Three Weeks in Paris

by Barbara Taylor Bradford

  She put the list down and sat back in the chair, staring into space for a moment, her blue eyes as clear and bright as they had always been. She truly was looking forward to her eighty-fifth birthday party, and had carefully planned what she would wear.

  Anya knew she didn’t look her age, and she certainly didn’t feel it; nevertheless, she was an old woman. At least numerically.

  I’ve been on this earth eighty-five years and I’ve lived every one of those years to the fullest, with energy, zest, and enthusiasm. I’ve been involved, curious, caring, loving, interested in everything and everyone. I’ve never been bored or jaded, and my mind has always been active, alert, and filled with optimism. She smiled inwardly as she added to herself: And I’ve no intention of dying just yet. No plans for that in the works. I’ve a lot more damage to do. Yes, I aim to be around for a long time.

  The telephone rang, and she picked it up. “Hello?”

  “It’s Nicky, Anya, good morning. I’m sorry, but—”

  “Don’t tell me you’re not coming to lunch.”

  “There’s a problem.”

  “What is it?”

  “Maria. She’s very nervous about coming face-to-face with Alexa.”

  “Well, she’d better get over it, because she’s going to have to do exactly that, and very soon, even if she doesn’t do it today. I want this mess cleaned up before the party, and the only way to do it is through confrontation. I’m determined to get to the bottom of their quarreling, Nicky!” she exclaimed in a tough voice.

  “I agree,” he answered quickly, picking up on her militant tone, which he knew brooked no argument. “You’re absolutely right.”

  “I’m glad you agree. She has to come to lunch today.

  Actually, I was planning on having a lunch for those four later in the week, so this makes a good beginning.”

  “Oh, are the other women coming today?” he asked quickly.

  “No, no, just Alexa and Tom, as I told you.”

  “Are they back together?”

  “I don’t know … I understand they had dinner last night.”

  Nicky sighed. “Well, I hope I can persuade her.”

  “Don’t sound so weak-kneed, Nicky. Be firm. Wait … put her on the phone, I’ll speak to her myself.”

  “Oh, I’m not—”

  “Don’t stonewall me, Nick, and don’t lie. I know she’s with you, either at your flat or her hotel. You can’t pull the wool over my eyes … I know you’re having an affair with Maria, and more power to the two of you. Please, put Maria on the phone. Now.”

  “Yes, okay, and calm down, Anya.”

  A moment later, Maria said meekly, “Good morning, Anya.”

  “Good morning, my dear. I expect you for lunch at one o’clock. Please be here, Maria. It is extremely important to me that you are present today.”

  “Yes, Anya. We will come. We might be a bit late.”

  “Start hurrying, Maria. And please don’t be too late.”

  “No, no, we’ll hurry,” Maria promised, and hung up the phone.

  Anya rose, walked around the desk to the fireplace, stood with her back to it for a few moments, thinking about Nicky and Maria. She had seen them on quite a few occasions since Maria’s arrival in Paris, and it was very apparent to her that they were completely absorbed in each other. Infatuated, she thought, and then amended that. No, they’re in love, she corrected herself, and she just hoped Nicky would be able to sort out his problems with Constance, and as quickly as possible. It had struck her several times that Maria and Nicky were ideally suited, that they should be together on a permanent basis.

  As for Alexandra and Tom Conners, there was no question that these two had connected again last night. When Alexa had returned her phone call earlier this morning, she had asked her if this was so. Alexa had answered in the affirmative, adding, “Big time.” Anya loved this expression, and she smiled to herself. She definitely wanted Alexa and Tom to be together “big time,” because she had always known that her favorite pupil was still in love with him, that he was undoubtedly the love of her life.

  With a sudden flash of intuition, Anya knew that these two were going to be together for the rest of their lives, even if they didn’t know that yet. She felt it in her very old bones.

  ————

  TEN MINUTES LATER Alexa was rushing into the room, her face filled with smiles, followed closely by Tom, who was also smiling broadly.

  “Good morning, Anya!” Alexa cried, hurrying over to the fireplace, hugging Anya tightly. In her ear, she whispered, “I’m so glad you made me call him. He’s been wonderful.”

  “I’m happy you’re here, Alexa, and you too, Tom,” Anya said as Alexa stepped away from her. She stretched out her hand to Tom, who took it, and shook it with a firm grip.

