Christmas Reunion in Paris

by Liz Fielding

  ‘Of course. I’ll leave you to get dressed. I have to make a few calls and the messages are piling up and it will be easier working at the table in the morning room.’ He picked up his phone, slung his laptop bag over his shoulder but paused in the doorway and looked back. ‘I’ll have Marie send up a tray for you.’

  Her mouth was open to say something, anything to stop him leaving, but all that emerged was a whispered, ‘No. Thank you. I’ll come down. I need some air.’

  And then she was looking at a door that had been closed very quietly.

  * * *

  Jay leaned back against the door he had just closed with such excessive care. Slamming it would serve no purpose, no matter how much he felt like it.

  He didn’t understand.

  He’d been upfront, clear from the start about how he saw their future, and Chloe had seemed happy to go along with his plans. Okay, she hadn’t shown any great enthusiasm about joining him in London, but his life was there.

  She was fully engaged in their physical relationship. More than engaged. She’d taken the lead when he would have willingly waited, understanding that she might need time.

  Maybe he should have waited, because she had shied like a spooked foal at the mention of marriage and if it wasn’t to be that, what was it?

  ‘Good morning, Jay.’ Marie was regarding him intently. ‘You slept well, I hope?’

  He straightened. ‘Yes, thank you, Marie. We were very comfortable.’

  ‘Chloe is still sleeping?’

  ‘I’ve left her taking a shower while I get a little work done.’

  She lifted a despairing hand. ‘Men. They are all the same.’ She shook her head, sighed. ‘You’ll find breakfast laid out in the morning room,’ she said, ‘but find time to take a walk before you go. Fling a few snowballs. Be young.’

  ‘I’ll do my best,’ he said, but then as she began to move away, ‘Marie...’ She waited. ‘I have to go to London tomorrow, but I think Chloe might like to stay on here for a day or two. Would that be possible? You mentioned more problems yesterday? There was more than the chef and the cancelled wedding, I think.’

  ‘You’re right, but it’s nothing that need concern you, Jay. I have no guests booked in until next weekend and I would welcome Chloe’s company. She is welcome to stay.’

  ‘You are alone here?’

  ‘The cleaning staff come in every morning when we have guests. Less often between bookings, although it’s vital to keep on top of the dust. My sons visit from Paris when they can, but they have important careers, children at school.’

  ‘They must worry about you here on your own.’

  ‘They have been urging me to sell the château and move near them.’

  ‘And you?’

  ‘It’s not that easy when it has been your life, but my husband was the vigneron. It became his passion.’ She smiled fondly at the thought of him, before bringing herself back to the moment. ‘I have someone who has taken on the job, but a good vintage requires passion.’

  ‘I understand. Perhaps I can talk to you about your wine before I leave? I was impressed with those you served last night, and I’d like to take some samples back for my sommelier to try.’

  ‘Of course. Tell me when you’re ready and I’ll take you through to the cave, for a tasting.’ She took a step, then paused again. ‘I looked you up on the Internet this morning, Jay. Chloe told me that you had a restaurant in London—’ she gave a little shrug ‘—to reassure me, you understand. I am honoured to have had you cook in my kitchen.’

  ‘It was my pleasure, Marie. Cooking and eating in good company is always a pleasure. It was a most enjoyable evening.’

  The morning after was anyone’s guess.

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHLOE CLUTCHED THE comforter around her, staring out at the pristine landscape, aware that she’d hurt James, that she was behaving irrationally.

  This had been her dream, so what was stopping her from jumping on the train to London? Grabbing the first available date at the register office? Hanging that damn flamingo on the Harrington Christmas tree?

  She had to get outside and take a head-clearing walk. Work out what was wrong with her. Why, when her heart was so certain, was her head fighting commitment to the boy she’d never stop loving, to the man he’d become?

  She blasted herself awake under the shower, dried her hair and wrapped herself up in her warmest clothes.

