If she told him the truth now, that she’d been trying to be a mystery woman to arouse his interest, he would know she was desperately in love with him.
Deep down he already knew it, but she wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction of hearing the words. Not when he was prepared to see her drive away from the château next Monday, never to return.
“Most people don’t really want to hear the answer to the questions they ask,” she theorized.
He sat back with a grimace. “You put me in that category?”
“I didn’t know you that well.”
She saw his jaw harden. “You do now. I’d like to hear the story.”
“Wouldn’t you rather see the film when it comes out and be surprised?”
“No,” he muttered. “I don’t like surprises.”
Dana averted her eyes. “I know.”
“I wasn’t referring to your gifts. I like my hat,” he added in a gentler tone.
So did she. On him. “Let’s go inside first.” Their bodies were too close here in the cab.
Once he’d helped her down, she walked to the front door ahead of him. After he opened it and turned on lights, she made a beeline for the kitchen and took a soda out of the fridge. Small as it was, it provided the symbolic armor she needed to keep him at a distance. Or rather, keep her from him.
He made instant coffee, then lounged against the counter to sip it while he stared at her. “I’m waiting.”
“Why are you so interested?”
“How could I not be when you picked my estate out of all the French possibilities?”
She supposed he had a point there. “The story calls for a setting where a German soldier, that would be Rolfe Meuller, refuses to be a part of the Maille massacre of August in 1944 in the Loire Valley. It happened on the day Paris was liberated from German occupation.
“His superior shoots him and he’s left for dead. Later on he’s discovered barely alive, having dragged himself to the garden of a nearby château that has suffered through two world wars and has been raided for its wine. Perhaps now that I’ve given you a few details, you understand why I knew the moment I glimpsed the château for the first time that it was perfect. Uncannily so.”
Alex nodded.
“A young, aristocratic French woman, the second wife of her military husband who’s been stationed in Paris for months, comes across his body. That would be Simone.
“He’s very attractive. She’s never been able to have children and has been trapped in a loveless marriage. The handsome blond German is someone’s son and that sentiment causes her to help him.
“As you might assume, when he starts to heal from his wounds, she wants him to become her lover. That places him in a difficult position because he has a wife he loves, yet this French woman could turn him over to the Vichy French or the Germans at any time. He must find a way to placate her until he can walk on his own and escape.
“To stall for time, he uses psychology to get her to talk to him. The film explores both their psyches, exposing their tortured souls. His agony over the senseless murders and killings in the French town is the focus of the story.
“When she agrees to let him go and not tell the authorities, he makes it back to his wife in Germany. That would be Saskia. Their reunion is tragic because she’s had a baby and it isn’t his. She’s burdened by her own guilt. He’s broken by man’s inhumanity to man at Maille, torn up over her infidelity and mourning his wasted life in a hideous war.
“They can continue on together, bound by their individual Gethsemanes, or they can go their separate ways. The film forces you to decide what they might or might not do. The viewer will have to examine his or her own soul for the most palatable answer.”
He drank the rest of his coffee. “It’s going to be a powerful film. Where did the kernel of the idea come from?” Alex used her former words to frame his question.
She tossed her empty can in the wastebasket. “There was a picture of Sarkozy in the newspaper. He was in Maille to honor the victims. I showed it to Dad and we discussed the massacre. Before I knew it, he’d dreamed up a basic storyline. That’s how it came into being.”
“With all your contributions, will your name be listed in the credits?”
“No. Make no mistake. This is Dad’s picture. He’s getting a masterful performance out of Rolfe Mueller, an unknown. When the film’s released, he’ll be a star.”
She moved to the doorway. “As for you, your estate will be immortalized. By the time you have it ready for the public to visit, the stream of tourists will be never ending and make you a rich man. Good night, Alex. Thank you for dinner and the movie.”
He didn’t try to detain her. His nonaction sent another jab of pain to her shattered heart.
Dana didn’t sleep well. In the early morning, she went up to the third floor with the intention of opening more boxes and labeling them. However, there was still so many to do and Alex appeared so uninterested in her project, she decided there was no point in going on.
She put the chair she’d borrowed back in the other room and took all her tools back to the bedroom. Restless and dissatisfied, she showered and dressed in fresh jeans and a T-shirt.
For the next two hours she would help Alex haul debris before she had to make the lunches. But in that regard she was stymied because his truck wasn’t there and he hadn’t left any piles for her to work on. She was so used to knowing where he was at all times, it upset her to find him gone.
At noon she packed the baskets, but he still hadn’t returned. She left her father’s in its usual spot and Alex’s in the kitchen. When one o’clock rolled around and he still hadn’t appeared, she went back upstairs to scour the bathroom and leave it as spotless as she’d found it weeks ago.
Her bedding and the bathroom towels belonged to Alex. He wouldn’t mind if she used his appliances to get them washed and dried. By three she’d house-cleaned the bedroom and had packed up everything.
Dana hadn’t intended to move out of the château until tomorrow morning, but it was better this way. No goodbye scene.
