Christmas in Paris (20 page)

“I have to trust the fortune-teller,” she said, suddenly impatient. “I've made terrible mistakes before and this time I have to get it right.”

“You can't really believe this fortune-teller knows who you should marry!” Alec spluttered. “She only met you for a few minutes. Even a dating site needs more information before it can suggest potential suitors.”

“People think the answer to everything is on Wikipedia, and if you spend enough time on WebMD you can cure cancer.” She paused and her eyes were bright. “But there are many things we don't know. Why shouldn't a fortune-teller predict my future?”

Alec opened his mouth and stopped. If she was in love with Antoine, he wanted her to be happy. But he flashed on Bettina saying there was something between them and wondered if she was right.

“Isabel…” he began.

“Yes?”

He wanted to tell her that when you were really in love, you felt it in every bone in your body. You couldn't stop thinking about the person and all you wanted was to be together. But she was desperate to believe the fortune-teller and wouldn't hear his advice.

“It's getting crowded in here.” He pointed to a group of Japanese tourists. “Let's see the stables.”

*   *   *

THEY VISITED THE
private opera house and queen's bedchamber. Alec pointed out the gold ottomans where high-ranking courtiers watched the royal births, and Isabel laughed and wondered whether Marie Antoinette wore lipstick while she was in labor.

They stepped into the courtyard and thick clouds hung over the fir trees. Alec shivered and knew he was coming down with a fever. Suddenly he longed to be in his suite with a pair of dry socks and heated brandy.

“I had the most wonderful time, thank you for taking me,” Isabel said.

“I'm glad we came. Though I'm looking forward to the Crillon's hot cocoa and heated floors.” Alec glanced at her wrist and frowned. “Weren't you wearing your glass bracelet?”

“Of course, I wear it everywhere.” Isabel touched her arm and gasped. “Maybe it fell off in the Queen's Hamlet when I took off my jacket.”

“I'll look for it,” he suggested.

“That would be too much trouble, it could be anywhere.” She stopped and her lips trembled. “It's just the fortune-teller said it would come to have great value.”

“I'll retrace our steps like in an Agatha Christie novel,” he said. “Stay in the Grand Trianon so you don't freeze to death.”

Alec crossed the courtyard and thought he needed his head examined. If he crouched on his knees, sifting through the winter cabbage, he'd end up in the hospital. But he was the one who had dragged Isabel to Versailles; the least he could do was find her bracelet.

The lodge had a paneled great room and stone kitchen. He peeked in the narrow bedrooms and wondered why Marie Antoinette insisted on living so simply when she had lavish quarters at the palace.

He remembered a sketch of Gus using his X-ray vision to find buried treasure in the Sahara Desert. All Gus had to do was wiggle his wet nose and he discovered an ancient coin buried beneath the sand. Gus would find the bracelet in a minute.

Alec entered the garden and searched through the vegetables. Suddenly he noticed a pink glass band draped over an artichoke. He dropped it in his pocket and hurried across the cobblestones.

“You found it, I don't know how to thank you!” Isabel reached up and kissed him on the cheek. “I told you wonderful things keep happening. Can you imagine finding one glass bracelet in all of Versailles?”

“It's my pleasure.” Alec nodded. His throat burned and his forehead was covered in sweat. “I think we better call a taxi.”

*   *   *

ALEC SAT ON
the blue velvet sofa in his suite and huddled over a glass of brandy. Even after a hot shower, he felt like a woodpecker had attacked his head and his legs were submerged in quicksand.

He shouldn't have trudged through the vegetable patch when he was already sick. But Isabel looked like a child who was afraid the Easter bunny wouldn't arrive. And she had trekked through the drafty halls of Versailles when she could have been relaxing at the Crillon.

It had been a terrible day. Bettina had made it clear she was going to evict Claudia and he did nothing to stop her. And Isabel seemed madly in love with Antoine. He wouldn't be surprised if tomorrow she announced their engagement!

But it had been fun talking about Marie Antoinette and the French Revolution. And he loved Isabel's look of wonderment when he showed her the boulle tortoiseshell cabinetry in the king's bedchamber and the Grand Canal in L'Orangerie.

