Chapter 6
On the morning of Christmas Eve, Halley had everything ready for her trip. The
clothes she was taking were hanging on a rack in her bedroom, ready to put in her
suitcase, with all the accessories laid out to go with them, bags and shoes. She was
taking casual clothes, since she wasn’t going to be doing anything special, just walking
and exploring museums and places she had liked before, and some shopping. She was
packing one simple black dress, in case she went to a nice restaurant for dinner, though
she wasn’t planning to. She was going to cook for herself, or go to nearby neighborhood
bistros that were busy and informal enough that she wouldn’t feel uncomfortable being
alone. People-watching had always seemed exceptionally good to her in Paris
restaurants. The combinations were always interesting, much older men with pretty,
very young women, or sexy, sophisticated middle-aged or older women with handsome
young men, couples who looked bored with each other and flirted with people at other
tables, girls glancing coyly at men, hoping to be picked up, and men alone or in pairs
more than happy to oblige them, some wearing wedding bands. To Halley’s keen
observer’s eye, there always seemed to be an undercurrent of sex and romance in Paris.
She had said that to Robert when they were there, and he had laughed, but they had
made love for hours when they got back to the hotel. “Is that what you meant?” he asked
her, as they had lain in bed afterward in their luxurious suite at the Ritz.
“Precisely,” she said, and then they had taken a long bath together, talking and
laughing and whispering. They were lovers and best friends, which was what made it so
hard to lose him.
—
Millie, Halley’s assistant for the past fifteen years, showed up midmorning, to
deliver the typed version of the manuscript. She came to get the filled legal pads as
Halley finished them, and typed them up neatly for her. She had come to bring her the
last one, so Halley could take the whole manuscript with her and work on it during her
evenings at home in Paris, of which there would be many, according to Halley. She
didn’t anticipate going out at night.
The manuscript was clean and impeccably tight. Millie had no trouble deciphering
Halley’s handwriting. She had worked for her for so long that she could read it
backward and upside down, she knew what all the little abbreviations meant, and
following the asterisks all over the margins was easy for her. Halley accepted the
manuscript with relief and slipped it into her briefcase. Millie always had her
manuscript ready on time, whatever the deadline. She also came in to help Halley in the
office two or three days a week, with manuscripts and galleys to copy, bills to pay,
papers to file, journalists to call. She communicated with Halley’s agent and attorney,
and genuinely made life easy for her. She was forty-three and had come to Halley
through an editor at her publishing house, who knew Millie was looking for a job where
she could work from home a good amount of the time. She wasn’t a beauty but she was
attractive with very fair skin, big blue eyes, and blond hair cut short. She had an easy
California style, which was where she came from. She was very capable and solved all
of Halley’s problems on the days she was there. Her schedule was flexible. She would
come in according to how much Halley needed her to do, and didn’t mind staying as late
as it took to get the job done. She had lived with her invalid mother until a few years
before, when her mother had finally died. And now, like Halley, she was alone, and
filled her days and nights with work. Halley paid her well for it, and Millie was proud
to work for her.
She loved Halley’s books and typing the manuscripts seemed like an honor to her.
She was worried about Halley going to Paris alone. Millie never went anywhere,
although she used to go to Atlantic City with her mother, because her mother loved to
gamble, playing blackjack and the slot machines. Millie hadn’t been back there since
her mother had died. Halley’s trip to Paris sounded ambitious and particularly risky to
her, with a house rental offering none of the protections and security of a hotel.
They exchanged gifts. Halley had bought Millie a leather tote bag, to bring her things
to work, but Millie said it was too nice and Halley was afraid she wouldn’t use it.
Millie gave her a cozy robe to wear when she wrote at night, and a red leather passport
case for her trip, both of which Halley loved. Millie always gave her useful, thoughtful
gifts. She slipped her passport into the case immediately, and put it in her purse.
“I wish you’d stay at a hotel. You loved the Ritz the last time you were there.”
