by Jan Moran
It was all pretty confusing, but at least he’d let Verena know about it. He felt better about that.
Finally, Verena disappeared into the crowd on the boardwalk. Lance sighed and turned to go inside, but he still couldn’t get Derrick off his mind. He’d bet that guy would take Verena back in a minute if he could.
She doesn’t deserve someone like that. And if there was anything he could do to protect her, he would. If she’d ever let him past her reserve.
He couldn’t deny the physical attraction he felt for Verena, but he truly liked her, too. It was easy to see the goodness in her. Even if she wasn’t interested in him, Lance resolved to watch out for her.
He couldn’t stand by and let a woman like her get sucked into going back to a man like Derrick. Her words floated back to him. I hope you’re not the jealous type.
Lance jutted his chin out. He’d never really thought of himself that way. So, was he jealous about Derrick?
Damn right I am.
9
JUGGLING GROCERIES, VERENA opened the door and made her way to the kitchen. “Hello, Mia. How about stir fry tonight?” She put the groceries on the counter.
“Sounds nice and healthy,” Mia said, sipping a cup of tea.
“Where are the girls?”
“With friends, shopping for shoes for the trip. They’ve grown another size.”
Verena pulled out vegetables she’d bought: snow peas, carrots, sprouts, mushrooms, and green onions. She began to wash them.
“I can slice those for you,” Mia said. “How was your ride today?”
“Wonderful, it felt good to get some exercise. I love the smell of the ocean.”
“It must have been quite a ride. You were gone a long time.”
Verena smiled now, remembering her impromptu breakfast with Lance, and the heat that had grown between them. “I ran into a friend. We had breakfast together.”
“Anyone I know?”
“Lance Martel.” Even the sound of his name on her lips stirred something in her. “He’s the executive chef at the Beverly Hills Hotel. I met him at the gala, and he prepared a late night dinner for me after the event.”
“Nice to have a man cook for you, isn’t it?” Mia’s eyes brightened. “Emile was a great chef. I miss that about him, and so many other things, too.”
Verena gave her grandmother a sympathetic hug. Mia had never stopped missing her late husband. She’s been talking about him quite a bit lately, Verena thought, concern edging into her mind. Mia’s indomitable spirit was intact, but Verena was always looking after her grandmother’s well-being.
“So, is he nice?” Mia’s voice held an intimate note.
“He is.” She wished there could be more to their relationship, but her family came first. She wouldn’t make the mistake of getting involved with someone right now, especially so soon after Derrick. But oh, she was tempted.
Blinking hard, Verena slid a cutting board and knife in front of Mia and then placed a bunch of freshly washed mushrooms on the board.
Mia picked up the knife and said casually, “So how did you run into Lance again this morning?”
Verena paused, replaying the scene in her mind. “It was the strangest thing. I rode to Redondo, and when I arrived, there he was. He has a condo on the beach, and he was just returning from a morning bike ride, too.”
Mia nodded knowingly. “Kismet.”
“You know I don’t believe in that.” She had to be practical. “Anyway, he asked me up for breakfast, and whipped up the best French toast I’ve ever had. He’s an amazing chef. And a fine artist, too. I saw a painting he did of the ocean. It was magnificent.” Verena stopped herself on the verge of babbling on.
Mia listened, smiling. “Sounds like a nice young man. He is young, isn’t he?”
She shrugged. “Probably a couple of years older than I am.”
“Ever married? Children?”
“I don’t know…but he wants a dog, and plans to create his own line of food someday.”
Mia was methodically slicing the mushrooms, taking it all in. “The twins are older now than last time. And this Lance, he’s a good man?”
Verena nodded, thinking about Mia’s reference. Verena had been engaged a few years ago, but her fiancé, a character actor named Joe Stuart, had broken off the engagement a week before the wedding and broken her heart. Joe had been overwhelmed with the twins, then active seven-year-olds.
I’m not ready to raise children, he’d told her. And when Mia dies, that’s exactly what will happen. Joe’s words had been like a cold slap in the face to her. When Derrick came along, he’d said all the right things at first.
