Magic (25 page)

They had fun at the rehearsal dinner that night, in spite of how stuffy it was, and how conservative most of Charlotte and Rupert's friends were. They went dancing with her children at Play afterward, and Chantal danced up a storm with Xavier. Eric was thrilled to have him there, he felt a little lost with the traditional crowd, and Paul was all wrapped up in his baby and Rachel, so Xavier was good company for Eric.

And the next day Chantal helped her daughter dress for the wedding, which was a very special moment, and she had tears in her eyes when the wedding planner handed her her bouquet. Charlotte looked exquisite, like a princess, in the dress Chantal had hand-carried from Paris. Charlotte was surprised when she saw her mother in the pale blue satin dress, wearing her hair the way Xavier had suggested. Charlotte hadn't said a word of objection to him since they had arrived in Hong Kong, and Paul had actually been happy to see him, and was touched by all the photographs he was taking of the baby.

“What happened to the navy-blue dress we got at Nina Ricci?” Charlotte asked as they waited for Paul to come and get her so they could drive to the church. He was giving her away.

“I changed my mind and decided it was a little too serious. It seemed right in Paris last December, but it's a little wintry for May.” She didn't want to tell her that she felt a hundred years old in it and she and Xavier had hated it two days before.

“I like this one,” Charlotte said, smiling at her, as Chantal kissed her and had to fight back tears.

“You're the most beautiful bride I've ever seen,” she told her in a choked voice. Paul showed up then, and the wedding planner and Chantal helped Charlotte manage her train. The bridesmaids were ready in the palest of pink dresses, carrying pale pink roses. And they all got into the limousines the hotel had arranged for them, with Paul and Charlotte in a Rolls, and Chantal and Xavier in a Bentley right behind them, with Eric in the front seat looking handsome in a morning coat. Xavier was wearing a dark suit. Since he wasn't family or officially part of the bridal party, he didn't have to wear a morning coat. And he was very elegant.

Everything went smoothly at the church, and the reception was beautiful, and Chantal felt perfect in her dress.

“Thank you for encouraging me to get rid of the other dress.” She smiled at Xavier as she danced with him. They had a wonderful time at the wedding, and Chantal cried when the bridal couple drove away. She had refrained from trying to catch the bouquet and didn't think it was appropriate. She and Xavier had smiled at each other from across the room as the single women scrambled to catch it. They understood each other perfectly. What they had was enough.

And the next day Paul, Rachel, and Dash flew back to L.A.; Eric got a flight to Frankfurt, where he'd have to transfer for a flight to Berlin; and Chantal and Xavier flew back to Paris. The bride and groom were honeymooning in Bali. They were spread out all over the map again. But with Xavier at her side now, she was no longer alone. Her wish at the White Dinner had come true. She had a man she loved to love her and had a real life with him as a couple. It was exactly what she had wished, and now he was here. And it had happened very quickly, since their romance had begun right after the White Dinner, eleven months before.

J
ean-Philippe came home to help Valerie pack what they were taking to Beijing. He had rented a furnished apartment, but there were lots of things Valerie wanted to send from home, for them and for the children. She had been packing for a week when he got back to Paris. They had timed it perfectly. The White Dinner was the following week, and they were flying to Beijing after that, with a stop in Hong Kong first so she could shop.

Valerie was taking a lot of research books with her for work. She would be
Vogue
's contributing editor in Beijing, with occasional trips to Shanghai for them too, for a year. They wanted her back in Paris after that. And she had negotiated a satisfactory arrangement with Beaumont-Sevigny to consult for them in China.

“What are we doing with this?” Jean-Philippe asked her, holding up an enormous teddy bear that Jean-Louis insisted he wanted to take with him.

“Pack it, I guess.” There were mountains of toys, clothes, and books everywhere, and she was glad he had come home to help. She had been exhausted for the past two weeks. He had come back to Paris twice since Christmas, this was his third trip. And Valerie had been in Beijing in January for her shoot for
Vogue.
So they had seen each other regularly since the beginning of the year, but it was going to be wonderful to wake up in bed together every morning again. She had missed that so much in the past nine months.

