by Jan Moran
“So, how is he?”
“What? Oh, fine, Maman. On second thought, I’d like to dine downstairs this evening. I’m not quite ready to retire.”
“By yourself?”
“There’s a pianist I’d love to hear in the lounge.”
Danielle saw Marie threw a sidelong glance at her. “All right. Kiss the girls, and I won’t wait up for you.”
Danielle went to her room to change. Within ten minutes, the phone rang. “Hello?”
“It’s your best friend calling.”
Minutes later, they were seated at dinner. They dined on pheasant and enjoyed an excellent bottle of Chassagne Montrachet wine. As the evening wore on, Danielle became more comfortable with him and found it hard to imagine that this was all they would ever have together.
After dinner, they retired to the lounge for cognac, where they listened to the piano and continued talking. Jon slipped his fingers through hers, and when there was a lull in the conversation, he said, “I have something very important to tell you.”
Danielle moistened her lips and raised her eyes. His gaze was direct, but she met his eyes unwaveringly.
“Victoria and I have a deal. She asked me for a divorce several months ago. I agreed on the condition that we would not announce it until after Abigail’s wedding. I didn’t want the gossip mill to ruin my sister’s happy day.”
Danielle calmly held his gaze, letting his words sink in, guarding her emotions. “What will Victoria do?”
“She’s going to marry her baby’s father. It’s only right.” He shrugged. “I’m not the only chap this happened to during the war.”
“Still, I’m sorry to hear it, Jon. I know it can’t be easy.”
“It’s the right thing to do, for both of us.”
Dishes clattered behind them and they turned. A waitress was beginning to clear the tables.
“I believe they’re throwing us out,” Jon said. “Shall I see you to your room?”
“Please.” But when they stepped onto the elevator, Jon gave the attendant his floor number, and Danielle didn’t protest. Maybe Jon is right, she thought. Maybe this isn’t over. She tucked her arm through his and watched the floors slip past until they came to his floor.
They stepped out, and Jon withdrew his key from his pocket. “Give me just a few more minutes with you, Danielle. I can’t let you go, not yet. I’ll be a gentleman, I promise.”
“More’s the pity,” she replied with a slight smile, only partly in jest.
He opened the door.
For all their best intentions, as soon as he shut the door, they found themselves in each other’s arms, drinking in the intoxicating scent of one another. They held each other tightly for a long moment, then their lips met, and Danielle’s resolve evaporated. Her coat and purse dropped to the floor.
“Danielle, I have dreamt of this moment for months,” he whispered.
“So have I, my darling.” She nuzzled his neck, drinking in the smell of his skin.
He tilted her chin and cradled her face in his broad hands. “The night is ours,” his voice thick with emotion. “No one else has to know.”
Danielle responded with a kiss, passion flaring within her. In one fluid motion, Jon lifted her and carried her to his bed, placing her in the center.
He trailed a finger along the smooth contours of her face and neck as she lay basking in the moonlight, waiting for him. He bent to her and she pulled him closer, teasing his lips with her tongue before he lowered himself to her.
Danielle had only one thought. We are meant to be. She felt heat gathering in her chest, spreading through her torso and into her groin.
Slowly and deliberately, they undressed one another. Danielle caressed Jon’s chest, his back, his thighs, remembering the feel of his skin on hers, tracing scars where he had been wounded on his upper thigh. She kissed each scar, and he moaned in response.
As their fervor increased, Jon pressed her to him until rightly, inevitably, they joined as one. Danielle cried out, her heart expanding with the exquisite fullness of love as waves of emotion crashed over her.
She relished Jon’s every touch, marveling at the depth and intensity of their passionate lovemaking, while his expert strokes aroused her again and again, erupting together in a euphoric sense of pure elation.
Afterward, Jon stroked damp tendrils from her forehead and kissed her softly. “Don’t ever leave me, Danielle.”
“I don’t think I could.” Never again. She sighed. Her strong will had softened, become pliable in his hands.
“We’ll find a way, somehow.”
She smiled up at him, feeling his certainty, believing his words. “I know we will.”
