“They should pay us to stay here,” Robert said admiringly, as John walked into the kitchen.
“Now that’s an idea I’ll second,” John said, glancing at her, wondering who she was. And whoever she was, she was incredibly pretty, he thought to himself, and when he saw his wife’s face, he realized who he was talking to. He hadn’t recognized Gwen at first, and what surprised him most was that he didn’t expect her to look so human, so lovely, or so young. She certainly didn’t look her forty-one years, but Pascale wondered if it was natural, or if she had had “work done.” She was wearing very little makeup, and seemed surprisingly natural in every way. She had simple, unassuming ways, a natural kindness and warmth, and staggering good looks. And as John looked Gwen over carefully, it was impossible to see in her the devil Pascale had described. And soon Pascale looked surprised and ill at ease in the face of Gwen’s obvious charm.
Ten minutes later, their lunch was on the table, and the Morrisons appeared, and they stopped dead in their tracks at their first glimpse of her. She wasn’t at all what they had imagined. She was far more beautiful and natural, and as she spoke to them, seemed genuinely warm. But even in the face of that, Diana told herself Gwen was an actress and could fool anyone.
Sensing none of their malevolent thoughts about her, Gwen sat down at the table with them, after carrying several platters to the table. She had jumped right in, helping Pascale, without hesitation or restraint. Robert had offered to take her to a restaurant for lunch, but she said she’d be happier here, having lunch with his friends. She said that Robert had talked so much about them that she was happy to meet them at last. And as she said it, Pascale and Diana exchanged an evil look. They remained convinced that beneath the appealing exterior lurked a bitch.
As they sat down to lunch, Robert asked Gwen comfortably about Antibes. He seemed very much at ease with her, and she said she had had fun, and done a lot of reading, and lying in the sun. She’d been exhausted when she arrived.
“What did you read?” he asked with interest, as the others sat watching her, feeling fascinated and awkward. There was a quality of unreality to sitting there chatting with her, after seeing her so often on screen. Gwen told Robert, in answer to his question, that she had read a number of very good new novels, and named them all. They were all the same books Pascale and Diana had just read.
“I’m always hoping to get a film out of things I read. But it’s not easy to find new properties. Most of the scripts are so flat and so boring,” she said by way of explanation. She said she had performed in a movie based on a Grisham novel recently, and really enjoyed doing it. And neither Pascale nor Diana admitted to being impressed, but were nonetheless.
Robert had read two of the four books she’d read, and he had to agree with her. He liked them. And they talked animatedly about that, and assorted other things, until Pascale served coffee. Eric and John had entered the conversation by then, but the girls were holding out. They didn’t want to be seduced by her, although it was clear that the men were rapidly being swayed by her charm. It was easy to see why Robert liked being with her. She was easygoing, intelligent, had a nice sense of humor, and was easy to be around. Far easier at this point than Diana or Pascale. It was Gwen who made small talk with all of them, asking about what they had been doing during their vacation, and carrying the conversational ball, although neither Pascale nor Diana made it easy for her. They answered her in monosyllables and occasionally didn’t answer her at all, although she didn’t seem to notice or mind.
And then, as the meal drew to a close, Agathe wandered in, adding a little comic relief for all concerned. Agathe seemed oblivious to the effect she caused, as she hummed to herself, carrying a stack of towels in front of her, with one of her poodles prancing behind her. She left the kitchen almost as quickly as she had entered it. Gwen stared after her, as Agathe’s generous behind waddled past in rhythm to the music. She was wearing leopard print shorts, and a rhinestone bra, with her favorite red satin high heels.
“What was that?” Gwen whispered to Robert after Agathe had left. “She looked like Liberace in drag.”
And in spite of themselves, the others laughed.
