Scent of Triumph (45 page)

Mrs. B. greeted Lou with a brisk handshake. “Have we got a lot to show you, Mr. Lou,
ja
, you’ll like it. You’ll be happy, I tell you, as happy as the children.”

“I like it already, Mrs. B.,” Lou said. “Red was a fine choice for the front door. Cheerful and welcoming, a true reflection of you.”

Abigail was on her knees now, greeting each child. “Hello, Leon, just look at how you’ve grown. And Marisa, what a pretty pink ribbon in your hair. Tito, what a nice haircut, how grown up you look. Hello Henri, and Maria and Katia. Gerard, why the sad face? I’ve got a hug for you. Oh, I love you all.” She laughed and hugged several children at once.

Lou knew she loved them as if they were her own, and indeed, they truly were her children, the only children she thought she’d ever have.

Lou watched, love and admiration welling in his heart. Then he knelt and chatted with several of the boys who gravitated toward him.

Abigail stood, then glanced down. Her smart beige dress and coat were covered with tiny hand prints, but clearly she didn’t care. “Where are the triplets, Mrs. B.?”

“In the art room. They love the water colors.”

“Excellent,” Abigail said. “We’ll see them now, and as we go, I’ll show our Lou what we’ve done with the home.”

Mrs. B. smiled with obvious pride. “Your stylish friend, Miss Bretancourt, certainly liked it.”

Abigail and Lou stopped and looked at one another, nonplussed. “Danielle Bretancourt was here?”

“
Ja
, she comes here often. I thought you knew.”

“But, why?” Abigail said.

“She told me she lost her little boy, Nicky. Gave me a nice drawing of him. She hopes to find him someday.”

Abigail threw a worried glance at Lou, and dropped her voice to a whisper. “Maybe she still holds out hope, but I thought he’d died.”

Mrs. B. shrugged. “A mother never gives up hope. Now, if you’ll excuse me,” said Mrs. B., “I’m needed in the kitchen. I hope you’ll join us for lunch.”

“Thank you, yes, Mrs. B.” Abigail and Lou traded glances. Lou kissed her on the cheek. “Danielle will be okay. She’s a tough one.”

“I guess you’re right, but it’s so sad. She’s lost so many loved ones, and now Cameron, too. Well, come on, I have a lot to show you.” Abigail started down the hall and the children followed her, skipping and laughing.

She paused at the first door, where a sun-filled room was painted lemon yellow, and giant cushy cubes of bright green and red and blue were stacked in the center like a pyramid. Thick blue mats for acrobatics were arranged around the cubes, and matching pillows were stacked to the side near a blackboard and a well-stocked bookshelf.

“This is the indoor play room and reading room,” Abigail told Lou. “This is where story time is held. The children learn English through story-telling and pictures, and Mrs. B. uses the blackboard to go over new words and sounds. Communication is essential for placement. We wanted this to be a happy, well-loved room, full of bright colors to hold their attention and keep their minds sharp and alert.”

“And my staff did all this?”

“This and more. Follow me,” she said with a wink.

They wound through the house, examining one room after another. The rambling old home had once been a rundown boarding house. Abigail had bought it at a good price, and with the aid of Lou’s set crew, she’d transformed it.

Abigail opened the door to the art room. There sat three redheaded, freckled eight-year-olds, two boys and one girl, cloaked in smocks, and intent on their artwork. A volunteer worked with them. “Try the blue,” the woman was saying, pointing to the blue paint, and repeating, “blue, blue.”

“Bl-u,” they repeated.

“Very good. Good,” she said, clapping her hands. “Good, good.”

“Good,” they repeated. Laughing and clapping, blue paint accidentally flung from their fingers.

The volunteer was clearly mortified. “Oh, Miss Abigail, I’m afraid you’re blue, too. I’m terribly sorry.”

Abigail looked down. Sure enough, her beige woolen outfit was now splattered with fine blue drops, and Lou had blue splatters across his white starched shirt and burgundy tie. “It’s okay,” Abigail said. “In fact, I rather like it. Greatly improves our image, I believe.”

The children, at first afraid for their transgression, broke into wide smiles.

Abigail said, “We came to see the triplets, Alexandra, Aaron, and Aristotle. We’ll take over, if you’d like to go to lunch. I wanted Mr. Silverman to meet them. He’s also from Russia, and speaks their language.”

“How nice. I’ll see you later,” the volunteer said, then left the room.

Lou removed his dark grey suit jacket and perched on a stool next to the children. Speaking in his native tongue, he said to them, “Hello, how are you?”

