Magic (22 page)

Rachel and Charlotte helped her clean up the kitchen after dinner, while the men went to play video games in the living room, and afterward they played charades. Everyone laughed and was highly competitive, even more so now that Rupert and Rachel were part of the group. And at midnight, they all went to their rooms, and Chantal was happy when she went to bed. She loved having her kids at home. She missed Xavier terribly and tried not to think about it. And she thought it interesting that neither Paul nor Charlotte had asked about him, only Eric. She knew nothing about their conversation in the living room before dinner—she'd been busy in the kitchen. And had she known, she would have been even more upset than she was. They thought the idea of her having male companionship, and a man to love her, was completely superfluous, and both Charlotte and Paul were delighted that she and Xavier had broken up and hoped there would be no replacement. It would have made her heart ache even more than it was if she'd heard it.

Jean-Philippe had flown back from Beijing the morning of Christmas Eve, but Chantal had no time to see him that week, and they promised to have lunch when her kids left. She never saw anyone when they were there and didn't want to lose a moment with them. They made a date for lunch on New Year's Eve, since she knew her whole brood would be gone by then, and Jean-Philippe would be in town for another week.

Valerie had the tree up and decorated when he walked in. She had done it with the children, and they even made decorations for the tree in cardboard and papier-mâché with glitter on them, and a crèche they had read how to make in a magazine. And they all went shopping for the little animals and Baby Jesus. The apartment looked like a Christmas card when he got home, and all the presents were neatly wrapped under the tree. He hadn't had time to buy much in Beijing, except a little Chinese dress for Isabelle, a fire truck for Jean-Louis, and a stuffed tiger for Damien. And he had bought a gold bracelet at Cartier for Valerie when he was home in November.

They put the children to bed together on Christmas Eve, and after they opened their gifts and the ones from Santa Claus the next morning, they went to church as a family. They had a big Christmas meal at lunchtime. The smells in the apartment were delicious, and the children were thrilled to have him home, and so was she. They were still coasting on the fun they'd shared during her trip to China two weeks before. It seemed aeons ago now, but she was going back in January to oversee the shoot for
Vogue.
So even when he left after the holidays, they'd have time together in Beijing, and he would be home again in February. Their situation was a challenge, but one they felt they could win now, with careful planning and effort on both their parts. And the children seemed to be fine. As always, Valerie was doing a good job, and she saw to it that they talked to their father on Skype often, so he was part of their daily life, as much as possible.

She loved the bracelet he gave her, and he loved the watch she had given him, and the children had a ball with their gifts. They all agreed when they fell into bed that night after a long day that it had been one of their best Christmases ever. And Jean-Philippe was sure of it when Valerie fell asleep in his arms with a smile on her face on Christmas night.

Xavier told his brother that Chantal had broken up with him, and Mathieu was sorry to hear it. When Annick heard about it, she was equally sad. They liked Chantal, had enjoyed her time with them in Corsica, and thought they made a good couple. Her reason for ending it didn't make sense to them, but there was no accounting for what brought people together, or pulled them apart, and Xavier assured them it was definitely over. They invited him to spend Christmas with them, they had an army of people coming over, the kids' friends and their own, but he declined and said he just wasn't in the mood. The breakup was all too recent, and he said he wanted to be alone. He had nothing to celebrate this year.

On Christmas he read and watched movies on TV, went for a long walk along the Seine, and for a crazy moment thought about going into one of the pet shops on the quais and buying a dog. But he had heard that most of them arrived sick from Eastern Europe, so he didn't, went home instead, and mourned the woman he had fallen in love with who no longer wanted him because one day he might fall in love with someone younger than she was. It didn't seem fair. He hadn't cheated on her. He truly loved her. He hadn't even flirted with the girl she objected to, he had just talked to her. He knew her fears about being older than he, which had sent her into a panic, beyond reason. Chantal hadn't returned a single one of his calls, nor answered them, nor any other form of message he had sent her for the past three weeks and clearly didn't intend to. He believed her. It was over. Now he just had to go on with his life, but he didn't want to. He needed to mourn her for a while, out of respect for all he felt for her. It hadn't been a casual affair to him. It was the real deal. For him. But apparently not for her. He had easily imagined them staying together forever since they had the same values, enjoyed the same things, and got along so well.

