Sidney Sheldon
the smoke made her cough. Her coughing woke her up, and she opened her eyes. She looked around in shock. Her bedroom was on fire, the blaze racing up the curtains, the room filled with smoke. Lois stumbled out of bed, choking. Trying to hold her breath, she staggered into the living room. The entire room was engulfed in flames. She took half a dozen steps toward the door, felt her legs give way, and fell to the floor.
    The last thing Lois Reynolds remembered was the flames hungrily licking their way toward her.

Chapter 10
    T O KELLY, EVERYTHING was happening at a dizzying pace. She quickly learned about the most important aspects of modeling: the agency had given her training courses in image projection, poise, and carriage. Much of modeling was attitude, and to Kelly that meant acting, because she felt neither beautiful nor desirable.
    The phrase “overnight sensation” could have been invented for Kelly. She projected not only an exciting, provocative image, but also an air of untouchability that was a challenge to men. Within two years, Kelly had risen to the top tier of models. She was advertising products in a dozen countries. Much of Kelly’s time was spent in Paris, where some of her agency’s most important clients were located.
    Once, after a fashion extravaganza in New York, before heading back to Paris, Kelly went to see her mother, who looked older and more careworn. I’ve got to get her out of here, Kelly thought. I’ll buy a nice apartment for her, and take care of her.
    Her mother seemed pleased to see her. “I’m glad you’re doing so well, Kelly. Thanks for your monthly checks.”
    “You’re welcome. Mother, there’s something I want to talk to you about. I have a plan all worked out. I want you to leave—”
    “Well, look who’s come to pay us a visit—her highness.” Her stepfather had just walked in. “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be strutting around in them fancy clothes?”
    I’ll have to do this another time, Kelly thought.
     
    K ELLY HAD ONE more stop to make. She went to the public library where she had spent so many wonderful hours, and as she walked through the door, holding half a dozen magazines, her mind was dancing with memories.
    Mrs. Houston was not at her desk. Kelly walked inside and saw her standing in one of the side aisles, looking radiant in a sleek, tailored dress, busily filling a shelf with books.
    As Mrs. Houston heard the door open, she said, “I’ll be with you in a moment.” She turned. “Kelly!” It was almost a scream. “Oh, Kelly.”
    They ran to each other and embraced.
    Mrs. Houston pulled back and looked at Kelly. “I can’t believe it’s you. What are you doing in town?”
    “I came to see my mother, but I wanted to see you, too.”
    “I’m so proud of you. You have no idea.”
    “Mrs. Houston, do you remember when I asked how I could thank you? You said I could thank you by letting you see my picture in a fashion magazine. Here.” And Kelly put the pile of fashion magazines in Mrs. Houston’s arms. There were copies of Elle, Cosmopolitan, Mademoiselle, and Vogue . She was on the cover of each one.
    “They’re beautiful.” Mrs. Houston was beaming. “I want to showyou something.” She went behind her desk and pulled out copies of the same magazines.
    It took a moment before Kelly could speak. “What can I ever do to thank you? You changed my life.”
    “No, Kelly. You changed your life. All I did was give you a little push. And Kelly—”
    “Yes?”
    “Thanks to you I’ve become a fashion plate.”
     
    S INCE KELLY VALUED her privacy, her fame sometimes was troublesome. The constant barrage of photographers annoyed her, and she had what amounted to a phobia of being approached by people she did not know. Kelly enjoyed being alone.
    One day, she was having lunch at Restaurant le Cinq at the George V Hotel, when a badly dressed man passing by stopped to stare at her. He had the pallid, unhealthy complexion of someone

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