“Too many memories,” Halley said simply. “A house will make me feel like a
Parisian. There’s some kind of guardian. They left the keys with him. And I’m sure the
house has an alarm. Nothing’s going to happen, I promise.” Millie didn’t look
convinced.
“Let me know if you need anything, and I’ll take care of it,” she said, still frowning
with concern. There was a warm mutual respect between them. Millie had been
supportive through all of Robert’s illness, and had helped Halley organize the funeral.
She had common sense and good judgment, kept track of all the details of Halley’s life,
and reminded Halley of things she might have forgotten otherwise. The twins called her
for help or advice or information sometimes too, and she had done little errands and
missions for them, when she had time and didn’t have a manuscript to finish. Halley’s
work was the priority, but she liked all three women and was grateful for the job. The
girls had just been kids when she started. She lived further uptown in the East Eighties,
in the apartment she had shared with her mother in the old German neighborhood that
was mostly young working people now. Only a few of the old Germans still lived there.
When Millie left, Halley answered emails and then started packing. She was
surprised that she needed three suitcases in order to take everything she thought she’d
need. And she took a few of her monogrammed towels, in case she didn’t like theirs.
She was particular about good quality bed linens and towels. Halley surrounded herself
with the best of everything, including efficient employees. Halley had promised to call
Millie from Paris soon after she arrived.
When she finished packing, she made a salad and poured herself a glass of wine. It
was Christmas Eve, and she hadn’t been alone on that night since the twins were born.
She tried not to think of what day it was, and of all the Christmases having dinner with
the girls, dressed up and sitting at their dining table, and later, with Robert. Even though
her childhood Christmases had been so painful, the ones that came later were precious
memories. She felt as though she had come full circle, after all those wonderful years,
and was alone again. But she was glad that Valerie and Olivia were together, sharing
Valerie’s new life, on the boat, with Seth’s relatives, and their friends. It sounded
magical. Halley stood looking out the window, as snow fell on Central Park. It looked
like a Christmas card, with a dusting of snow sticking to the ground and the trees. She
was glad that she was going to Paris, even by herself. It gave her something to look
forward to.
The girls called her before she went to bed, and it sounded like they were having a
wonderful time. There was laughter and music in the background. The girls were happy.
Seth got on for a minute to wish her a merry Christmas, and apologized again for taking
a vacation she couldn’t join in.
“We’ll plan it better next time,” he promised. “We all wish you were here.”
“So do I, if you were on firm ground. I’d be moaning in my cabin now, if I were
there.” They had left the port that night, to avoid the revelers, and were at anchor just
outside the port. The boat was rocking gently, which didn’t bother any of them, but
would have ruined Halley’s Christmas. Valerie and Olivia got back on the phone after
Seth.
“We miss you, Mom,” the girls said in unison on speakerphone. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. I miss you too, but I’m happy you’re having fun. I packed today, so I’m all
set. It’s snowing here.”
“We’re going to play charades after dinner and have a dance party,” Olivia told her.
They sounded like children. “We’re going to open our presents from you tomorrow
morning when we get up, just like when we were kids.” The gifts were all supposed to
be from Santa Claus then, and one from her. She had always made Christmas especially
wonderful for them, and Locke had turned up at some point in the day to give them each
a gift. Halley too. It was always something fun that she wouldn’t have bought them. She
suddenly remembered the year Santa had brought them twin pink Barbie bikes, which
she had spent all of Christmas Eve putting together with a wrench and diagrams, and
almost didn’t finish in time. She smiled at the memory as she talked to them. She had
bought them each a Chanel handbag, a bikini, and a pareo. Valerie’s was orange, and
Olivia’s shocking pink. The bags were both black, which would be useful when they got
back to L.A. And she had presents from them to open the next day.
—
Peter turned out to be the most creative at charades, and Seth, Valerie, Peter, Olivia,
and the two guest couples stayed up to dance on deck for a while after Katherine and
Frank, Seth’s mother and stepfather, went to bed. They danced for a while and then sat
around talking about Christmas memories. Peter and Seth remembered their Christmas
in Las Vegas with their mother, the third time she got married, at the Elvis Chapel.
