They drew apart. She looked down at the bouquet. “The flowers are beautiful. You didn’t have to.”
He laughed as he reached for the small valise she was carrying. “Come, let’s get the rest of your baggage.”
Traffic moved slowly on the autoroute leading from Orly into Paris. “It’s still the morning rush hour,” he explained.
“I don’t mind,” she said.
“Did you sleep on the plane?”
“A little,” she said.
“You’ll have a bath once we get home. Then a little rest and you’ll feel better.”
“I feel fine,” she said quickly. “Just excited.”
He laughed. “I hope you weren’t too excited to bring all your papers.”
“I brought them all,” she said.
“Good,” he answered. “I have a friend in the mairie. He said he would rush everything through for us. It shouldn’t take more than ten days.”
“That long?” Her voice echoed her dismay. “In the States it would only take overnight.”
He laughed again. “This is France. Remember?”
She nodded and reached for his arm. “I don’t care. Even if it takes forever. As long as I can be with you.”
“You’ll be with me,” he said. He glanced at her again. “I had the apartment cleaned and painted, but if it’s not right, you can change anything you want.”
“I’m sure it will be okay,” she said. “After all, it will only be for two years.”
He was silent.
“You meant what you said?” she asked quickly.
He nodded. “I meant it. I think by the time Janette is twenty-one she’ll be only too glad to have me step out.”
She studied his face as he drove. “You’re not upset over it, are you?”
“Not really,” he said. “The only thing that disturbs me is the little one. Lauren. I will have to find a way to see that she is protected.”
“You have two years to work that out,” she said. “And I’m sure you
will.” She paused for a moment. “I’m looking forward to meeting Janette.”
He laughed. “You’ll have to wait another month. Right now she’s in Switzerland at a clinic.”
“Is there anything the matter with her?”
“Nothing,” he said. “She thinks it’s time she looked more like a fashion model.”
“Is she heavy?”
“Not at all,” he said. “But she’s like her mother. She’s a big girl.”
“Children get all sorts of strange ideas,” she said.
He glanced at her. His voice was thoughtful. “Janette is not a child. I don’t think she ever was.”
***
“Johann is getting married this week,” Jacques said.
“I don’t believe it,” Maurice said, signaling the waiter for another drink. “Anyone I know?”
Jacques shook his head. “None of us know her. She’s American. Her father is supposed to be very rich.”
“Is she young?”
“About thirty, I think. She was in the office the other day. Very attractive. I think her parents are German.”
“What kind of business are they in?” Maurice asked.
Jacques shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know.”
“It might be a good idea to find out,” Maurice said. “Johann is not stupid. There might be some connection to his future plans with the companies.”
“I’ll see what I can learn,” Jacques said. “Have you had any luck discovering where Janette is?”
“Zero,” Maurice said. “She just seems to have dropped out of sight. I wonder if anyone knows.”
“Johann knows,” Jacques said confidently. “He’s the only one who isn’t curious. But he’s not saying anything.”
“It may all tie together,” Maurice said. “We’d better keep our eyes open or we may discover the whole thing has gotten away from us.”
“Do you really think we still have a chance?” Jacques asked.
“Maybe more now than before, with Johann getting married. Janette might not like the idea that he has other interests than her own. If she gets the feeling that his concerns lie elsewhere she might turn our way.”
***
Janette stepped down from the scale and turned to the doctor. “Only four kilos,” she said. “That’s not much.”
Dr. Schindler smiled. “I’m satisfied. That’s a little more than one kilo per week. If we try to do more, we can lose skin tone too rapidly and everything begins to sag.”
“My breasts are sagging already,” she said.
“Are you doing the exercises I gave you?” He clasped his hands in front of his chest and tightened the muscles across his chest so that she could see them moving under his shirt.
“I walk around all day doing them like an idiot,” she said. “I don’t think it’s working.”
“Everything takes time.” He smiled. “We must have patience.” He made some notes on a card. “We have to be very careful so that we don’t build up muscle that would become impossible to take away.”
“Merde.” She fell into the chair opposite his desk. “Another thing. I’m nervous all the time. Edgy.”
He made another note on his card. “I’ll cut down on the injections. From now on only twice a week instead of every other day. You’re not feeling hungry anymore are you?”
She shook her head. “Not at all.”
“That’s good,” he nodded. “I’ll book you for two massages a day, and you increase your swimming from a half hour each session to one hour.”
“It’s all getting very boring,” she said.
He smiled. “We never claimed to be an amusement park, Janette. This is serious business. You come to us for help with a problem and we’re working to solve it as best as we can.”
“It wouldn’t hurt if you provided some amusements in the evening so that people could relax a little.”
“Like what?”
“Films. Music. Something. I don’t know what. Just to take our minds off the dullness of the routine.”
He nodded. “That’s a good thought. We’ll look into it.”
“Patients wouldn’t feel as if they’re in a kind of prison then. After all, how many diet-and-exercise fitness lectures can anyone listen to?”
