“But Pauline—”
“Grandma Simone’s with her.” I stopped walking. “Pauline’s going to be fine. They have some new drugs. Don’t worry. All we need now is money.” I felt in my pocket for Jacques’ card. “And I know just where to get it.”
Josette’s sharp eyes spied the name on the card. “Who?”
“Nette’s father.”
“You’re going to ask him!” she said, aghast. When I nodded, she quickly added, “Can I come?”
The building where Jacques worked was located between the hospital and the school. It wouldn’t take long for the detour, and I had to admit I would enjoy the company. “All right,” I said. She smiled. Linking arms, we left the hospital.
In the subway, I began to have second thoughts. Simone was probably right; Jacques had always lied to me. What if I arrived and found nothing at the address? Or what if it was an illegal business? That had happened before. But the desperate part of me held on to a slim thread of hope.
Chapter Six
The cold bit into me as we left the underground station and traced our way through the streets of the busy commercial area. People filled the sidewalks, jostling each other as they passed. Small mom-and-pop businesses flanked the narrow road, and cafés beckoned with their fragrant wares. There was a hum of expectancy in the icy, late-morning air. Despite the cold, it seemed, life continued on at its breakneck speed.
It seemed to take forever to find the address, but when we did, we hesitated outside. “Wow! Look at that place!” Josette said. The tall building was impressive, and the huge sign in front even more so. In bold, gilded lettering it read: Preference Carpets. I took a deep breath and opened the glass door. Inside, a new smell permeated the air. The walls were papered with gray designs etched with gold, giving it a prosperous appearance. The rich carpet was a shade of darker gray with elaborate patterns in the weave. A blonde receptionist smiled up at us as we entered, but her smile was tight and somehow false.
“May I help you?”
My confidence had returned. There was no way Jacques would go to all this trouble to fool me. “I’d like to see Jacques de Cotte,” I said.
Her hazel eyes narrowed, and she clicked her long nails on the polished surface of the desk. “Do you have an appointment?”
I bit my lip. “No, but I think he’ll want to see me. Tell him it’s Ariana. He’ll know.”
Reluctantly she spoke into a phone, a look of surprise coming over her pretty face. “He’ll see you now,” she said. “Go down the hall, and it’s the last door on the left.”
“Stay here, Josette.” I didn’t know what might be said between us, and I didn’t want her to be affected. “I won’t be long.”
I left her and practically sprinted down the soft carpet before she could voice the protest on her lips. As I raised my hand to knock, Jacques opened the door.
“Ariana! I’m so glad you came.” The warmth in his voice reminded me of a time we had been in love. He reached for my hand and started to bring it to his lips. I pulled gently away.
I followed him into the large office. It boasted the same carpet as in the lobby but of a darker shade. A huge mahogany desk stood opposite the doors, dominating the room. Behind this was a large, gilt-framed painting of Queen Marie-Antoinette. To the left side sprawled an expensive-looking leather couch in chestnut; bookcases and filing cabinets lined the right wall. There were other pictures of places I didn’t recognize, also in gilt frames, and a small old-fashioned world globe decorated the desk.
“I came to ask you for help,” I said bluntly when he had shut the door behind us. “For Pauline.” I showed him the insurance letter and explained what had happened the night before. “I can’t risk a delay in the drugs. I don’t like to do this, but I need help. I swear I’ll pay back every franc.”
“Of course I’ll help. I’m glad you felt you could come to me.” He skirted his desk and pulled open a drawer, taking out an oversized check ledger. He laid it down on top of the papers covering his desk and began to write.
“I didn’t know what else to do,” I confessed.
He glanced up, a wry smile twisting his lips. “Sometimes I wish you weren’t quite so honest.”
“I’m sorry. I just—”
He waved, dismissing the words. “It’s okay. What about your husband? How does he feel about this?”
“About what?”
“About you coming here.”
