First Sight

by Danielle Steel

  “You always look happy in Paris,” Gilles commented, as he opened the door for her, and the doorman smiled as he recognized her, and touched his hat.

  “Welcome back, Madame O’Neill,” he said, as Jade organized the removal of their hand luggage, and David pulled up behind them with the truck full of their bags and the trunks with the collection.

  One of the assistant managers came out to escort her to her suite, as Jade quietly doled out tips, and told Gilles what time to come back. Timmie usually ate late in Paris, and liked going to little bistros, where they made no fuss about her, and she could eat simple French food. As she wandered up the steps, through the revolving door, and into the subdued opulence and elegance of the lobby, there was no denying she was an important person, as members of the staff acknowledged her, and the assistant manager preceded her to her room. Here, their paying attention to her didn’t bother her quite as much as it might have in other places. She hated having a fuss made over her, but at the Plaza Athénée it seemed affectionate and familiar, and she smiled broadly as she walked into the same suite she had occupied for the last fifteen years. It had a living room and a bedroom, with long beautiful French windows hung with elaborate satin curtains. The furniture was worthy of a small French château, with gilt and mirrors, chandeliers in every room, and a bathroom where she loved to soak in the tub for hours. Her favorite chocolates and fruit were sitting on a table, with a huge vase of flowers from the manager of the hotel. She always felt spoiled and pampered just being there, and even though she knew the days ahead would be frantic, she was thrilled to be there for more than a week. Ten days in Paris would restore her, no matter how hard she worked. Even Hell Month was a small price to pay, in Timmie’s eyes, for the sheer, unadulterated joy of being in Paris for a week.

  The assistant manager bowed, left her keys on the desk, and disappeared as she took off her mink jacket, tossed it on a large velvet chair, and checked her messages on the desk. There were already ten of them, and four faxes from her office. Jade went through the messages for her, and said that all the textile people had confirmed their appointments, and one of the interviews had been put off for the next day. The days ahead were going to be busy, which wasn’t news to either of them, and as they chatted, a room service waiter appeared with a tray with a pot of tea. The moment she arrived, they knew just what to bring her. It was Earl Grey with her favorite cookies. Impossible to resist.

  “You’re looking happy,” David commented as he stuck his head into the room, and Jade showed the bellboy where to put Timmie’s bags in the bedroom. Everything at the Plaza Athénée moved with the precision of a Swiss clock. David smiled at the beatific look on her face. She looked like a kid in her T-shirt and blue jeans, with her mane of red hair all over the place. She sat down happily on a couch in the living room, munching a cookie, and put her ballerina-clad feet on the coffee table.

  “It feels so good to be here,” she said, looking relaxed for the first time in weeks. She was beaming.

  “Tell me that on Tuesday,” he teased her. He knew that by then, they’d all be tearing their hair out over the collection, endless headaches with the models, technical problems with lighting and sound, and shaky places on the runway, all the usual miseries that plagued them during the shows, but for now, she didn’t care. She was just happy to be there. “You really ought to get a place in Paris, since you love it so much here.”

  “I know. But I’m too spoiled at the hotel. This would be hard to beat.” She waved vaguely at the flowers, the tea, the cookies, the huge silver platter of chocolates, and the elegant furnishings in the suite. “I feel like Eloise at the Plaza Athénée.”

  “Okay, Eloise, you’ve got an hour to change, if you’re going to,” Jade said matter-of-factly. “You’ve got two interviews back-to-back, a break, and then a meeting. Do you want me to order lunch?” Timmie shook her head. The tea and cookies were perfect, and all she needed for now. She didn’t eat much, and was as thin as their models. Years before she’d had offers to model, which she had never bothered to pursue. She was far more interested, even then, in making clothes for them to wear, than in being one of them. But she still had the look.

  “I’m not going to change,” Timmie said quietly, glanced at her watch, and took a sip of tea.

  She had a call to make to Los Angeles, to her current off-and-on male companion, although it seemed silly to call him at that hour. It was four in the morning in Los Angeles, and she didn’t want to wake him. Zack had made her promise she’d call him when she arrived, even though it seemed foolish to her. But he said he liked hearing from her and knowing she’d landed safely, which touched her. Most of the time, he wasn’t that interested or that attentive. But he surprised her with kind gestures now and then.

  She knew he was still angry at her for not taking him on the trip. Often, like a child, he expected her to spoil and entertain him, and he had pouted for weeks before she left. He didn’t believe her when she told him she’d be working the entire time, and would have no time to play, in spite of the time she hoped to have to herself over the weekend. But it wasn’t worth his coming all the way from Los Angeles, for two free days she might not have anyway, if there was a crisis, or the two days she was planning to take off the following week. There was no point having him around while she worked night and day. She hadn’t had a single day, or even hour, off so far on the trip. She was wondering if calling him from Paris would make things worse, or pacify him a little. It was hard to tell. She thought about calling him later that afternoon, but then he might be annoyed that she hadn’t done what she’d said she would. She could always call him now, give him a quick kiss, and let him go back to sleep. She knew he hadn’t forgiven her yet for leaving him in L.A. for three weeks, while she traveled to New York, and three very appealing cities in Europe.

