But his excitement waned when he came in sight of his house and couldn’t see her rental car.
He would have known if he’d seen her on the road. She must have gone to the nearest village for something she needed. He parked the car and took everything in the house, anxious to read her note.
It wasn’t until he put his things on the kitchen counter that he noticed the large, familiar basket placed next to the empty plate and wine.
There was only one note. The same one he’d left for Rachel…
Bile rose in his throat imagining the scenario. “Holy mother of God.”
During his frantic trip to St Hippolyte he phoned Rachel’s cell, but she’d turned it off.
He rang Georges at the car rental agency, but the other man was off for the weekend. No one knew anything about Ms Valentine’s itinerary, not since a car had been provided for her on Thursday.
On automatic pilot now, he drove to his mother’s house. When he couldn’t find her inside, he raced around the back. She was in the garden surveying the damage to the flowers from the storm.
The way she eyed him let him know she’d been waiting for him.
“You’d better take time to catch your breath before you try to speak, mon fils.”
It had been twenty-five years at least since his mother had tried to shrivel him with her disappoval.
“All I want to know is how much you told her.”
Her brows arched. “Quite a bit—since you failed to tell her anything.”
His eyes closed tightly for a moment. “Why, Maman?”
“If she’d been a woman who wouldn’t think twice about sleeping with any available man, I would have told her I was the cleaning woman, and then I would have left.”
Luc rubbed his hand over his face.
“But I realized at once she wasn’t like that. Not at all. I sensed a vulnerability about her…and a sweetness you don’t often see. Considering the circumstances, I must admit I’ve never met anyone with more poise.”
His mother gave him a fierce look. “She’s a lovely woman, Luc. Too lovely inside and out to have lied to her the way you did.”
“There were no lies between us,” he bit out heatedly.
“Non? Did Paulette’s name ever pass your lips?”
“Rachel knew I was divorced. This morning I had plans to tell her everything.”
“You’re too late.” She shook her head. “A woman like that gives her heart with her body. Before she even saw me, she thought it was you.
“If you could have heard the joy in her voice, or have seen the stars in her eyes… How could you do it, Luc?”
Anger ripped through him. “I’m sorry, Maman, but this is none of your business.”
“It became my business because you didn’t tell her the whole truth, and you kept your interest in her a secret from me. Secrets have a way of coming out.
“I had no idea that car belonged to her. I thought it might have been one of the workmen’s who’d come to finish up something on your house.
“It wasn’t until I left that I noticed it was a rental car.”
“By then it was too late and the damage had been done,” he finished in a savage tone.
“No, Luc. You did the damage all by yourself when you brought her to your house. If she has left the area, then she’s gone way up in my estimation. A real woman doesn’t cling to a man whose heart is somewhere else.”
Anger consumed him. “You don’t know what’s in my heart, Maman.”
“I know it wasn’t your heart that made love to Mademoiselle Valentine. Let’s be honest about that.
“But I saw into hers when I told her you’d been at Paulette’s bedside three years waiting for her to wake up.”
Luc could only imagine it. Every word from his mother tore his gut up a little more. A whole new world of agony had dawned.
He gritted his teeth. “Since this is a day for the telling of secrets, you should know I’ve talked with Yves. I’m no longer fighting his family. The lawyers have been notified. There’ll be no court case.
“If Paulette hasn’t come out of her coma by the end of August, then that’s it.”
“I don’t believe it,” his mother whispered. “It’s because of that w—”
“Don’t, Maman!” he silenced her. “Don’t go there. You don’t know everything.”
“How dare you say that to me?”
It hurt him to be at odds with her, but certain things needed to be said. Now was the moment.
“You’ve been grieving since Papa died. It has colored your thinking. For a long time it has colored mine. But no longer.”
“Hi, Max.”
His brown head lifted. “Rachel—when did you get back?”
“Late last night.”
Her flight from Basel had been delayed by bad weather. More rain had greeted her at Heathrow. But she decided it was a blessing. People would attribute the moisture bathing her face to the elements.
“I brought you a present.”
She pulled a bottle of Chartier Riesling from her tote bag and placed it on the desk where he was going over the accounts.
He sat back with a grin to examine the label. “Now this is what I call a present! You should go to France every month.”
No. Never again.
“I’m afraid those days are over for me.”
His bright blue eyes squinted up at her. “What do you mean?”
“I’m changing careers.”
“Over Dad’s dead body.”
Better his than mine. “Has he come in yet?”
“No. It’s Sunday. He’s probably still doing laps in the pool.” Max scrutinized her for a long moment.
“What’s going on? For someone lucky enough to be in France for the last two weeks, you look terrible.”
“I’m worried about Grandfather.”
“We all are, but something else has turned you inside out.”
She averted her eyes. “This trip I realized I’ve learned all that’s necessary about wine. I’m ready to go into restaurant management, like you.”
He scoffed. “Tell me another story. You don’t walk in here and drop a bomb like that expecting to get away with it.