On her way out of the side entrance to the truck, she thought about the bottle of Belles Fleurs wine resting down in the wine cellar. Much as she wanted to take it home as a souvenir, she knew it belonged here. Alex had given her the vintner notebook. That would have to be enough.
One more day’s filming on Monday and everyone would clear out. Alex would get his château back. Dana’s part was done. Her father wouldn’t be able to fault her for anything, that is if she even figured in the recesses of his mind.
She put her suitcase on the floor of the cab and took off. If by any chance she and Alex crossed paths, she would tell him she had an errand to do for her father. He wouldn’t question it. If he wanted to make plans for the evening, she’d tell him she’d get back to him when she knew something more definite.
Part of her was praying she’d see him coming so she could feast her eyes on him one last time, but it didn’t happen. She found herself en route to Paris, free as a bird and filled with the most incredible loneliness she’d ever known.
There was a flight leaving Orly airport tonight for St. Louis. From there she’d take another flight to Los Angeles. The trick was to return the truck to the car rental in time to get through the check-in line.
While she maneuvered in and out of heavy traffic, she phoned her father. He’d be through filming for the day. His phone rang several times. Finally, “Dana?”
“Hi, Dad.”
“I’m glad it’s you. I just received another call from Monsieur Dumarre. He wants to be sure you’re coming to the vintner party tomorrow night he’s giving for Alex. After the filming is over tomorrow, we’ll drive back to the hotel while I get dressed, then we’ll go to his home from there.”
The vintner party…Alex hadn’t brought it up in days. Another hurt.
“Dad—I’m afraid you’ll have to take Saskia with you.”
“It’s over with her. I want to take m
y daughter.”
He wanted her mother. Dana was the next best thing. Her eyes smarted. “You don’t understand. I’m on my way back to California as we speak.”
A long silence ensued. “What’s going on?”
“I told you the other day. I’ve got to make my own life. It’s time. But I’m hoping you’ll do me one favor.”
He didn’t respond because for once she’d shocked him, but she knew he was listening.
“Please go to the party and take Saskia. Do it to support Alex. H-he’s a good man. The best there is.” Her voice trembled. “Be nice to him.”
“Dana—”
She hung up. For the first time in her life she’d cut him off. It was the beginning of many firsts to find her life. One that would never include Alex Fleury Martin.
If you could die from loving someone too much, she was a prime candidate.
After being in meetings all day, Alex arrived back at the château at seven-thirty, anxious to talk to Dana. No vehicles were parked out front. He drove around the side, hoping to see her truck. It wasn’t there.
He let himself in the side door. Only when he saw the basket with his lunch still sitting on the counter did he realize he should have called her and told her he’d gotten hung up on business.
She’d packed some plums. He sank his teeth into one while he waited for her to answer her phone. The caller ID indicated no service. Not to be daunted, he strode through the château to his office and looked up Paul’s phone number. He’d know where to find her.
Unfortunately all he got was his voice mail. Alex imagined everyone was out having dinner since it was a Friday night. He left Paul the message to phone him ASAP.
There was a voice mail for Alex from Monsieur Dumarre. The other man had called to remind him of tomorrow’s party. He mentioned that Jan Lofgren was coming and would be bringing Dana.
Alex had his own ideas on that score. That was why he needed to talk to Dana. He was taking her to the party and had plans for them afterward. If she insisted she couldn’t leave her father, then the three of them would go together and the hostile director would have to handle it!
After making the rounds of the château to lock doors and turn out lights, he returned to the kitchen. He’d had a big meal in Angers with his friend from Louisiana who’d flown in at Alex’s request, but he was still craving something sweet, like her mouth. Where was she? Why hadn’t she called him?
He poked around in the basket and found a petit pain au chocolat. A smile broke out on his face. She had as bad a sweet tooth as he did. In two bites he devoured the whole thing.
Finally desperate, he phoned the Hermitage and asked to be connected to Monsieur Lofgren’s room. Again he was shut down when there was no answer and he was told to leave a message. Alex chose not to. If he didn’t hear from Dana in another hour, he’d phone her father again.
Maybe the whole company was out celebrating tonight, including Dana. This would be their last weekend in the Anjou before they left for either Maille or the Rhine.
Another film company from Lyon would be arriving in a week for a four-day shoot, followed by the Paris outfit scheduled for mid-September and another for the first two weeks of October.
Every few days he was getting more feelers from his ad. Business was starting to pick up. After talking with his banker today, the outlook was promising that he’d be able to pay the first increment of back taxes by the November deadline.
When he’d come up with this insane scheme, he hadn’t really believed it would work, but he’d been out of any other ideas. Then Dana had come trespassing on his property like a mischievous, adorable angel. Her presence had turned his whole life around until he didn’t know himself anymore.
The next two hours passed like two years. He was driven to watch TV. No one phoned. He called the Metropole and asked them to ring Dana’s room. No answer. Her father wasn’t back in his room.
Feeling borderline ferocious over the way his evening had turned out, he took a cold shower before going back to his room. Dana was an early bird. He planned to be up and waiting for her when she drove in from town with the others.
As he entered the bedroom his cell phone rang. It was Paul.