I shook my head. “I haven’t told him—yet. There hasn’t been time. It happened so fast. He’s out of town right now; he’ll be back soon.” Now that he had brought it up, I began to worry about what Jean-Marc might say. I shoved the thoughts away; it was too late now.
“I hope it won’t cause problems between you.” He said the words, but they lacked the ring of truth.
“Why should it? It’s for Pauline, and we’ll pay you back.”
“Hmm.”
I didn’t know what that meant, so I said nothing.
“Here you go.” As I took the check, his hand grabbed mine. “Would you like to talk about it?”
I nearly wanted to cry at the sincere sympathy I heard in his voice. “No,” I managed. “I—I should get back to the hospital.”
He released my hand slowly, letting it slide over his long fingers. “I’ll walk you to the door.”
In awkward silence, we returned to where Josette waited. She sat in a chair near the reception desk, her face buried in a magazine, but looked up when she felt us coming. Her eyes widened. “You!” she said accusingly.
I was about to protest when I realized she was staring at Jacques. He gazed back at her, his expression inscrutable. I glanced back and forth between them, feeling the air sizzling with tension. “Do you two know each other?”
Jacques swallowed hard and then smiled. “Yes, Josette and I have met. It’s nice to see you again.” He inclined his head toward her. “But I need to get back to work. Please feel free to come back, Ariana. I enjoyed seeing you.” He made a hasty retreat down the hall.
Josette’s glare followed him. “That’s your—your, uh, ex-husband?” she asked when she finally found her voice. There was unmistakable pain in her words.
“How do you know him?” Suspicion had always come to my mind where Jacques was concerned.
“He came to the school. He was giving a grant or something. I was one of the students who accepted it. Remember that thank-you speech I had to write?”
“But that was more than three months ago!”
“Afterward, he took us across the street for a pastry,” she continued as if I hadn’t spoken, “and then the others left, and we kept talking. I could tell he liked being with me.” She lowered her head, and I saw a tear splash to the gray carpet.
“Didn’t he tell you his name?”
“Yes, but I didn’t connect it. There are a thousand Jacques around. I didn’t know his last name. I thought he liked me!” Hurt and anger played across her face.
Terror struck in my heart. “Did you see him again?” I asked sharply.
“Just a couple of times. And only at that café. Sometimes he’d be there after I got out of school.”
“What did you talk about?”
Her face darkened. “You, mostly. I thought he liked me. Me. But all the time he was asking me about you.”
“What did you tell him?”
Her face crumpled. “I don’t know. Everything, I guess.”
“Did you tell him about me going to the cemetery?”
She nodded, and a tear slid down her cheek. “I’m sorry, Mom. He was so nice and good-looking.” She didn’t have to apologize; I knew too well how charming Jacques could be.
“It’s not your fault. It’s his.”
“I haven’t seen him for at least a week,” Josette said. “I wondered why he’d stayed away so long.”
“Excuse me?” The receptionist had come up behind us, a malicious glint in her eyes. “I couldn’t help but hear what you were saying.” She tossed her head in th
e direction of Jacques’ office. “He’s like that,” she said softly. “He leads people on. But it’s all a game with him.” The bitterness in her voice was raw, but it calmed Josette’s tears.
“He cares about few things other than money,” she continued spitefully. “He is, however, hung up on some woman. Problem is, she’s married. I don’t blame her for not looking twice at him. He’s not a nice person. A few weeks ago, he was on the phone, calling practically every businessman in town, offering bribes and services if they’d do something to some poor guy. I don’t know what. Not kill him or anything like that, but something about business, probably a competitor. I only know about it because he made me keep calling a few of the company presidents he didn’t get hold of the first time.”
A door slammed somewhere, and the receptionist jumped guiltily, giving me the impression she had been caught gossiping before. “I’d better get back to my desk,” she said nervously, bringing a long red nail to her teeth. She didn’t bite it, only nibbled briefly, and then hurried away.
“You go on to school,” I said to Josette.
“What are you going to do?”
“I’ve got a few more words to say to Monsieur de Cotte.”