  “Thanks for including me today, Anya, and I must say, it’s wonderful to see you again after so long.”

  “You’re looking well, Tom,” Anya responded, still smiling. “Now, what would you both like to drink?” As she spoke, she glanced over at a chest in the far corner, where bottles of liquor and glasses were lined up on a tray. There were also two silver buckets filled with ice, one containing a bottle of white wine, the other champagne.

  “I know Alexa will have champagne, Anya, and so will I. Why don’t I pour it, and what about you? What will you drink?”

  “The Veuve Clicquot also, thank you, Tom, and certainly you can be bartender.”

  He nodded and moved across the room. She watched him as he strode away, thinking that she had not seen such a magnificent specimen of manhood for years. It wasn’t just that he had a handsome face, beautiful, in fact, if she was honest, but his physique was also extraordinary. She had forgotten how tall and long-legged Tom was, and his barrel chest and broad shoulders gave him a truly masculine appearance.

  Anya’s eyes remained on him as he poured champagne into the tall flutes that Honorine had put out earlier. He had always been well dressed, she now remembered, and today was no exception. He wore a pale blue checked shirt, navy tie, navy blazer, and blue jeans, impeccably tailored. Custom-made, Anya thought, and then accepted the glass of champagne from him.

  The three of them stood in front of the fireplace, and clinking their glasses, they said “Cheers” in unison. Looking up at him, Anya found his eyes blinding for a split second. They were the bluest eyes she had ever seen. If only I were fifty years younger, she thought, and then smiled inwardly, amused at herself. Imagine fancying a man at my age, she thought, and focused on Alexa.

  “Is Nicky coming to lunch by any chance?” Alexa asked.

  “He is, as a matter of fact, and he’s bringing Maria Franconi.”

  “Oh, no!” Alexa exclaimed before she could stop herself.

  “Oh, yes,” Anya shot back. “And I think you’d better get used to it, Alexa, since you’ll be working with Nicky. Those two have become … well, ‘an item’ is the best way to put it for the moment. That aside, I am hoping you, Maria, Kay, and Jessica are going to make an effort to be civil with each other. I’m planning a lunch for later in the week, so that you can all have it out with each other, if necessary. None of you have ever told me what caused you to blow your friendships apart.” Staring at Alexa, she raised an eyebrow questioningly.

  “It just so happens that it all started with Maria,” Alexa finally volunteered after a moment or two. “But since she’s coming for lunch, we’d better not get into it now.” Moving toward the sofa, Alexa sat down, and Anya joined her.

  Tom lowered himself into the armchair next to them and put his glass on the coffee table. Turning to Anya, he said, “I think Alexa wants to talk to you about something important. Don’t you, Alex?”

  Taken aback for a moment, knowing he was referring to Jessica and Lucien, she could only nod. Finding her voice at last, she said, “I think Tom ought to tell you what happened this morning, and then I’ll take it up from there.” She put her glass down, reached for her Kelly bag on the floor, and opened i
t.

  Tom said, “I was waiting for Alexa to change at the hotel, and I happened to pick up a small photo album that was on a table. As I went through it, I saw a picture of a man who’s a neighbor of my parents in the Loire. He was photographed with this beautiful blonde. Oh, and I must add, Anya, that in the photo he looked about eight years younger than he does today. I was surprised, because I didn’t understand why Alex would have a picture of him in her album.”

  Anya had listened attentively, and now she glanced at Alexa and said, “Who was the blonde? Jessica, I’m assuming.”

  “Correct.” Alexa handed her the album open at the photograph of Jessica with Lucien Girard.

  Anya took the album, gazed at the picture for a second, then looking at Tom, she said, “It’s Lucien, as I remember him. But who do you think he is?”

  “Jean Beauvais-Cresse, a man in his mid-thirties who lives near my parents. He’s not a friend, just a neighbor, an acquaintance, and I don’t know much about him. But Lucien Girard’s resemblance to him is uncanny. He looks like a younger version.”

  “He could be a relative,” Anya pointed out, nodding to herself.

  “Indeed he could,” Tom agreed. “A twin, a brother, a cousin.” As he was speaking, Tom, the lawyer who relied on facts, reasoning, analysis, common sense, and evidence, realized how true his words were … a family resemblance between two different men was the answer. It had to be. Taking a deep breath, Tom finished, “Alex feels she ought to talk to Jessica. What do you think, Anya?”