“That is Agathe,” Robert answered with a grin, amused by Gwen’s apt description of her. One of the things he liked about Gwen was that she made him laugh more than he had in a long time. “She’s the housekeeper,” Robert said happily. “She usually wears a black uniform and a lace apron, but she dressed especially for you today,” he teased, as his friends saw the look on his face. He seemed so at ease with her, he was usually so serious, sometimes even somber, and he was more lighthearted than they’d ever seen. Pascale thought he was making a fool of himself, while Diana wondered if the color of Gwen’s hair was natural. It was a striking shade of red, but could have been real, and in fact, was. She was a natural redhead, rarest of all birds in Hollywood, with huge chestnut eyes, perfect skin, and no freckles. There was a lot to hate about her, if one were so inclined.
“Can she actually clean?” Gwen was still inquiring about Agathe as Robert shook his head, he was vastly amused by her, and in surprisingly good humor. He had been during the whole vacation, and Pascale couldn’t help wondering if it was in anticipation of Gwen’s visit. He certainly didn’t look as grief-stricken as he had months before, but John had already said that it wasn’t fair to measure Robert’s grief by his efforts to be pleasant and not burden them with his sorrow.
“Pascale says she’s a pretty hard worker,” Robert said about their maid with the unusual costumes and the flock of dogs that never stopped barking. “You already met her husband. He drinks a bit, but he’s nice enough. They came with the house,” he said by way of explanation, as Gwen laughed.
“What’s everyone doing this afternoon?” Diana inquired, looking pointedly at them. She had already decided that if they said they were taking “naps,” she was going to stand in the hallway between their rooms and busy herself. She was prepared to do anything she had to, to protect Robert’s virtue, and the least she could do, she felt, was make things difficult for them. She felt she owed that much to Anne.
“I wouldn’t mind going into St. Tropez for a little while, if no one minds, to do a little shopping.” Gwen had told Robert in an earlier conversation that she loved to shop, and seldom had the time.
“I’ll come with you,” he said quickly, as the others stared. It was an open secret in the group that he hated to shop. And so had Anne. He was suddenly a different man.
“Do you like to sail?” Pascale asked, hoping to show her up.
“I love to sail,” Gwen said quietly, and then turned to Robert. “Would you rather do that?” She looked at Robert gently as she asked.
“We can do both,” he said sensibly. “Why don’t we go to St. Tropez first.”
“I’ll get my handbag,” Gwen said, and disappeared to her room to get it, as Robert smiled at his friends. He had no concept of the jealousy that lurked in Pascale and Diana’s hearts. They were behaving like their own evil twins.
“She’s a nice woman, isn’t she?” he said, happy to share her with them.
“Yes,” Pascale said through clenched teeth, as her husband shot her a quelling look. He thought she and Diana had gone far enough, and Robert and Gwen were both being good sports. And if asked, Eric would have agreed with him. Fortunately, Robert seemed not to notice how subtly hostile the two women had been. He admired Gwen so much, it was hard for him to imagine that anyone would be less than dazzled by her. Although at least two of his best friends were determined to resist, unbeknownst to him. They saw her as a siren and a threat, to be chased off at all costs. No matter what it took. For his own good, of course.
Robert followed Gwen out of the house, after saying good-bye to them, and a few minutes later, they heard the Deux Chevaux drive off, as the two men looked at their wives disapprovingly.
“What do you say you two lighten up when they get back? She seems like a nice woman, and she’s Robert’s guest.�
� Eric said it as much to Pascale as to his wife, and it was obvious that John agreed with him as he nodded his head.
“She certainly got your number quickly, didn’t she?” Diana said bitterly, alluding to his recent wanderings. “I didn’t realize redheads were your type. But then again, I guess there’s a lot about you I don’t know these days.” It was a blow below the belt, and he didn’t look pleased, but he held his ground.
“That’s not what we’re talking about. If I were Gwen, I wouldn’t bother to unpack, and I’d go straight to the nearest hotel, instead of taking a lot of guff from us. She doesn’t have to be here. Robert wants her to be. She’s doing it for him. She obviously cares about him, and it’s not her fault he has four friends who were attached to Anne, and can’t get over it. It’s up to Robert who he wants in his life, not up to us to screw it up for him.” What he said made sense, whether they admitted it or not.
