by Susan Meier
“They’re awaiting your family’s instructions. When your mother broke all ties with Irene, she told her that neither she nor my grandfather would ever be welcome at her home in this life.”
Searing pain shot through Laura. Her mother had said those exact words to Laura’s grandmother? Laura didn’t believe it. This man was biased and had colored the situation with his own judgmental version of the scandal. Still, it was so horrifying, the tragedy of it all overwhelmed her.
“My grandfather is still honoring her wishes, thus the reason I’m here in his place.”
That was another lie. His grandfather was a coward or he would have come himself!
“Maurice realizes your grandmother should be buried next to her first husband, Richard, and surrounded by her family.”
So in death Richard was finally remembered? The heat of anger and pain washed over her. “How thoughtful of him.” She hadn’t been able to hide the sarcasm.
Calmly he said, “If you have questions and need to talk to me, I’ll be staying at the airport Holden Hotel. You can reach me there until tomorrow morning, when I’ll be flying back to Nice at seven a.m.
“One more thing. Your grandmother had a will drawn up several years ago and left something specific in it for you. Unfortunately it means you will have to fly to Nice and meet with the attorney within the next seven days. After that, he’ll be out of the country for two months. It was her hope that your mother’s feelings wouldn’t prevent you from claiming it. She never gave up hope of a reconciliation.”
At the revelation, Laura couldn’t stifle a quiet sob.
“Should you decide to come, phone me and I’ll arrange for the Valfort jet to return to San Francisco and fly you to Nice. My grandfather insists on doing this for you to honor Irene’s final wishes. I’ll meet you at the Nice airport and drive you directly to the attorney’s office. This is my business card.” He handed it to her. “You can reach me at Valfort Technologies any time.”
He didn’t work for the fabulously wealthy Valfort family? They’d been hoteliers since the early 1900s. That much she did know about them. Why on earth would he stay in a Holden hotel after what his grandfather had done to their family? Or did he have a sick desire to see how the Holdens were doing business without the founder?
“Do you have any questions, Ms. Tate?”
At this point her emotions were in chaos. “Only two right now.” She fought to keep the tremor out of her voice, but to her alarm, she had difficulty keeping her eyes off him. “Did you know her well?”
“Very” came the grating sound of his voice.
Laura sensed a wealth of meaning and possible rebuke behind that one word, stabbing her until she could feel herself bleeding out. But this man knew nothing about the private history of the Holden family and the horrendous gulf caused by his grandfather. She bristled at his unspoken censure of her.
Narrowing her eyes on him she said, “Am I to assume she was happy with your grandfather?”
“With him, absolutely.”
What exactly was that supposed to mean? “That’s your interpretation, of course.”
She got no response from him. His sangfroid crept under her skin. So did his lack of explanation that spoke volumes about the underlying issues of a marriage that had brought so much grief to her mother and to Laura personally.
Laura averted her eyes, needing to exit the limo and be strictly alone while she absorbed the gut-wrenching news about her grandmother’s death.
All these years without contact. Laura hadn’t seen Irene since she was six. Year after year she’d secretly yearned to visit her and get to know her. But loyalty to her mother, Jessica, had prevented her from getting in touch with her. Now the lovely older woman in the photos was gone... Death was irrevocable.
Another small sob escaped her throat. She traced her grandmother’s features with her index finger. These few pictures were all Laura would ever have of the woman who’d brought her mother into the world and raised her. The pain of loss over an opportunity never seized was excruciating. How empty and pointless that loyalty seemed now.
Without lashing out at her, Laura would have to search her soul to find the right words to tell her unforgiving mother that Irene was dead. She lifted her head, looking at Nicholas through dull eyes. Tears trickled down her throat, yet it was hard to swallow.
“It’s evident this was a task you would have done anything to avoid. Your loyalty to your grandfather deserves a medal. I suppose the least I can do is thank you for tearing yourself away from business to come all this way with her body.”
“You’re welcome.”
His cool reply had her floundering. Clearly this man found his errand repugnant. But as much as she knew anything, she realized he was a true gentleman, a quality she valued highly in a man. Otherwise he would have flung all this in her face with the greatest of pleasure. His restraint taught her a lot about his character, adding to the potent charisma no man of her acquaintance possessed.
He got out of the back to help her. As her body brushed against his by accident, an unlooked-for awareness of his male presence leaped to life, threatening her in ways she’d never experienced before. The knowledge that he was married only made her reaction to him that much more shocking. She clutched the photos and cards before running toward the building without looking back.
* * *
“Telephone, Nic. Line two.”
Nic had been making corrections to a drawing on the computer. “Merci, Robert.”
After three years, his stomach no longer clenched every time a call came through for him, whether it was on his cell or the landline at work. For the first year following his wife’s disappearance, he’d imagined every call would be from Lt. Thibault, the investigating detective on the other end, phoning to give him news of Dorine.
“It’s five. I’m heading home and will see you after Christmas.”
