Enchantment (22 page)

The gate opened slowly and
they proceeded down a long drive lined with trees leading to a
mansion built in light gray stone. Trees surrounded the house,
except in an open space in front of the home where a decorative
garden, complete with water fountain, was laid out in perfect
symmetry. The trimmed hedges within formed paths leading to the
fountain.

Gray felt her eyes bugging
out of her head.

They pulled up front and a
thin middle-aged man (the butler?) promptly stepped out.

“
Jean Luc, bienvenue à la maison,
monsieur.”

“
Bonjour,
Henri,”
Charlene replied.

Before Gray could say
hello, Charlene grabbed her arm. “Come on, Henri will get the
bags.”

“This is your house?” Gray
asked. She couldn’t help sounding awestruck.

Charlene grinned. “I stay
here on the weekends with my parents. Wait until you see my
apartment on the
Champs-Élysées.”

Gray followed Charlene into
a large room with glossy wood floors. The space was bright with all
the curtains pulled open and large windows looking out over the
garden and surrounding property. Crystal chandeliers hung from the
ceiling overhead.

Gray’s mouth hung open as
she looked around. The sound of heels clipping along the hardwood
floors caught her ear.

A slender woman in
wrinkle-free slacks, a blazer, and pearl necklace threw out her
arms the moment she saw Charlene.

“
Jean Luc, mon prince!”

“
Maman,”
Charlene said in response,
stepping forward.

The woman took Charlene by the shoulders and
kissed both her cheeks twice.

“
Bienvenue, mon
chéri
. Barcelona,
ça
va?”

Gray tried not to gape. How could a mother
not notice her own son was someone else? Lee had pulled the same
thing off with Mr. Morehouse.

Did parents pay so little attention to their
children, or was it beyond a normal’s comprehension to suspect that
someone wasn’t exactly who they appeared to be?

Charlene and her faux mom continued on with
the pleasantries until Char finally turned to introduce Gray.

“
Maman,
ça
c’est Graylee Perez.
Elle est
américaine
.”

The woman now looked down her nose at Gray.
Incredible how quickly a smile could wither. Rather than
acknowledge her, she turned to Charlene and asked rather
reluctantly,
“Une petite amie?”

“Une amie. Nous nous sommes rencontrés à Barcelone. Je l'ai
invitée à rester à Paris avec moi
.”

The woman regarded Gray with further scrutiny
before stepping forward and air kissing Gray’s cheeks in a manner
that was more dismissive than welcoming.

Posh place or not, Gray would feel more
comfortable in a hostel.

“
C’est un plaisir de faire
votre connaissance
,”
Gray said, repeating the words
she’d rehearsed with Charlene on the plane ride over, even though
it gave Gray very little pleasure to make Madame Mother’s
acquaintance. The words held about as much meaning to Gray as the
woman’s air kisses.

Madame
Mother nodded curtly.
“
Est-ce votre première visite à Paris
?”

Gray looked to Charlene.

“She want to know if this is your first time
in Paris.”

Not if Gray counted the few hours she spent
after waking up in Charlene’s body. Gray figured it was easier to
respond,
“Oui.”
Gray glanced at the front door. An unwelcome
sense of déjà vu came over her.

Even if Gray understood French, she would
have missed what the woman said next. Her thoughts were miles
away.

“Sorry?” Gray said with a blank stare.

Charlene chuckled. “My mother says Paris is
the most beautiful city on earth and it’s true.” Charlene started
forward. “Come on, I’ll show you the guest room. After we freshen
up we’ll have an aperitif with my mother.”

That sounded like all kinds of fun. Gray
forced herself to smile at Charlene’s new mom. If the woman was
allowed to scowl why couldn’t Gray? Frowning at someone she’d just
met went against Gray’s friendly American nature, she supposed.

“Hurry up,” Charlene said, reaching an
oriental rug–trimmed staircase several paces ahead of Gray.

“Does your mother not speak any English?”
Gray asked when they reached the second floor.

“Oh, she speaks English,” Charlene said with
a smirk. “Fluently.”

Of course she did. Now that they were alone,
Gray’s face relaxed into a frown.