Satiated, they rested in the curves of each other’s body, until their longings stirred once again. Over and over, they promised their undying love, until finally, as dawn crept through the windows, Jon fell asleep.
Quietly, Danielle dressed and returned to her room. But as she closed the door, doubt crept between them, and a terrible thought occurred to her. Had Jon really been truthful with her about the divorce?
She thought of Victoria and the baby, of his family, and hers, and what everyone would think if they knew. This was not a random day in Beverly Hills. This was the rest of their lives. There would be no turning back. She sank to her heels and covered her face with her hands. Oh, what have I done?
35
Since childhood, Abigail had dreamed of getting married in the Newell-Grey home. Tonight, on Christmas Eve, feathery snowflakes floated from the heavens with the softness of angel’s tears. Candles flickered in the circular porthole-style windows, brilliant beacons for the guests who were beginning to arrive for the nuptials of Abigail Newell-Grey and Louis V. Silverman.
Upstairs, Danielle fastened the last of the twenty pearl buttons lining the back of Abigail’s wedding dress. “There, now turn around, let me see how it falls on you.”
Abigail swirled in front of the mirror, her face glowing with delight. “How beautiful,” she breathed. “It’s utterly gorgeous, Danielle, you’ve really outdone yourself.”
“You make such a beautiful bride,” Danielle said, feeling true happiness for her friend. “And the dress is yours alone, I’ll never make another like it. No one else could do it justice.”
Danielle had designed the dress to showcase Abigail’s lean, well-toned figure, while minimizing fussy details. The ivory satin, off-the-shoulder gown had a tasteful décolleté, and the fitted bodice featured tiny pleats nipped into a slim fitted waist. The simple design was the perfect frame for the heirloom Edwardian jewelry she wore, treasured family pieces of diamonds and pearls. Abigail turned again, and the expertly draped train swished gracefully behind her.
Danielle had also designed a sheer, delicate veil. She lifted it above Abigail’s sleek coiffure and secured it with two antique hairpins. “And here, don’t forget your perfume.” She picked up a crystal bottle of Chimère she’d given Abigail for her wedding day and helped her apply it, taking care around the dress.
As she trailed the perfume along the nape of Abigail’s long neck, the rich aroma of jasmine, rose, and sandalwood transported her back to Philippe’s laboratory in Grasse where she’d created it. Memories misted her vision. Max had been in Germany and Poland searching for Nicky and Sofia. How I had missed him and prayed for his safety. And then Jon had arrived, giving her the dreadful news about Max.
Danielle swallowed hard. With so much horrible history between them, could she and Jon really be happy together? She shook her head to dispel the memories.
Danielle smoothed perfume on Abigail’s wrists, then turned to her. “There, you’re ready now.”
Abigail’s eyes began to fill. Danielle whipped out a lace handkerchief to dab Abigail’s eyes, and then her own. “We’ll have none of that. No tear-streaked faces allowed, this is a happy occasion.”
Abigail laughed, then clasped Danielle’s hands and sighed. “You’re such a dear friend. I’ve dreamt of this moment
all my life. You’ve helped make my dream come true.”
A tap sounded at the door and Abigail’s father joined them. A smile lit his face when he saw his daughter. “My dear, how lovely you look.” Tall and lean, he was attired in formal nautical regalia.
Abigail returned his smile, her brown eyes glistening. “Have all the guests arrived?”
Nathan Newell-Grey nodded. “All present and accounted for. Are you ready?”
Abigail hugged Danielle, then turned to her father, who held his hands out to her. “I’m ready. Danielle, you’re first.”
Danielle walked to the top of the stair and glanced down. The intoxicating aroma of white lilies and forest fir perfumed the air, the aroma reminding her of her own wedding to Max. She blinked against her memories. She lifted her chin, smiling through her pain. Today, it was Abigail’s turn at happiness. And tomorrow? Who knows?
She paused before starting down the steps. A pianist played in one corner of the living room, candles provided subtle illumination, and garlands of mistletoe and red berries lined the banister and mantle. Danielle’s heart brimmed with happiness for Abigail, for the wedding and the husband her friend so richly deserved.