  A cleaner, polishing the curved wooden handrail of the stairs, excused herself and moved to one side, but Chloe smiled to reassure her. She’d been there when she was meant to be invisible.

  ‘Is Madame Bernier in the kitchen?’ she asked.

  ‘No, madame, she is giving a wine tasting to one of the guests in the cave.’

  ‘Of course. Thank you.’

  She didn’t want to wait while coffee cooled, just drank some orange juice, grabbed a croissant and, followed by the dogs, walked across the lawn to the lake. They chased ahead of her, nosed under the snow, begged for her croissant, which she surrendered without a fight. Once under the trees where the snow was thinner, she found sticks that she threw for them to chase.

  Letting her head clear, letting go of everything as she laughed at their antics.

  A low sun was slanting through the clouds, gleaming pale yellow on the glass front of the orangery, the lake was still, disturbed only by ducks and dab chicks who took to the water in a flurry of indignation when the dogs bounded up, wanting to play.

  A single majestic swan.

  She brushed snow from a bench and sat down, with the dogs panting from their exertions at her feet, and soaked up the perfect peace.

  * * *

  Jay spent some time in the wine cave with Marie, tasting wines, asking her about the grape variety, the number of bottles produced, all the information his sommelier would need. Marie was very knowledgeable, giving him a tour of the cave.

  It began as a distraction from his concern about Chloe and where their relationship was going, but he found himself drawn in by the history of the vineyard, which predated the château. By the process.

  He chose half a dozen vintages to take back to London with him but as they emerged he saw the tracks in the snow.

  ‘Chloe has not waited for you, Jay.’

  ‘No...’ He took a breath, aware that the next hour would change his life. ‘I’ll put these in the car and then I’ll go and find her.’

  ‘I’ll bring you some hot chocolate to warm her while you talk. I suspect you could do with something more bracing,’ she said, ‘but you will be driving.’

  ‘Coffee will be fine. Thank you.’

  She patted his arm and went inside while he put the wine in the car and let the silence settle around him, the peace calm him.

  * * *

  Chloe heard the crunch of snow long before James appeared, offering her a lidded carry-out mug.

  ‘Marie thought you might be cold and sent you hot chocolate.’

  ‘That was kind of her. Thank you.’

  He swept the snow from the bench and sat beside her, looking out across the water.

  ‘When do you want to leave?’ she asked when he didn’t speak.

  ‘I’m ready to go, but you’re not coming with me. I’ve arranged with Marie for you to stay on for a few days.’

  Chloe fought down the giddy pleasure that thought gave her and turned to look at him. All she got was his unsmiling profile, the sun gilding the tips of his hair and the outline of his close-cropped beard.

  ‘Why would you do that?’ she asked, keeping very still.

  ‘It makes sense,’ he said. ‘You love it here and I’ll be in London.’

  ‘I’ll rephrase that,’ she said, unable to keep the barest tremor from her voice. ‘Why would you do that without talking to me first?’

  Clearly taken aback by her ton
e, he said, ‘I thought you’d be pleased.’

  ‘That is beside the point.’

  ‘Is it?’ He turned to her. ‘What is the point, Chloe? Tell me, because I really don’t understand what’s going on in your mind.’

  But she did.

  She finally understood.

  ‘I love you, James, but I can’t live with a man who wants to control me. Put me in a box. Make me into some version of me that fits in with his life.’

  ‘What on earth are you talking about?’

  His astonishment was real. He had no idea what he’d been doing, she realised, but then it had taken her a while to work out what was bothering her.

  It seemed that he needed a demonstration, so she put her hand on his shoulder and in a slightly patronising tone, said, ‘You don’t have to worry about a thing, Chloe. I’m going to set up a tea room. It’ll be the perfect little job to keep you busy while I concentrate on building my empire.’

  She opened her hands, palms up in a gesture that invited him to contradict her.