His office was closed till after New Year, and he spent every day taking long walks along the Seine or in the Bois de Boulogne, thinking about her, and wishing that there were some way to convince her that their ages didn't matter to him. He could no longer imagine his life without her, nor did he want to.

C
harlotte and Rupert were the first to leave, two days after Christmas. They had stayed with Chantal only for four days, but they had saved their vacation to go to Val d'Isère to go skiing. Charlotte still had friends who went there, and she had promised Rupert the best skiing of his life.

She and her mother had found the perfect wedding dress at Christian Dior, and Charlotte was ecstatic. It fit her perfectly, and needed no alterations. Her mother was bringing it to Hong Kong with her in May for the wedding. And they had found a navy blue dress Charlotte thought was suitable for her mother across the street at Nina Ricci. It was a little more severe than Chantal would have liked, with a grandmotherly bolero over it, but she wanted to make Charlotte happy, and wear what her daughter felt was right for her wedding. It wasn't an exciting dress for Chantal, but she didn't care. She wouldn't know most of the guests anyway—they were the bridal couple's friends. And Rupert said his mother was wearing pale gray, which Chantal thought sounded even more depressing. And given all the rules and restrictions and traditions Charlotte was adhering to, it wasn't going to be a lighthearted event, but a very formal one. And neither of her sons was thrilled that they had to wear morning coats, but their sister was adamant about it. Rachel was worried that she'd still be fat after the baby in May, two months after he was born. But the bride's dress was going to be spectacular. She was having eight bridesmaids, but their dresses were being made in Hong Kong by a terrific seamstress she knew. The wedding was taking shape. And Rupert and Charlotte left for Val d'Isère in high spirits and thanked Chantal for the wonderful Christmas. Rupert had told her that they would be spending it in London with his family next year, but they would share holidays with her on alternate years. And Paul's response was that he and Rachel might stay in L.A., since it would be hard to travel with a baby during the holidays, and Rachel's parents wanted them to stay there. But he told Chantal she would be welcome in L.A. And trying not to complain about it, or cry, she realized that she had possibly just had her last real Christmas with all three of her children present. Eric had heard them too and saw the look in her eyes. But as always she was gracious and didn't argue with them about their plans, or even comment. She tried to respect them as adults, and they had other families to satisfy now, not just her.

Although he hated to do it, Eric left for Berlin to meet up with Annaliese the day after Charlotte left, and Paul and Rachel flew to Mexico to meet Rachel's parents the day before New Year's Eve. Chantal was sad to see them all go, and the apartment was agonizingly empty that night. It always was when they left and felt like someone was ripping a bandage off her heart. She wanted to scream in pain at first, but she got used to the dull ache after a while. It especially hurt when they all thanked her for a lovely Christmas, while casually letting her know that they wouldn't be back next year, except for Eric, who never knew his plans until the day before.

She tried not to look depressed when she met Jean-Philippe for lunch the next day. But he saw the pain in her eyes immediately. She told him about the kids' comments, their partners and babies. It was a trend she couldn't fight, and she knew it wouldn't be right to try. They had a right to their own lives. The problem for her was that she didn't have enough of her own, and hadn't for years, except for a brief interlude with Xavier. Jean-Philippe hated to see her so sad about her kids, but he saw the dilemma from both sides. He felt sorry for her. And he didn't think they made enough effort to be with her, especially since she was alone, and always so willing to be there for them, which they didn't seem to notice.

“How were they with Xavier?” he asked as they ordered lunch, wondering if they had given him a hard time. He knew that Charlotte was certainly capable of it, and always hard on her mother.

“They didn't have to be anything,” she said, avoiding his gaze.

“Why not?”

“He wasn't there. We broke up a few weeks ago.” She looked devastated when she said it, and Jean-Philippe was horrified.

“Shit. Why didn't you tell me?”