Just four rows of chairs were arranged for the intimate ceremony. Danielle descended the staircase, her elegant, emerald green velvet dress trailing on the steps behind her. Walking past the guests, she nodded to the Newell-Greys and the triplets. Behind them were the Leibowitzes, Marie with Jasmin and Liliana, and a few other close friends. Victoria sat in the second row, her face a brittle mask.
Lou stood beaming next to the minister. Jon, acting as best man, waited next to him. As matron of honor, Danielle took her place across from Jon. Her heart lurched as she briefly acknowledged him, careful not to let her gaze linger. A moment later, Abigail made a grand entrance on the arm of her father amidst hushed murmurs of approval. “What a stunning dress...how lovely she looks.”
Abigail took her place beside Lou, and Danielle felt Jon’s unwavering eyes on her. She felt herself grow warm as she thought of their lovemaking, and lowered her eyes. She forced herself to turn her attention to the minister’s eloquent words.
The simple exchange of vows proceeded, and before long, the minister announced, “You may kiss the bride.”
“At last.” Lou’s bright blue eyes twinkled. He lifted Abigail’s veil and kissed her amidst a happy chorus of well wishes.
Danielle soon joined Marie and the girls. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a more beautiful ceremony,” Danielle said, “or two people more suited to one another.”
Marie sighed. “Ah, l’amour. You can see it in their eyes.”
Jasmin tugged Danielle’s skirt. “What do we do now, Mama?”
“The wedding party will pose for photographs, then we’ll go to the ballroom. An orchestra will be there, and you can dance for all of us, Jasmin.”
Liliana said, “I’m going to dance with Ari first.”
Jasmin raised her chin. “And I’m going to dance with Aaron.”
After photographs were taken, they were ushered into the grand ballroom where linen-covered tables laden with crystal and silver stood ready for the Christmas Eve dinner. Smooth teakwood rails and shiny brass fixtures were festooned with more mistletoe and berries. Soon the room was buzzing with laughter as more guests arrived for the formal dinner reception. But Victoria left before dinner was served.
As Danielle watched Victoria leave, Marie caught her daughter’s eye. “Remember what I said earlier about l’amour?”
Danielle nodded thoughtfully, thinking about her evening with Jon.
“Life is short, darling.” Marie lowered her voice. “Victoria is gone. You and Jon shouldn’t suffer any more.”
Danielle opened her mouth to protest, but Marie put her hand on her daughter’s arm. “I know you well, and you are wise enough now to follow your heart.”
Marie invited Jon to join them at their table. As they dined, she asked, “What keeps you in London, Jon? I thought you lived outside of the city.”
“I have some business here.”
“During the holiday season?”
“Ships sail every day of the year.”
Marie glanced pointedly at Danielle. “Indeed they do.”
Jon continued. “Usually I stay with my family or the Leibowitzes here in town, but because they have a full house with the wedding party, I plan to remain at the Savoy a while.”
“And where will your wife spend the holiday?”
“Victoria will stay with her parents in the country. Under the circumstances, we thought it best.”
He didn’t elaborate, but Marie nodded, seemingly satisfied.
The guests dined and danced until three o’clock in the morning, and Danielle thought she’d never had more fun. She and Jon laughed all evening, and had a marvelous time dancing and whirling around the floor, and stealing kisses beneath the mistletoe in a darkened corner of the snowy terrace. And with all eyes on Abigail and Lou, no one seemed to notice them at all.
After Abigail and Lou retired, Jon accompanied Danielle and her family back to the Savoy. As they strolled through the hotel lobby, Danielle and Jon traded a brief look, then parted to go to their respective suites. After the children fell asleep, Danielle crept from her room. She tapped softly on Jon’s door.
He opened the door. “My darling,” he murmured. “I didn’t think you’d come tonight, it’s so late.”
“How could I stay away?” She sank into his warm embrace. “You’ve become a habit I can’t bear to break.”
Though the night was nearly spent, neither of them felt like sleeping. Jon lit a fire, then warmed two cognacs above the blaze. He handed one to her and they cuddled on the sofa, talking about their future.