“It was colorful,” Seth said, with an arm around his wife.
“We should go to the disco again, before we leave St. Bart’s,” Peter suggested.
They’d had fun the first time, on their second night of the trip. “It might be our last
chance for a real disco,” Peter said, smiling at Olivia. She’d had fun dancing with him
and all the others. Peter danced with everyone, and was impressive on the dance floor.
He had called his daughters that night, and Olivia noticed he looked serious afterward.
She could tell that he missed them, and he went to his cabin afterward.
—
Halley went to bed after she talked to the girls, and when she woke up in the
morning, the park was blanketed in snow, and she could see children hurrying there with
their parents with brand- new sleds, and silver saucers to ride in, to try them out. It
wasn’t her usual Christmas, but she was leaving for Paris the next day so she didn’t feel
she had a right to complain. She had a wonderful life, and missing one holiday was not
a tragedy. And she could guess there might be other holidays alone ahead, if Seth and
Valerie had travel plans, or Olivia met someone and went away with him. They were
grownups now. She couldn’t hang on to them, and knew she shouldn’t. It was an art,
parenting adults and learning to step aside so as not to get in their way. This Christmas
was a reminder of that. Other parents had to live with it when their married children
alternated holidays with their in-laws. This was a first for her, but it probably wouldn’t
be the last, and as long as Olivia was single, and maybe even after, she would always
opt to be with her sister.
—
She spoke to the girls again on Christmas morning on FaceTime and opened her gift
from them while they were on the phone. They always got her a joint gift, and had
bought her an antique gold bracelet from the 1950s at Fred Leighton. It was very chic
and she loved it and put it on immediately, and they were wearing their new bikinis and
pareos, which she could see on FaceTime.
Halley went for a walk in the snow, watched the children sliding down a hill in the
park for a few minutes, and thought of the children at the shelter. She closed her
suitcases when she got home, and was all ready to leave the next day at two P.M. She
gave herself extra time because of the snow. But it was already melting by noon. Her
flight was at six, and she had to check in at four. She had treated herself to a first-class
ticket, with a seat that could turn into a bed with a mattress, a comforter, pillows, and a
blanket, and her own TV screen to watch movies. The flight only took six hours heading
east, and would arrive at six A.M. local time at Charles de Gaulle airport.
The day after Christmas, the doorman sent a porter up to help her with her bags
when the driver arrived, and she came downstairs in black suede boots and a big black
down coat. She was wearing a white sweater and a white knitted cap and gloves, and
carrying a big travel bag she loved that she’d bought at a fancy vintage auction. It was a
big alligator Hermès Birkin that was well worn and looked seasoned, in a size they
called a forty, which meant the length of the bottom of the bag was forty centimeters, or
sixteen inches, and she could put everything in it and still close it. She had her passport,
wallet, credit cards, cash in dollars and euros, a small pouch of makeup, her hairbrush,
keys, and all the odds and ends she traveled with, and to freshen up with when she
arrived, since she checked her cosmetics through in her luggage. She had put in a book
that she wanted to read, a current bestseller, and the January Vogue to read on the plane.
She always traveled with some small lucky things the girls had given her. The bag was
bulging and heavy but closed when she left the apartment, and she smiled as she rode
down in the elevator. It really did feel like an adventure. She suddenly couldn’t wait to
see Paris and the house she had rented. She hoped it lived up to the photographs the
realtor had sent her.
—
The snow wasn’t too bad on the road, but the driver was careful, and drove slowly.
The highway had been cleared by snowplows earlier and there was salt on the ground.
There was a separate area for first-class passengers when she got to the airport, and an
Air France ground crew member and a porter helped the driver get her bags through
curbside check-in. She tipped them, thanked the driver, and walked into the terminal.