“For one thing, Bella Lucia already has too many managers all in one family.”
“Agreed. I’m planning to hire on with another kind of restaurant altogether and work my way up.”
“That’s bull.”
“Just stand back and watch me.”
After a brief silence, “Okay. It’s obvious something bad has happened to you. I can handle it if you don’t want to tell me about it. Just don’t let Dad get wind of your new plans. He’ll view it as high treason.”
No, Max. High treason involves murdering the soul. That honor has gone to a certain unforgettable Frenchman.
His gaze darted to her purse. “Your cell phone’s ringing.”
Yes, she knew. It had been ringing on the hour for the last twenty-four.
“Aren’t you at least going to see who it is?”
She smoothed a lock of hair away from her temple. “No one knows I’m back yet, so it can wait. Has Emma come in? I have a present for her too.”
He nodded. “In the dining room going over tonight’s menu with the sous-chef and rest of the kitchen staff.”
“Thanks, brother dear.” Sharing the same difficult father with Max and Emma made Rachel and her half-siblings close. There was strength in unity. “See you tomorrow when I’m officially back.”
“Rachel?”
She paused in the doorway of the office.
“I’m here if you need to unload.”
There was no way she could tell him about the nightmarish scene in Luc’s kitchen. Madame Chartier’s revelations had crushed her world to grist.
“I love you for saying that. By the way, consider that I’ve just given you my notice. If you don’t find a new wine buyer for Bella Lucia in the next few weeks I’m sorry, but I’ll be gone.”
Without sayi
ng anything else she moved through the back hallway to the dining area of the restaurant.
It was classic Georgian on the outside, the recently refurbished interior reflecting neutral walls and a chic, understated sophistication.
Though Rachel liked it well enough, she agreed with her grandfather who’d preferred the original Italian décor. But he was a business genius and knew not to stand in the way of progress.
Her grandfather.
She needed him. Now more than ever.
As soon as she’d talked to Emma, she would go straight over to his house in St John’s Wood and spend the rest of the day with him.
She walked around the linen-covered tables toward the group of seven seated near the kitchen doors. Rachel gave a small wave to Emma, whose honey-blond head had turned in her direction.
Emma must have said something to the others. They all called out greetings and welcomed her back before leaving her and Emma alone.
Rachel rushed forward and hugged her diminutive half sister. “How’s Grandfather?” she asked after they’d let go of each other.
“Not good. I’ve been sleeping in the ante-room for the last couple of nights.”
“Now that I’m back, we’ll take turns. Since I’m going over there in a few minutes, I’ll plan to sleep there tonight.”
“I’m glad you’re home,” Emma admitted in a tremulous voice.
“He’s been waiting for you to get back. It’s going to cheer him up so much to see you.”
Tears welled in Rachel’s eyes. “What does Dr Lloyd say?”
“His oxygen level is still too low, and the pain on his right side is worse. There’s also been some new swelling in his lower legs where the clots first started.”
“Oh, Emma—I can’t bear it. Don’t you think he needs to be in the hospital?”
By now Emma’s pale blue eyes were swimming in liquid. “He refuses to go. You know how he is. He talked the doctor and Uncle John into arranging for round-the-clock nursing care. They’re using the bedrooms on the third floor.”
“What about the house staff?”
“Grandfather asked Dad to be in charge and make certain they get paid on time.”
The two of them stared knowingly at each other. “The tension between them must be awful.”
Emma nodded. She looked distressed and tired. As for Rachel…
“I brought you a couple of things.” She reached in her bag and put another bottle of Riesling on the table.
“Ooh,” Emma said, wiping her eyes. “The real thing “
“Yes. I brought you something else too.” She handed her the cookbook.
Emma opened the cover. “An eighteen ninety-two first edition!” she exclaimed.
Rachel smiled to hear the delight in her voice. “I’ve read through it, and some of those recipes sound marvelous.”
“I’m sure they are! Thank you, Rachel. You’ll have to help me translate.” They hugged once more. “I can’t wait to try some of them out. That sauerkraut recipe was fantastic!”
“I thought it was. It’ll be even better with this Riesling.”
Emma put the bottle in the crook of her arm. “All I have to do is get Dad’s approval. You know how he is about changes in the menu.”
“I don’t think you’ll have any problems after he samples my gifts for him. I was hoping he’d be here, but since he isn’t, I’m going to Grandfather’s right now.”
“Not so fast,” their father interjected.
“Hi, Dad.”
“Morning, Emma.”
Rachel turned to see their tall, good-looking father walk toward them dressed in a royal blue sport shirt and beige trousers.
Though he was in his sixties, he still looked fit and had a good head of hair. The gray flecks mixed among the black gave him a distinguished appearance.
“So you’re back.”
She nodded. “Late last night.”
His gaze flicked to Emma. “Have you gone over tonight’s menu yet?”
“It’s already done. I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me. See you later.”
After she left, Rachel kissed his cheek. “It’s good to see you. How’s Titan?”