“I want to see!” Revenge flared in her eyes.
“This is not your battle. I’ll let you know how it goes.”
Reluctantly, she turned and left the building, shivering at the penetrating cold. I waited until she was out of sight before going back to Jacques’ office.
“Wait!” the receptionist called after me. I ignored her.
I opened Jacques’ door without knocking, pushing it with more force than necessary. He was setting down the phone as I entered, surprise written on his face. “Ariana!”
“You used my daughter!” I accused.
He stood and came around the desk. “It wasn’t like that.”
“No? But it wasn’t a coincidence we met at the graveyard, was it?”
“The first time it was.”
“Maybe. That was a Saturday. But you knew I would be there last week. You planned our meeting!”
The calm, businesslike exterior vanished. “Is that so bad? I read the papers, and I wanted to see if you were okay. I swear that’s the only reason I let you see me.”
“Let me see you? What do you mean? Have you been spying on me?” Indignation colored all of my other emotions. I remembered all too vividly how I had felt someone following me in the fog after we had met at the cemetery last week. Now I thought I knew who it might have been.
His face darkened, but in an instant it was gone. “I wanted to see you, and when Josette told me how you always visited the cemetery, I went there. I didn’t ever approach you. For nearly three months I watched from a distance.”
For three months he had invaded my privacy! “Why?”
He stepped away from me and began pacing the room, running a hand through his dark blond locks. “You can’t imagine what it’s been like for me these past years since I got out of prison. I tried to make a life! I tried to forget you! But my life is so empty. Oh, I’ve been out with women, but every time I get close, I realize it’s you I’m trying to replace. It’s you I see when I close my eyes.” He stopped pacing and faced me earnestly. “You are the most beautiful, caring woman I’ve ever known, Ariana. It was my worst mistake to let you go. I finally decided to do something about it.”
I felt stunned, but at least now I knew why Jacques suddenly seemed so sensitive to my needs.
“What life we had together is over, Jacques,” I said. “There can be nothing else.”
“Why?”
The question seemed so simple to him, but to me the complications were obvious. My love for Jean-Marc and my family was the main thing; my deep belief in God another. I was building for eternity, while Jacques understood nothing of such things but lived only for the gratification he could get in this life.
“I don’t love you.” Surely this was a reason he could understand.
He closed his eyes tightly, emphasizing the slight wrinkles around them. “I can take care of you,” he whispered. “I love you enough for both of us. You loved me once; I can make you love me again—just give me a chance!”
I shook my head slowly. “You had all your chances, Jacques. I’m sorry, but I love my husband and will stay with him. I would never leave him.” Then I added softly, “Nor would he ever abandon me.”
“Like I did?”
I said nothing, allowing his words to stand as testimony.
“I thought you forgave me.” His voice was anguished.
“I did. For everything.”
“Then why can’t you love me?” The words seemed to hang in the air between us, heavy with yearning. Then he drew a shuddering breath, blinking rapidly. A strong hand lifted to halt my answer, and his head shook back and forth as if moved by hidden strings. “No, don’t answer that.” The calm demeanor was once again masking his face. “I can wait.”
You’ll be waiting forever, I vowed.
I searched in my coat pocket and drew out the check he had given me. “I can’t accept this. I was wrong to come here.”
“Keep it,” he said tersely, pushing back my hand.
“I shouldn’t have come. I need to talk with my husband, and together we’ll decide what to do.” Now that I was removed from the hospital and all the tragic memories, I saw that my flight to Jacques had been premature, if not completely unnecessary. Somehow Jean-Marc and I would come through, as we always had.
“Him?” Jacques’ expression was one of disdain, and I felt myself bristle. “Your husband can’t even get a job. Not in Paris and not even in Bordeaux! He can’t care for you the way I can.”