“I needed some time to get used to the idea, before I could talk about it.”

“What happened? It was going so well every time we talked.”

“I decided to cut my losses before that changed.”

“Excuse me?” He was puzzled.

“Preventive surgery. We went to a party, and he spent the whole evening talking to a beautiful young girl. And I realized that that's what I had to look forward to. That's who he belongs with, not me. I looked like her grandmother, and his. He's a handsome young guy. He doesn't belong with someone my age, and sooner or later he'll figure that out. I decided not to wait.” He knew she had worried about that since the beginning of their relationship.

“What did he say?” Jean-Philippe was crushed for her. He was so sorry to hear it.

“That he loves me, and he doesn't want anyone younger…until he does one day. It would kill me. Well, no, not quite,” she corrected. “But it's an agony I don't want to go through, so I decided to bite the bullet and end it now. There's never a good time. So I did it.”

“And how do you feel now?” He was worried about her.

“Miserable. But it's still the right thing to do. I didn't expect to be happy about it. But it's right.”

“Has he called you?”

“A lot. I'm not calling him back. There's nothing to talk about. I'm done, and I mean it. I don't want to see him or talk to him. He has to move on.”

“And you?” Jean-Philippe saw the profound sadness in her eyes and hated it for her.

“I don't have to do anything. I just sit here. I'll write, see my kids when I can. There's nothing to expect now, except seeing them less and less as they establish their own families and lives. That's the way life works with kids these ages who don't live in the same town.” She accepted it. She had no choice, and as her friend, Jean-Philippe detested what it did to her life. It was no one's fault, but he knew it was heartbreaking for her, and if she had no man in her life and no life of her own other than work, it would only get worse over time, and she knew it too.

“You can't just end it that way with him. If he says he loves you, and you love him, why can't you give it a chance?”

“Because it will hurt too much one day when I lose him. And I will.”

“He could lose you first. You might fall in love with someone else before he does.” But that wasn't her style, and they both knew it. She was a faithful, loyal, loving woman. But Jean-Philippe had a feeling Xavier was the same way. He hated to see her give that up, out of fear of something that might never happen.

“Trust me. I know I'm right.”

“I don't think so.” He disagreed with her, which was rare, but when he did, he said so. But she refused to follow his advice about Xavier. She was convinced she knew better.

“What are you doing tonight?” she asked him, to change the subject. It was New Year's Eve.

“Staying home with the kids. I'm going back to Beijing next week. I want to spend every minute I can with Valerie and the children. And you? Any plans tonight?” But he could guess the answer to his question before he asked, given the rest.

“Bed at nine
P.M.
” She smiled at her friend. “Or earlier. I hate New Year's Eve.”

“So do I,” he agreed, but he wished she had something happier planned than going to bed alone. These had not been easy holidays for her, and she had put a good face on it for her children so they wouldn't know how sad she was about Xavier. Only Eric had guessed and was sorry for her.

When they parted outside the restaurant, Jean-Philippe promised to call and try to see her again before he went back to Beijing. And he was desperately upset for her about Xavier.

Benedetta went to London with Dharam for New Year's Eve. He flew in from Delhi the day before on his plane, and stopped to pick her up in Milan. He had taken his usual suite at Claridge's, he made a reservation for them at Harry's Bar for dinner, which was their favorite restaurant, and they'd been invited to a party by friends in Knightsbridge, but they didn't stay long. They were anxious to be alone, and at the stroke of midnight, he put his arms around her and kissed her, and then they went back to the hotel and went to bed.

On New Year's Day, they had brunch, and took a brisk walk in Hyde Park. She was wearing the beautiful bracelet he'd given her, which hadn't been off her arm since she received it. And that afternoon, they lay in bed at the hotel and watched movies, and made love several times. It was not by any means the way she had expected to spend New Year's six or seven months before. She had been sure she would be married to Gregorio, no matter how badly he behaved. And Dharam had fallen out of the sky like a miracle, or one of Xavier's magical Chinese lanterns in reverse.

“Happy?” he asked her as she looked up at him with a broad grin.

“Totally,” she answered as she reached up to kiss him.

