The Fey

by Claudia Hall Christian

CHAPTER TWENTY

  Two weeks later

  September 28—10 A.M. CET

  Paris, France

  “Remind me again why I cannot come with you?” John asked. He moved to stand behind her.

  “It’s a tradition for the groom not to see the bride’s dress until she walks down the aisle,” Alex said. She grimaced at Alyssa and adjusted her fake blond hair in the full-length mirror. “Don’t you want to be surprised?”

  “Oh, love,” John said. He pulled her toward him. “Every moment is a surprise.”

  They stood looking at each other in the mirror. They were staying in Max’s apartment in Paris. In a move that made more sense now, Ben had sold his family’s Paris apartment to JAM properties when Max started working in Europe. The apartment, which had been in Ben’s family for more than seventy years, was small, with two tiny bedrooms and a bathroom. It had a priceless balcony overlooking the Seine from the tenth floor. Max was staying with Fran, so they took his apartment.

  “Plus, you have your tailoring appointment,” Alex said. “Dr. Drayson can’t live in scrubs alone. Max ordered a couple of suits for you. You need to get them fitted.”

  “Hmm.” He kissed her neck. “Why does Max get to go to your fitting? Doesn’t he need to replace his suits, too?”

  “He did that when he was here last. He wants to meet . . .” she turned to look at him, “our siblings.”

  “He’s never met them?”

  “When we’re in Paris together, we want to be together. I’ve spent a lot of time with Ben’s family, but he’s never met them.”

  Alex kissed John and held him close.

  “You seem nervous,” John said.

  “I guess I am.” Alex turned back to the mirror. “It’s the first time I’ve seen Ben since we found out.”

  John kissed her nose. “And?”

  “And . . . I’m having trouble rearranging myself. My father, Patrick, is County Cork Irish, first-generation American, a General turned Senator in the United States Senate. My father, Ben, is French—well, French-born, American-raised—and a spy. He can trace his family . . . no, my family. See, it’s confusing. Ben’s family is from Paris since the cavemen or something like that. His father worked in Chicago, so Ben and his brothers grew up there.”

  “You’re not Irish, you’re French,” John said. “Half Irish.”

  “On my mom’s side. Potato-famine Irish,” Alex said. “I’m not a Senator’s daughter. I’m a spy’s daughter.”

  “It is a big shift,” John said.

  Alex moved away from him to finish dressing. She slipped on a pair of comfortable walking shoes and picked up her jacket.

  “Kind of like finding out my husband is Irish—the elusive John Kelly, no less,” she said. She shook her head and shivered. “It’s been an interesting few months.”

  John wrapped his arms around her.

  “Still love me?”

  “Oddly, yes, I do love you,” Alex said. “Would you like to see Rita and Tom this trip?”

  “I think we have enough to deal with. Your mom invited them to the wedding.”

  “I know,” Alex said. She kissed him. “Come on. Max is waiting for us.”

  Shutting the apartment door, they took the elevator to the lobby, where Max was chatting with the concierge while he waited for them. Looking up, Max caught Alex’s eyes. They were both nervous. The twins hugged in greeting. Pressing their foreheads together, the twins felt immediate relief.

  No matter what happened, at least they had each other.

  With Max leading the way, they took a quick Metro stop. Alex and Max walked John to the tailor shop. Agreeing to meet him in an hour, the twins took the Metro to the heart of Paris. Alex and Max walked hand-in-hand down a long, narrow street until they stood at the entrance to a small shop. Alex let out a breath and raised her hand to knock on the door.

  Before she could knock, Ben opened the door with a lit cigarette in his hand. Max and Alex stood on the doorstep, looking at Ben. He hugged Alex and then Max. With an awkward gesture into the shop, Ben pulled the cigarette from his mouth to say something. A five-year-old boy sped out from behind him. Scooping up the little boy, Alex began a loud recitation of his favorite nonsense poem in French as she moved into the shop. The boy squealed with laughter.

  Near the end of a hallway, Alex turned to look at Max. Their eyes held for a moment. Alex encouraged him to come in with a nod of her head. Max shook his head slightly and looked at Ben.

  A medium-sized woman came from the back of the shop. Touching Alex’s arm as she passed, the woman moved to stand next to Ben. Looking up at Max with bright blue eyes, she smiled.

