“But the couture house is losing money, and for good business reasons we should sell it.”
“Agreed.”
“And we could sell it to a stranger?”
“Yes.”
“But not to me.”
“If we went through the whole process that I outlined it could be sold to you. But as your friend and former trustee, I must caution you as to the risks you would assume.”
“In spite of that, supposing I say to you as a fifty percent owner of the business that I want to own the couture house alone and I’m willing to sell my share of the vineyards if necessary—what would you do?”
“I would have no choice but to hire experts to evaluate the business and try to find an equitable way of accomplishing it. After that is decided I would then have to get the approval of the courts to make the transaction.”
“How long would it take?”
“I don’t know,” he said. “Sometimes these things take years.”
“Then the only way open to me is to have a buyer for my share of the vineyards of whom you approve?”
“Perhaps,” he said.
“Then that’s what I’ll have to do,” she said.
He looked at her. “Janette, what’s the rush? Why don’t you take some time and think on it? If you still feel the same way, say, a month from now, come back and I’ll try to help you.”
“Losing a month now means losing a season. If I begin now I can make next year’s spring collections.”
“The fall collections are more important,” he said.
“Not for me,” she answered. “I’m going for another market, and if I want to reach them I have to get them in the spring in order to set them up for the fall.”
“I know what she wants to do,” Jacques said, finally breaking his silence. “She’s got a very good chance of accomplishing it. You could wind up making millions.”
“Or losing millions,” Johann said. He looked at her. “I understand how you feel but I just can’t do what you ask as easily as we both like to.”
She rose to her feet. “We’re getting nowhere.”
“I’m sorry,” he said.
She looked down at him. Her voice was hard and determined. “I’m going to get what I want. No matter what it takes. You know that.” She left the office, slamming the door behind her.
Johann looked across the desk at Jacques. “See if you can make her listen to reason.”
Jacques shrugged. “Were you ever able to make Tanya listen?”
“No.”
“What makes you think she’s any different from her mother?” Jacques asked.
Johann arrived home at about seven thirty in the evening. Heidi met him at the door and kissed his cheek. He looked over her shoulder. Usually Lauren was right behind her at the door. “Where’s Lauren?”
“She should be home any minute,” Heidi said. “Janette came by and took her out for the afternoon.”
“What time was that?” he asked.
“About four o’clock.” She looked up into his face. “Is there anything wrong?”
He took a deep breath. “I don’t know,” he answered heavily. He walked into the living room with Heidi following him. “Did she say anything to you?”
“No,” Heidi answered. “Just that she hadn’t seen her sister for a long while and thought she should spend some time with her.”
Johann rubbed his cheek reflectively. “I don’t like it,” he said. Quickly he told her of their meeting earlier in the day. “She said she would get what she wants, no matter what it takes,” he said, finishing.
Tears came into Heidi’s eyes. “She couldn’t be cruel enough to destroy her sister’s happiness?”
“You forget, in many ways she’s not more than a child herself. A spoiled child who’s always had everything her own way. Suddenly there’s something she cannot have.”
“Do you think she’s not going to let Lauren come back to us?”
“I don’t know what to think,” he said. “There’s only one way to find out.” He went to the telephone and dialed Janette’s number. A voice answered. “Henri, is Mademoiselle Janette at home?”
“Oui. Je vous passe, Monsieur.”
The telephone clicked and Janette came on. “Yes?”
He tried to keep his voice casual. “We were waiting for Lauren for dinner.”
Janette’s voice was cold. “She’s not coming for dinner. She’s not going back at all. She’s going to remain home where she belongs. Please send her things over as soon as possible.”
The telephone went dead in his hand before he could even reply. He returned it slowly to the table. “She’s keeping Lauren,” he said heavily.
For the first time he saw Heidi angry. “The bitch!” she swore. “The cruel bitch! Are you going to let her get away with it? After all, you’re Lauren’s legal guardian.”
“It means bringing it all into the open. The newspapers will have a field day. They’ll go back to Tanya and everything that ever happened. By the time it’s finished, we’ll all be covered with shit, including Lauren.”
“Then why don’t you just give her what she wants? Then we can take Lauren back to America with us and let Janette go to hell in her own merry way. What do you care what happens to her?”
“I don’t,” he said. “But it’s not as simple as that. Any disposition of the assets that I make, no matter how fair and equitable it would be at the time, could be subject to misinterpretation later. If couture makes a lot of money, I’ve screwed Lauren out of potential benefits, if it loses and we’re in it, I’ve permitted Lauren to be exposed to tremendous losses. No matter which way I go, I’m damned if I do, damned if I don’t.”
Heidi looked him directly in the eyes. “Then if you’re doomed to damnation, at least go there protecting the child who needs it most. And what she needs more than money is love and care, both of which we can give her.”
He was silent.
“Why don’t you buy Janette’s share of the vineyards?” she asked. “My father will advance you the money. He’s interested in the wine business. More than five years ago he bought a thousand-acre vineyard in California.”
