“In two days. Is that soon enough?”
“I just wondered. Will you join me here for dinner tonight?”
“I have other plans.” He nodded and went out into the garden to see Johnny. The little boy squealed with delight as soon as he saw his father, and ran into his arms as Hillary watched from the window, and turned and walked out of the library and went upstairs.
As it turned out she left two days later then planned, but Nick scarcely saw her, he stayed late at the office every night, and he had to have dinner with some people from Chicago, and when he asked Hillary to join them, she refused.
She claimed that she was too busy packing for her trip, and Nick decided not to force her. He saw her the morning she left for Cannes, when a large limousine arrived to take her to the train. For a moment Nick wondered who she was going to Cannes with, and then he decided not to ask her any questions.
“Have a good time.” She had asked him for two thousand dollars for the trip and he had given it to her the night before without question. She had barely said thank you to him.
“See you in September,” she called out cheerily as she ran out the door in a red silk dress with white polka dots and a matching silk hat.
“You might call your son from time to time.” She nodded and hurried out to the car. It was the first time he had seen her look happy in a long time, and as he went back inside to get ready to go to the office, he was sorry in a way that he insisted on maintaining their marriage. If she was that unhappy with him, they both deserved better. And as he straightened his tie and put his jacket on, he found himself thinking of Liane and wondering how she was. He hadn't seen the De Villierses at any of the dinners he'd gone to, but he imagined that they were more likely to stick to diplomatic receptions, and he hadn't been to any of those. He knew that the Polish Embassy was planning to give an elaborate dinner in a few weeks, and assumed they would go to that, but he would be careful not to attend that one. It was important that no one learn of his recent charity to Poland. It could only do them harm if it was discovered that they were arming themselves too. The diplomatic sources he had used to make his offer had been astounded by the minute prices he charged them. But it was the only way he knew to help them at the eleventh hour.
The Germans had stepped up all their contracts recently, and he felt an increasing desire lately to wind them up and get his business with Germany over. He felt uncomfortable every time he went there, and no matter how profitable the deals were, he couldn't bring himself to feel right about dealing with them anymore. It was impossible not to know what was coming. Liane had been right. The time to choose sides was coming close. In fact, for him, it had come already.
When he left for the office, he kissed Johnny good-bye, and was pleased that he didn't seem upset about his mother going away. He had already promised him a trip to Deauville, and they were going to ride horses along the beach there. They were both excited about the trip, planned for the first of August. They were going to be away together for at least two weeks.
“Have a good day, tiger, I'll see you later.”
“Bye, Dad.” He was playing with his bat and a ball, which he had stowed in one of his trunks. And Nick saw just as his limousine turned the corner of the Avenue Foch that the ball had just sailed right through one of the living room windows. He laughed to himself, remembering his saying to the doorman in New York that one of these days that would happen, and the chauffeur turned at the sound of his voice.
“Oui, monsieur?”
“I said ‘That's baseball.’”
The chauffeur nodded with a blank stare and they drove to the office.
n the thirty-first of July, Liane and Armand's things arrived from Washington, D.C., and within the week they moved into the house Armand had found for them in April. It was a pretty little place on the Place du Palais-Bourbon, in the Septième. And for the next ten days Liane sweated and slaved and opened boxes. She did almost everything herself, knowing exactly where she wanted each item placed, and she only asked the servants to wash dishes and dust tables. The rest she enjoyed doing herself. If nothing else it gave her something to do, now that she scarcely saw Armand. The dream of walks in the Bois de Boulogne and the Tuileries never happened. With or without a war, the Bureau Central had devoured him. He had lunch with his colleagues or at various embassies around town and he didn't come home until eight o'clock at night, if he didn't have an important business dinner. And if he did, she didn't see him until well after that.
This wasn't like their Washington life, when as the Ambassadress she was an integral part of his social life, entertaining, playing hostess, giving small dances and black-tie dinners, standing in receiving lines at his side. Here, more often than not, he went alone, and it was more the exception than the rule that he took her with him. Her entire life centered around the girls now, and when she finally saw Armand at night, he was almost too tired to talk to her. He would eat dinner and go to bed, exhausted, and he was invariably asleep within seconds of his head touching the pillow. It was a lonely life for her now, and she longed for their days in Washington or London or Vienna. This was a whole new life, and she didn't like it, and despite her efforts not to complain, he sensed it. She was like a little wilting flower in an untended garden, and it made him feel desperately guilty, but things were beginning to happen. France was coming awake to the danger of Hitler, and although they were still certain that they were safe in France, there was a certain heightened sense of protection and preparation. He felt alive again as he participated in endless meetings. It was a good time for him, but a rough time for her, and he knew it, but there was very little he could do about it. He didn't even have time to take her out for an occasional dinner.
“I miss you, you know.” She smiled at him as he walked into the apartment one night to find her hanging a painting. As usual, she had created the effect of a home they had lived in for years and he was grateful to her. He came to kiss her now and helped her down from her perch, and he held her in his arms for a moment longer.