“You’ll love your room,” Charlene said,
leading the way. “It overlooks the gardens in back.”

More gardens?

Charlene led Gray into a large open room with
antique furniture. A four-poster king-sized bed was all made up
with white linens against the wall. The two large windows were open
in this room, as well, letting in a gentle breeze through the iron
terrace curving around the window.

“Why don’t you freshen up then head back
downstairs?”

“Freshen up?” Gray repeated, narrowing her
eyes. “I don’t have any of my things, remember? I don’t even have
my toiletries.”

“Oh, right.” Charlene’s lips pouted as she
thought. Then her face lit up. “We’ll shop as soon as we move to my
apartment. I live by all the best department stores. For now I’ll
find something you can borrow from my mother.”

“What? No!”

Charlene’s eyes flicked over Gray. “You can’t
wear that all weekend.”

Gray folded her arms over her chest. “Yes, I
can.”

“What will my mom think if she sees you in
the same sundress tonight and tomorrow?”

“I don’t care. Tell her the airline lost my
luggage. It’s not like her opinion of me could get any lower. I’m
American for one thing and I smile for another. You found yourself
a real pleasant replacement mom.”

Charlene let out an exasperated breath.
“Look, no one could ever replace Mom. Angelique is just a
stand-in.”

Gray kept her arms folded. “If Mom means that
much to you why haven’t you called her?”

“I have.”

“What?” Gray’s jaw dropped. “When?”

Charlene walked over to an open window.
“After you stopped by my room in Barcelona I gave Mom a call.”

“Good,” Gray said quickly, though for some
reason she felt the opposite. The realization was suddenly followed
by guilt.

Gray stared at Charlene’s back. If Gray
wanted to know any more she’d have to ask. One of Charlene’s
annoying little games. Don’t ask, don’t tell.

“What did she say?” Gray asked begrudgingly.
Her need to know outweighed her annoyance at having to ask.

Charlene shrugged. “Not much. She was really
happy to hear from me. I invited her to visit me in Paris.”

Gray’s heart thumped uncomfortably. “Is she
going to?”

“She said it sounded great!” A row of perfect
white teeth flashed in Charlene’s mouth when she turned and smiled.
“Stacey’s headed to college soon, and Mom can do her work from
anywhere. She might stay for a while. I mean, I haven’t seen her in
a year. We have so much catching up and sightseeing to do.”

“What about Mr. Morehouse?”

Charlene huffed. “Mr. Morehouse is a big boy.
He can survive without Mom for a few weeks.”

Gray tried not to grind her teeth together.
She was the one who had wanted to do some traveling with Mom. Now
her mother and Charlene were making plans to hang out in Paris.

What was Gray supposed to do while her mom
and Charlene were off sipping wine and eating croissants? Kick back
with Mr. Morehouse? No way in hell!

“Plus she’s fluent in French,” Charlene
continued, oblivious to the dark clouds forming in Gray’s eyes.
“How perfect is that?”

Gray turned away from the window so Charlene
couldn’t see her face. “Sounds great,” she said in a tone that
conveyed the opposite. “I’m sure your stand-in mom will just
love
our mom. Unless, of course, she thinks the two of you
are an item.”

Charlene snorted. “Don’t mind Angelique. She
probably thinks you’re a gold digger.”

“Opposed to a grave robber?”

Charlene squinted. “I didn’t rob any
graves.”

Gray sighed. “Never mind.”

Charlene headed for the door. “There’s a tub
if you want it. Remember, drinks in fifteen.”

“Wait,” Gray said.

Charlene tapped her foot.

“What am I supposed to call you around your
family and friends? I assume you don’t go by Charles. Jean
Luc?”

“You can call me Luc,” Charlene said then
exited the room.

Great. Lee and now Luc.

* * *

The last thing Gray felt like doing was joining
Charlene and Madame Girard on the downstairs terrace for drinks.
But she didn’t want to be rude, unlike some people she knew.

Charlene and Madame Girard spoke rapid-fire
French, only stopping to sip their wine and barely then. They’d
lift their glass as though to drink only to stop half an inch from
their lips so that they could respond to the other.