That’s right. It was December 23. Nic’s assistant, Robert, was going home to a wife and two children. Nic wouldn’t be going home to anyone. Except to spend a little time with his family and siblings, he would work through this holiday.
Three years ago he and Dorine had spent Christmas with her family in Grenoble. They’d only been married five months before her disappearance in January. Their marriage had been of too short a duration to put down roots with children.
Robert paused at the door. “Thanks for the gifts. Pierre and Nicole will love them.”
He lifted his head. “My pleasure.”
“Nic—everyone at the research park is hoping Père Noël will bring some news that will give you closure, mon ami.”
“After three years that hope is all but gone, but I appreciate the thought. Joyeux Noël.”
Once the door closed, he pressed line two, putting the call on speakerphone while he worked. “This is Nic Valfort.”
“Mr. Valfort? This is Laura Tate.”
His head flew back, recognizing her California accent. That was another trait she had in common with Irene. Instead of forgetting this woman, to his amazement she’d managed to intrude into his thoughts. Up until he’d flown to San Francisco, his love for Dorine and the reason for her disappearance had been the only things on his mind.
Several times in the limo parked in front of Holden headquarters over a week ago, he’d heard little sobs catch in her throat. He’d had difficulty reconciling Ms. Tate’s icy demeanor at one moment and the tears that welled in her eyes in the next. She was an enigma he didn’t want to think about. There’d been no word from her since they’d talked.
To his chagrin the two questions she’d asked him had left an indelible impression. Once he’d told her he knew Irene well, her question about her grandmother’s happiness with Maurice had haunted him. Had it been a ploy to convince him she cared when she didn’t? Had she hoped to give the impression
she wasn’t the unfeeling person he’d imagined when they both knew the truth?
The seven-day window he’d given her to meet with the attorney had already closed, so he couldn’t understand why she was calling.
“Is this a bad time, Mr. Valfort?”
Bad wasn’t the right word. More that he’d been in a state of grief-stricken limbo for an endless period of time without knowing the whereabouts of his wife. If she’d run off with another man, he was still having trouble believing it. The woman he’d fallen in love with couldn’t have done it, but his sessions with the psychiatrist convinced him it was possible.
Any other reasons why she’d disappeared had tortured him for so long he was desperate for any news, no matter how ghastly, in order to have closure. As for his grandfather, he was in bad emotional shape for another reason. Maurice had lost two women he’d loved and married. In his grief for Irene, he didn’t know what to do with himself.
Both womanless men made a pitiful pair. Might as well answer this woman’s question with one of his own. “What can I do for you, Ms. Tate?”
“Am I too late to meet with the attorney?”
He grimaced. She couldn’t manage to see her grandmother in life, but she wanted to know what her grandmother had left her in death. How predictable. “You’ve missed the deadline by two days. He’s already left on vacation.”
A small cry of frustration escaped her throat. “I was afraid of that. Because of some personal matters and the graveside service for her, I couldn’t get here any sooner.”
His thoughts reeled. “Here? As in—”
“I’m at the airport in Nice.”
Nic’s adrenaline kicked in for no good reason. He jumped up from his swivel chair in surprise. “How did you get here? On a commercial plane?” She hadn’t called to arrange for the Valfort jet.
“The way most people do.”
Most people? “Not the Holden corporate jet?”
“I’m not that high up the chain.”
“Not yet, you mean.”
“In other words you’re assuming I’m an ambitious female working my way up to the top of the Holden Corporation. Haven’t you learned yet? It’s still a man’s world in certain venues. Shall we get straight to the point? Your grandfather was decent enough to take care of the arrangements for my grandmother and send you to do his errand. That was more than my family could ever have expected. But I would never have taken him up on his offer to fly me here.”
Nic’s brows furrowed in resentment. Maurice had bent over backward trying to do the right thing. “It’s too bad you’ve wasted a trip. Call me in two months. By then the attorney will be back and you can make arrangements to collect your inheritance.”
“Whatever you insist on believing, I have no interest in one.” After a slight pause, she said, “I should have phoned first, but as you say, it’s too late now. Before I turn around and fly back, do you think your grandfather would accept a phone call from me? Or is his opinion of me as bad as yours?”
That all depended on how grasping she was. If she thought she could get Maurice to tell her what her grandmother had left her in the will before the attorney could read it to her, then she was in for a big surprise.
“Hello? Mr. Valfort? Are you still there?”
“Yes.” But he wasn’t sure he wanted her to talk to his grandfather right off. Maurice had tender feelings for Irene’s granddaughter even though he’d never met her. Nic didn’t want him hurt because Laura hadn’t inherited Irene’s sweetness. Death had a way of making all of them vulnerable one way or another. He needed to vet her first.
“My grandfather isn’t available right now. Give me fifteen minutes and I’ll pick you up at the airport terminal.”
“That won’t be necessary. I’ll go to a hotel to call him and fly home in the morning.”
“I’m afraid it’s very necessary if you hope to make contact with him.”
“You mean I have to get past you first.”