Jon cradled Danielle in his arms, and as he did, she felt a warm sensation course through her. She smiled as she recognized it. It was happiness, pure and simple.
Outside, bells began to chime.
Jon kissed her forehead. “Merry Christmas, Danielle.”
She tilted her head and their lips met in a slow, passionate kiss. When the last of the bells rang, Danielle smiled up at him. “Merry Christmas, Jon.”
36
It was New Year’s Eve, and Abigail shivered in the crisp morning air. Pristine snow blanketed the streets like a velvet throw, and her breath formed misty clouds as she raised the brass knocker on Libby Leibowitz’s massive Georgian door.
With the wedding and Christmas behind her, Abigail was eager to return to work. Libby had helped her arrange passage for orphaned children from Europe to travel to new homes with relatives or adoptive families.
“Come in, Miss Newell-Grey,” Hadley said automatically, opening the door and taking her coat.
“It’s Mrs. Silverman now, Hadley,” she said, pleased to see Libby’s loyal butler.
“So it is, and best wishes to you. Mrs. Leibowitz is in her study. She’s expecting you.”
“Thank you, I’ll see myself in.”
“I’ll take your coat. Would you care for tea?”
“I’d love it, thank you. I fear my blood has thinned considerably since living in California.”
Abigail tapped on the door and opened it. Her diminutive friend sat at her writing desk, wearing a robin’s egg blue wool suit. Libby looked up and smiled.
“My dear Abigail, come in.”
“Good morning, Libby. You look wonderful today.” She put her purse down and glanced around the sunny, lemon yellow study. She loved its spring-like ambiance on such a wintry day.
After they embraced, Abigail crossed to the fireplace where a fire blazed and crackled. She rubbed her hands near the fire.
“Marriage agrees with you, my dear. You’re absolutely glowing.” Libby joined her by the fire. “Before we begin, I must say, that was the loveliest wedding I’ve ever seen. Lou is such a gentleman, and the triplets are adorable. I’m terribly happy for you. And your wedding dress was beautiful. I didn’t realize Danielle was so talented.”
“Indeed.” Libby tilted her head. “Danielle has certainly achieved a great deal. Why, I remember the day we met. I liked her from the very beginning. She had something solid about her, even when she was very young. Her success doesn’t surprise me. She always had such determination.”
“I suppose she must, her life has been so tumultuous.”
“I was sorry to hear about Cameron, and of course, poor Max. But pain strengthens a person, galvanizes them like iron. No one demonstrates that better than Danielle, don’t you think?”
Abigail nodded. “After Max died, I thought she’d crumple to pieces. But she didn’t. Then, when Cameron hung himself....” She shuddered. “Oh, it was just awful. You can’t imagine. Yet she kept right on going, like an engine gathering speed. I don’t know where she got the strength.”
“I think I know,” Libby said quietly. “She has good friends, like you and your brother.”
“She’s my dearest friend, too. You know, I didn’t realize that she and Jon had become so close.” She paused, remembering them dancing together at her wedding reception. “Danielle is twice widowed, I can’t help but wonder if she will ever marry again.”
Libby raised an eyebrow, and said, “I suppose that depends on the young man, or perhaps, his family.”
Abigail glanced at Libby. “What do you mean?”
Libby shrugged. “Everything works out in time. Time, it’s our best ally and our worst enemy.”
“But I do worry about Danielle. She still searches for her son, you know.”
“Nicky?” Libby looked surprised. “I thought he died, the poor little soul.”
“So did I. But she told me something about Max’s cousin, and she’s even called on orphanages here in London.”
“The death of a child must be very hard to accept. One can hardly blame her.”
A knock sounded at the door and Hadley entered with the tea tray. After pouring tea and exchanging pleasantries, he left.
Abigail sat on a floral chintz sofa. Libby joined her and handed her a cup, took a sip of her own tea, and motioned to a stack of files on her desk. “As you see, we’ll have quite a few children to send back with you. Are you sure you don’t mind? After all, it is your honeymoon.”