  He shook his head, clearly bewildered. ‘I can’t believe you’re thinking like this. I love you, I only want what’s best for you, Chloe, to take care of you, protect...’

  His voice faltered as she rose to her feet and took a step away from the bench, distancing herself from him because this was hard. Really hard...

  ‘They are the exact same words my father used,’ she said, oddly calm as she shattered the dream she’d been cherishing for years. ‘Over and over. When he took me out of school he said he was rescuing me...’ She swallowed down the memory. ‘Isn’t that what you thought you were doing when you rushed me out of my apartment?’

  ‘No,’ he protested as he came to his feet, but something had clearly hit home. ‘Maybe, but it’s not the same.’

  ‘He said them when he forced me to sign the adoption papers. When he’d taken our baby. When he took me to the clinic and left me there for months and months...’

  ‘Chloe, please,’ he said, reaching for her, ‘this is nonsense...’

  ‘You rushed me out of my flat, James,’ she said, backing away, because to touch him, to let him touch her, would make it impossible for her to say the words. And she had to say them before this went any further... ‘You rushed me out of my life. It wasn’t a great life and I know you were doing what you thought was right. But so, in his twisted way, did he. I escaped that cage, James, and I will not step into another one, no matter how comfortable.’

  He recoiled as if she’d hit him and she had to dig her nails into her palms to stop herself from reaching out to grab him, hold him...

  ‘You didn’t have to come with me,’ he said, fighting to hold back his anger, because she had hurt him. Because he still wasn’t hearing what she was saying. ‘I didn’t drag you kicking and screaming down the stairs. The only screaming I heard was you begging for more.’

  ‘I asked you to leave,’ she reminded him, ‘but you stayed.’

  ‘I couldn’t leave you in that place!’

  ‘It wasn’t your choice.’ Was that her speaking in that calm voice? She felt like an onlooker, someone listening to a woman she didn’t know... ‘I went with you, James, because I never stopped loving you. It was never a fun fling. It was real, to-the-ends-of-the-earth love. It always will be—’

  ‘Then whatever I’ve done, or you think I’ve done, we can fix this!’

  ‘But last night,’ she continued, as if he hadn’t spoken, ‘when I tried to explain, you held my shoulders and spoke to me as if I were a wilful child.’ She looked him in the eyes, her heart breaking at his bewilderment. ‘He did that.’

  ‘No! I am nothing like your father.’ He dragged his hands through his hair, searching for the words to convince her. ‘I held you because while you were pulling me so close physically, I could feel you slipping away from me and I was so scared of losing you again.’

  ‘You never lost me. I was always yours.’

  ‘So why was it that any time I mentioned London, or marriage, you changed the subject, or distracted me? You do a very good distraction, Chloe...’

  ‘It was real, James. Every touch, every kiss...’

  ‘Was it?’ He shook his head. ‘I finally realised what you were doing last night. I’d thought that here, away from Paris, you might begin to see our future...’

  ‘Thinking for me,’ she said.

  ‘Thinking of you,’ he said, ‘but clearly you can’t see that.’ And this time it was James stepping back, his face the colour of stone. ‘Your father is still controlling your life, Chloe. Until you confront that, deal with that, you will never have a future. With me. With anyone. You will always be alone, hiding in a damp, cold room, working as a maid.’

  It was a cruel thing to say, meant to inflict pain and it did, but she understood his need to retaliate.

  And he was right.

  He’d appeared out of the blue like a knight in shining armour, lifting her clear of the rut she’d worn so deep that she’d lost sight of the horizon, of a future. Now it was there, shining before her...

  ‘I won’t go back to that,’ she promised him. Promised herself. ‘Thank you for finding me. For a wonderful week. I will never forget it, or you. But whatever happens next has to be my choice.’

  She felt she should offer him her hand. A final gesture, but if he took it, she knew how hard it would be to let go. And if he rejected it...

  ‘Drive carefully, James.’