Verena had dated exactly two men in her entire life. Joe and Derrick. They’d both let her down.
Never again. They’d taught her that love and her family responsibilities didn’t mix. But she’d never felt the intense level of physical attraction to them that she did with Lance, and it scared her.
Mia paused and lifted the knife, gesturing with it. “Verena, I love you, and I must be honest with you. I never approved of how Derrick treated you.”
“Mia, no one will ever be good enough for me in your eyes. You didn’t like Joe, either.”
“And look how well that worked out.”
Verena winced. Mia was right. Trust—a woman should trust the man she marries. Not that that was on her mind right now. She blew out a breath. “Let’s talk about something other than my disastrous love life.”
“As you wish,” Mia replied, sliding a glance in her direction.
Verena wondered whether to tell her that she had gone to Derrick about a business loan. It had been years since Mia had turned over the reins to her son, Joseph, and his wife, Angelica. But Mia was well known and friends with many of their best guests. She often advised Verena on new products and helped her test them. And she had always been a good sounding board. “There’s something I must tell you. It’s about the business.”
“Yes?” Mia pushed aside the sliced mushrooms, and sipped her tea.
“As I mentioned before, I can’t find anyone to fund our working capital needs for Asia. We’re running out of time.”
Mia nodded, taking it all in. “I’ve been following the news about the banking situation. Have you thought of another plan?”
Verena drew a deep breath. “Last night I had dinner with Derrick. He thinks Herringbone Capital will help us with a short term loan.”
Mia cast a sharp look in her direction. “Be careful about mixing the business and Derrick.” She looked down at her hands. “If it helps, the twins and I don’t have to take this trip to Europe right now.”
“No, you must go,” Verena protested. “You’ve always wanted to take them to Europe and introduce them to their heritage. Just as you did for me when I was their age. This is important to them, too. Who knew how long Mia had left?
Mia smiled, reminiscing. “We had a good time, didn’t we? Remember hiking in the Alps? Can’t do that now, but it was lovely, wasn’t it? Emile and I used to hike every weekend when we were young. The views were magnificent.”
“Take the tram, Mia, you can still do that. Anika and Bella must experience the views from the mountains.”
“Are you sure? It’s an expensive trip. Although I have used the reward points I’ve saved for the airline tickets.”
Mia had always been frugal. Verena had learned how to budget from her. “No, I want you to go. It’s a lifetime experience for them, and for you. It’s been planned for so long.” Verena dried the green onions and transferred the vegetables to Mia’s cutting board. “Remember what you’ve always told me about the importance of making memories?”
“Yes, but if you need my help, you can count on me, Verena.”
“I always have, Mia.”
Mia sighed. “This is not the first time we’ve been through perilous times in the business. The economy ebbs and flows, but we have always survived, Verena. Women always want to look beautiful, and feel healthy and attractive. An
d today, men do, too. Never underestimate the power of determination, my dear. You will find a way.”
“I’m sure I will,” Verena said, but even as the words left her mouth, she had her doubts.
As if reading her mind, Mia said, “I don’t like him, but if Derrick’s company is the only option, then you must take care to protect yourself.”
After dinner and a walk around the neighborhood with Mia and the girls, Verena went to her room to get ready for bed. As she brushed her hair and changed into a nightgown, she thought about what steps she would need to take if Herringbone Capital did not come through with the deal. Or if they did.
Mia’s right, there must be a solution. Three generations of her family had dedicated themselves to the salon. It was up to her to continue the business.
As she mulled over her dilemma, thoughts of Lance kept edging into her mind.
Verena wasn’t desperate for a relationship, but she was realistic. She didn’t believe in happily-ever-after fairy tales. Her life simply wasn’t conducive to such thoughts. How many men would be willing to take on her family? The responsibilities for Mia and the twins would surely spill over into any relationship she had.
