Todd stared at Patrick’s back as he considered his advice. Give her some time. If she had decided to go to Paris for a couple of months, it looked like he had more time to put his plan into action.
Sooner or later I’m going to win her back. He hoped it would be sooner.
Later in the day, he picked up the office phone without even glancing at the number displayed on the screen. “Todd?”
His heart thudded in his chest at the sound of her voice. Chloe sounded hesitant, nervous even. “Hi Chloe.”
“I said I would call when I wanted to talk. But I’d like to wait until I’ve had a chance to think about things. About us.”
“I hear you’re going to Paris? Do you think running away is the answer?”
“I’m not running away. I’m getting a better perspective. I think that a few weeks in Paris will do me good. Do us both good. We can sort out how we feel and …”
“I don’t need to sort out how I feel. I love you. End of story.”
“Are you going to ignore the fact that you were angry … no strike that, furious, for no good reason? Ignore the fact that I can take care of myself? And that I am an independent woman. That I don’t like being told what to do, any more than you don’t like your authority to be challenged.” Chloe stopped abruptly, and sighed. “Look. I want time to think even if you don’t. We’ll talk when I get back, okay?” She sounded weary.
“Have a safe trip.”
“Thanks.” She disconnected the call.
What choice did he have? She was going to Paris with or without his blessing.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Chloe’s sojourn to Paris had done wonders for her state of mind. Recharged and rejuvenated, after a few weeks in the pleasant company of several long-time friends who had made the effort to rally round and support her, she noticed the change. They had offered their homes for the duration of her stay, encouraging her to come and go as she pleased. She had not stayed in one place for more than a week. Far from being troublesome, Chloe found this very refreshing. It also provided her with the excuse to talk about her situation ad nauseam without wearing out her welcome with anyone in particular. She had finally come to the conclusion that she missed Todd. No matter how hard she tried to deny or bury her feelings, his name came up in nearly every conversation.
Her good friends Angelique and Gerard Moreau had offered the use of their holiday home for the remainder of her stay. After five weeks of the hustle and bustle, Chloe jumped at the chance to venture south of the city. She had missed the picturesque countryside and simple French way of life. A little cottage in the South of France would be the best way to end her time abroad.
At Melbourne airport, before her international flight had been scheduled to depart, she had bought a leather bound journal from a small boutique near the gate. She made a point of writing in this journal every day, to exorcise her demons and to clarify her thoughts. The previous day’s entry was one which still troubled her. She turned it over in her mind as she drove.
She had tried to work out why she had found Todd’s behaviour so upsetting. A few nasty words should not have elicited the reaction it had from her. But it had brought the past flooding back with heart-clenching clarity. A past she tried to bury, and had never discussed with him, or indeed with anyone, over the years. She now had to admit she had not handled the situation well at the time. She should have told him about Paul, the man who nearly ruined her life.
When she first left home at eighteen and arrived in Paris, Chloe had become attracted to Paul, a male dancer in the troupe, who was also auditioning for a lead role at the Lido. Born in England and strikingly handsome, Paul was a few years older and had lived in Paris for several years. Already a very accomplished dancer with acrobatic skills, he was a magnet for a naive young woman living alone in a foreign country.
In retrospect, she acknowledged she had been extremely impressionable, and so very out of her depth. Any small token of friendship had been appreciated. He began to take an interest in her, buying her small trinkets, leaving little notes for her. When they started dating and he told her he loved her, she couldn’t believe her dreams had come true. He persuaded her to move out of the apartment she shared with another girl and move into his. She discovered too late that Paul, an extremely controlling and jealous individual, would not let her live her life or sustain friendships. During the few years they lived and worked together, she lost herself to him. His narcissistic behaviour slowly chipped away at her self-confidence. When she had almost reached rock bottom and had nowhere to turn, she came to realise how much she had given up. It took her several months to fight back and find the strength to leave him. When she finally told him it was over, he made it his mission in life to destroy the little self-esteem she had left. Extremely miserable, with no friends, she struggled to get her life back. In time she realised Paul had successfully turned everyone against her by fabricating lies and encouraging gossip.
If it had not been for Monsieur Dubois, the Lido choreographer, who had eventually worked out Paul’s true nature, she would not have been able to stay in France and pursue her dancing career for so long. Her physical and mental health had deteriorated, which in turn affected her dancing ability.
Paul’s contract had not been renewed. He left Paris under a cloud, and without a backward glance, for the bright lights of Vegas. She had not seen or heard of him again, but the scars ran very deep. Chloe could deal with flaws, everyone had them in one form or another, but a man who would not value her, she would not tolerate. Writing down her thoughts and feelings had somehow unlocked this piece of her life she had long ago tried to bury. It appeared she had not put it behind her after all.
The tranquil countryside soothed her. Chloe wound down the windows and allowed the warm breeze to ruffle her hair. Her friends Angelique and Gerard had also offered the use of their Mercedes sports car to drive to the coast. They had no use for it as they were in Tuscany on business.
When she had arrived at their Paris home in a taxi, their housekeeper had handed her a set of keys and a remote control for the garage door, and closed the front door with an abrupt “adieu”. The French are not known for their gregarious nature when they are dealing with strangers.