  He frowned. ‘You are staying?’

  ‘No, but I’ll make my own way back to Paris.’

  ‘That’s stu—’

  He caught himself, maybe imagining for himself how it would be with the two of them sitting in silence on the drive back. So different from the teasing journey the day before. Exploring the brocante, sparking ideas off each other. Then there would be the awkwardness of another night in the same small apartment. Or of James insisting he move into a hotel.

  ‘I’ll arrange a car for you.’

  ‘No, James. Thank you, but I can get back to Paris by myself.’

  His mouth tightened at this further rejection, but he said, ‘I am aware of that. You clearly weren’t listening when I said that you could do anything. Be anything.’ He took a breath. ‘It’s nothing to do with control. I brought you here and it’s my responsibility to see you safely home.’

  ‘You are the one not listening, James. If this was sex and I said no—’

  ‘Stop!’ He was white with anger. ‘It is not the same.’

  ‘I was making a point.’

  ‘It’s made,’ he said. ‘You want to make your own way back to Paris. Am I allowed to ask if you have money?’

  ‘Yes, all I need,’ she assured him. ‘And I will contact Julianne at the hotel, thank her for giving you my address and tell her that I’ve been to London to talk to an old school friend about a job, but that I have decided to stay in Paris.’

  Something that, if she’d been thinking more clearly, she could have done at the time, but maybe she’d wanted to believe James’s concern about scandal. Wanted to be carried away. But life was not a prettied-up fairy tale.

  ‘That’s it, then,’ James said and this time there was no lift on the last syllable, no suggestion of a question. ‘Nothing more to be said. I’ll go straight to the Gard du Nord and take the first available seat on the Eurostar this afternoon.’

  ‘I’ll text you when I’ve moved my things from Louis’s apartment.’

  She could see him fighting the need to tell her to stay for as long as she liked, and she died a little inside. She had never meant to hurt him like this...

  ‘If you need anything, any time, you know where I am. But then you always did.’ He raised a hand in a heartbreakingly helpless gesture and, his voice cracking, he said, ‘I love you, Chloe.’

  He didn’t wait for her to respond, but as he walked qui
ckly back across the snow she whispered, ‘I love you, James Harrington. Always have. Always will.’

  A few minutes later, Chloe heard the car driving away and, unwilling to return to the château, she began to walk around the lake. She had reached the orangery when Marie found her.

  ‘You’ve been out here too long, chérie. You’ll catch your death.’

  ‘Unlikely in this clean fresh air,’ she said, although the dogs had long ago deserted her for the warmth of the kitchen. ‘Did James ask you to come and check on me?’

  ‘He was very unhappy to leave you here, I think?’

  ‘I’ll take that as a yes.’ She sighed, stopped walking. ‘He’s unhappy because I won’t go to London with him, Marie.’

  ‘Is there a reason for that?’

  ‘Not one that he understands.’

  She gave a little shrug. ‘It is just a few days, yes? He has arranged for you to stay here until he returns.’

  ‘He told me,’ she said, ‘but it’s not possible. We’ve split up.’ Saying the words out loud hit her with the reality of what she’d done, and hot tears began to run unchecked down her frozen cheeks. ‘Sorry. So stupid...’

  She scrambled in her pocket for a tissue and Marie put her arms around her, held her close, murmuring soft comforting words in French, until she pulled away, drew in a long shuddering breath and blew her nose.

  ‘It was my decision,’ she said. ‘James is not to blame for what happened. He would have taken me back to Paris but...’

  ‘It would have been an uncomfortable journey. But it’s very sad. You seemed to be so close. When I saw you working together it was as if you were two parts that had found one another and together make a whole. And when he looked at you...’ She sighed. ‘You have been together long?’

  ‘We met when we were very young. My parents did not approve and split us up.’

  ‘But you found each other again.’

  ‘By chance. I was working in a hotel. He was staying there...’