They looked at her passport and all was in order. The trip was off to a smooth start. She
noticed that a few passengers were wearing masks, as a cautious leftover reminder of
the pandemic. Some people traveled with them now, particularly older people and
travelers from Asian countries. Halley wasn’t wearing a mask. She’d had the vaccine
and felt comfortable traveling.
She went through security and took her laptop, iPad, and phone out of her bag and
put them in a bin separately. Her boots and coat were in another one, and she placed her
large, well-worn alligator bag on the moving belt. It was too big for the bin. It was a
beautiful piece of craftsmanship, with a subtle patina to it that conjured up images of
sheer elegance. It was unique and killer chic. She saw several women stare at it. It was
hard to ignore for its size and style, an object of ancient luxury. It disappeared into the
X-ray machine and lumbered out the other side, as Halley stepped through the metal
detector in stocking feet and went to reclaim it. She set it down at her feet, got her boots
and coat on, and tucked all her electronic devices back into the alligator bag. There was
a horde of other travelers lined up around her, as it was a busy travel day, and as she
stowed the bins she’d used, she bumped into a tall, good-looking man next to her, with
brown hair and blue eyes, and a dusting of gray at his temples. He was traveling in
jeans, after-ski boots, and a big down parka, and he smiled at her as she put her coat on,
and they set off into the terminal to head for their gates.
She stopped to buy magazines and some snacks, put it all in her bag, which got
noticeably heavier, and reached the gate in plenty of time to board the plane. She
noticed the tall man in the black down jacket checking in for the same flight. He smiled
at her again, and she nodded, and a member of the ground crew ushered Halley inside
quickly as a first-class passenger. There were only four first-class seats on the 777
flight. She had reserved a single window seat, and the one on the other side of the cabin
was occupied by a woman wearing dark glasses, with a Yorkshire terrier on her lap.
And in the center section there were two seats together, as yet unoccupied.
A steward and a flight attendant greeted Halley and ushered her to her seat, where
she set her bag down and got organized. She pulled a cashmere blanket out of her bag
and dropped it on her seat, folded her coat onto the smaller seat in front of her, and got
her bearings. The seat across the aisle from her was one of the two unoccupied. She sat
down and took one of the magazines out of her bag and glanced through it, just as the
last two passengers arrived, both men. One was older and took the middle seat on the
other side of the cabin, across from the woman with the little dog, and the man she’d
already seen twice in après ski gear sat down in the seat across the narrow aisle from
her.
“We keep running into each other,” he said pleasantly, as he removed his coat and
the steward took it from him to hang in the closet. Halley noticed that he had dark brown
hair with graying temples and bright blue eyes. He smiled and put a briefcase he was
carrying into the overhead rack. He was tall enough to do it with ease, and then he took
his seat again, put on his seatbelt, and accepted The New York Times from a flight
attendant. He looked to be somewhere in his fifties, with an athletic body and a youthful
face. He didn’t speak to Halley again until after they were in flight, on schedule. He
accepted the glass of champagne they offered once in the air, and Halley took the
sparkling water and flipped through the movie choices with the remote, as the tall man
glanced over at her.
“Do you live in Paris?” he asked her. She looked like it. Even in her wintry snow
gear, she had a stylish air to her that looked French to him. He had put his paper down
when he took the glass of champagne.
“No, just visiting,” she said, with the remote still in her hand as she glanced over at
him. Normally, she didn’t speak to strangers, but he seemed friendly and relaxed, he had
a respectable air to him, and there was a holiday spirit on the plane. “Are you going
skiing in Europe?” she asked him. It wasn’t like a pickup, they were just fellow
travelers on the same flight, and there was no harm talking to him.
“No, my son works for an American law firm in Europe and lives there. They were
with his wife’s family over Christmas, and now I’m flying over to spend two weeks
with them. He has some time off. I’m looking forward to it,” he shared with her, and he
looked happy. “I thought you were French when I saw you in the terminal.” Her alligator
bag was at her feet again. The steward had put it in the overhead bin briefly for takeoff,
and had taken it down for her when they reached their cruising altitude. “Do you work
in fashion?” he asked her. There was a quiet chic about her, which the oversized bag
contributed to.