“Excellent,” he said, beaming. It was the perfect way to start the New Year.

Gregorio and Anya were spending the New Year holiday in Courchevel. He preferred Cortina, in the Italian Alps, but Courchevel was perfect for her. It had been taken over by Russians, and even some of the street signs were in Russian now. Menus in restaurants, salesgirls in shops were Russian, and all of Anya's fellow Russian models were there, and a flock of Russian men. Some with their families, and others with their mistresses stashed away in other hotels so the two groups never met. Several of the men were rough and disreputable-looking, although they had a lot of money to spend. The fancier Russian men were in houses they had rented. And Gregorio knew she'd enjoy being with her countrymen.

They brought the baby and the nanny with them, and Gregorio went for long walks every day, with Claudia in a baby pack strapped to his chest where he could see her and talk to her and make her giggle. He let the nanny go skiing because he preferred taking care of the baby himself, except at night, when he and Anya went to the local restaurants. He liked showing her off, and he was thrilled to have a vacation with her. She'd been traveling a lot, and her career was booming again. She had hardly been in Milan since September. And he didn't complain, she was still getting over the trauma of the twins' birth, and he thought she'd settle down eventually. And she seemed happy to be in Courchevel with him. She went skiing every day with her Russian friends while he stayed with the baby.

He bought her a red mink coat at Dior on New Year's Eve, and she wore it proudly after she came back from the slopes, and that night she put it on over a black miniskirt with a see-through top, and tall suede high-heeled boots that reached her thighs when they went to dinner. She was a spectacular-looking girl, and the twins had done nothing to damage her figure, possibly because they had been born so prematurely and were so small. She was more beautiful than ever, and Gregorio was proud to be with her.

She had been on the cover of several magazines that month, and had just been booked for a shoot in Japan. It made him feel sexy and young to be with her, although his family still refused to see her. His sisters-in-law disapproved of her, and he was sure his brothers were jealous of him, whether they admitted it or not. But being with her fed Gregorio's ego.

Their relationship was not as close or as warm as it had been right after their babies' birth, for those harrowing three months, but he was still happy to see her when she came home to Milan, and she seemed pleased to see him. They got along better when he took her out, although his social life in Milan was greatly diminished and the invitations he got never included her. They'd had none for New Year's Eve, which was why he had brought her to Courchevel, so she could hang out with the people she knew there to her heart's content.

On New Year's Eve he suggested they spend a cozy night in their suite having a romantic dinner, since all the restaurants would be crowded. Anya was disappointed, and said they had been invited to several parties, all by people he didn't know.

“Your friends only speak Russian,” he pointed out to her. And then he suggested she go out after midnight. That way they could have a nice evening together, and see the New Year in. He had given the nanny the night off, so he would stay home with the baby. Anya seemed mollified by the idea, and she was wearing a fabulous red evening gown that clung to her when she sat down to dinner with him in the suite. He had ordered caviar and champagne and lobster. They had a feast, while Claudia slept peacefully in her bassinette next to them. Anya glanced at her occasionally, as though she were mystified by how she'd gotten there. The whole experience of motherhood still seemed unreal to her, and now that she was traveling so much, she had had no time to bond with her child at all.

Gregorio noticed Anya staring at the baby, and smiled. “She's like a little doll, isn't she?” She was tiny, but she was lively when she was awake and lavished smiles on her father. At six months, she still seemed hardly bigger than a newborn.

They kissed at midnight, and Gregorio wanted to make love to her, but by then Anya was anxious to meet up with her friends, and promised to come home early. And twenty minutes later, he found himself alone in the suite with their sleeping baby. It wasn't the New Year's Eve he had dreamed of, but the one he got with a twenty-four-year-old girlfriend, and he still believed it was worth it.

He watched a movie on TV and then went to bed after rolling the bassinette into their bedroom, and fell asleep instantly. He felt Anya climb into bed next to him at three
A.M.
, and he curled up next to her, wanting to make love to her, but she was already sound asleep before he could arouse her. And he suspected she'd had a lot to drink with her friends.