Christmas in Paris (10 page)

But now Édouard was an established neurosurgeon with a practice in the eighth arrondissement and an apartment near the Palais Bourbon. He took six weeks' annual vacation and bought Bettina sapphire earrings for her birthday.

Alec walked to the bar and poured a glass of scotch. He downed it quickly and thought he would go to church every Sunday if they made it through the entrée without Bettina offending Celine. He pictured Celine tossing the diamond ring on her salad plate and wished he were home eating a bowl of cereal.

The grand salon was scattered with paisley sofas and Louis XIV chairs. Oriental rugs were stretched over wood floors and a crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling.

Claudia kept the bar stocked with the finest liqueurs and the cigar box filled with cigars, as if Alain would appear any minute and hand her his briefcase and demand a glass of sherry.

His father had been loud and sometimes rude, but he loved his family. Alec remembered admitting he wanted to go to art school instead of following his father into the business and his father examining his sketches and saying who was he to judge what would make his son happy. He was halfway down the hall when his father called out to him.

“The sketches are very good, you must get your talent from your mother.”

*   *   *

NOW ALAIN WAS
dead and had left his family in a mess. His mother would have to leave the ornate dining room with its mahogany table and faded tapestries. The kitchen had never been remodeled, but Claudia loved drinking creamy coffee in the breakfast nook and filling the enamel vases with cut flowers.

If only he had accepted his father's offer of an allowance when he turned twenty-one. He didn't want to be like Bettina, living in a chic apartment he couldn't pay for himself. But he could have saved that money and offered it to his mother now. How was he to know that Alain would write in his will that 40 Rue de Passy went to his children and Claudia would have nowhere to live?

“There you are,” Bettina said. Her brown hair was cut in a pageboy, and she had long red fingernails. “You've grown your hair, I thought you were the pool boy.”

“Celine likes it.” Alec touched his hair. “And it saves money at the barber.”

“I've always thought long hair was for boys.” Bettina nibbled a mushroom quiche. “Like in that book your mother read when we were children. It was so silly, but you adored it.” She paused and looked at Alec. “No wonder you grew up to be an illustrator.”

“
Peter Pan
is one of the most beloved children's books,” Alec spluttered. “I'd give anything for Gus to affect children the way I was influenced by Tinker Bell and Captain Hook.” He took Celine's hand. “Celine, this is my sister Bettina and her boyfriend, Édouard.”

Bettina studied Celine's blond chignon and high cheekbones. She wore a yellow crepe dress and silver sandals.

“It's a pleasure to meet you. Alec never mentioned you and now he's engaged.” Bettina looked pointedly at Celine's small waist. “Unless there's a reason for a hasty wedding.”

“I didn't mention Celine because we rarely see each other besides Christmas and birthdays.” Alec refreshed his drink. “And the wedding won't be until Christmas. At which time Celine will wear a wedding dress with a twenty-six-inch waist.” He downed the scotch. “If you'll excuse us, I promised I'd show her the rose garden before lunch.”

*   *   *

“YOU DON'T HAVE
to speak for me as if I'm a department store dummy,” Celine said as they strolled through the garden. “And I've seen your mother's roses.”

“We'll go back inside, I just needed to cool off.” Alec loosened his collar. “Bettina makes me feel like a schoolboy.”

“You're acting like one,” Celine retorted. “It's not very sexy.”

“I was afraid…” Alec glanced at Celine's violet eyes and full lips, and his voice trailed off. How could he tell her he was terrified Bettina would say something to threaten their engagement?

He ran his hands through his hair and thought he was acting like a frightened puppy. The most spectacular woman in Paris had agreed to be his wife and nothing was going to stop them.

“I was afraid she'd ask to be your maid of honor and you wouldn't know how to refuse,” he said weakly. “I'm sure you have your own idea for attendants.”

“Your sister would be as likely to stand behind the bride as the prime minister would be to attend our wedding.” Celine's face softened and she kissed him. “Now let's relieve your mother of that bottle of Pétrus Merlot.”