He remembered her kissing him on the cheek and her scent of floral perfume and expensive lotions. God, he wanted it to go on forever!

She must realize she was being foolish. She barely knew Antoine and wasn't even ready to invite him to her suite. She couldn't get engaged just because the fortune-teller said she was going to fall in love with a French aristocrat.

He swallowed two aspirin and washed them down with brandy. He had to help his mother and win over Isabel. They both needed him, and he wasn't going to disappoint them.

 

chapter twelve

Isabel glanced in the full-length mirror and couldn't believe she was seeing her own reflection. Her eyes were coated with sparkly eye shadow and her cheeks were lightly powdered and she felt like Audrey Hepburn in
Sabrina.

She had returned from Versailles and walked past the boutique in the lobby. The emerald Balenciaga gown in the window was so perfect, she felt like it had her name on it. She entered the store and admired the crepe bodice and full skirt. The salesgirl suggested pairing it with jeweled pumps and Isabel handed over her credit card.

Now she fiddled with diamond earrings and knew she had been right. It was a gorgeous dress and Antoine would be pleased. She glanced at the bouquet of yellow roses on the end table and thought she was in a fairy tale. She was going to one of the most famous opera houses in the world and falling in love!

The afternoon at Versailles had been lovely; Alec was so easy to be with. But she felt at times something was bothering him. Maybe he needed someone to talk to and didn't know how to ask.

Antoine was meeting her in the lobby in thirty minutes; she had plenty of time to see Alec and make sure he was all right. She would insist he order a bowl of tomato basil soup and side of vegetables. He couldn't get better on a diet of crackers and strawberry jam.

Her phone rang and she answered it.

“Isabel, darling,” her mother's voice came down the line, “I've been calling you, but your phone goes straight to voice mail.”

“I'm sorry, it never seems to hold a charge.” Isabel bit her lip. “I've been meaning to call, I've been busy.”

“I'm glad you're getting out and exploring.” Adele's voice was soft. “I wasn't sure it was a good idea to stay in the honeymoon suite at the Hôtel de Crillon. I thought you might wish you were there with Neil.”

“I am the one who called off the wedding,” Isabel reminded her. “I actually called Neil yesterday. It's so strange, you can spend more than a year with someone and then not know what to say on the phone.”

“It can't be easy for either of you, but I'm sure you made the right decision. You couldn't get married if you had any doubts.” She paused. “I am concerned about you being alone in Paris. Your father and I went once at Christmas and everywhere you turned there were couples holding hands and kissing. It seems everyone who is in love goes to Paris at Christmas.”

“I was a little lonely, but now I'm having a wonderful time,” Isabel said. “I ate dinner at Tour d'Argent and visited Versailles.”

She considered telling her about Antoine, but it wasn't something you discussed over the phone. There would be plenty of time to explain after he proposed.

“I ran into Peggy Danford at the florist,” Adele continued. “Rory married a Flemish girl and is living in Brussels.”

“Rory!” Isabel exclaimed.

“It might not be the best time to tell you, but I thought you should know,” Adele said uncertainly.

“I haven't talked to Rory in years,” Isabel replied. “I'm very happy for him.”

“Whoever thought Rory would settle down,” Adele mused. “You think you're never going to meet the right person, but eventually you do.”

“I'm not sure Brussels is settling down,” Isabel laughed.

“It was very brave to call the wedding off three days before the ceremony,” Adele continued. “You are bright and beautiful and you will find the right person.”

“Don't worry.” Isabel glanced in the mirror at her diamond pendant and red lipstick. “The next time I fall in love, it will be forever.”

*   *   *

ISABEL HUNG UP
and remembered when her mother would watch her do precalculus homework in high school. Adele laughed she could conjugate a French verb and reel off the names of British poets, but trigonometry reminded her of Chinese takeout menus. Isabel replied there was nothing simpler than math; you just had to approach it logically.