  Before she left, he seemed to feel, despite their somewhat casual relationship, that taking him along to play while she worked was his due. She hadn’t agreed. It had been a bone of contention between them for weeks before she left, and still was. It was the nature of the beast with men like him, who went out with women like her. It was a role reversal she had never liked or believed in, but had found herself participating in, in recent years. Men like Zack seemed to her the only alternate option she had to solitude. It had its drawbacks, which she was realistic about, and at times its perks. Most of the time, he acted like a spoiled child. He was young, irresponsible, and completely self-centered.

  There had been a number of men like Zack in her life during the past eleven years, since her divorce. She had been married for five years, and the years after her marriage had seemed far longer, and emptier for sure. She had filled them mainly with work and long hours, and devoted herself to building her empire year by year, with impressive results. There was little time or opportunity in her life for a serious companion, and she was convinced that by now she was no longer eligible for one anyway. Timmie always said that women in her position didn’t attract men of equal importance or magnitude, or of comparable substance and moral worth. Women in her shoes seemed to be magnets for men who wanted her to do for them. She firmly believed that men her age, who were as successful and powerful as she was, usually allied themselves with women half her age, who were grateful to be the girlfriends or mistresses of important men. They molded themselves into the decorative role powerful men offered them, flattered their men accordingly, and were pleased to be trophies to be shown off and put on display. Timmie said that men who were her equals and age didn’t want women her age, or who were as successful as they. It certainly seemed to be true in her case. In all eleven years since her divorce, not a single appropriate equally successful man, even close to her age, had ever approached her. So the choice she was left with, in the same vein as other women like her, was either noble, dignified solitude, or the occasional companion, like Zack, who was usually younger than she was, in her case only by a few years since men half her age would have made her feel even more ridiculous, and wo
uld have bored her to tears. The problem with them was not so much one of age, but that they were not in love with her, nor was she in love with them. She could have forgiven much, if there had been love on both sides of the exchange, which, in eleven years of assorted partners, had never been the case.

  The men she went out with often seemed to be actors or occasionally models, writers, artists, involved in some artistic pursuit, more often than not, to a mild degree. They were never successful, nor worked as hard as she. They were handsome, narcissistic, spoiled, superficially nice to her, at first anyway, and impressed with who she was, and sometimes jealous of it. They enjoyed the perks she provided. She was the giver in each of these relationships, and they the takers, and eventually the emotional inequities of the situation did them in. It wasn’t the financial difference that spoiled it for her. It was the unavoidable fact that they didn’t love each other. She had never fallen in love with any of them. Nor they with her. And within six months or less, they parted company, usually on decent terms. They helped to pass the time, and fill lonely nights and weekends. They were an antidote to loneliness, and a life that became too solitary with no companion whatsoever. Although she was always torn as to whether it was better to hang out with someone less perfect for a time, or remain bravely alone, hoping for the right one to turn up one day. There were times when she wasn’t that brave. And then someone like Zack would come along, and she’d compromise for a while again, although sometimes being with them made her even lonelier than she already was, and sometimes it was okay. In exchange for their company, she furthered their careers, took them to events with her, the rare times she went, and invited them to her house in Malibu on weekends.

  She hadn’t really been looking for a man in the past eleven years. She had accepted her single state after the divorce and made her peace with it. She really didn’t want to be with a man unless she loved him. But at times the companionship of a man was fun or even comforting, and flattered her. At forty-eight, she wasn’t ready to give up on relationships forever. And the right guy might never come along. She knew the limitations of men like Zack, but until now, anyway, there were just no other options. And for what it was worth, Zack was company, and she was fond of him. She had liked him better until he had been seriously unpleasant to her when she wouldn’t take him to Europe. That had been just a little too blatant, and it had turned her off. She had been somewhat cool with him after that and he had been petulant with her before she left, and ever since she told him he wasn’t coming. She wasn’t even sure they’d still be seeing each other when she got back. She hadn’t made her mind up yet how she felt about it. She suspected the end was near, for both of them. In different ways they were both getting less than they wanted or felt they deserved. And once resentment set in, as it had now with him, the relationship never lasted long.

  She had called him several times anyway since she left, to keep the option open, annoyed at herself for putting up with him. But she hated to be alone again. It was fun being with him sometimes, although she had no illusions about their future. Without love to fuel their relationship, sooner or later it would end.

  Zack was forty-one years old, a sometime actor, and model. He had done several national commercials, and did fairly well. They met when he auditioned for a national campaign of Timmie O ads, and they started dating after he was turned down. He was a good sport about it, although she knew he was hoping she’d get him work one day. He mentioned it from time to time, which was uncomfortable for her.