“Thanks for calling me back.”
“It sounded important. I’m sorry I didn’t check my phone sooner.”
“No problem. I was looking for Dana.”
“To my best knowledge she’s in Paris, seeing about one of the locations there in case Jan decides to add a small scene. He always keeps his options open and nobody negotiates like Dana. She ought to be back some time tomorrow.”
All this time she’d been in Paris and unavailable….
“Thanks for the information. Good night, Paul.”
The last thing he noticed before turning off the lamp was the beret he’d put on the dresser. Alex comforted himself with the fact that a woman didn’t buy a man something like that unless she meant it.
When he awakened the next morning, his first thought was to check his phone in case Dana had called, but there were no messages. Eager to find out if she was back, he got dressed and rushed outside. Still no sign of her truck, either, in front or around the side.
By noon he’d lost all interest in work and decided to quit for the day. On his way down the ladder he heard his name called.
“Paul?”
“Hi. I brought you lunch.”
“Where’s Dana?” he fired before he realized he’d been rude.
“In Paris. She told Jan she’d meet you at the vintner party tonight. He asked me to pass that along.”
Alex took the sack from him. He had to tamp down the surge of negative emotions tearing him apart. “Thanks for the information and the food.”
“You’re welcome.”
Eight hours later Alex found himself in deep conversation with an enthusiastic crowd of the Anjou’s most renowned vintners. Their genuine interest in Alex and their questions concerning his future plans for the estate were heartwarming to say the least.
But by halfway through the evening, Dana still hadn’t arrived. Even Monsieur Dumarre, their congenial host who’d brought this very elite fraternity together seemed disappointed. Not even the presence of the famous Jan Lofgren made a difference. However, Dumarre’s reaction couldn’t match the black state Alex was in.
Dana would never have missed this without a compelling reason. She’d be in her element discussing the Fleury’s former contribution to the wine world. Something was wrong. He’d sensed it in his gut since yesterday, but fool that he was, he’d been biding his time because he knew they’d have the rest of the night to themselves.
Being as polite as he could, he excused himself from the crowd and made his way across the room to Jan, who was holding court to a cluster of fascinated listeners. Saskia was circulating with her own following. Without hesitation Alex walked up to him. “Jan? I have to talk to you now. Alone,” he underlined.
The older man’s frigid blue eyes met his head-on. He nodded and excused himself to everyone. They walked through some French doors to a veranda overlooking the back garden. For the moment no one else was out there.
Alex’s hands formed fists. This confrontation had been coming on for a long time. “Where’s Dana? I want the truth. So far both Paul and Mademoiselle Brusse have been lying for you so don’t deny it.”
Jan eyed him pensively. “In California.”
Hearing it was like being dealt a body blow, rocking him on his heels. “On another errand for you?” His accusatory question hung in the air, sending out its own shock wave.
“No,” came the quiet response. “She quit her job yesterday and plans to look for a new one.”
“You mean, as an independent film director.” No more tiptoeing around the almighty film director. It was past time to lay out the bare bones and be done with it.
To his astonishment, a strange light filled her father’s eyes. Alex didn’t know they could look like that. “She’s good, but that doesn’t appear
to be her destiny after all.”
The words shook him to the core. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, she’s got too much of her mother in her—in my opinion the best part of her parents. I hope that answers your question because Saskia’s signaling me to rejoin the others.”
While Alex stood there in a shocked daze, Jan extended his hand, forcing him to shake it. “If I don’t see you again before the company pulls out on Tuesday, I’d like to thank you. Not only for the loan of your magnificent château, but the generosity that went with it.”
He cocked his balding head. “My daughter knew a good thing when she saw it.”
As he walked away, Alex felt the world tilt. He’d fallen into quicksand of his own making.
When he drove hell-bent through the gate of the château an hour later and saw her truck parked in front, he feared he was hallucinating.
Dana heard Alex’s truck before she saw it emerge from the trees. She knew it was impossible, but from the scream of the engine he sounded as if he was going a hundred miles an hour. When he applied the brakes, the truck skidded in a half circle before coming to a stop.
Out of the dust that went flying, he emerged from the cab, looking sinfully handsome in a formal dark blue suit. She’d never seen in him a dress shirt and tie before. He’d gotten a haircut. Not a lot had been removed, but enough to add to his sophistication.
Her mouth went dry because she loved him so much, but he looked terrifyingly angry. In seconds he’d stalked around her side of the truck and flung the door open. He braced his other hand against the frame so she couldn’t get out. “I thought you were in California.” His voice sounded as if it had come from a subterranean cavern.
Only one person knew her plans. That meant Alex and her father had crossed paths at the party. It would have been a fiery exchange. She shivered, moistening her lips nervously. “I changed my mind, but I got back from Paris too late to come to the party. H-how was it?” she stammered.
His dark eyes studied her with a veiled scrutiny that made the hairs stand on the back of her neck. “Most everyone seemed to have a good time with several exceptions, one of them being Monsieur Dumarre. You made a conquest of him. He was visibly disappointed when you didn’t show up.”
Cinderella on His Doorstep Page 14