*   *   *

THEY SAT AT
the long table and ate leek soup and Nicoise salad. There was a Limoges platter of potato salad and creamed cauliflower.

“You hardly need a full set of china,” Bettina mused, cradling her wineglass. “You should sell some pieces at Sotheby's. They would fetch a good price.”

“Your father loved giving dinner parties.” Claudia buttered a baguette. “I would never part with the china.”

“It will be hard to find an apartment big enough to fit twelve soup tureens,” Bettina continued. “And the style is so old-fashioned, the whole house needs to be updated. One of Édouard's patients is an interior decorator. I'll ask him about replacing the carpets, they're quite dusty and I'm prone to hay fever.”

“It's only June,” Alec interrupted. “Claudia can live here until January and then…”

“We can discuss this later.” Claudia stood up and turned to Celine. “I made ratatouille with tomatoes from the garden. Perhaps you can help me bring out the plates.”

*   *   *

“PERSONALLY I THINK
a spring wedding is nicer,” Bettina said when they were all eating cream of potato soup. “You can take photos in the Luxembourg Gardens and drive away in a Bentley convertible.”

“Celine's father's sixtieth birthday is New Year's Eve,” Alec explained, wishing the lump in his throat would disappear so he could enjoy the mushrooms in wine sauce. “We're going to have a double celebration.”

“We'll have to cancel our vacation.” Bettina turned to Celine. “Every year Édouard and I go to Mustique the day after Christmas. Paris can get tedious with the tourists trampling through the Place Vendôme. Mustique has white sand beaches and colorful restaurants. Basil's Bar is built on stilts and serves a delicious rum punch.”

“We used to go to Mustique every January,” Celine replied. “My parents have a house overlooking Britannia Bay. It's not elaborate like Mick's, but you can see the tortoises and coral reefs.”

“Mick?” Bettina asked.

“Mick Jagger. He and my father play checkers.” Celine smiled. “He says he lets Mick win, but my father has always been a terrible loser.”

“Alec never told me how you met,” Bettina said, suddenly changing the subject.

“At a gallery opening.” Alec squeezed Celine's hand. “My publisher sent me to rub elbows with the upscale clientele.”

He wished he'd made up a secret code with Celine—her cat was ill and they had to go home and give her medicine—so they could leave. A silver coffeepot stood on the sideboard, and Alec thought they'd have to get through dessert and, if they were really unlucky, a glass of his father's aged cognac.

“How interesting.” Bettina studied Celine's long eyelashes. “Are you an artist's model?”

Celine's eyes darkened and Alec wished he could crawl under the table.

“Celine is a translator for the United Nations. She's trying to teach me Afrikaans.” Alec drained his wineglass. “But I've always been all thumbs when it comes to languages.”

*   *   *

“BETTINA TALKS TO
Celine as if she were one of those wedding Barbies you see in the children's section of Le Bon Marché,” Alec groaned, taking a bowl of whipped cream from the fridge.

Claudia had asked for help with the apple flan and Alec jumped at the chance. Celine was in the powder room, and Alec was afraid if he was alone with Bettina and Édouard he would do something drastic.

“It went fine, they even have something in common.” Claudia sprinkled powdered sugar onto white plates. “They both have vacationed on Mustique.”

“How could she ask if Celine is an artist's model?” Alec demanded. “Just because Celine has a body Degas would have loved doesn't mean she spends her days draped in velvet and eating grapes.”

“You thought she was a model when you met,” Claudia reminded him.

“I'm a man, we're born to make mistakes. Bettina has a degree in medieval history from the Sorbonne,” he sighed. “Not that she's ever used it except to boast about her knowledge of the Crusades.”

“Bettina thinks it is silly to have a career when they are going to get married and start a family,” Claudia replied.

“Somebody better inform Édouard,” Alec muttered and his eyes were serious. “I don't know why you defend her. She treats you like an unwelcome guest in your own home.”

“She was a child when her mother left.” Claudia shrugged. “And she is right. The house belongs mainly to you and her.”