“No, I’m a writer,” she said. She usually didn’t mention that, but he was so friendly
and open that she relaxed more than usual. When they didn’t want to talk, they both had
curtains to close off their seat area and give them privacy. Most people only closed
them when they wanted to sleep, but some did it for the entire flight. It was the day after
Christmas and people were friendly and more expansive than usual, and even the flight
crews were more festive.
There were menus at their seats and a flight attendant took their dinner orders.
Halley ordered the roast chicken and a salad, and he ordered a steak with vegetables,
followed by cheese, and a dessert. He had picked a hearty meal and she a light one.
When the food came, they both paused the movies they were watching, and he
glanced over at her again.
“I’m Bart Warner,” he introduced himself, with his meal in front of him.
“Halley Holbrook,” she said with a cautious smile, and he reacted immediately,
which she hadn’t expected, and usually liked to avoid. She didn’t like having a fuss
made over her.
“The novelist?” He looked impressed as she nodded, and he smiled broadly. “I’m a
fan. I’ve read your work. I like it very much, beautiful character descriptions and great
plots. I can’t put your books down when I start them. You’ve kept me up till nearly dawn
on many nights.” He smiled at her.
“Thank you, that’s nice to hear.” She never knew how to respond to people, and
most of the time the compliments embarrassed her, but she thanked him.
“You have a broad understanding of the human condition and emotions. And I
particularly like the way you write about men and their reactions. You get into your
characters’ heads and the reader really sees how they got to be the way they are. I’ve
read five or six of your books, and I keep meaning to catch up on the few I may have
missed, but I haven’t gotten around to it. I’ve been pretty busy.” It felt rude to ask what
kept him so busy and what kind of work he did, in the circumstances. She didn’t want to
be nosy, even if he was friendly and had initiated the conversation. She didn’t want to
abuse it. “How long have you been writing novels? I know you’ve written a lot of
them.”
“The first one was published almost twenty-three years ago. The second one really
launched my career as a writer, three years later. That was twenty years ago. Not
exactly an overnight success.”
“But a very impressive one. I really enjoy your books,” he complimented her again,
and sounded sincere.
They chatted for a while longer, and then went back to their respective movies, and
eventually she glanced over at him and he was asleep. One of the flight attendants drew
the curtain to give him privacy, and when Halley’s movie ended, she did the same,
asked for her bed to be made up, turned out her light, and slept for a few hours.
It was a relatively short flight, and a steward gently touched her arm, and woke her
to tell her they were starting the descent to Charles de Gaulle Airport in twenty minutes
and asked if she’d like to order breakfast. She ordered croissants and coffee and went
to the bathroom to brush her teeth and hair, and wash her face. She got back to her seat
feeling fresh and wide awake, and saw that her neighbor’s curtains were open, and he
looked up and smiled at her.
“Did you get any sleep?” he asked her.
“Enough. I usually work late, and I’m fine with only a few hours.” It was hard to get
much sleep on the New York–Paris flight, with a movie, a meal, and only a few hours to
sleep.
“I travel a lot, and I sleep like a baby on planes.” He looked rested too. Her
breakfast came then, and he disappeared into the bathroom and came back looking neat
and properly groomed.
The steward brought him his jacket to get ready for landing, and set it down across
from him, as they came through the cloud cover over Paris and could see the airport
below.
“Where are you staying?” Bart asked her.
“I’ve rented a house for two weeks.” She smiled at him. And she suddenly felt ready
for her big adventure. It was exciting. Christmas was behind her, and she no longer felt
nostalgic or lonely. She felt thrilled to be landing in Paris and couldn’t wait to see the
house she’d rented, and hoped it was as lovely as promised.
“That’s brave of you,” he commented. “Through friends or an agency?”
“An agency,” she answered.
“I’m staying with my son and his wife. She’s French. She’s very sweet and lets me
stay with them when I come to town. They live in the 6th arrondissement. Where’s your
house?”