They took a break from packing to have lunch, and afterward she disappeared for a few minutes. He assumed she was checking her emails or on the phone, and when she reappeared, she looked disoriented for a minute and then sat down on a box of books he had just packed, and she stared at him.

“Is something wrong?”

“I don't know. You tell me. It depends on how you look at it.” He stopped what he was doing and stared at her. Suddenly, he had a sense that a serious problem had come up. She held a test stick up to him. He had seen those before, but not in three years, and he looked shocked. “I'm pregnant,” she said in a whisper. He had last been home at the beginning of May, and it had occurred to her to check, since she had suddenly realized a few days before that she was more than a week late, and had bought the test. But with the move and so much going on, she hadn't given it any more thought, and as she was packing the contents of her bathroom to ship, she found the test and decided to check. She hadn't thought it would be positive, and had done it as more of a lark. She wasn't prepared for this, not as they were moving to Beijing.

“Are you sure?” he asked, visibly stunned. She held out the test stick to him, and he checked. It was positive. There was no doubt. And he could see their plans for China going up in smoke. There was no way she would be willing to go to China if she was pregnant, and he felt his heart sink.

“Now what are we going to do?” she asked him in a strangled voice.

“What do you want to do?” he asked her, as he sat down on another packing box. “Should I unpack? This is your decision, Valerie. I'm not going to force you to move to China if you're pregnant.” He was sure now she would want to stay home. And he wasn't sure he liked the idea of her being pregnant in China.

“I don't know.” She thought about it for a minute.

“You could come back and have it here. When would it be due?” She calculated the dates in her head.

“February.” It was a hell of a shock. She hadn't expected to get pregnant. But they had been a little cavalier about it a couple of times when he came home in May. They had been so happy to see each other that they had taken a chance, and figured they'd get away with it. They hadn't. And they had put it out of their heads. Till now.

“You'd have to come home by Christmas if you want to have it here. Is it worth going for six months?” She looked at him and smiled.

“I really wasn't expecting this,” she said thoughtfully, trying to figure it out. This put a serious kink in their plans, a major one.

But he didn't want her pregnant alone in Paris either. It could mean that he'd have to leave the job. There was only so much he could ask of her, and she had been so patient for the nine months since he left. And they'd been so excited about her coming to China. And then she looked at him and laughed.

“This is crazy, isn't it? I find out I'm pregnant while we're packing to leave.”

“It's a good thing you checked. I don't know what we'd have done if we found out once you were there.”

“And what if I had? Women have babies in China all the time. Not as many as we have, but they do.” Most people in China still only had one child, and very rarely two. Now she and Jean-Philippe would have four, which they had always said they wanted, just not now, when they'd be living in Beijing. “Would it be so unthinkable to have it there? There have to be good doctors in China in the big cities.”

“I don't know anything about medical conditions there, but we can check.” She had had easy pregnancies and deliveries before, and she was remarkably calm about it.

“Chantal said her grandchild was going to be delivered in a water birth at home,” Valerie said, grinning at him, and Jean-Philippe looked horrified.

“Please tell me you're joking.”

“I am,” she said, serious again, and then he sat next to her on the box, and she put her arms around him. “We're blessed. We're having another baby. We always wanted four.”

“Yes, but not now.” He looked disappointed. He was sure that now she wouldn't come. Their plans for living in Beijing together were about to go out the window again.

“Women have babies all over the world. So can I. I'm not afraid to have a baby there, if you're with me. And as long as we can find a European or American doctor I can talk to, I'd feel fine about it. And there must be at least one in Beijing.” She didn't look worried as she smiled at him and kissed him.

“Are you sure?” She was an incredibly game person, and he loved her more every day. Every time they had a problem, she found a way to solve it, just as she had figured out a way to work there for a year, and hang on to her connection at
Vogue,
without risking her future there, and she had even come up with a consulting job. “This is a major deal, Valerie. I don't want to take you there pregnant, if you're uncomfortable about it.”