  “Not at the moment!” Anya exclaimed. Reaching for Alexa’s hand, holding it in hers, she continued. “Jessica shouldn’t be told anything about this. It would only upset her terribly.”

  “Well, actually, I wasn’t planning to say anything to her until we’d done a bit of investigating, Anya, and Tom suggested it might be a good idea to talk to his father, ask a few questions,” Alexa explained.

  Nodding, Anya said, “That is probably a good idea, Tom.”

  Alexa said, “Anya, you might think I’m being fanciful, but I just have a really weird feeling about this photo.… I think it is Jean Beauvais-Cresse when he was a young man, and that he and Lucien are the same person. I can’t explain why I feel this, but I just do.”

  Anya said, “Look, I’ve always been a great believer in gut instinct, and you might well be right, Alexa. But we mustn’t say a word to Jessica. We really do have to keep quiet.”

  “That’s correct,” Tom exclaimed. “It’s very flimsy, there’s no hard evidence, nothing concrete to go on. However, I do think I can ask Dad a few pertinent questions, and maybe he can supply the answers we need regarding Jean and Lucien Girard—” Tom stopped as Nicky walked into the room with Maria Franconi.

  “I hope we’re not very late,” Nicky said. After kissing Anya and squeezing Alexa’s shoulder, he shook Tom’s hand enthusiastically. “Tom, it’s great to see you! And this is Maria Franconi, I don’t think you’ve ever met.”

  Maria smiled, shook Tom’s hand, and murmured quietly, “I am pleased to meet you.”

  “It’s a pleasure,” Tom replied, smiling at her.

  After kissing Anya on the cheek, Maria looked toward Alexa seated on the sofa and forced a smile. “Hello, Alexa.”

  “Hi, Maria,” Alexa responded coolly, without smiling.

  “Do be a darling, Nicky, and pour Maria a glass of champagne,” Anya said.

  “Oh, no, Anya, thank you, but I’d prefer water,” Maria announced.

  Nicky said, “Coming right up, sweetie, but I think I’ll have a drop of the old bubbly myself.” He sauntered across the room as he said this and busied himself at the drinks tray.

  “Sit down, Maria dear.” Anya indicated the chair next to her, and went on. “I haven’t had a chance to tell you this before, but I’ve studied the photographs Nicky gave me the other day. Maria, your paintings are quite extraordinary. But then, you were an enormously talented artist when you were at the school.”

  Maria looked extremely pleased when she spoke. “Thank you, Anya. Hearing those words from you about my paintings is very important to me.”

  Nicky carried the water to Maria, and then stood in front of the fire, regarding all of them. After a moment he took a sip of his champagne, and said, “Cheers, everybody.”

  “Cheers,” Tom answered.

  “Santé, Nicky darling,” Anya murmured.

  Alex simply raised her glass to him, and smiled, and then eyed Maria out of the corner of her eye, thinking that Anya had not exaggerated the other day. Maria Franconi was a different person than she had been at the school seven years ago. And she was indeed a beautiful woman now.

  Glancing across at Tom, Nicky said, “Did I hear you mention Lucien Girard just now? Or am I dreaming?”

  The room went quiet.

  Tom glanced at Alexa and they exchanged pointed looks.

  Anya said swiftly, “Oh, it was nothing important, Nicky, just a casual remark on Tom’s part. Now, I don’t want to rush you, but we mustn’t linger up here too long. Honorine’s daughter, Yvonne, came in to cook for me today, and I know she’s making something very special for the first course. So drink up, Nicky.”

  ————

  A SHORT WHILE after this, Honorine’s curly gray head appeared around the sitting room door, and beaming at everyone, she announced, “Le déjeuner est prêt, madame,” and disappeared as swiftly as she had materialized.

  Within the next few seconds they finished their drinks, rose, and trooped down the stairs, Nicky and Maria leading the way. Alexa hung back in the sitting room, touching Anya’s arm as she did, whispering, “How much did Nicky hear, do you think?”