“I miss you, too, little one. I hope you know that.”
“Sometimes I do.” She sighed and set her hammer down on the desk, and then she looked up at him with a sad smile. “And sometimes I think you've forgotten I'm alive.”
“I could never do that, little one. I'm just very busy.” She knew that much already.
“Will we ever have a real life again?”
He nodded. “Hopefully soon. It's just that now there's such an increase in tension. We have to wait and see what happens … we must prepare. …”
There was such a bright light in his eyes as he spoke that her heart fell at his words. She felt that she had lost him to France, it was almost like losing him to another woman, only worse, because it was an opponent she couldn't fight. “What if there's a war, Armand? What then?”
“Then we'll see.” Always the cautious diplomat, even with her, but she wasn't asking about his homeland, she was asking him about her.
“I'll never see you then.” She sounded tired and mournful and tonight she didn't feel like putting up a cheerful front for him.
“These are unusual times, Liane, surely you understand.” He would be disappointed in her if she didn't, and she knew that. It was a heavy cross to bear. She had to be willing to make the same sacrifices as Armand, and sometimes that was too much to ask. If they'd just have a quiet night together, some time to talk, an evening when he wasn't too exhausted to make love … her eyes told their own tale.
“Never mind. Do you want something to eat?”
“I've eaten.” She didn't tell him that she had waited for him. “How are the girls?”
“Fine. I promised them I'd take them for a picnic in Neuilly next week, when I've finished the house.” It was lonely for them too. Once they were in school, they would make new friends. But for the moment all they had was their mother and their nurse.
“You're the only woman I know who can put a house together in a week.” He smiled at her a
s he sat down in a chair in the living room, almost afraid to tell her that all he wanted was to go to bed and sleep.
“I'm just happy to be out of the hotel.”
“So am I.” He looked around at their familiar things, and it felt like home to him at last. But he hadn't really noticed much of anything in the last month. He was so busy at the office, that he could have come home to a shanty or a tent and it wouldn't have mattered to him, and Liane suspected that as she followed him to their bedroom.
“Would you like a cup of chamomile?” She smiled gently at him, and he reached out and kissed her hand as he sat down on their bed.
“You're too good to me, little one.”
“I love you very much.” And there had been so many times when he had been good to her too. It wasn't his fault that he was so busy now, and it couldn't go on forever. Sooner or later the problems would be resolved. She just prayed that they wouldn't erupt in a war.
She went to the kitchen to make him the promised cup of tea, and when she returned with a delicate porcelain tray and the Limoges cup she'd unpacked that afternoon, she set it down gently on the bed table with a smile. But when she turned to hand it to Armand, she saw that he was already asleep on his pillow, without the assistance of the chamomile.
ell, Tiger, what do you think?” Nick and John had ridden all the way down the beach side by side, and they stood now only moments after the sun had fallen into the sea. It had been a heavenly week in Deauville. “Ready for something to eat?”
“Yup.” For the past hour he had pretended he was a cowboy on a ranch. He was enchanted with the tall, gentle white horse he was riding, and his father was astride a pretty chestnut mare. Johnny glanced over at his father then. “I wish we could eat hamburgers tonight, just like on a ranch.”
Nick smiled at his son. “So do I.” A hamburger and a milkshake would have tasted good, but they were a long way from any possibility of that. “Would you settle for a nice, juicy steak?” He knew that a steak au poivre was the closest they'd get, but at least it was something.
“Okay.”
At Johnny's request they had talked to Hillary that day. She was having a nice time in Cannes and had been surprised by their call. Nick hadn't told the boy, but he had had to call four times just to find her in, and in the month that she'd been gone, the rumors had begun to filter back to him. The “group of friends” she was with in Cannes had been joined by a man named Philip Markham, whom Nick knew from New York. He was a playboy of the worst kind, had been married four times, and now his name was linked with that of Hillary Burnham. Nick didn't give a damn what she did, but he had told her to be discreet. Obviously discretion was beyond her. They went gambling in Monte Carlo every night, danced till all hours, and had given a raucous party at the Carlton, which had even made the Paris press. He had thought for a time about calling her and telling her to lay off, but he realized that it was already too late. He had no control over her, and whatever he said to her, she'd still do whatever she wanted anyway.
“It was nice talking to Mom today.” It was as though the child had read his mind, and he looked over at him now as they guided their horses back to the barn.
“Do you miss her a lot, John?”
“Sometimes.” And then he smiled loyally at his father. “But I'm having a real good time here with you.”
“So am I.”
“Do you think she'll be home soon?” The question cut to the quick. Despite Hillary's lack of interest in the child, Nick knew that Johnny loved them both. She had sent him a couple of presents from the South of France but she seldom called, and Nick tried to make it up to him, as he always had. But she was what she was, and he knew that one day his son would know the truth.
“I don't know when she'll be back, Son. Probably in a few weeks.” Johnny nodded and didn't say anything more and they put away their horses and went back to their hotel.