  He was boyish and playful, and irresistibly handsome. They had fun in Malibu on weekends, although sex had never been great for them. She had learned over the years that narcissistic men were far less sexual than others. They were much more interested in themselves, which wasn’t a trait of Timmie’s. She was neither narcissistic, full of herself, or selfish. Those who knew her well, like Jade and David, agreed that she was a truly good person, which was rare. Neither of them would have said the same of Zack.

  Zack had never been married and was a professional bachelor of sorts, with no particular interest in getting married or having kids. All he really wanted was to have fun. As long as the relationship met those criteria or served some purpose for him, he was happy to stick around. He loved getting publicity with her, and was always on the lookout for situations and opportunities that would enhance his career. He preferred perks and lucky breaks to work. Timmie was the worker bee of the pair. Zack was not.

  The relationship was what it was, and she had few illusions about it. It was fun while it lasted, and sooner or later, for one reason or another, she knew it would end. Her relationships with men like Zack never lasted more than a few months. The periods of solitude between them lasted a lot longer. She was never sure which she preferred, settling for the wrong guy, or being alone. Neither were options she loved, and they were the only ones she’d had for years.

  She was hoping to keep the relationship with Zack going until after the holidays, because facing Christmas alone would be harder still. Being with less-than-perfect men who didn’t love her seemed less painful to Timmie than being alone for holidays and weekends. So she put up with the inevitable disappointments and irritations, as long as they weren’t too extreme. He filled a role in her life of sometime companion, and superficial lover and friend. He was handsome, charming when he wanted to be, and they often had fun when they went out together. He wasn’t a bad guy, didn’t do any harm, and once or twice a week, he kept her warm at night, which seemed like a good thing. And when it was over, as it would be inevitably, then she’d take a break for a while again, savoring her solitude, and convince herself she was better off alone. It was a dance she had done repeatedly in the past eleven years, she knew it well. It was the dilemma of most single women her age. There wasn’t a high demand for forty-eight-year-old divorcées. And success seemed to be a romantic handicap for a woman at any age. She figured it would take a miracle to meet a man who was undaunted by her success and her age, didn’t try to take advantage of her, and loved her for who she was, genuinely. There had been no miracles in Timmie’s life in a long time, and she was no longer waiting for one. She had long since resigned herself to dating men like Zack, and made no excuses for it. Who she dated was no one’s business but her own. She hurt no one, never threw her weight around with them, and she was always gracious at the end, which wasn’t always the case with them. But Timmie was a lady till the end.

  She picked up the phone and dialed his number in L.A., as Jade left the room without comment. She had seen a number of men like Zack come and go over the years of working for Timmie. She hated them. Timmie deserved so much better, but Jade also understood better than most the disadvantages Timmie was operating under. She’d had her own problems finding the right man, and knew the compromises one made, in her case a married man, which she would never do again, after ten wasted years and a broken heart to show for it. She had begun to think that maybe Timmie was better off with men like Zack, who looked like boys and pretended to be men. At least Timmie had no illusions about them. She never fell in love with them, and wasn’t broken-hearted when it ended. The damage was limited. She never lost her dreams, in fact with men like Zack, there were no dreams at all. Just a pretty face, a handsome body, an easygoing guy in most cases, and another six months she didn’t have to spend alone. It worked, as long as you never wanted more, and remembered what it was. The only real mistake would have been thinking it could be more. But Timmie never did. She knew the game and the breed too well. She kept her heart well protected, and didn’t expect a lot from them.

  Zack answered on the second ring, and was obviously asleep when Timmie called.

  “Hi Zack,” she said easily. “We just got to Paris, and I said I’d call. Go back to sleep. I’ll call you later.” She was about to hang up when he spoke. He had a deep sexy rumble of a voice, especially when he was in bed or asleep. She loved his looks and his voice.

  “No, don’t … I’m awake … so how’s Paris? It sucks without
me, right?” He was teasing, but not entirely, and even half asleep, there was an edge to his voice. She could easily hear that he was still angry about the trip he’d missed. She had no intention of discussing that with him again, or explaining for the hundredth time that for her this was work.

  “Absolutely. It totally sucks.” She laughed, thinking he was at least consistent. He had become obsessive about her inviting him on this trip. Their battles had raged on for weeks before she left, while she tried in vain to reason with him, and convince him that she needed to work on this trip, and go alone. “Why don’t you go back to sleep? I’m going to work in an hour.”

  “Yeah, yeah, I know. You keep saying that. You can’t be working all the time.” It had been a recurring theme during their calls throughout the trip. He had been doggedly persistent, probably thinking she’d relent and invite him to come over halfway through, but she hadn’t.

  “Believe it or not, I am. These road shows for the ready to wear collections are a bitch.” She was being honest with him, although he hadn’t believed her all along. It sounded like a lot of fun to him. Models, parties, press, a round of activity in sexy European cities. What more could a boy want? It would have suited Zack to a tee if she’d let him come. She didn’t want to have to worry about him while she worked.

  “You could have hired me to model at least,” he chided her gently, and she smiled. She knew that was what he wanted, or at the very least a free ride. There was no mystery to what he wanted from her in this instance—it was all up-front.