  “Claire,” Ben said in French. “This is my son, Max. Max, this is my wife, Claire.”

  Surprised by the introduction. Max looked down with nervous embarrassment. Claire rushed forward. Taking both of Max’s hands, she kissed each of his cheeks.

  “I’ve wanted to meet you for a long time. It is very much my pleasure to meet Max Hargreaves,” Claire said in English. “Please come into our home. We’ve been so excited to have you here that . . . We’re all crazy with nerves.”

  Max nodded.

  “You and Alex are so similar,” Claire continued in English. “Except for the new hair and eyes.”

  “Yes, we’re identical twins,” Max replied in French. He followed her into the shop.

  “We’re excited for Alexandra to celebrate her marriage,” Claire said in French. “Who can believe they’ve been married thirteen years in a couple weeks? You are good friends with her husband?”

  “Yes,” Max said. Alex turned and caught his eyes. He smiled.

  “We will also meet him today.” Claire’s hand moved along the long, black braid down her back. “It’s a big day.”

  Max nodded.

  “I would like it if you felt like this was your home,” Claire said.

  “In time,” Max replied.

  “Alexandra, you must undress. Take that fat suit off. You look awful.”

  Alex looked over at Max. Their eyes held for a moment as they assessed each other. With a smile and a nod, Alex set the boy down.

  “Your lingerie and heels are in the changing room.”

  Alex moved behind the curtain. She came out in a small silk robe and cream pumps.

  “Come here, dear,” Claire said.

  Claire indicated that Alex should stand on a small raised platform surrounded by mirrors.

  “I feel a little weird . . .” Alex said.

  “Ben, Eugene, go on,” Claire said. Ben picked up the boy and went up the stairs. Claire turned to a corner of the room, where a small girl was hiding. “Camille.”

  “But Alex didn’t say hello to me,” Camille said in French.

  Her large blue eyes glistened with tears behind black ringlets of hair. She was not quite three years old. Alex picked up Camille and carried her into the dressing room. Digging through her jacket, she found a Tootsie Roll sucker in her pocket. Camille squealed when she saw the orange candy.

  “Maman?” Camille asked.

  “Yes,” Claire said.

  Claire shook her head and laughed at her daughter’s ability to get her favorite treat. A black-haired teenaged boy flew down the stairs.

  “Papa said you were here,” the boy said in English.

  “Frederec, this is Alexandra’s brother Max.”

  “Hey,” Frederec said to Max. “Alex, did you bring it?”

  “Max has it,” Alex replied in English. “He put a bunch of his favorite Alternative music on it for you.”

  Max pulled an iPod from his pocket and gave it to Frederec.

  “Thanks,” Frederec said. “Alex says that you have good . . .”

  “Taste?” Max asked.

  “No—relationship with music?” Frederec asked.

  “I know a lot about music,” Max said. “I like Alternative. Let me know what you think.”

  “Cool,” Frederec said. “Have you seen the dress?”

>   “You have your gadget. Can you get out of here?” Claire asked in French.

  “Alex!” A young woman with curly brown hair ran down the stairs.

  “Helene!” Alex turned to the young woman.

  “Did Maman tell you that we get to come to the wedding? I’m going to look at University,” Helene said in English. “Papa said that we could look at school while we are there. Can you come with us?”

  “I’m not sure,” Alex said. “I hope so, sweetie.”

  “No matter,” Helene said, beaming. “I’m hoping to go to the school in Boulder so we can be close.”

  “I’d like that,” Alex said, hugging Helene with her free arm.

  “Helene, Frederec, go upstairs. Take Camille,” Claire said in French. “Alexandra wants to try on her dress.”

  “We can’t watch?” Helene asked in French. Helene lifted Camille from Alex’s arms.

  “Not unless you want to see all of my Frankenstein scars,” Alex said in French.

  “Cool,” Frederec said in English.

  “Maman, can I dye my hair like Alex’s?” Helene asked in French.

  “Children,” Claire all but screamed in French.

  Ben came out on the walkway upstairs and glared down at his children. Helene and Frederec looked from Claire to Ben. Helene returned her father’s look as she stomped up the steps. Stuffing the iPod ear buds into his ears, Frederec followed his sister up the stairs.