As she slid into bed, she reminisced about how she and Derrick had met. She had chaired a fundraiser for orphaned children last year, and he’d attended. At first she thought it curious that he would go to such an event if tragedy had not struck his family, but later he confided that he’d lost a cousin and his wife in an accident in Belize, and that another cousin had adopted their child. He’d even had tears in his eyes.
Maybe we could honeymoon in Belize, he’d once said. But that was in the past.
As she drifted off, she thought again of Lance and wondered if they would ever mean anything more to each other.
10
“GOOD TO SEE you again.” Lance shook hands with the hotel owner’s representative as the man’s car was pulled under the porte cochère in front of the Beverly Hills Hotel.
“We like what you’re doing here, Lance. Keep up the good work.” The man closed the door and pulled away.
A fiery red sports car with two attractive older women pulled up. Lance hesitated for a moment, nodding to them in welcome as a valet attendant hurried to the car.
“Welcome, Madame Valent,” the valet attendant said, opening the passenger door to the car.
Valent? That was a name Lance didn’t hear often.
“Good afternoon, Alfred, always lovely to see you,” the woman said, swinging her still-shapely legs out of the low car and accepting the valet attendant’s hand. “I don’t know how you get out of this car in a dress, Lacey, without putting on a show for all the men,” she said, laughing. “But thank you for driving me here today.”
The attendant averted his eyes. “Madame Dubois has already arrived. She’s in the Polo Lounge.”
Lance stepped toward the woman. “Madame Valent? May I introduce myself, I’m Lance Martel, the executive chef here at the hotel.”
“How nice to meet you. Mia Valent. I always enjoy dining here.”
Lance offered his arm to walk her inside on the red carpet. “By any chance are you related to Verena Valent?”
“She’s my granddaughter.” Mia she slid a hand through the crook in his elbow, preening in his company. She looked at him appraisingly and smiled. “Come to think of it, I think she might have mentioned your name.”
“I’d be pleased to escort you to the restaurant.” He noted her porcelain smooth skin and the sweet smile that lit her face. Verena certainly took after her grandmother.
Mia swept into the hotel, chatting as they walked. “I’ve always loved this magnificent pink stucco palace. I first visited in the 1950s, when my husband Emile and I celebrated an anniversary—I can’t remember exactly which one now—but I’ll never forget the weekend we spent ensconced in our room here. God rest his soul, but I do miss him.” Her eyes twinkled as she reminisced, and she fanned herself a little.
“We must enjoy every day we’re allowed in this life,” Lance said.
“Oh yes, we must.” A mischievous glint sparkled in Mia’s eyes. “I miss the little things about Emile, the touch of his hand, the smell of his hair—always freshly washed with our sandalwood-scented shampoo—even the evening stubble on his chin.” She paused, and then added, sotto voce, “And my Emile was a wonderful lover.”
Lance raised his eyebrows in mild surprise. Mia might be coy, but she was certainly outspoken.
She laughed at his expression. “Don’t be embarrassed. Sex is a natural part of life. Young people seem to think anyone over the age of sixty reverts to a state of virginity.” She sighed. “I still miss my Emile.”
As she walked briskly through the lobby, she acknowledged the familiar staff with a smile. Mia clutched Lance’s arm and went on. “There was a time when I would visit the hotel to tend to celebrities, such as Elizabeth Taylor or Marilyn Monroe, in the pink bungalows. I remember that Marilyn liked bungalows number one and number seven. She used to call me to administer emergency facials the morning after late nights of filming or partying. Such a sweet girl, and such lovely skin.”
Lance enjoyed hearing the old Hollywood stories that swirled around the hotel. “Please, tell me more.”
Mia smiled up at him. “The studios and stars paid me handsomely. I tucked most of it away in my Swiss bank account for retirement. A woman should have her own nest egg, and my darling Emile encouraged it. He once told me, “If you have the money to leave me, and don’t, then I know you really love me.” Mia shook her head sadly. “How could he have ever thought I didn’t?”
“I’m sure he adored you.” Lance kissed her cheek.