“I think it'll be fine. If I have problems with the pregnancy, I can come home. But why would I? I never have before. And I'd really like to go. I think it will be exciting.”

“It will be wonderful for me if you're there,” he said, looking at her adoringly. “And I'd rather be with you when you're pregnant, to keep an eye on you.” He knew what she was like. She always did too much. She had left her office to have Damien after a shoot, and almost didn't make it to the hospital on time. And she'd almost had Isabelle at a show during Fashion Week.

“I want to go,” she said firmly, with a determined look in her eye. “Let's keep packing,” she said, and stood up.

“No! You sit down. I'm not going to China with you pregnant, unless you're reasonable,” he said sternly.

“Yes, sir,” she said, and he smiled at her and kissed her as the realization that they were having another child washed over them. For a minute, the logistics had almost stopped them, but nothing could stop them now. They were going to China, and their fourth child would be born there. It made it suddenly feel more like home, and they would have a sentimental bond to it forever with a child born in Beijing. She went back to the bathroom to pack the rest of her things to be shipped.

Jean-Philippe walked into the bathroom while she was putting over-the-counter medicines for the children into a box, and she turned when she heard him come in, and stood there facing him. She was the woman he loved and the mother of his children, and he knew he had almost lost her this year, and now they were having another child. It was a blessing beyond measure, for both of them.

“Do you have any idea how much I love you?” he asked her with a lump in his throat. He had been thinking about it while he packed.

“As much as I love you,” she said gently, and slipped into his arms again, as he held her, thinking about their baby inside her, and the happy times ahead of them. He knew he could do anything with her at his side, and she felt the same way about him.

“Thank you, Valerie,” he said and held her tight, as she closed her eyes and smiled.

T
he email came from Jean-Philippe that morning. He had already heard that the first meeting place was at the Palais Royal. It was an interesting location, because it was two blocks from the Louvre, three from the Place de la Concorde, and just as close to the Place Vendôme. So the White Dinner could be in any of several locations. But most alarming was that it had been raining buckets since the night before.

Chantal looked out the window that morning when she got up and told Xavier there was no way the White Dinner was going to happen this year.

“Yes, it will,” he said calmly, as he read the paper before he left for work.

“The weather is never going to clear, not with rain like this.”

“Don't be such a pessimist. Of course it will. It will stop raining before tonight.” He looked totally unconcerned as he put the paper into his briefcase, gave her a kiss, and left. And at regular intervals throughout the day, Chantal glanced out the window in despair and watched the rain come down. If anything, it got steadily worse.

She had already picked her outfit for that night, white slacks and a white sweater, with a white jacket, in case it got chilly. She had cute white shoes. And all their china, silver, and crystal were already in the rolling caddy. Their meal was in the fridge. She had the wine. And the heavens were still dumping everything they had. It looked like a deluge, and she was waiting for Noah's Ark to show up on the Seine. The weather report was for more rain that night. And she had no desire to sit in front of any monument in Paris, no matter how beautiful, romantic, or grandiose, and get drenched while she tried to eat her sopping dinner with Jean-Philippe and their friends. Xavier was crazy if he thought it was going to stop.

She texted him several times that day at the office, and he kept responding that everything would be fine. He had his box of lanterns waiting next to the caddy, and he had devised a system for carrying it like a backpack, so he could still manage their table and chairs.

At four o'clock the sky got darker, almost like the end of the world. There was a clap of thunder, a bolt of lightning, and a few minutes later hailstones were raining down on the roof and bouncing off the windows. It was ridiculous, and the White Dinner appeared to be doomed.

At five, it lightened up a little, and the rain slowed down. And when she glanced out the window at six, a patch of blue sky appeared, and a few minutes later a rainbow streaked across the sky. She stood and stared at it for a minute, and wondered if he was right. Something was happening, and in the next half hour, all the clouds disappeared, the rain stopped, and the sky was blue. Xavier was right. The White Dinner was going to happen, and the magic had begun. She would never have thought it possible that a sky that had been dark all day, with pouring rain, could turn blue by the end of the day.