He bit down hard. “He’s in deep grief, Ms. Tate. I want to protect him. You and I need to talk first, but not over the phone.”
That seemed to take her by surprise. “Well, if you’re sure you don’t mind—”
Mind? She could have no idea how determined he was to find out what she was up to.
“My grandfather would expect me to accommodate you.”
“But this will be putting you out.”
Now she was going polite on him? He frowned. Was it part of her act? Whatever, she was doing a good job of it. “Au contraire. Since you want to talk to him, something I didn’t expect from you, my grandfather would never forgive me if I ignored your request and let you get away.”
Nic hated to admit it to himself, but he was curious to see her again. Maybe the second time around she wouldn’t impact him in the same way as before. It was something he had to find out.
A pause ensued. “I know this is another one of those tasks you don’t want to do.”
He let go of the breath he was holding. “You’re wrong. This is the one Christmas present my grandfather hadn’t counted on.” If she was sincere, her arrival might just have saved Maurice from falling into a slump he’d never climb out of. Nic needed time to find out if avarice had brought her here or not. “Watch for me in front of the terminal. I’ll be driving a four-door black Mercedes.”
“I’ll be there.”
He heard the click. Making one of his gut decisions, Nic decided to take her to his house. That way no one in his family would know what was going on. Their disapproval of Maurice marrying a foreigner had never truly gone away.
Now the gorgeous granddaughter had arrived. Out of the frying pan...
Laura’s physical resemblance to Irene would be a doubly powerful reminder of the woman who’d captured Maurice’s heart. Depending on the outcome, more underlying animosity was in store. This had to be handled discreetly for now. Nic and his grandfather had always enjoyed a certain affinity. His loyalty to the older man had never been in question and he wasn’t about to desert him now.
Since his grandfather wouldn’t be eating dinner for several hours yet, Nic would make the phone call from his den once she was ensconced. They’d proceed from there.
He drove out of his parking spot and wound around the technology park to the main road leading to the airport. Day before yesterday he’d decided he wouldn’t be hearing from Ms. Tate again, but he hadn’t had the heart to tell his grandfather yet. Now he wouldn’t have to.
Though the sun had set, she wasn’t difficult to spot. Like Irene, she had incredible dress sense. When Nic pulled up to the terminal, he saw that Laura drew a lot of attention in a long-sleeved speckled-tweed jacket and slim skirt. The form-fitting dove-gray outfit had white lace appliqués and fringe trim on the jacket. The effect, combined with the silvery-gold glints in her hair, had captured his attention.
* * *
Her impact on him was even more forceful than the first time. He levered himself from the car and walked around. She carried only one suitcase. Nic helped her inside and stowed it in the backseat. A light, flowery fragrance assailed his senses. “You travel light.”
“I didn’t plan to be here more than a few days. Thank you for coming to get me, Mr. Valfort.” That sounded halfway sincere.
“Nic.” He was tired of the senseless formality.
“In that case, call me Laura. I made reservations ahead of time at the Boscolo Excedra. If you wouldn’t mind dropping me there.” That five-star hotel had recently been restored with a futuristic-themed bar. No surprise she knew about it.
“My grandfather wouldn’t hear of it. Maurice asked me to take care of you before I left for California. For the time being, you’ll stay at my home. I’ll drive you there now and we’ll get in touch with him.”
Nic felt her glance. “Does your wife
know you’ll be bringing someone home with you? No woman likes to be unprepared for an unexpected guest.”
She’d noticed his wedding ring, of course. He pulled into traffic. “As it happens, my wife is away for the present.” She was away, maybe somewhere still on earth, but more likely in heaven. He had no proof of either status. “My staff will see to your comfort. If Dorine were here, she’d want to meet you.”
His wife hadn’t been a Valfort and she’d liked Irene very much. At this point he realized he’d been thinking of Dorine in the past tense for a long time now. No stone had been unturned, no expense had been too great to find out what had happened to her, but there’d been no trace. During the first year, he’d lived for news of her. But for the last two years, he’d had the feeling in his gut she was gone forever. Like Irene...
Before long he took a turnoff and entered a wooded area that led to his home overlooking the coast. Dorine had loved the setting on sight and begged him to buy it before their wedding took place. Not too small, not too large. Perfect for several children who hadn’t had time to come along. Empty as a tomb with no one home except the efficient husband-and-wife staff who took care of things.
* * *
Provence come to life!
This villa with its red-tiled roof looked like one of the fabulous Provençal properties featured in high-end magazines sold throughout the world. Laura’s eyelids smarted with salty tears when she realized Irene would have been here many times enjoying the cypress trees and view of the blue Mediterranean.
Laura had traveled to Europe on several occasions and had been to Paris, but she’d avoided the South of France for fear the temptation to drop in on her grandmother would be too great.
What a colossal fool she’d been to honor her mother’s wishes to such a great extent! In doing so she’d denied herself the opportunity to know the woman Laura’s grandfather Richard had loved and married.