He looked at her, the germ of an idea taking shape in his brain. “I couldn’t buy it. I would be leaving myself wide open. If that weren’t the case I would have done it on my own. I have enough money. But if your father bought it, that would be a different matter. It would be a hands-off transaction that the courts and I could safely approve. Do you think he would be interested?”
“I think he would,” Heidi said. “We’ll call him after dinner and find out.”
“He’s not going to give up that easily,” Maurice had said. “Not after all these years where he’s had complete control. Nobody will ever know how much he made out of it for himself.”
Janette looked at him. “I won’t believe that Johann was ever a crook.”
“I’m not saying he is,” Maurice said quickly. “But he did run your business and he shared in the benefits. Who can say that he did not benefit a little more than was proper?”
She was silent.
“If you mean what you say,” Maurice said, “then you’ll have to go all the way. Force him out.”
“How am I going to do that?” she asked.
“Make it so uncomfortable for him that he’ll be glad to go. Take him into court charging him with mismanagement of your and your sister’s assets, damaging your equities. You can even claim that he exerted undue influence on your mother, who was not mentally sound, to gain control of the estate. There are many things you can do.”
“But how do I prove them?”
“You don’t have to. That’s the good thing about it.” He smiled. “He has to disprove it.”
She shook her head. “I don’t know where I could do that.”
“Then give it all up. But it will be years before you have another opportunity like this. Did Jacques tell you that not only am I willing to back you but he has an important American also w
illing to invest?”
“Yes,” she answered.
“Then what are you waiting for?” he asked. “Unless you really don’t believe you can make a go of it.”
“It doesn’t make sense,” she said. “I do all those things—meanwhile Lauren is living with them.”
“Then take her back,” he said.
“Could I do something like that?” she asked. “After all he is her legal guardian.”
“But you’re her sister. You can always say that you’re taking her back because you’re afraid that he might harm her.”
Janette was silent again.
“Don’t be a fool, Janette,” he said. “He was a German soldier. A Boche. Nothing’s changed. Only now he’s occupying your business, not France.”
She was silent again.
“Janette Marie de la Beauville,” he said softly. “It’s a good name. Did you see it on the ad? It sounds much more important than Harry Winston.”
She looked at him. “How do I get Lauren back?”
“Simple,” he said. “Just go to their apartment with an excuse to take her out. And then don’t return her.”
That was exactly what she did that afternoon. Meanwhile an appointment had been made with Maurice’s attorney for the following morning to begin the proceedings. By the time Johann had called it was eight o’clock and Lauren had already gone to bed.
The servants had made a great fuss over her at dinner and she loved the attention. When the suggestion was made that she go to bed she had gone happily enough. A few minutes after Johann’s call, Lauren came into Janette’s room.
“Aunt Heidi always tells me a bedtime story before I go to sleep,” she said.
“All right,” Janette replied. “Let’s go back to your room and I’ll tell you a bedtime story.”
The child climbed into bed and looked up at her. “Tell me a story about a princess.”
“What princess?”
“You know. The one who couldn’t sleep because there was a pea in her bed.”
Janette thought for a moment. “I don’t know that one.”
“Then what story do you know?”
Janette tried to remember a story from her childhood. “Once upon a time, there was an old woman who lived in a shoe—”
“I know that one,” Lauren interrupted. “And that’s not a story, it’s a nursery rhyme.”
“Oh,” Janette said.
“I want you to tell me a real story,” the child said.
“I’ll have to think of one,” Janette said. “Tell you what. Give me until tomorrow and I’ll get a book with all the stories in it and tell them to you tomorrow night.”
Lauren looked at her. “Are you sure you don’t know any stories?”
“I’m sure.”
“Not even a teeny one?”
Janette laughed. “Tomorrow night I’ll tell you a dozen.”
The child thought for a moment. “All right.” She held out her arms. “Kiss me good night.”
Janette kissed her. “Good night.”
Lauren hugged her. “Good night, Aunt Hei—Janette.” She put her head on the pillow and closed her eyes, then opened them immediately. “I forgot to say my prayers,” she said, jumping out of bed.
She knelt at the side of the bed, clasped her hands and bowed her head. “Now I lay me down to sleep. I pray the Lord my soul to keep. God bless Uncle Johann, God bless Aunt Heidi and God bless my sister Janette.” She looked up at Janette. “Amen.”
Janette was silent.
“Say Amen,” Lauren said.
“Amen,” Janette said.
The child climbed back into the bed, lay back and closed her eyes. “Good night, Janette.”
Janette walked to the door. “Good night, little sister.” She turned out the light and closed the door behind her, then went down the stairs to the library. The telephone began to ring.
It was Jacques. “I just called Johann and he told me that you did. They’re very upset.”
“Too bad,” she said. “You called him?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I had an idea. Perhaps a practical approach to the problem would be for Tanya Couture to enter into an agreement with Carolo for the additional financing. That would minimize the exposure.”