“In the seventh.”
“We’re nearly neighbors,” he said, smiling, and reached into the pocket of his jacket
for his wallet, pulled out a card, grabbed a pen out of his briefcase, jotted down a
number, and handed the card to her. “That’s my cell. Give me a call, if you need a hand
with anything. My son and his wife could be very helpful.”
“Thank you very much,” she said, glancing at the card, and saw that he was the CEO
of a major corporation. For all his relaxed, congenial ways, he was a very important
man in the corporate world. Halley knew the firm by name, and that they made
electronic components. He had a huge job, and Halley was impressed. And he appeared
just as pleased to meet her, since he had read many of her books.
“Do you want to give me your cell number, just in case?” he asked her. “I’ll put it in
my phone just so I have it.” Realizing what a major figure he was in the corporate
world, she felt comfortable giving it to him, which she wouldn’t have otherwise. She
gave him her cell number and he put it in his phone. “It’s been great talking to you. I
really enjoyed it.” He smiled warmly at her again, and she didn’t have the feeling that
he was picking her up, or flirting with her. He was just extremely personable, was
relaxed in anticipation of seeing his son, and seemed like a nice person. She suspected
he could have talked to anyone. He had excellent people skills, and had made her feel
instantly at ease, even before she knew who he was, where he worked, and his status as
CEO.
They landed smoothly, and were both given rides in separate cars to the main
terminal, as first-class VIP passengers, and they met again at the baggage claim area and
stood together, waiting for their bags. It took a while before the moving carousel was
activated and the bags began to come out, as a member of the ground crew with them
apologized that there were no porters at that hour. It was six-thirty A.M. and Halley’s
bags came out right before Bart’s. He lifted them off the carousel for her and set them
down. He didn’t complain about how heavy they were, but she knew and felt guilty
about it. He was athletic and did it with ease. The two ground crew members brought
them carts. Bart’s single suitcase fit on his, and it took two carts for Halley’s, which she
and the ground agent pushed toward the exit, with Bart right behind them with his cart
and agent.
“I’ve got an SUV and driver waiting,” he said to her. “Do you want a lift into the
city?”
“That’s very nice, thank you. I have a car waiting too. Really, thanks so much.”
Millie had arranged a car service for her stay.
They walked outside together, and their drivers were waiting, holding up signs that
said “Holbrook” and “Warner,” and they parted on the sidewalk outside and got into
their cars. There was a Mercedes sedan Millie had booked for Halley, and an SUV for
Bart.
“Have a great time in Paris,” he said to her. Talking to him had made the trip more
pleasant, and had made the time go faster.
“You too,” she said with a smile, and no one would have suspected that neither of
them had had more than three hours’ sleep, if that, and had just gotten off a flight. They
looked ready to start their day and tackle Paris, with all its delights and beauty.
He waved as he got into the back seat and was driven away, and two minutes later,
so was Halley. She briefly envied him the family he was going to, and would have liked
to do the same, but she was smiling in anticipation as her car headed toward the city.
She dozed for a few minutes on the way, and woke up in time to see the impressive
monument where Napoleon was buried. And behind her was the Champs-Élysées with
the Arc de Triomphe at the end, and there was an enormous French flag fluttering in the
breeze under the arch. She was deeply moved when she saw it, and the car rapidly
headed over the Alexandre III Bridge to the Left Bank, Saint-Germain-des-Prés, and the
address of her rented house. It was on the rue Jacob, tucked in between other lovely
houses. There was an entrance for carriages with tall gates and solid shiny black doors,
and neatly trimmed hedges in front. It looked very chic. She had already agreed to pay
the gardener for the duration of her stay. And she could see the guardian’s lodge. There
was a maid who would come three times a week.
Halley saw the guardian watching her as they drove in. He was standing in his open
door staring at her before she could ring the bell. She walked over to him and
introduced herself, and he looked as though he wanted to snarl at her, but didn’t. She
knew his name was Henri Laurent.