“She’s an actress,” Pascale added angrily. “She can convince anyone of anything, you, John, Robert … that’s what she does. He doesn’t even know who she is.”
“Maybe he knows better than we do, Pascale. He’s not a fool. He’s a grown man, he’s intelligent. She’s a beautiful woman, and she’s a good sport if she’s willing to put up with us. I wouldn’t, in her shoes. I’d have told us all to go screw ourselves, and walked out halfway through lunch. You two hardly said a word. I’m sure there are plenty of people who would knock themselves out to be with her, and be nice to her. She doesn’t need us to give her a hard time. What do you say we lighten up when they get back from town?” He was trying to appeal to both of them. He had never seen either woman act this way. And John seconded it.
“Eric’s right. We’re hurting Robert as much as we are her, if we give her a hard time. Why don’t we just let him figure it out for himself?” Besides, he didn’t want to admit it to Pascale in so many words, but he liked Gwen, far more than he thought he would. And he liked the way she treated his friends, with kindness and respect, and humor, and courtesy. There was something incredibly decent and sensitive about her, and John was as embarrassed as Eric by how his wife had behaved.
“What’s wrong with you two?” Diana interjected again. “Just because she has good legs and wears a miniskirt, you two are suddenly in love with her. She’s twenty-two years younger than Robert, and he’s making a fool of himself. And just how long do you think it’s going to last? Some handsome young actor will come along, and she’ll dump Robert on his ear, and he’ll be heartbroken if he falls for her.”
“Maybe he already has—and maybe she’s fallen for him. Why not let him work it out for himself? And what’s wrong, even if it doesn’t last, if he has some fun along the way? It might be a great story to tell his grandchildren one day, about the affair he had with a beautiful young actress one summer. Worse things happen. A lot worse,” Eric said, glancing at his wife. “He’s single, for heaven’s sake. He doesn’t owe anyone any explanations and certainly not us. What right do we have to stand in his way?”
“Do all men think with only one part of their anatomy?” Diana said to her husband pointedly. “I get it. She’s beautiful. I’ll concede that much. But none of us knows who the hell she is, and I’ll bet Robert doesn’t either. I just don’t want to see him do something stupid, or get hurt, or have some Hollywood bimbo take advantage of him.”
“How?” Eric persisted in the argument. “What’s she going to get from him? She probably makes more money than any of us. She’s not going to get anywhere by sleeping with him. He can’t give her a part in a movie. He can’t even fix her parking tickets, for chrissake. And if it weren’t for him, she’d probably be staying in some four-star hotel, and not sleeping on a bed that will probably collapse in the middle of the night, with a toilet that won’t flush, a maid who’ll blow smoke in her face, and four people making her miserable, in the guise of defending a man who wants to be with her anyway, and maybe should. Just what exactly do you think she’s getting out of this?” What he said made sense, although neither woman was yet ready to concede, but he had a point, as John nodded his head and agreed.
“What if he marries her?” Pascale asked angrily. “Then what?”
“Why don’t we worry about it then?” John intervened, and Eric laughed suddenly.
“I remember the first time we all had dinner with you, Pascale. You hardly spoke English, you were an hour late, you wore a black satin dress that was so tight you couldn’t breathe, and you were a ballerina, which isn’t so different from being an actress after all, in some people’s eyes at least. And Anne and Diana were suspicious of you too. They got over it. They fell in love with you. Everyone gave you a chance. Why can’t you do that for her?” There was silence in the room as he looked at her, and then finally Pascale turned away and shook her head. But he had scored a hit, and she knew it. She had been a frightened, nervous, starving ballerina when John fell in love with her, and they could have accused her of all the same things. What complicated it all now was how much they had loved Anne. But Anne was gone. And Gwen was the woman Robert wanted to be with. He had trusted them, in a sense, by bringing her here, and they were violating that trust by being unkind to her. Pascale could see Eric’s point, although she wasn’t ready to admit it in so many words.