“What did he say?”
“I never got a chance to talk about it. He told me what happened and wanted to know if I knew anything about it. I said I didn’t but I don’t know if he believed me.”
“It doesn’t make any difference,” she said.
“It does to me,” he said. “I’ve never lied to him. I wouldn’t like him to think I would lie to him over this. Why on earth did you ever do it?”
“Don’t be stupid,” she said. “You saw the way he was at the meeting. He had already made up his mind and with his Teutonic stubbornness would never change it.”
“But your sister was happy with them. There was no reason to drag her into it.”
“She’ll be happy here. And she was already in it. Half of the whole thing is hers.”
“We would have found another way,” he said.
“There is no other way,” she said. “Maurice convinced me of that. I should have listened to him a long time ago but I didn’t.”
“Maurice’s only concern is himself. He smells a chance to get back into the business. That’s why he’s pushing you.”
“You don’t approve?” Her voice grew cool.
“You didn’t have to do it that way,” he said.
She got angry. “Who the hell are you to sit in judgment? You’ve pimped and fucked for everything all your life. For your jobs, for stories, for publicity. Now you’re afraid you’ve blown your job with Johann because you crawled too far out on the limb with me, so you’re trying to crawl back into his good graces.”
“That’s not true!” he said vehemently. “You don’t know Maurice like I do. He’s trying to use you like he tried to use your mother.”
“And you don’t? You fucked with my mother and used her. You fucked with me and used me. How many others have you fucked and used? I don’t need your fucking approval! As far as I’m concerned you can go and crawl as far back up that Nazi’s ass as you want to!” She slammed the receiver back on the telephone and sat there feeling the trembling inside her.
The door opened. She looked across the room. Lauren was standing there, the tears running down her cheeks.
“What do you want?” Janette snapped.
The child stood there. “I want to go home,” she cried.
“You are home!” Janette said sharply. “Now go back up to your room and go to bed.”
“I’m not home. And it’s not my room,” Lauren said, sniffing stubbornly. “And I can’t sleep. There are ghosts there.”
“There are no ghosts,” Janette said.
“Yes, there are,” the child insisted.
“What ghosts?”
“The marquis is standing at the foot of my bed and laughing. And when I open my eyes he runs away.”
Janette stared at her silently.
“Are you my sister?” Lauren asked. “He keeps saying that you’re not my sister.”
Janette crossed the room and knelt beside her. “Of course I’m your sister.”
The child looked up into her face. “Do you love me?”
“You know I love you, chérie,” Janette said softly.
“As much as Mommy loved you? As much as Mommy loved me?”
Janette was silent for a moment, then she felt the tears springing to her eyes. “Yes, my darling.”
Twenty minutes later they were standing at the door of Johann’s apartment as he opened it. He looked at them silently.
Janette’s voice was strained. “I’ve brought her home.”
There was a movement behind him. “Aunt Heidi!” Lauren cried and ran through the door into Heidi’s arms.
Janette began to turn away. Johann’s voice stopped her. She turned back, her eyes blurred with tears. “Yes?
”
Johann blinked her eyes. “Why don’t you come in?” he asked gently. “There is much we have to talk about.”
V
Book Three: Lauren
The chief steward came out of the flight deck and walked through the darkened first-class cabin to the galley that separated it from the economy class. He looked approvingly at the breakfast trays all set up and ready for serving. “We’ll be in fifteen minutes early,” he said.
The dark-haired stewardess filling the glasses with orange juice and tomato juice smiled. “Good. I can’t wait to get home and take a bath.” She turned on the heating button of the ovens. She glanced at her watch. “The eggs will be ready in twenty minutes.”
“Time enough,” the steward said, reaching for the telephone intercom and turning on the cabin lights at the same time. He spoke directly into the telephone, first in French, then in English. “Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. It is six thirty A.M., French time. I have the pleasure to inform you that we will reach Paris fifteen minutes ahead of schedule, eight forty-five A.M. French time. We will now begin the serving of the breakfast.”
As usual, the insomniacs were the first to raise their window blinds, and the sun low over the horizon streaked into the cabin waking those who were still clinging to sleep. The rest of the passengers began to stir.
Lauren looked out the window. There was nothing to see, everything hidden by cloud cover. She turned as the stewardess gently touched her shoulder.
“Good morning, miss,” the stewardess said in English. “Did you have a good rest?”
Lauren pushed her long blond hair back from her face, answering in French. “Not bad. I’ve been too excited. It’s the first time I’ve returned to France in almost ten years.”
The stewardess was surprised at the girl’s French. It was pure, without any trace of an American accent despite her appearance, which was typically California American. Sun-tanned, blond hair even more whitened by the sun, large, clear blue eyes. “Jus d’orange ou tomate?” she asked.
“Jus d’orange,” Lauren answered.
The stewardess lowered the serving tray in front of Lauren and placed the orange juice on it. “Would you like some coffee now?”
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