“I’m very pleased to be here and meet you,” she said, as he continued to gaze at her
suspiciously. “The realtor told me that you would give me the keys,” she said in French.
She spoke it adequately after studying it in private school before her father died and
again in college. She still remembered a little from her mother, but had forgotten most of
it since she was so young then. She continued to be pleasant to the guardian despite his
unfriendly welcome.
“I don’t know why they rented the place,” he growled at her. He had a five-day
beard stubble, and he didn’t look clean to her. His hands were dirty, and the wool shirt
he wore under a battered down jacket made him look even more unkempt. She stood
there, waiting for the keys, and he reluctantly went inside to get them. She realized that
he had a dog, and heard it more than saw it, but she hoped it was a good dog and would
protect them. The dog came out a minute later, and Halley saw that it was a pit bull. She
could never understand people who owned them. What was the point of having a dog
who would terrify the residents of the house as well as strangers? It seemed to reflect
his own attitude, unnecessarily aggressive.
“Is the alarm on?” she asked him over her shoulder after he handed her the keys, and
he laughed.
“You don’t need an alarm, and no, it’s not. Medor here will keep you safe. You have
no enemies in Paris. Why do you need an alarm?” She didn’t answer. He stood in the
doorway watching her again, as she went to the main door of the house and unlocked it
with the keys. She groped for the lights in the front hall, located them and turned them
on, and found herself in the elegant front hall of a small but exquisite classically
decorated house. There was a black-and-white marble floor in the entrance hall, an
antique Japanese screen, and handsome black lacquer chairs. She turned on the lights to
explore the main floor. There were two sitting rooms which adjoined each other, and a
wood-paneled library with a fireplace. Each room had one with an antique marble
mantel. There was a graceful staircase which led to the upper floors. The dining room
and kitchen were on the floor above, there was an elevator she didn’t take, and the
master suite was on the floor above that, with a large bedroom, sitting room, and
dressing rooms, and two big marble bathrooms. On the top floor were four bedrooms
she didn’t need and wouldn’t use. It would have been perfect if the twins were coming.
The rooms were well proportioned with beautiful windows and curtains. It was a small
house but perfectly laid out and beautifully done. She realized then that she needed the
alarm code from Henri so she could use it. She knew from the realtor’s information that
there was a laundry room in the basement with three rooms for the help, and storage,
and there was a large well-stocked wine cellar. It was a lovely house in excellent
condition, and she could see easily from the furniture and art that the owners had great
taste. They were at their home in Morocco for three months. She would have loved to
entertain there if she knew anyone in Paris, but she didn’t. She thought instantly how
much Robert would have loved it, even more than the Ritz. Despite its elegance, the
house had a warm inviting feeling.
She came back down the stairs to the main floor, after she checked out all three
upper floors, and found Henri Laurent standing in the formal living room with the dog,
which made Halley uneasy. Henri grudgingly helped her driver get her bags upstairs in
the elevator. He said something under his breath she didn’t understand and then left with
the dog, and the driver left a few minutes later, after giving her his card so she could
request a car whenever she wanted one. She had them on an on-call basis. She looked
around nervously after they all left. The house was beautifully furnished, and so
tastefully done. It was more space than she needed, but she smiled as she looked around
her home for the next two weeks. Her Paris adventure had begun. Other than the creepylooking, somewhat surly guardian, the house was perfect for her. It was even prettier
than the photographs, and it was in a very desirable neighborhood, with antique shops
and art galleries all around. She needed groceries, but other than that, she had
everything she needed. The housekeeper had left her enough for breakfast. It was exactly
what she’d wanted, and hoped for, and more. A little shiver of anticipation ran up her
spine. She had actually done it. She had come to Paris. She felt very brave, and very
lucky with the house. She couldn’t ask for more. Her Paris adventure was off to a
perfect start, except for an unpleasant guardian. But who cared about him? Halley
didn’t. She was thrilled to be in Paris and couldn’t wait to go out and look around.