It had been like this ever since Gray sat
down at the glass table. Charlene had only spoken to her long
enough to explain that she was telling her mother about her trip to
Barcelona.

Gray gulped down her wine. She wasn’t usually
the guzzling type, but the situation was maddening enough to
require some use of her mouth.

She’d expected a choice of coffee, but
apparently this was happy hour.

Gray reached into her purse at her feet and
dug out her sunglasses. Luckily she’d kept them there and not in
her duffel bag. The summer sun had begun its slow descent,
speckling the table in flittered light through the property’s tree
line. They all wore shades. Charlene had opted for a pair of
designer frames with dark lenses. Most likely the pair from Spain
was purchased on a whim and would never be worn again.

Charlene used her hands to speak. Madame
Girard watched every movement. So, the woman was capable of smiling
so long as her “son” had the floor.

Gray reached into the middle of the table to
grab more chips from the snack bowl. Sip, munch; sip, munch. She
had a rhythm down.

As the relaxing effects of the wine settled
over Gray she could have sworn that she was beginning to understand
French.

“I am happy you are home, Jean Luc,” Madame
Girard said. “Celine called many times while you were away.” Madame
Girard glanced at Gray slyly out of the corner of her eye. “Celine
is such a beautiful woman. You should call her.”

Charlene wrinkled her nose. “Celine is too
needy. She doesn’t give me enough space.”

Gray nearly snorted. She swore she saw Madame
Girard’s eyes narrow behind her shades.

Gray pushed away from the table, reaching for
her purse. “
Luc
, is there a computer with Internet access I
could use in this house?”

“Why don’t you use the laptop on the coffee
table?”

“Mind showing me where that is?” Gray
countered. What a charming hostess Charlene made. Gray should have
taken the train and done things her way from the start.

Luckily Charlene complied, but not before
kissing Madame Girard on the cheek.
“Je reviens tout de
suite.”

About time they cut the umbilical cord.

“What the hell, Charlene?” Gray asked,
pushing her sunglasses onto her head as soon as Madame Girard was
out of earshot. “Why did you invite me to Paris just so you could
ignore me?”

Charlene frowned, whipping off her own
shades. “It’s not like that. Jean Luc and his mom are really close.
I have to keep up appearances, you know?”

“Well, the guy was a real dick if he ignored
guests like this.”

Charlene’s eyes flashed. Gray followed the
bright lines as they shot across Charlene’s pupils like thunder
strikes.

“Don’t. Talk. About. Jean. Luc. Like.
That.”

If Charlene thought she could intimidate Gray
she was delusional.

“Oh, I forgot. You were in love with him.”
Gray stepped closer to her sister. “You never even heard him speak,
Charlene.”

Fury etched lines across Charlene’s face.

“Well, I can hear him now.”

All Gray heard was a spoiled Frenchman who
thought the world of himself. An unexpected pain gripped her heart.
Gray clutched her chest.

“What’s the matter?” Charlene asked.

The sudden concern in her voice proved to be
Gray’s undoing. A sob threatened to force its way from Gray’s
throat to her lips. She wouldn’t allow it.

Gray tightened her fingers around her purse
and took a step back. She could feel the intensity of her sister’s
stare. From the expression on Charlene’s face, it made her
uneasy.

Finally, Gray found her voice. “You do
realize that you care more about someone you never met—never even
spoke to—than your own sister?”

Charlene studied Gray a moment. When Gray
turned to leave she called out, “Gray!”

“No, Charlene,” Gray said, turning around.
Charlene swam before her eyes. Gray blinked back her tears quickly.
“I’m tired of being let down. You may look different, but you’re
exactly the same.”

Gray made her way down the hall of the
mansion, passing under chandeliers with the slapping sound of her
flip-flops. She didn’t belong here. She didn’t belong at home,
either. For the first time she knew exactly where she belonged.

She belonged with Adrian.

“Mademoiselle, wait!” the chauffeur from
earlier called out as Gray’s flip-flop hit the paved driveway.

She let him catch up to her.

“Monsieur Girard instructed me to drive you
wherever you need to go.”