Xavier came home from the office at seven with an I-told-you-so grin on his face.

“Okay, okay, I get it. Tonight is special. Apparently God thinks so too.” Jean-Philippe called and told them the first location had been confirmed. They were to meet at the Palais Royal at eight-fifteen. And she and Xavier tried to guess where the dinner would be held. She thought it would be the Place de la Concorde, Xavier guessed the Louvre. When they had asked Jean-Philippe, he said he didn't know, which was most likely true.

They both got dressed then, all in white, and as they were about to leave the apartment at a quarter to eight, Xavier looked at her and smiled.

“A year ago tonight I was going out with friends, to a dinner I'd never been to before, and thought might be boring, so I bought the Chinese lanterns to liven things up. Little did I know I'd find you.” She smiled at him, and they walked out, drove to the area around the Palais Royal, and found a parking space. Chantal rolled her caddy into the gardens, where they saw thousands of people in white congregating, shouting to each other, finding friends, and calling others on their phones to locate them in the crowd.

It took them a few minutes to find Jean-Philippe, who had an arm around Valerie's shoulders, and their friends were standing with them. Jean-Philippe had invited nine couples, as he did every year. It was the same group as the year before, without Gregorio. Benedetta came with Dharam, and they were beaming at each other. He greeted Chantal warmly, remembering that he had been her unofficial date the year before. Most everyone knew Xavier by then, but Chantal introduced him to the few he had never met. They were all talking animatedly, and at eight-forty-five, the announcement came, and Jean-Philippe smiled as he told them the location of the dinner. Xavier had been right, it was the Louvre. They would be seated between the ancient palace that was now a museum, and the two glass pyramids by I. M. Pei. And they would have a spectacular view of the sunset, as night fell. Everyone was excited when they heard the location, and there were rumors that the other location that night was the Trocadero under the Eiffel Tower, but no one knew for sure. They were told that there were eight thousand people in the garden of the Palais Royal, but it didn't look it, as people got moving, and Jean-Philippe's group stayed close to each other, as they crossed two streets and entered the archways of the Louvre and walked through them into the square. And suddenly they were in front of the palace, with the pyramids sparkling in the sunlight. It would be light for another hour, and the sky was as blue as it had been for the last two hours.

All the men unfolded their tables, as they found their designated spots. Jean-Philippe was laughing and in high spirits, as Valerie shook out her tablecloth, and Benedetta and Chantal and the other women in the group unfolded theirs. They had all brought linen napkins, white china, and crystal glasses. Benedetta had brought Buccelatti candelabra, and Chantal had brought some votives, along with the silver candlesticks from her dining table. The ten tables in their group, set down side by side in their numbered spots, looked beautiful, but so did all the others. By nine-fifteen, the tables were set, and by nine-thirty, all eight thousand revelers were seated and pouring wine. And as Chantal looked across the table at him, Xavier was beaming at her.

“I can't believe I'm here with you,” he said only for her ears, and he toasted her with champagne. Dharam had brought caviar for all of them, as he had before. Hors d'oeuvres were passed around. They all set their food out, and the hubbub of laughter and lively conversation could be heard throughout the square, and by the time they began dining in earnest, the sun had set, the candles had been lit, and the square was alight with the glow from four thousand beautifully set tables, and eight thousand good friends enjoying each other's company on a starry night.

“Last year I could only dream of being here with you,” Dharam said to Benedetta, and she smiled at him. The disaster of the year before had become a dim memory, when Gregorio left the table and disappeared. In fact, their marriage had ended that night when the twins were born. And now she was here with Dharam, the kindest man she'd ever known.