As promised, that night, they ordered steak au poivre, and when they went back to their room, Nick read to him from his favorite book. They had spent every night like that. Nick hadn't even brought the nurse. He wanted the time they shared to be just for them, and he enjoyed having him to himself.
On the last day of their stay they took a final ride, and the sunset was even more beautiful than it had been before. They had played tennis that day, had a picnic on the beach, and then taken their daily ride. And as they sat watching the sunset now, Nick looked over at the boy with a warm smile.
“We're going to remember this for a long, long time, you and I.” It was the best time they had ever shared, and he reached out to touch the child's hand, and they sat there like that for a long time, hand in hand, and John never noticed the tears in his father's eyes.
The day after they got back Nick had to go to Lyons for a few days, to talk to the owner of a textile mill. Four days after he got back from Lyons, he left again for what he hoped would be his last trip to Berlin. Johnny had asked if he could come along, but Nick had told him that he'd be back in a day or two. He sensed something very different in Berlin when he arrived, a kind of exhilaration that ran through everyone's veins, and that afternoon he understood why. It was the twenty-third of August, and Germany had just signed a mutual nonaggression pact with the Russians. The negotiations had been conducted in secret, but the results were big news. Germany's greatest potential enemy had just been rendered impotent. Nick knew instantly, as did everyone else, that their agreement would pose an enormous threat to France and the rest of Europe. And he was suddenly desperately anxious to get home to Paris and his son. Who knew how quickly there might be a reaction, and he would himself be trapped in Berlin. And as he hastened through his day he was secretly glad that he had done what he could for Poland.
He attended one meeting that afternoon, and took the next train back to Paris. As he saw the Eiffel Tower come into view, he felt enormous relief sweep over him. All he knew was that he wanted to be near Johnny. He rushed home to the Avenue Foch and put his arms around him as he sat at breakfast.
“You came back fast, Dad!”
“I missed you!”
“I missed you too.”
The maid brought him a cup of coffee and he chatted with his son as he scanned the papers. He was anxious to see the reaction in Paris, but of course he had known what it would be. There was a general mobilization of the French army, the preparations for war were being made, and all available troops were being sent to the borders, to defend the Maginot Line.
“What's that, Dad?” Johnny was reading over his shoulder as he frowned. Nick explained to his son about the alliance between the Russians and the Germans and what it meant to France. The boy watched him with wide eyes. “You mean there's going to be a war?” He didn't look entirely displeased about it. He was young enough to find it intriguing, and he still loved anything that had to do with guns.
When Johnny went out to play, Nick walked into the library with a solemn face. He asked the operator for the Hotel Carlton in Cannes. It was time to bring back his wife, no matter how little she'd like that.
They paged her at the pool, and suggested he call back later. But Nick was insistent with the operator at the hotel. If she was anywhere in the hotel, he wanted her found, and at last they found her, in someone's room, he suspected, but he didn't give a damn. Whatever else she was, she was his son's mother, and he wanted her back in Paris, in case something drastic happened in France.
“Sorry to bother you, Hil.”
“Is something wrong?” The thought instantly crossed her mind that something had happened to Johnny, and as she walked naked across Philip Markham's room, holding the phone, her face wore a nervous expression. She glanced guiltily at him over her shoulder and then turned away as she waited for Nick's answer.
“Have you read the papers yesterday or today?”
“You mean that thing about the Germans and the Russians?”
“Yes, that's exactly what I mean.”
“Oh, for chrissake, Nick. I thought something had happene
d to Johnny.” She almost sighed with relief as she sat down on a chair and Philip began to stroke her leg as she smiled at him.
“He's fine. But I want you to come home.”
“You mean now?”
“Yes. That's exactly what I mean.”
“Why? I was coming home next week anyway.”
“That may not be soon enough.”
“For what?” She thought he was being a nervous fool, and she laughed as she watched Philip make funny faces and make obscene gestures as he returned to their freshly rumpled bed.
“I think there's going to be a war. They're mobilizing the French army, and things are liable to explode any day.”
“It won't happen as quick as that.” She had been nervous about it before they left New York, but now she had other pursuits in Cannes and the possibility of war seemed very remote to her.
“I don't want to argue with you, Hillary. I'm telling you to come home. Now!” He raised his voice as he pounded the desk, and as he attempted to control his voice he realized that he was afraid, for her as well as their son. He had thought that a war in Europe was at least a year away. He had never intended to expose his family to danger over here, and now he was suddenly desperately sorry that they had come with him. “Hillary, please … I've just been in Berlin. I know what I'm saying. Trust me for once. I want you back here in Paris if anything happens.”
“Don't be so nervous, for chrissake. I'll be home next week.” And as she said it she accepted a glass of champagne from Philip.
“Do I have to come down there and get you myself?”
“Would you do that?” Her voice on the phone sounded surprised, and he nodded as he watched Johnny playing in the garden.
“Yes, I would.”
“All right. I'll see what I can arrange. I'm giving a dinner party tonight for a few friends, and—”
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