“How do you know about Bordeaux?” I asked, suddenly suspicious. It was reasonable that Josette had told him of Jean-Marc’s failure to obtain work, but she had not seen Jacques since Jean-Marc decided to go to Bordeaux. The story the receptionist had told us came back to me. What if Jean-Marc was the man Jacques had been sabotaging? It was apparent I was the married woman he claimed to love.
Jacques didn’t respond to my question. “Tell me!” I demanded. “I have a right to know!”
“I heard it in business circles,” he said lamely. Though his expression was unchanged, I could tell he was lying.
“You set it up, didn’t you?” Anger swept through me like a cleansing fire, freeing me from the pity I felt for him. “You’re the reason Jean-Marc can’t find a job! Tell me!” I was yelling, moving closer to him. “Did you think his not having a job would make me leave him? How little you know about real love!”
“You’re here, aren’t you?” His voice was hard.
“For Pauline! I’m here for Pauline.”
He gave me a sardonic grin. “Are you?”
“How dare you manipulate me!” I held his check up and ripped it repeatedly before throwing it in his face. The little pieces fluttered slowly to the carpet like dainty snowflakes on a sea of cold gray. Several landed on his broad shoulders, and one caught in a fold of his jacket sleeve. “I can’t be bought,” I said, gritting my teeth.
He reached out his hand and touched my jaw, gently and caressingly. “I wasn’t trying to buy you, Ariana.” His voice had softened again, taking me by surprise. “We were marrried once. Why won’t you believe that I still care about you?”
It was at that moment the door burst open. My heart skipped a beat when I saw Jean-Marc standing there, his face livid. I was all too aware of Jacques’ hand still reaching out for me, and his declaration of love freshly fading into ominous silence.
Jean-Marc nearly leaped into the office, filling it to capacity with his presence, though there was still ample physical space in the room. Simultaneously, I stepped back, and Jacques’ arm fell to his side.
“I’m sorry. He just got by me.” The receptionist, partially blocked from view by my husband, stood in the hall, twisting her hands nervously. But I thought her eyes quickly squelched a hint of amusement.
“That’s all
right, Charlotte. You may leave,” Jacques said. A relieved expression passed over her face, and she vanished.
Jean-Marc’s fists clenched, and the furrow in his brow deepened. He didn’t look at me, but kept his eyes fastened on Jacques, as if sizing him up. Jacques met his angry glare with a haughty stare of his own. Jean-Marc was shorter than Jacques, almost as short as I was, but his build was slightly heavier than Jacques’ panther-like leanness. They seemed to be an even match, but I was afraid for my husband. Jacques, once a practiced bar fighter, would have no mercy, whereas my husband was basically gentle and compassionate. I hurried to him and grabbed his arm, tugging him in the direction of the door.
But when Jean-Marc spoke, his voice was steady and showed no sign of the wrath his face couldn’t hide. “My wife and I will be going now.”
“What, no introductions?” There was no mistaking the irony in Jacques’ voice or in his half-smile. It was as if he meant to make a mockery of the situation.
Jean-Marc’s eyes narrowed. “I know you,” he grated. “I’ve seen your works.” I knew he referred to Jacques’ past mistakes, and it made me wonder that he could still be so angry at Jacques when I, who had been wronged, had forgiven him.
“Come on. Let’s go,” I said.
Jacques’ smile faded. “This isn’t over yet, Ariana!”
I turned a stony face in his direction. “Yes, it is, Jacques. I never want to see you again!”
He took two strides and reached out to place a hand on my arm, but Jean-Marc stopped him. “Leave my wife alone,” he warned. “My wife.”
Jacques snorted. “What if she doesn’t want me to?”
“I do,” I said.
“I can take care of her!” Jacques growled, ignoring me.
“Like you did the last time?” Jean-Marc challenged.
I gasped and ran from the room. Men were impossible! Let them beat each other senseless, if that was what they were determined to do!
Yet I was overcome with relief when Jean-Marc followed me down the hall. The receptionist gazed at us with open curiosity, mouth opened to voice a question, but I stormed past her. She would have to find another victim.
The Ariana Trilogy Page 51