He laughed. “You’re right. I just never thought of it that way.”
“You would do more business too,” she said. “Especially if you made it seem like fun.”
He nodded and made some more notes on his card. “How do you sleep?”
“Not too well,” she said. “As I told you, I’m edgy.”
“I can give you a pill,” he said. “But one of the possible side effects is that you might retain water, and that would be self-defeating.”
“I’ll manage,” she said, smiling. “Masturbation is the best natural tranquilizer.”
He laughed. “It’s great to be young.” He got to his feet. “You’re doing all right. Just stick with it. It’s only five more weeks.” He walked to his office door with her. “I guarantee that you’ll be pleased.”
“I’ll be happy if my breasts don’t wind up falling down to my belly,” she said.
“Don’t worry about it,” he said. “It won’t happen. But even if it should, we have a cure for that too.”
***
“It’s a matter of routine, Herr Schwebel,” the banker said to Johann, his voice crackling slightly over the long-distance lines from Switzerland. “Madame la Marquise left instructions with us that if we did not hear from her for three years in sequence, we were to contact you for instructions in regard to the property she has placed in our safekeeping.”
Johann was silent for a moment. Not once in all the years had Tanya ever mentioned that she had property or anything at all in a Swiss bank. “Do you have any idea of the nature of the property?” he asked, circumspect with his use of language over the telephone, even though they were speaking in German, because one could never be sure who was listening in to the line.
“I see,” Johann said thoughtfully. 1944. That was the year they moved to Switzerland. “So there is no urgent problem at the moment?”
“None,” the banker said. “As I said, this is purely routine. We are only following instructions.”
“Do you have a duplicate key?” Johann asked.
“No,” the banker answered. “Madame had the only key.”
“You know, of course, that Madame is dead?”
“Yes,” the banker said. “But again following orders, we did not contact you until the time requested.”
“Of course,” Johann said. Bankers were all alike. The routine was more important than the fact. “Let me go through Madame’s papers again and see if she left any specific instructions regarding this matter and I will get back to you.”
“Thank you, Herr von Schwebel,” the banker said.
Johann smiled to himself. Now that the banker was sure that he was in charge, he had been elevated from plain Herr Schwebel to Herr von Schwebel. Money and authority were an irrefutable combination. “I plan to be in Switzerland in a few weeks,” he said. “Perhaps we could meet then to further discuss the matter.”
“I am at your disposal, Herr von Schwebel,” the banker said. “Meanwhile if I could impose on you to write us a letter acknowledging that we have contacted you in accordance with our instructions it would keep our records in order.”
“I will dispatch the letter immediately,” Johann said. They exchanged polite goodbyes and Johann returned the telephone to its cradle. He stared down at the notes he had made on his scratch pad. All the information was there. The bank, the banker’s name. Everything. Abruptly he tore the page from his pad and tucked it carefully into his wallet. Then he tore the five pages of the scratch pad beneath the one he had written on and crumpled them into the wastebasket. He started to call for his secretary to dictate the letter to the banker, then changed his mind. He would write the letter himself and mail it from home. He would also request that the banker contact him at home after this. There was no point in leaving any hints about this anywhere near the office.
He glanced at his watch. Heidi should have returned to the apartment by now. Like any prospective bride, she had been out shopping for her wedding dress. A dress, she had emphasized carefully, not a gown. She answered the telephone.
“Did you find anything?” he asked.
Her voice was excited. “Yes. It’s beautiful.”
“Where?”
“Maggy Rouff,” she said. “And I got a twenty percent discount for the trade, because I mentioned your name.”
He laughed. “Marvelous. When can I see it?”
“Not before the wedding,” she said. “It’s bad luck for a groom to see the bride in her wedding dress before that.”
“Okay. I’ll wait then,” he said. “Have you heard from your father?”
“Just a few minutes ago,” she said. “He’ll be here for the wedding.”
“Good. I’m looking forward to meeting him.”
“And he is also,” she said.
“Have you ever been to Switzerland?” he asked.
“No,” she said.
“I know of a lovely small hotel in the mountains not far from Geneva,” he said. “Would you like to go there for our honeymoon? It’s very small and very quiet. And chances are we’ll be the only ones there.”
“I can’t wait,” she said.
“I’ll make the reservations then,” he said. “Where would you like to go for dinner?”
“I thought it would be nice if we ate in tonight,” she said. “After all, you don’t even know if I can cook.”
“True,” he said. “But then, that never even entered my mind. I was more interested in other things.”
She laughed. “Well, I can cook too. You’ll see.”
He put down the telephone. Six large safe-deposit boxes. Since 1944. He closed his eyes trying to remember everything that happened that year but there was nothing he could think of that could lead to their contents. But still, there they were.
And they had to be valuable enough, and important enough for Tanya to provide for their safekeeping for twenty years. And perhaps the only thing she had never spoken to anyone about, not even to him.