And Diana conceded nothing as she put their lunch dishes in the sink. She was still so angry at Eric, she didn’t want to hear anything he said. Gwen was just another pretty face and a pair of good legs he wanted to chase after, as far as she was concerned. And the fact that John agreed with him meant nothing to her. She was so angry at everyone these days, Gwen was just another place to vent the anguish she felt.
The men went out to the garden to smoke cigars after that, and Pascale hung around the kitchen to help Diana, and after a long silence, she looked at her friend with a questioning glance.
“What do you think?” Pascale asked with a worried frown.
“It’s too soon to know what she’s really like,” Diana said stubbornly, and Pascale nodded agreement, but in her heart of hearts, she was no longer quite as convinced. Eric had made some good points.
And in the car, on the way into St. Tropez, Gwen was questioning Robert about his friends.
“Are you sure your friends don’t mind my intruding on you, Robert? I feel like an interloper barging in. You’re all used to being together, after all these years, and suddenly there I am, larger than life. It’s a big adjustment for them.” She had sensed their discomfort during lunch, more than he had in fact. He just told himself they were shy because of who she was, and he said as much to her, which made her smile at him. She knew, just as Diana and Pascale did, that he was naive, and she loved that about him. He had a way of only seeing the good at times, and simplifying things. “I think this is harder for them than you realize. Seeing you with someone else is a big change for all of them.”
“It’s a big change for me too,” he said, looking serious for a moment, and thinking of Anne. But he didn’t want to let himself slip into sadness about her. No matter how grief-stricken he was, and had been, it wouldn’t bring her back. “But we all have to adjust.” He looked at her sympathetically then. “I just don’t want it to be hard on you. Were they rude to you?” he asked, looking worried, wondering if he had missed something.
“Of course not. I just feel a certain reserve and resistance. I expected it. I’m fine with it. I just don’t want to make things awkward for you with your friends.”
“They’re like my family, Gwen. We’ve shared a lot of history, and a lot of years. I’d really like them to get to know you, and to appreciate you, as I do.” He knew that they couldn’t possibly resist. Or so he thought. She wasn’t as sure.
“I think you need to give them time, Robert,” she said sensibly, as they approached the heart of St. Tropez, and he looked for a place to park. “It may take them longer than you think.” If they even gave her a chance. She was well aware that they might never open their hearts or doors to her. She wasn’t as sure as Robert
that they’d adjust and welcome her in.
“You don’t know my friends. Trust me, Gwen. They’re going to be in love with you by the end of dinner tonight. What’s not to love?” he said, smiling at her.
“I’m not Anne,” she said gently. “That’s the first strike against me, in their eyes. And I’m famous … I’m an actress … I’m from Hollywood … I’m sure they think I’m weird. Particularly, if they read the tabloids. It’s a lot for people to swallow at first. Believe me, I’ve been there. Those are the things that make people hate you till they know you, if they ever do. I’m guilty until proven innocent, not the reverse.”
“Not in my house, and not with my friends,” he said confidently, as she smiled knowingly at him, and leaned over to kiss his cheek. She wasn’t going to force it down his throat, but she had sensed their resistance at lunch, and it was a phenomenon that was familiar to her. It hurt sometimes, and was disappointing, but it was something she’d been through again and again, and they had thirty years of history with him. That was a tough mystique to break. And she wasn’t going to force herself on them. She was too smart for that. She was just going to go about her business quietly, and hope that in time they would let her in. But above all, she was determined not to push. And it was too soon to know what was going to happen with Robert anyway.
He found a parking space finally, turned to her in the tiny car and put an arm around her, and gave her a gentle kiss. “Well, shall we hit the shops, Miss Thomas?”
“Sounds good to me, your honor.” She smiled lovingly at him. She was glad she had come to visit him, even if his friends were visibly less than pleased.
“Do you think everyone will recognize you?”
“Probably. Can you live with that?” she asked him, looking faintly worried. It could be overwhelming at times, particularly if you weren’t used to it. And celebrity was a world Robert knew nothing about. She liked that about him too. Being with him always felt right and was real.
Sunset in St. Tropez Page 12