She patted his arm and smiled up at him. “You’re such a nice young man. I’m glad you met my Verena.”
“I’m glad we met, too.” In fact, Lance hadn’t stopped thinking of Verena. They stepped into the restaurant, and he greeted the maître d’, his friend. “Johnny, Madame Valent is dining with us today.”
“It’s always a pleasure.” Johnny inclined his head. “You look beautiful today.”
“Hello, Johnny.” Mia offered her hand, and Johnny air kissed it. “And what a handsome tie-dyed bow-tie you have on today. That’s quite the fashion statement.”
“Women seem to like it.” Johnny chuckled and smoothed his thick, wavy black hair.
“Of course they do, you’re a handsome young man. But you should be courting Scarlett.”
“I couldn’t do that, Mrs. Valent. We grew up together. She’s like a sister to me.” Johnny offered her his arm and Lance stepped aside.
Mia adjusted her colorful silk scarf and pearls before turning back to Lance. “Come with us to the table, dear, I’d like to introduce you to my friend.”
Lance trailed behind as Johnny escorted her through the restaurant, returning nods to those they passed.
Mia continued. “It doesn’t matter, Johnny. My Emile and I were neighbors. She’s a fine girl, that Scarlett, a smart one, too.”
“Yes, ma’am, she certainly is. Too smart for the likes of me, I’m afraid. But I’m proud of her.”
Lance suppressed a grin. Clearly Mia loved making an entrance into the Polo Lounge and enjoyed dispensing advice.
Amid chatter that rose across the restaurant, Johnny guided her through pink stucco arches to the patio, where bracelets of pink bougainvillea flowers brightened the festive, open air dining area bathed in California sunshine.
“Bonjour, Mia.” A chic older woman welcomed his companion with a kiss to each cheek. Johnny and Lance helped Mia with her chair.
“Bonjour, darling. Hmm, I believe, you’re wearing my favorite Dubois perfume.” Mia smiled with pleasure. “Camille, I’ve never seen anyone emerge from a hospital looking so beautiful. Is that a new Chanel?” she asked, admiring her friend’s woven emerald green jacket and jacquard silk scarf. “It sets off your eyes so well. And I love it with those black slacks.”
“Chanel, oui, but not new. Timeless, though, no?”
Camille touched her friend’s shoulder. “And I’ve always loved this shade of mauve on you. Blondes wear it so well.” Camille turned to Johnny. “I remember when Marlene Dietrich had the No Slacks for Women dress code dispelled here at the Polo Lounge. Back in the 1940s, it was. Did you hear of it?”
“Madame Dubois,” Johnny said, his dark eyes flashing. “If I may say so, I believe it was you who inspired Ms. Dietrich.”
Mia said, “Camille, I’d like to present a new friend, Lance Martel, the executive chef. My dearest friend, Camille Dubois, the founder of Parfums Dubois.”
“Madame Dubois, it’s an honor to meet such an icon of beauty, and a beautiful woman, too.” Camille held a hand to Lance, but instead of shaking it, he took her hand and executed a perfect air kiss over it, just as Johnny had. Legendary women should be shown respect.
“So nice to meet you, and what impeccable manners you have. American men seldom do that.” Camille turned to Johnny. “No need for menus, I’ll have my usual Maine lobster salad. Mia, your Wagu beef salad today?”
“Why not? And let’s share a slice of the chocolate pistachio roulade cake. Damn the cholesterol. I survived cancer. I might as well live a little.”
Johnny winked at Lance and smiled at the pair of old friends. “And your usual champagne?”
“But of course,” Camille replied, glancing around the restaurant. “These young people, sometimes I wonder—were we ever really that young?”
“I still feel the same on the inside, Camille. It’s these old bones that betray me.”
“Nonsense,” Mia said. “Your old bones are still gorgeous. Look, there’s Pierre Chevalier looking your way.”
Camille slid a glance at a nearby table, where two elegant, silver-haired gentlemen sat drinking cocktails. “No, he’s looking at you. He always had eyes for you, Mia.”