  “Sorry about that,” Claire said in French to Max. “Now, you’ve met the whole family.”

  “They are excited,” Alex said in French. “It’s pretty exciting to come to the States. Is it safe?”

  “We won’t live in fear,” Claire shrugged. “Stand there.”

  She went to a corner of the shop and held up what looked like loose cream-colored silk fabric. She returned with a strip of fabric.

  “Since you are such a cheater, I am going to put this over your eyes,” Claire said. “Don’t peek.”

  Alex felt a brush of air as Claire removed the small robe.

  “Those are gruesome scars, Alexandra,” Claire said. “I am so sorry. We went to the church every day to pray for you. We practically wore out a bench.”

  Alex felt the drape of silk, soft against her skin. Claire tugged and pulled at the cloth until she finally had the buttons fastened in the back. Alex shifted her head and shoulders, feeling the weight of the dress. She took a breath, and her ribs pressed against the tight fabric.

  “Oh, Alex,” Max said. “You’re beautiful.”

  “It looks nice. Doesn’t it?” Claire asked. “It needs little adjusting. You are a little bigger in the bust than you were.”

  “I’ve gained a little weight since I’ve been home” Alex said.

  “And lost it again,” Max said.

  “Well, the weight looks good on you,” Claire said. “You’ve been too thin.”

  “My mother says the same thing,” Alex said.

  “Well, pardon me,” Claire said. “I’d hate to sound like Rebecca.”

  They laughed.

  “One more thing,” Claire said. “Can you bend down?”

  Alex felt hair combs scrape against her scalp and the silk slipped from her eyes.

  Alex gasped. The sleeveless buttercream satin silk dress was snug from her breasts to her hips. The dress’s draped V-neckline and dropped waist accentuated Alex’s breasts, wide shoulders, and small waist. Alex turned to see inverted pleats creating a full skirt and chapel train. An intricate pattern of cultured pearls covered the bodice. The pearls continued on the inch-wide straps. The pattern of pearls repeated along the edges of the dress and train. She wore a tulle veil with the same pattern of pearls on the edge of the veil.

  “She’s speechless,” Ben said from upstairs. Looking up, she smiled at Ben and the children standing on the passageway upstairs. “That’s a first.”

  Claire buzzed around her, taking measurements for the alterations.

  “Say something, Alex,” Max said. “You have to talk.”

  “Wow,” Alex said. “It’s more spectacular than anything I could have ever imagined. Did you do all this bead work?”

  “Helene and Frederec helped,” Claire said. “Frederec has a real knack for bead work.”

  “Of course, he does,” Alex said. “Thank you for this.”

  “Oh, dear,” Claire said. “You are so welcome. Thank you for letting me create a dress for you. I hope this John will appreciate it.”

  “He will,” Max said.

  Claire looked at Max and then up at Ben, who laughed.

  “She hasn’t seen Alex and John together,” Ben said to Max.

  Max laughed.

  “Now, out of the dress,” Claire said. “I will make these alterations. Benjamin will bring the dress to you. You need to get it pressed.”

  Alex stepped out of the dress. Claire helped her into the silk robe.

  “I will be there to help you get dressed,” Claire said.

  “What about my mother?” Alex asked.

  “Rebecca will have to live with it. What is past is done. There’s no changing it. Plus, with such wonderful outcomes,” Claire looked from Alex to Max, “who’d want to?”

  Max blushed and held his hand out to Alex. The twins held hands, feeling the pulse of each other, and smiled in unison.

  “At least you know, now, and we can be more of a family.”

  “Thank you,” Alex said and hugged Claire.

  “I put a little pocket in it so you can wear a pistol if you feel you need to,” Claire said. “Let’s hope you don’t.”

  Alex went to change. When she came out, Max was chatting with Frederec about his new gadget, while Helene pretended not to listen. Alex wasn’t sure if the children knew that they were siblings. It never occurred to her to ask. Embarrassed, she withdrew into herself.

  Feeling a bump against her leg, she looked down to see Camille’s bright blue eyes. Camille lifted her arms, and Alex picked her up. Alex kissed Camille’s plump cheek, taking in her baby scent, and felt less strange. Camille’s little fist reached around Alex’s neck. When Alex looked up, Max had picked up Eugene.