“Doing better. How was your visit with Jacques Bulot?”
She took a quick extra breath. “We ended up doing business over the phone.”
His black eyes snapped in irritation. “How come?”
She’d prepared herself for that question.
“I got so worried about Grandfather, I decided to cut my trip short. But it’s all right. I placed a big order for champagne. When I told him about Grandfather, he completely understood and sent his personal regards.”
He pursed his lips. “Father’s on his last legs.”
It was one thing to think it, but another to hear it expressed so baldly.
“I hope and pray not.” She reached in her bag for his gifts.
“These are for you.”
She put his favorite whiskey and a bottle of the grand cru label Pinot Gris on the table.
“Oh, and this—” She felt deeper for the box of cigars he liked.
“You’re a regular Mary Poppins.” With that remark a little of his humor had returned. If she could just keep him that way.
He went straight for the Tokay and uncorked it. “This is what kept you in Alsace?” he demanded.
If her father only knew… But he was one person she’d never been able to confide in. He didn’t care enough about anyone else’s problems to show more than a surface concern. He wasn’t like her grandfather.
“Try it and you’ll understand why.”
There was a clean wineglass handy. He reached for it and poured himself a generous amount.
Without bothering to savour it, he drank it in several swallows the way he did his whiskey.
The aftertaste was part of what made it so wonderful. She waited for him to say something.
“What’s that flavor?”
“Which one?”
He eyed her for a minute. “You’re the expert. You’re supposed to tell me.”
No. There was only one expert. The mere thought of him brought raw, stabbing pain.
“I’m going to let you think about it for a while.” She reached for her tote bag and started walking toward the entrance to the restaurant.
“Rachel?”
“Yes, Dad?” she called over her shoulder.
“Whatever it is, it’s damn good.”
“I’m glad you approve since I’ve ordered sixty cases for starters. And that’s only their Tokay. Wait till you taste their Riesling!”
“How much is this costing us?”
“A lot, but I can guarantee Chartier white wines are going to bring in repeat customers until we have to turn them away in droves. This trip I found out French bread isn’t France’s greatest contribution to the world after all. Alsace is.”
She’d learned something else, too. I’m the world’s greatest fool. That makes me your daughter, Daddy.
CHAPTER SEVEN
“PHILIPPE?”
“Bonjour, Luc.”
“I hate bothering you on Sunday, but this is important. I have to go out of town as soon as I’ve been to the hospital.”
His flight from Colmar to London would be leaving in two hours. That only gave him a few minutes to check on Paulette.
“Giles is in charge until I get back. If there’s an emergency he can’t deal with, he’ll call me. In the meantime, if anyone phones asking for me, just take their number and I’ll get back to them when I return.”
“Très bien. A toute à l’heure.”
No matter how great Philippe’s curiosity might be, he was the soul of discretion who never pried or questioned Luc’s directives. That made him worth his weight in gold.
As Luc climbed out of the Maserati he noticed Yves’ green car in the emergency parking area.
Fearing something had happened to him or one of his family—the children, maybe—he rushed inside the hospital. The triage nurse check
ed the board. No Brouet had been admitted.
That meant something had to be wrong with Paulette— Why hadn’t the hospital phoned him?
A surge of adrenaline sent him bounding up the stairs to her floor. Yves was standing at the nursing station. The second he saw Luc, he came running and grabbed his shoulders, sounding out of breath.
“I was just telling the staff to phone you and the parents.”
“What’s happened?”
“Paulette’s eyes opened while I was holding her hand. Maybe you were right and she’s starting to wake up!”
Luc’s heart slammed against his chest cavity, bringing him out of the shock Yves’ words had just given him.
“They’ve sent for the doctor, but the resident is in with her now,” Yves explained as they both rushed toward her room.
For so long Luc had been waiting for this moment. But when he approached her bed and saw her fixed brown stare that showed no recognition or eye movement, his body went cold.
Those weren’t her eyes. There was no spark, no animation. Her body still lay there lifeless while the nurse was taking her vital signs.
Luc felt as if someone had just slammed their foot in his chest. He didn’t want this picture of her to stay in his mind. But if it meant she was coming out of the coma…
“What’s going on with her?”
The resident turned to them. “That’s for Dr Soulier to determine after he studies the printout. My advice is to keep her stimulated until he gets here.”
Yves took his place on the other side of her bed and lifted her hand. Luc reached for her other hand, They took turns talking to her, but all Luc saw in her eyes was a vacuum. The moment was surreal.
In a few minutes he heard people out in the hall. A woman’s high-pitched voice was chattering excitedly.
Soon three people came in the room. Paulette’s parents and the doctor.
Luc moved to the side so his mother-in-law could take his place.
“Oh, my darling Paulette. My darling girl. It’s your maman. Can you see me now? Can you hear me?”
All a mother’s love was in her voice. By now Paulette’s father was standing next to Yves, holding his daughter’s hand.
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