Leila with her arms hugging her knees. "Sammy, he's not that bad. He makes me laugh, and that's a plus."

"If you want to laugh, hire aclown."

Leila's fierce hug. "Oh, Sammy, promise you'll always say it straight. You're probably right, but I guess I'll go through withit."

Getting rid of the funnyman had cost her two million dollars.

Leila with Ted. "Sammy, it can't last. Nobody's that wonderful.What does he see in me?"

"Are you crazy? Have you stopped looking in themirror?"

Leila, always so apprehensive when she started a new film. "Sammy, I stink in this part. I shouldn't have taken it. It's notme."

"Come off it. I saw the dailies too.You're wonderful"

She'd won the Oscar for that performance.

But in those last few years she had been miscast in three films. Her worry about her career became an obsession. Her love for Ted was equaled only by her fear of losing him. And then Syd had brought her the play. "Sammy, I swear I don't have to act in this one. I just have to be me. I love it."

Then it was over, Dora thought. In the end, each of us left her alone. I was sick, she told herself; Elizabeth was touring with her own play; Ted was constantly away on business. And someone who knew Leila well attacked her with those poison-pen letters, shattered that fragile ego, precipitated the drinking…

Dora realized that her hands were trembling. She scanned the road for signs of a restaurant. Perhaps she would feel better if she stopped for a cup of tea. When she got to the Spa, she would begin going through the rest of the unopened mail.

She knew that Elizabeth would somehow find a way to trace the poison-pen mail back to its sender.

When Elizabeth reached her bungalow, she found a note from Min pinned with her schedule to the terry-cloth robe folded on the bed. It read:

My dear Elizabeth,

I do hope that while you are here you will enjoy a day of treatment and exercise at the Spa. As you know, it is necessary that all new guests consult briefly with Helmut before beginning any activities. I have scheduled you for his first appointment.

Please know that your ultimate happiness and well-being are very important to me.

The letter had been written in Min's florid, sweeping penmanship. Quickly, Elizabeth scanned her schedule. Interview with Dr. Helmut von Schreiber at 8:45; aerobic dance class at 9; massage at 9:30; trampoline at 10; advanced water aerobics at 10:30-that had been the class she taught when she worked here; facial at 11; cypress curves 11:30; herbal wrap at noon. The afternoon schedule included a loofah, a manicure, a yoga class, a pedicure, two more water exercises…

She would have preferred to avoid seeing Helmut, but she didn't want to make an issue of it.

Her interview with him was brief. He checked her pulse and blood pressure, then examined her skin under a strong light. "Your face is like a fine carving," he told her. "You are one of those fortunate women who will become more beautiful as you age. It's all in the bone structure."

Then, as if he were thinking aloud, he murmured, "Wildly lovely as Leila was, her beauty was the kind that peaks and begins to slip away. The last time she was here I suggested that she begin collagen treatments, and we had planned to do her eyes as well. Did you know that?"

"No." Elizabeth realized with a pang of regret that her reaction to the Baron's remark was to be hurt that Leila had not confided her plans to her. Or was he lying?

"I am sorry," Helmut said softly. "I should not have brought up her name. And if you wonder why she did not confide in you, I think you must realize that Leila had become very conscious of the three-year age difference between her and Ted. I was able to assure her honestly that it made no difference between people who love each other-after all, I should know-but even so, she had begun to worry. And to see you growing lovelier, as she began to find those small signs of age in herself, was a problem for her."

Elizabeth got up. Like all the other offices at the Spa, this one had the look of a well-appointed living room. The blue-and-green prints on the couches and chairs were cool and restful, the draperies tied back to allow the sunshine to stream in. The view included the putting green and the ocean.

She knew Helmut was studying her intently. His extravagant compliments were the sugar coating on a bitter pill. He was trying to make her believe that Leila had begun to consider her a competitor. But why? Remembering the hostility with which he had studied Leila's picture when he thought he was unobserved, she wondered if Helmut was viciously trying to get even for Leila's barbs by suggesting she had been beginning to lose her beauty.

Leila's face flashed in her mind: the lovely mouth; the dazzling smile; the emerald-green eyes; the glorious red hair, like a blazing fire around her shoulders. To steady herself, she pretended to be reading one of the framed ads about the Spa. One phrase caught her eye: a butterfly floating on a cloud. Why did it seem familiar?

The belt of her terry-cloth robe had loosened. As she tightened it, she turned to Helmut. "If one tenth of the women who spend a fortune in this place had even a fragment of Leila's looks, you'd be out of business, Baron."

He did not reply.

The women's spa was busier than it had been the previous afternoon, but certainly not at the level she remembered. Elizabeth went from exercise class to treatment, glad to really work out again, then equally glad to relax under the skillful hands of the masseuse or facialist. She encountered Cheryl several times in the ten-minute breaks between appointments. A washed-up drunk. She was barely civil to Cheryl, who didn't seem to notice. Cheryl acted preoccupied.

Why not? Ted was on the premises, and Cheryl was obviously still dazzled by him.

Alvirah Meehan was in the same aerobic dance class-a surprisingly agile Alvirah, with a good sense of rhythm. Why in the name of heaven did she wear that sunburst pin on her robe? Elizabeth noticed that Alvirah fiddled with the pin whenever she got into a conversation. She also noticed, with some amusement, Cheryl's unsuccessful efforts not to be cornered by Mrs. Meehan.

She went back to her own bungalow for lunch; she did not want to risk running into Ted again by lunching at one of the poolside tables. As she ate the fresh-fruit salad and sipped the iced tea, she phoned the airline and changed her reservation. She could get a ten-o'clock flight to New York from San Francisco the next morning.

She had been frantic to get out of New York. Now, with equal fervor, she wanted to be out of here.

She put on her robe and prepared to go back to the spa for the afternoon session. All morning she had tried to push Ted's face from her mind. Now it filled her vision again. Pain-racked. Angry. Imploring. Vengeful. What expression had she seen in it? And would she spend the rest of her life trying to escape it, after the trial-and the verdict?