He took a deep breath. Tomorrow he would go to his bank and take out all her papers again and go through them. Somewhere in them there had to be a clue to what it was all about. And, somewhere, also, there had to be a safe-deposit key.
***
“He owns a brewery,” Jacques said.
“Who?” Maurice was puzzled.
“Johann’s bride’s father,” Jacques said. “He’s very rich. Mayer’s Breweries in Minneapolis.”
Maurice was impressed. “Johann did all right by himself. I know of the beer. Twin Cities Beer, it’s called. One of the most popular in the States. I wonder how he came to meet her.”
“She was married before and divorced. Then she worked for several years as a fashion buyer for one of the Midwest department stores and came here four times a year. His secretary told my secretary that they met at one of Shiki’s fashion shows.”
“Did he ever do any business with her?”
Jacques shook his head. “Not that I know of. Shiki does not do well in mid-America.”
“Well,” Maurice said, “wonders will never cease. Stodgy, dull, boring Johann comes up with an heiress worth more than twenty million dollars.”
“You’re joking!” Jacques’ voice was incredulous.
“No, I’m not,” Maurice said.
“I wonder if Johann knew that when he met her,” Jacques asked.
Maurice laughed. “It doesn’t matter now.” He took a sip of his drink. “Johann,” he said, shaking his head in wonder.
“I also heard her father is coming over for the wedding next week,” Jacques said. “Apparently she is his only child, and this will be his first trip to Europe in more than thirty years. Johann reserved a large suite for him at the Georges Cinq.”
“It’s getting better and better,” Maurice said.
“I don’t understand,” Jacques said.
Maurice looked at him. “Johann may be making his own plans. Two more years and Janette is of age. She comes into the business as an owner while he is still only a part trustee and employee. He’s going to do something. I feel it in my bones.” He took another sip of his drink. “I wonder if Janette knows about it.”
“I don’t know,” Jacques said. “Nobody still knows where she is. I even went over to La Coupole the other night, where her friends hang out. Even Marie-Thérése doesn’t know. And they’ve been inseparable since they were kids at school.”
“I know about Marie-Thérése,” Maurice said. “And if she doesn’t know, no one does. Still, I would like to know how Janette feels about it.”
“We’ll just have to wait until she returns,” Jacques said.
“I suppose so,” Maurice said thoughtfully. “I’m leaving for New York at the end of the week. I’ll be at the Pierre. Keep me informed as to what is happening.”
Jacques smiled. “Of course. If it’s anything interesting, you’ll be the first to know.”
***
The doctor peered over her shoulder at the scale. “Seven kilos,” he said, satisfaction in his voice. “We’re getting there.” He went back to his desk and sat on the edge of it, facing her. “How do you feel?”
“I don’t like the way I look,” she said.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“Even with all the exercise my breasts are sagging even more, and now my buttocks are beginning to droop. And with my face thinner my nose seems to be longer.”
“It’s only five weeks,” he said. “Your body is still adjusting. Once we get down to the desired weight, we’ll begin working
on the other things.”
“How long will that take?” she asked.
He picked up his chart and studied it for a moment, then picked up a tape measure. “Take off your bathing suit.”
She pushed the tight-fitting one-piece suit down over her legs and stepped out of it. He indicated a small platform in the corner of the room and she stepped up on it. Quickly, impersonally, he began to take her measurements, beginning with her neck. Her upper chest under her arms, her breasts at her nipples, each upper arm, her waist, the hip at the top of the pelvic bone, then around the center of her buttocks, her upper and lower thighs, finally her calves and ankles. After each measurement he made a note on his chart. Finally he put the tape and the chart on his desk. Standing directly in front of her, he eyed her critically. “Stretch your arms over your head as far as you can reach, placing your palms together and standing on your toes.”
Silently she did as he asked. Slowly he walked around her and stopped once again in front of her. She detected nothing in his face except professional judgment. “Now put your arms at your side and stand normally,” he said.
Again he walked slowly around her. “With your permission I would like to check for muscle tone.”
She nodded silently.
His face still impassive, he placed a hand under each armpit, his thumb reaching around to the top of her chest over each breast. Slowly he moved his thumb, raising and lowering her breasts.
She felt her nipples begin to harden and swell and she laughed nervously.
“Don’t be embarrassed,” he said quickly. “It’s quite normal.”
She laughed. “I don’t mind. It’s the most fun I’ve had since I’ve come here.”
He laughed too, placing an open palm against her stomach. “Try to tighten your muscle as much as you can and press against my hand.” After a moment, he spoke again. “That’s fine. Now do the same thing with each buttock as I place my hand on it.”
He walked behind her and she felt the palm of his hand against her and tightened the muscle. Then she felt his finger under her buttock against her thigh; slowly he raised the buttock upward. After a moment he repeated the process with the other buttock. Then he was finished and went back behind his desk and sat down. “You can put on your bathing suit again.”
She slipped into her suit and approached the desk. “What do you think, Doctor?”
Goodbye, Janette Page 14
