“I have an extra bed in my room. Belinda can share with me,” I said, smiling sweetly at her. “It will be just like old times at school.” Belinda opened her mouth to protest but then decided not to. “Thanks, Georgie,” she said.

“Well, that’s settled then,” Cy said. “You’d all better have a drink. And to what do I owe this honor, Helen?”

“I need permission to come to my own house now, do I?” She faced him defiantly.

“No, but since you haven’t been here in years I thought you weren’t interested.”

“I heard you bought a chapel from a Spanish convent and you’re having it shipped over here, brick by brick,” she said. “I wanted to see for myself.”

“It’s not here yet,” he said.

“So where are you going to put it?”

“It’s going to be my new bathhouse for the pool. Imagine taking a shower with all those saints looking down from stained glass windows.”

I caught Charlie Chaplin’s eye and he winked. I was beginning to like him in spite of the rumors. Belinda had returned to the group with her cocktail. She looked around. I saw her appraising Juan, then her gaze fixed on Craig.

“My goodness. That can’t be Craig Hart, can it?” she said breathlessly and she made a beeline for him. “I’d recognize you anywhere, Mr. Hart. I’m such a big fan. I loved you as a pirate in your last film.”

“Well, thank you very much, little lady,” Craig said. “What was your name again?”

“Belinda,” she said, gazing up at him adoringly. It was lucky that I really had no interest in being Craig Hart’s next conquest. I moved over to Darcy.

“Well, that’s a turnup for the books. What’s she doing here?” he whispered. “Did you invite her?”

“Of course not. I wrote to her from New York and told her about Mr. Goldman and the film. She must have taken the next boat. You know Belinda. She never misses a good opportunity. Perhaps she now wants to be a costume designer for the movies. She’d be good, I think.”

“I think she’d rather catch a rich film star,” Darcy muttered behind his cocktail glass. “Look at her turning on the charm.”

The fog was now rolling in from the ocean and with it a chill breeze. Stella shivered and hauled herself out of the pool. “I’m cold, Cy. Let’s go inside.” She put on a toweling robe and slippers.

I didn’t miss the daggers look that shot from Mrs. Goldman. So she was all too aware of Stella Brightwell’s role in his life. I wondered what she must think about having his mistress with him so openly.