“If Celine and I get married by January third, you won't have to leave,” Alec said slowly. “Alain's will says that whichever child gets married first has control of the house.”

“Of course I'll leave—40 Rue de Passy is the perfect place for a family,” Claudia insisted. “You'll fill the nursery with Enid Blyton and the Hardy Boys mysteries. On weekends you'll cook strawberry crepes and the children will bring in daffodils and get mud all over the wood floor.” She paused. “You'll start to say ‘When will you learn to wipe your feet?' and then you'll inhale the scent of baby shampoo and fresh cut flowers and realize you wouldn't have it any other way.”

“You belong here,” Alec insisted. “Celine's father gave her an apartment on the Rue Saint-Honoré that is steps from the Tuileries Gardens. If we run out of bedrooms we'll buy a flat on a leafy street in Saint-Germain-des-Prés.”

“I do love this house,” Claudia sighed. “When I sit in the library, I can still hear your father yelling at the politicians on the television. No matter who was elected prime minister, he always wanted someone else…” She hesitated. “I hope your sudden marriage has nothing to do with Bettina and me.”

“Of course not. Marriage is the most impossible institution,” Alec scoffed. “What chance does love have when every day you are presented with land mines: When are you supposed to take out the garbage? Did she ask you to pick up a jar of mustard or salad dressing? Who would want to spend their life with the person they want to please most?”

“Then why are you getting married?” Claudia asked.

Alec pictured the way Celine ate spaghetti without getting sauce on her napkin. When she stepped onto the boulevard, taxis lined up to pick her up. And when he caught sight of her reading a magazine at the newsagent, he wondered who this exquisite creature was until he moved closer and realized she was his.

Alec clutched the bowl of whipped cream. “Because I can't do anything else.”

*   *   *

THEY RETURNED TO
the dining room and ate apple flan and berries and whipped cream. Bettina and Celine discovered they both got their hair done at Christophe Robin on the Rue de Rivoli and had the same art history professor at the Sorbonne.

Alec glanced at his watch and thought they could say their good-byes. Édouard looked like he needed a nap and his mother enjoyed watching the BBC on Sunday afternoons.

“I really don't understand,” Bettina said, stirring cream into a Limoges demitasse.

“Don't understand what?” Alec asked.

Bettina turned to Celine and her lips were pursed. “What you could possibly see in Alec.”

*   *   *

“HOW DARE SHE
say that?” Alec bristled, taking off his blazer.

It was early evening and they were standing in Celine's living room. Alec had walked straight to the bar and poured a large sherry.

“Say what?” Celine slipped off her sandals.

“That she doesn't know what you see in me. I may not perform cerebrovascular surgery like Édouard, but Gus influences the lives of children in sixteen countries,” Alec replied. “Yesterday I got a letter from a boy in Guam who wasn't allowed to have a dog so he named his hamster Gus. He's teaching him how to play fetch.”

“A hamster can't play fetch,” Celine laughed.

“That's the point, Gus isn't just a children's book. It's a springboard for their imagination.” His eyes flickered. “They read about Gus fighting bulls in Pamplona or parasailing in the Maldives and realize they can do anything.”

“I'm going to bed,” Celine announced. “I have to be at work early.”

“But it's only seven
PM,
” Alec protested, watching her take off her diamond earrings.

He clutched his glass and thought Bettina wasn't the only one acting like a child. He behaved as if she still had the power to deprive him of the last vanilla custard. It didn't matter what Bettina said; he and Celine were madly in love.

He followed her into the bedroom and closed the door. He walked over to her and kissed her.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“That dress has a difficult zipper,” he whispered. “I'm going to help you take it off.”

He unzipped her dress and slipped the other hand around her waist. His fingers explored the warm flesh at the top of her thigh, and suddenly Bettina and 40 Rue de Passy disappeared like a genie's bottle. God! She was sweet and wet, and when he slid his fingers inside her, her whole body shuddered.

He caressed her, pulling her against his chest. Celine cried out and he lifted her up and wrapped her legs around his thighs. She leaned down and kissed him and he thought any minute he would explode.