As she drove through the winding lanes and picturesque villages, her troubles vaporised under the warm late summer sun. She had to admit that France had become closer to her heart over the years, and more familiar to her than Australia. Since she had returned to Paris, she talked, thought, ate, and read the French newspapers like a native. The thought of the cold, wet weather at this time of year in her home town of Melbourne made her appreciate the August sunshine all the more.
In a town only a few miles away from the beach house, she stopped to top up the car with fuel and asked for directions. The tang of salt in the air brought back such pleasant memories as she strolled back to the car. She loved the water. Nearly there. She smiled at the thought of sipping a glass of wine, and perhaps sitting on the terrace overlooking the ocean.
The gatehouse came into view as Chloe drove around the bend in the narrow lane. The brass numbers embedded in the brick wall confirmed she had arrived at her destination. She used the remote tucked into the console and the black wrought-iron gates swung inward. The car purred past the gatehouse and down the short tree lined avenue to the beach house. The single-storey whitewashed brick dwelling appeared small and unobtrusive from this angle, surrounded by shrubs and flowering trees. Climbing vines covered a large section of the wall around the door, and the small portico had pots of pink and white flowers spilling out of them. How perfectly charming. She pulled up adjacent to the house, and unloaded her suitcase and belongings.
However, once inside she realised the view from the driveway was cleverly deceiving. She dropped her bags on the floor. The shimmer of sunlight on water drew her down the hall into the lounge, towards the windows. The U-shaped building wrapped around a pool of sparkling sapphire blue water. She unlocked the sliding doors and step
ped out onto the paved patio to get a better look. A table had been set up in the corner for alfresco meals, and several comfortable lounge chairs covered in midnight-blue cushions were dotted around the pool. Miniature orange and lemon trees in dark-blue glazed pots, combined with the informal setting, gave the space a charming rustic ambiance. Wide steps at the far end of the terrace descended to an expanse of golden sand, and a few hundred metres away, the sea frothed and bubbled against the shore. Oh so inviting.
She desperately wanted to grab a glass of wine and to sit and take in the view. Not yet, unpack first. Put away the supplies.
Warm sun caressed her, and she lifted her face to soak it in. The stress and strain of the last few months melted away from her shoulders, her concerns scuttled off in search of some other tortured soul to harass. Her phone in her pocket rang, shocking her out of her reverie.
“Bonjour.” Chloe answered, with her eyes closed, breathing in the sea air.
“Bonjour Chloe. Have you arrived?” Angélique enquired.
“Mais oui Angelique.. I am standing on the patio, enjoying the view and wondering if I will take a dip in the pool or a swim in the ocean before dinner.”
“Either would be acceptable I am sure. I have asked Jean Claude, the caretaker, to stock the fridge and pantry for you. There should be plenty of food and wine to keep you happy. He lives in the gatehouse at the end of the drive, and is available if you need anything. But if you don’t feel like cooking, there is a wonderful little restaurant in town which would more than satisfy your Australian tastes.”
“Angelique, I am every bit as French as you are, and you know it. We didn’t spend years eating and drinking our way around France for you to doubt that my taste is every bit as sophisticated as yours.” Chloe chuckled. “You married a Frenchman, and adopted the accent and the language. However, you were born in Texas, remember.”
“Oh how rude you are, to friends who have offered you their house for a few days. Ungrateful child,” Angelique admonished, teasingly.
“I’m going to unpack and take a swim in the pool, I think. Then I will examine the contents of your fridge, and plunder your wine collection. I did bring some of my own supplies. But I’m sure yours will be better. Enjoy your time in Tuscany.”
“I will. Enjoy our hospitality. Our house is your house … well, for a few days anyway. If you are still there on Monday, we might join you. Gerard is hoping to wrap up his business here in a couple of days.”
“That would be lovely, Angelique. I would love it if you could come and spend some time with me. I was planning on flying back to Australia next week.”
As she had her pick of vacant guestrooms, Chloe selected a bedroom with an adjoining ensuite, unpacked her suitcase, and slipped on her swim suit and an oversized cotton T-shirt. She roamed the rest of the beach house barefoot, thoroughly taken by the style and noting how casual and unpretentious this house appeared, even with some antiques amongst the reproductions. The couches and armchairs looked so soft and inviting, the long mahogany table in the dining room could easily accommodate a dozen or so diners. The kitchen had modern appliances, but still retained the classic French country kitchen appeal.
Every taste had been considered in the extensive wine collection, and nearly every food combination had been stocked in the fridge freezer. Her simple supplies sat sadly on one shelf looking very out of place, compared to the rich pâte, cured ham and smoked salmon the mysterious Jean Claude had bought for her. She poured a glass of wine and picked up a magazine to read outside. The doorbell rang and she jumped and the wine sloshed in the glass. Woops. Nearly dropped it.
A dapper gentleman of about sixty-five, with a shock of pure white hair and wire-rimmed glasses stood on the doorstep. He wore black trousers and a white cotton shirt under a waistcoat. He had a wicker basket over his arm. Golden loaves of bread, and small plump dinner rolls lightly dusted with flour nestled within, on a white linen napkin.