How could she explain to her mother she was trusting her future to a fortune-teller? She snapped the glass bracelet around her wrist and knew she was doing the right thing. The fortune-teller had been correct about the bracelet and about almost being killed, and now she was right about Antoine.

And who wouldn't want their daughter to marry a French
comte
! Perhaps her parents could come to Paris in the spring or she and Antoine would fly to Philadelphia. She glanced at her watch and realized talking on the phone and daydreaming about Antoine had made her late. She would have to see Alec after the opera. She spritzed her wrists with floral perfume and hurried to the elevator.

*   *   *

ISABEL SHIFTED IN
her seat and peered at the stage. The velvet chairs weren't as comfortable as they looked, and the heating in the opera house seemed to be malfunctioning. It had been so cold in the foyer she wished she'd brought a wrap, but now it was so hot, she might faint. And the orchestra was just below them, so every time a trumpet blared, she was afraid she'd burst an eardrum.

She glanced at Antoine sitting beside her and took a deep breath. He looked so handsome in a white dinner jacket and tan slacks. It wasn't his fault the curtain went up half an hour late and now Isabel was desperate for a sparkling water.

She should be enjoying it more; she was sitting in a box at the Palais Garnier watching
Rigoletto.
But the performers traipsed around the stage shouting at each other in Italian, and the female singers wore so much makeup, they looked like they were made of plaster.

The curtain came down and Isabel stood up. It was intermission and they could go to the bar and drink a glass of Dom Pérignon. She followed Antoine down the circular staircase into the grand foyer.

“I read about the Palais Garnier in Fodor's,” Isabel said. “It was designed for Napoleon III by Charles Garnier and it took fourteen painters and seventy-three sculptors to complete the exterior.” She sipped a glass of champagne. “It was the most expensive structure built in the Second Empire and every opera company wanted to perform here.

“These days people build whole communities online and they can watch operas on Netflix.” She gazed at the baroque columns. “But in four hundred years, what will they have to show except a bunch of websites and phone apps?”

Isabel glanced at Antoine and blushed. The French aristocracy grew up surrounded by priceless art and marble statues. She was acting like a tourist seeing the
Mona Lisa
for the first time at the Louvre.

He leaned forward and kissed her.

“What was that for?” she asked.

“I love being with you, you make me see things in a new light. I've attended the Palais Garnier since I was a boy, but I never noticed the gold leaf on the floor or the cherubs in the murals. I was too busy wishing the program was over,” he whispered in her ear. “To be honest, I still think it's a little boring.”

Isabel felt a little shiver, as if there was a fan at the back of her neck. Antoine said he loved being with her and she felt the same!

“How could you say that?” she laughed, and her shoulders relaxed. “It's
Rigoletto
!”

Antoine went to the bar to get a selection of canapés and a blond woman kissed him on the cheek. She had blue eyes and high cheekbones and a wide pink mouth. He took her arm and led her across the foyer.

“This is my dear old friend Jacqueline L'Hermitte,” he said to Isabel.

“You make me sound like I'm one hundred,” Jacqueline laughed. “Antoine and I attended school together in Switzerland. He was terrible at following rules, he insisted on visiting the female dorms after dark.”

“We were fourteen, we wanted the girls' supply of chocolates,” he explained.

“You weren't always fourteen,” she said, and Isabel noticed the heart-shaped mole on her cheek. “At the last school dance you looked so handsome, the other girls whispered that you were going to be a movie star.”

“Jacqueline has a selective memory.” Antoine grinned. “I remember a bad haircut and shaving nick on my chin.”

“We must catch up, I haven't seen you the whole holidays,” Jacqueline continued. “Are you coming to Chamonix? Pierre and Gustav rented a chalet for the month of February.”

“I wouldn't miss it.” Antoine nodded. The bells chimed and he turned to Isabel. “Shall we go inside? The second act is beginning.”

Jacqueline kissed Antoine on both cheeks, and Isabel inhaled Chanel No. 5. She gulped the rest of the champagne and wondered who Pierre and Gustav were and how Antoine could take a month off from the bank.

The bells chimed again, and Isabel thought she couldn't worry about that now. First she had to get through the last act of
Rigoletto.