  As Claire shooed them out of the shop, Max and Alex shared a look. At least they could be family. Alex and Max followed Helene out the door. The family laughed and talked through the narrow streets to the Metro station. They took a few short Metro stops. They found John waiting for them on the platform.

  “He’s very handsome,” Helene whispered in French.

  “Yes, he is.”

  FFF

  With Helene leading the way, the family wandered into a small bistro along a side street. Helene said hello to a couple handsome young men as they walked into the bistro. Alex watched the girl flip her hair, press her chest forward, and wag her hips. Her Goddaughter . . . no . . . sister . . . was growing up. She looked up to catch Ben’s eyes. Holding the door for Alex, he smiled and took Camille from her arms. Then, almost on impulse, he kissed Alex’s cheek. Their eyes held for a moment, and Alex smiled.

  Alex watched everything from the sidelines. Naturally suspicious of a handsome Englishman, Claire peppered John with questions. She was perfectly clear. She was certain he was not good enough to be Alex’s husband. Knowing how important Claire was to Alex, John gave Claire his full attention. By the time the waiter brought their lunch, John and Claire were sharing stories about Alex.

  Sitting with Camille on his lap, Max chatted with Frederec. Alex watched one brother and the other brother. She had never noticed how similar Frederec and Max were. She shook her head at her own confusion. Nothing had changed, and everything was different. They had been dear friends. Now they were family.

  Feeling a hand on her shoulder, Alex looked up into Helene’s impatient face. The young woman’s eyes were wide, and she nodded toward the table of young men. Alex smiled at Helene’s impatience. Raising a finger, Alex drank the last of her French-press coffee. She leaned over to kiss John before she stood to follow Helene.

&nb
sp; Arriving at a table of five young men, one handsome man, Michel, shifted his knee sideways, and Helene sat down in his lap. Helene flirted, blushed, and worked her way through introductions. Alex had to look away when the young man’s hands began moving along Helene’s body. She had to bite her lip to keep from saying: “Get your filthy hands off my Helene!”

  Chuckling at her own reaction, her eyes drifted across the street, where she noticed Jesse standing under a green awning near the corner. Alex smiled at Jesse and looked back to Helene.

  Helene moved her lips, saying something, but Alex couldn’t hear her. Alex opened her mouth to say something, but found words beyond her capacity. Alex shook her head, and Helene repeated herself. Alex had no idea what the girl said. Blinking her eyes, she realized that all sound was gone. Alex pressed her fingers to her ears in an attempt to clear them. Her face marked with concern, Helene put a hand on Alex’s arm. Alex smiled and wagged her head. She gestured for Helene to stay with her friends.

  Jesse appeared next to the table.

  “Follow me,” Jesse said.

  With one last smile to Helene, Alex followed Jesse across the street. They walked together in companionable silence until they came to the green awning. Alex looked up, reading, “Le Fée Verte,” the Green Fairy, Paris’ euphemism for absinthe.

  “In here,” Jesse said.

  Glancing back at the bistro, Alex noticed that Ben was standing at the door. He opened his mouth and said something, but Alex couldn’t hear him. Smiling, she raised her hand and waved to Ben, before stepping into the busy shop.

  Sound returned to Alex in a blaze of music, conversation, and clinking of china. Dazed by the noise, Alex stood at the entrance.

  “Alexandra! How are you?” a tall blond clerk asked in French. She was standing behind a bar where three customers were drinking absinthe. “Where have you been?”

  “It’s been a while,” Alex replied. She moved into the shop. Although she had no memory of the woman or this place, she played along because Jesse had waved her into the shop.

  “We haven’t seen you in years. I was beginning to think you weren’t coming back. Would you like your regular?”

  “Sure,” Alex said.

  The clerk poured absinthe into a reservoir glass. Laughing at something the customer in front of her said, the woman rested a slotted spoon on the rim of the glass and placed a sugar cube on the spoon.

  “You look good, dear,” the clerk said. “I like the hair.”

  Jesse stood near a door in the back.

  “You can go downstairs, dear. I’ll have this ready for you when you come up,” the clerk said. “My God, Alex, you look like you’ve seen a ghost. Are you all right?”