“Bonsoir Mademoiselle. Je m’appelle Jean Claude. Je suis le gardien.”
“Bonsoir Jean Claude. Je m’appelle Chloe. Entrez s’il vous plait. Parlez-vous Anglais?”
“Yes. I speak English. I came to see if there was anything you need. I brought you some fresh bread.”
“Oh that is so kind. I would love some bread. It smells so good.“ Chloe picked up a roll and inhaled the aroma. “It’s still warm. Did you bake this?”
“I bake fresh bread and croissants when madame and monsieur come to stay. Sometimes I cook for them, and especially if they have guests. They like my cooking.”
“They are very lucky to have you. Have you lived here long?”
“Yes, I lived in the village before they bought the land and built this house. When they were looking for a caretaker, it was a blessing to me. They built the gatehouse and allowed me to live here to look after the property. I also do some work around the gardens, some cooking when they are here. I am happy living by the beach. Since my wife died I have no desire to live anywhere else.”
“We have something in common, Jean Claude. I am happy when I am near the beach too.”
“I will leave the basket in the kitchen. If you need fresh bread, just leave the basket at the front door in the morning, and I will bake for you. If you leave a list in the basket, I am happy to pick up some fresh produce from the market.”
“Merci beaucoup, c’est très gentil. But I can go shopping if I need anything. I don’t want to trouble you. Would you be able to tell me exactly where the market is, and what day would be best?” Chloe watched as Jean Claude’s eyes crinkled at the edges and a smile lit up his face.
“But it is my pleasure. It is no trouble. Madame gave me instructions to make sure you were comfortable.”
“In that case, I will do as instructed and leave a list.”
Jean Claude carried the basket to the kitchen. “Would you like some cassoulet for dinner later? It is one of my special dishes.”
“I was planning on having a swim and then making myself a salad. But your cassoulet sounds delicious. How could I say no to a home-cooked meal?”
“Pas de probleme. I will bring the food at seven. That is acceptable?” Jean Claude gave a little bow, and headed back to the front door.
“That is more than acceptable, thank you.” Chloe chuckled to herself as she closed the door. A French beach house, home-delivered food, a caretaker with old world charm, the sun, the sea, what more could she want. Nothing, right! Then why did an image of Todd pop into her head?
Mornings were filled with beach walks and swims in the ocean. Afternoons were spent chatting to Jean Claude as he tidied the garden beds, or spent lazily reading in or by the pool. She had almost exhausted her collection of paperbacks. However, her iPad contained more romance novels than she could possibly read in a year since she had become addicted to “one click” purchases. Being without a book to read would be her idea of torture.
Her current novel had reduced her to tears in the last few pages. It had been set in Australia, in the Northern territory. She plucked a tissue from her bag to dab her eyes, and laid down the novel, suddenly homesick.
She pulled the iPad towards her and opened her email to find a welcome message from Samantha.
Thinking of you and hoping to see your smiling face soon. The house is coming along nicely. Let me know the details of your return flight and I will pick you up from the airport. Everyone is looking forward to your return.
Love, Sam xx
She had found a real friend in Samantha, someone she hoped she could confide in. But she also knew Sam had Todd’s welfare uppermost in her mind. In light of her recent soul searching, could she spill the beans about Paul? It would help Sam to understand why she’d had a mini meltdown. It had taken years for her to become a strong woman again. She didn’t want to be seen as weak or foolish. And especially not in Todd’s eyes. I guess what he thinks does matter to me! As her thoughts drifted to Todd, she visualised him leaning against the wall, with his hands in his pockets, and sunglas
ses tucked into the front of his shirt. He wore a bemused expression as he took in the sight of her sunbathing by the pool. He had a way of looking at her, a way of admiring her, that made her weak at the knees and her insides clench with longing. It was as if his eyes were recording every centimetre, memorising every detail, to paint a more vivid image of her later.
The idea of being back in Melbourne became a little more appealing. She searched the net for available flights, and emailed Sam her answer.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Todd strode through the house, a man on a mission. He surveyed the newly fitted kitchen and tiled splash back. In the eight weeks since Chloe had been gone, Patrick’s progress with the renovation had suitably impressed him. The major work in the kitchen and family area had been completed in record time, with very few hitches.
Carpenters had just finished fitting the cedar bi-fold doors to the rear wall of the house, and had begun to pack up their tools and equipment. The doors opened onto a wide Merbau deck, stained a rich russet brown, courtesy of two coats of decking oil.
Light from the floor to ceiling windows in the extension suffused the open-plan rooms, and gave the newly polished floorboards a honeyed hue. The colourful reflection from the tear drop crystals dangling from a Tiffany lampshade in the hall, burst through the dust motes and danced in the air. Todd strode purposely from room to room checking off the tasks which were outstanding, on his iPad. He made a note to commend the site manager Patrick had chosen. Keeping the contractors focused and completing the major works ahead of schedule gave them more time to dress up the space. Only two days left. Two days to get all the furniture in place before Chloe returned. A fully furnished kitchen and family room was the only outcome he would consider, for her to fully appreciate his surprise.
From Paris to Forever Page 13
