today. Have a wonderful stay."

"I'm leaving tomorrow too. We're going to Paris. Have a good trip," she said to her mother in a cooler voice. Isabelle's message was clear: Go Away. And disappear once and for all for God's sake.

"You too," Isabelle said, they both hung up and Allegra stared at the phone, wondering why she'd called her, but she knew. Because she wanted Isabelle to love her, and she never had, and still didn't, and never would. Allegra felt like a fool for calling. But she would have felt worse if she hadn't. It finally hit her as she sat there. She didn't need Isabelle anymore. She didn't need to ever call her again. There was nothing left to say or hope for. The little girl clinging to the teddy bear named George had grown up, and she didn't need her mother anymore.

She was smiling when she met Henry in the lobby to go to lunch.

"I called my mother," she said quietly in the car, and he looked worried, fearing another injury to Allegra, and some form of rejection.

"How was it?"

"A nonevent. She was busy. So am I. I don't need her anymore," she said with a sigh. "And quite amazingly, I don't care. I don't think I'll ever call her again," she said, looking out the window, as Henry watched her and was relieved to see that she looked fine. She was smiling with a look of liberation on her face. She was free of her mother at last. It was finally over.