As he always did, Jean-Philippe walked along their combined tables, making sure that everyone was happy, and he kept coming back to Valerie and kissing her. It was a tender evening for all of them, and by the end of dinner, at eleven, the sparklers were handed out and lit up the whole square, and the band began playing. Benedetta and Dharam were among the first to head to the dance floor, as the others chatted and ate dessert.

And then half an hour later, Xavier took his mysterious box from under the table, opened it, and began handing out paper lanterns, and as he looked at Chantal, he thought of something. “This is our anniversary, you know. It all started a year ago tonight.” And now they were in love and living together. Xavier kept one lantern aside for her. And one by one he lit the others for their group, the group at a table behind them, and another to the side. And at each of the tables, people were lighting them, and holding the lanterns as they filled with air and grew. And when they were full of warm air and brightly lit, people released them and watched them fly into the night sky. It was as beautiful as it had been before. Chantal watched as Xavier reminded people to wait until the lanterns were full of air, and then make a wish and let them go.

There were dozens of them sailing through the sky, when Xavier turned to her, and beckoned her to come to him, and she stood next to him as she had a year before. They held the frame of the lantern together and watched it fill and stand to its full height of about three feet.

“Make your wish,” he said gently, with his arms around her.

“I already got my wish,” she whispered to him, and he smiled.

“Make another one,” he said softly. “And I'll make mine.” He didn't tell her that he had had the same wish as she did the year before.

People were dancing in the aisles then and watching the Chinese lanterns, and Chantal and Xavier lifted their lantern high over their heads, and let it go, as it sailed almost straight up and then veered toward the roof of the Louvre to sail over it, and then rise into the Paris sky until it was out of sight. It was just a pinpoint of light when Xavier turned to her and kissed her.

“Thank you for making all my dreams come true,” he said gently. They both agreed that the evening was full of magic and unabashed expressions of love.

“Thank you for the lanterns,” Jean-Philippe said to Xavier. The two men exchanged a smile. They had used them all by then, and they were sailing high overhead as people watched, entranced by the beauty of the sight.

“It's magical,” Dharam said to them as he and Benedetta came to stand with the rest of the group.

“It's always the most exquisite night of my life,” Benedetta said, and she looked straight at him as she said it.

It was always a night of love and friendship, and generosity, in the shadow of the most beautiful monuments of Paris. Jean-Philippe thought he had never seen a better White Dinner than that night, the atmosphere was perfect, and he had been coming for many years.

Conversations were lively, as people drank and smoked and talked among their friends. The music was playing in the background, and some people were dancing. And then at twelve-thirty Jean-Philippe gave the signal to his guests, and each one took out a white plastic bag and began filling it with their refuse. Not a single shred of evidence of their dinner there could remain. There was very little left of dinner, and Jean-Philippe's tables had finished their wine and champagne. All of Dharam's caviar was gone and had been a major hit. Everything about the evening was. Someone asked Jean-Philippe and Valerie when they were leaving for Beijing, and Valerie said in a few days. This was going to be a night to remember Paris by. The next day they were going to a hotel with the children, while the movers packed.

They all hated to leave their tables and the evening, but the witching hour came. Their guests hugged and kissed each other and Valerie and Jean-Philippe, and wished them well in Beijing. They wouldn't have time to see their friends again before they left. Valerie had a thousand things to do, and she had to get the vaccination certificates of her children stamped. She seemed full of energy that night at dinner, and Jean-Philippe never took his eyes off her. And Dharam had stayed close to Benedetta. He had waited to celebrate this moment for a year.

The magic of the White Dinner had happened before, was happening that night, and would happen again. The square had been lit with the glow of eight thousand hearts, thousands of candles, with the lanterns blessing them from above before they disappeared. Chantal and Xavier could feel the magic, as could the others. And they floated out of the square, carrying with them the spirit of the White Dinner. It had been once again a night of magic in an extraordinary setting.

“Ready to go home?” Xavier asked her gently, and Chantal nodded with a smile, and then followed him to the car, after they said goodbye to their friends. She looked into the sky one last time to make sure her lantern was still there somewhere, carrying her wish up to the stars. But it was already there.