  Anya shrugged, shook her head, and murmured in an equally quiet tone, “I don’t really know … but not very much, I’m sure.” There was a slight hesitation on her part before she added, “But don’t forget, he and Larry knew Lucien first. It was actually Larry who introduced him to Jessica. It might be worth asking him a few questions, you know.”

  “Nicky’s okay, but I can’t say anything to him because I don’t trust Maria. She might tell Jessica, and that would be disastrous.”

  “She doesn’t even know where Jessica is staying,” Anya murmured.

  “Where is she staying?”

  “The Plaza Athénée.”

  Tom looked back up the stairs, frowned, and called to them, “Come on, Alexa, Anya—Nicky and Maria are waiting for us in the dining room.”

  The two women descended the staircase, and when they were finally in the entrance foyer, Anya hurried forward, exclaiming, “Sorry, my dears, I’m afraid I’m a little stiff today, Alexa was helping me down the stairs. Sorry I kept you waiting.”

  “That’s all right,” Nicky said, came forward, and took hold of Anya’s arm, led her into the dining room, which overlooked the cobbled courtyard and the garden. To reflect the outside, which was so visible through the windows and the French doors, Anya had used a color scheme of light and dark greens, accented with touches of white. With its billowing white organdy curtains at the windows, dark parquet wood floor, and masses of white flowering plants, the room looked fresh, airy, and cool.

  Pausing at the circular table, made of highly polished yew wood and surrounded by five Louis XV chairs upholstered in a green-and-white-check fabric, Anya rested one hand on a chair and said, “Maria, come and sit at my left, and Tom, please take the chair at my right. Alexa dear, sit down next to Tom, and Nicky, you can sit between Alexa and Maria.”

  Smiling broadly, she lowered herself into her chair. “I think that works very well,” she continued, and looking across at Nicky, she said, “Would you pour the white wine for those who want it, and there’s a very nice red to have with the main course.”

  Nicky did as he was asked, and he had just finished filling their glasses with white wine when Honorine came into the room carrying a large tray. She was followed by her daughter, Yvonne, who held a smaller tray in her hands. Yvonne nodded, murmured a quiet greeting, and followed her moth
er to the serving table.

  Within minutes they had all been served with an individual cheese soufflé and were soon exclaiming about it, pronouncing it delicious. And at one moment Nicky announced, “It’s as light as a baby’s breath.” Everyone laughed at this expression, and the ice was broken a little, but Anya noticed as this first course was being eaten that Alexa and Maria carefully avoided speaking to each other. However, Tom and Nicky had lost no time in getting properly reacquainted, and they were now chatting enthusiastically about the movie industry in general.

  She herself turned to Maria and began to talk more fully about her paintings, while Alexa was soon drawn into Nicky’s conversation with Tom. He was holding forth on the new film about Mary Queen of Scots, and Tom was obviously fascinated, listening attentively as Nicky explained about the preproduction plans that were slowly coming together.

  After the empty soufflé dishes had been cleared away, Nicky served the Mouton Rothschild to everyone except Maria, and Tom poured the mineral water. Not long after this, Honorine came back with a platter of roast leg of lamb, followed by Yvonne with a dish of steamed vegetables and roasted potatoes. When they had been served, the two women left the dining room, but a second later Honorine returned with the gravy, which she placed on the table.

  Anya asked her to bring the other sauce, and then explained to them, “I’m very English when it comes to my roast lamb … it’s my upbringing, I suppose. I like it thinly sliced and covered in mint sauce.” She laughed. “The French usually shudder when they see me eating it this way.”

  “It’s because they can’t imagine why anyone would want to put a sauce made with vinegar on their meat,” Nicky pointed out, and grinned at her. “And as you know, I eat mine exactly the same way.”

  The conversation at the table was rather mundane as the main course was eaten and enjoyed, the red wine savored, the water drunk. Looking at each of them from time to time, Anya was pleased that they were all here with her today, and that there was an air of civility at the table. She realized quite suddenly that Maria appeared slightly more ill at ease than Alexa. And it struck her that Alexa had undoubtedly spoken the truth when she had blamed Maria for the trouble in the friendships, but it had been so long ago, she wished they could forget about it. As for Maria, she was such a brilliant artist, it was almost criminal to let her rot in a textile company in Milan. But then, Anya knew it was none of her business … she could only hope Nicky was going to be the girl’s knight in shining armor, that he would rescue her from a terrible kind of servitude.