At the sound of his words, their eyes widened with delight. All at once, they began to babble.

Lou laughed and looked up at Abigail. “I think we understand each other perfectly.”

They played with the children while Lou spoke to them, then translated to Abigail. She knew a few Russian words, too. “Ask them if they have other brothers or sisters.” He did and they shook their heads no.

They spoke a little longer, then walked with the triplets to the dining hall. After eating, they spent the rest of the afternoon talking with Mrs. B. about children’s pending placements.

“Lou has a couple in mind for the triplets,” Abigail mentioned.

Mrs. B. grew excited. “Is that so?”

Lou nodded. “I’ll see what I can do. I think it’s a perfect match.”

Mrs. B. said, “That would be a marvelous blessing.”

Before they knew it, the afternoon had slipped away, and Mrs. B. walked them to the doorway. All the children received another round of hugs before they bade them farewell.

Lou closed the door behind them and slipped his jacket back on. He checked his watch. “We have about an hour before dinner. Shall we take a drive up Mulholland on the way? We can just catch the sunset.”

“That would be lovely.”

Lou folded down the convertible top on his ruby red roadster and helped her in. Turning the key in the ignition, he pulled from the curb.

Abigail drew a silk scarf from her purse and tied it over her hair. She turned eagerly to Lou. “Aren’t the triplets adorable! Do you think your friends will like them?”

“I think so. In fact, I’m certain they would.” He was silent for a moment, then drew a deep breath. “Gorgeous day.”

“Well?”

“Well, what?”

“Don’t tease me. Who are they, silly?”

“A great couple, very loving. He’s somewhat older than she is, but they don’t have any children.”

“Sounds fine to me. I trust your judgment.”

Lou draped his arm casually over the back of the seat, and Abigail moved closer. She asked, “What does he do for a living?”

“He’s in the entertainment industry.”

“Is that how you met him?”

He paused. “Yes, that’s how we met.”

“How long have you known him?”

He paused again. “So long that I’ve forgotten how many years. He told me he’d like to have a family before it’s too late. He doesn’t have to work as hard as he once did, and he could reasonably make time for a family. And he can easily afford one.”

“Why haven’t they had children?”

“They’ve just married,” he said quickly. “Sometimes he thinks he might be too old to start a family. But the triplets are perfect. He’d have a head start, you see. It’d be like turning back the clock eight years.”

Abigail nodded thoughtfully. “I see. Yes, of course, you could say, ‘Do you ever wish you’d had children eight years ago?’ and when he says yes–”

“Exactly.” He turned onto Mulholland Drive and began their ascent. “Naturally, I think they’d be well-suited for a ready-made family, and he speaks their language.”

“That’s excellent. But you haven’t told me about his wife. What’s she like?”

“She’s a beautiful young woman from a nice family. Smart, athletic, well-educated, a good head on her shoulders. A great big heart, too, loves children, does a lot of volunteer work. An incredibly busy woman.”

She frowned. “Too busy, do you think?”

“No, she’s extremely energetic and well-organized. But I believe if they had a family they’d spend more time together.”

Her ears perked up at his last comment. “Have they had marital problems?”

He laughed. “Not at all. But children would bring them closer together, they’d be even closer than they are now, I assure you.” He touched her hand in a familiar gesture as he spoke. “Ah, here we are,” he said, maneuvering the car off the road. “Let’s watch the sunset from here.”

Abigail grew silent. The sun was setting over the Pacific Ocean, burnishing the sky with coppery, shimmering shades in the encroaching twilight. She leaned into Lou, comfortable by his side. “They sound like a wonderful couple. I’d love to meet them. Where did you say she was from?”

“England.”

“And who does he work with? Or does he have his own business?”

“He’s with Silverman Studios.”

“Oh,” she said with a start. “I didn’t realize he worked for you.”

Lou made no reply. He gazed out, admiring the changing colors in the sky. His mind was far, far away. He put his hand in his coat pocket, playing with the small velvet box he’d carried for so long.

Abigail shifted on the supple leather seat, mildly annoyed. She sensed he was keeping something from her, and she intended to know what it was. “When can I meet them?”

“Just look at the sunset tonight, Abigail. Isn’t it marvelous?”

“Lou, I asked you a question. When can I meet them?”

“Relax, Abigail.” He stroked his chin. “How about tonight?”

“Tonight?” she exclaimed. “Why, I’m a mess. Did you have this planned all along?”

Lou grinned, glad he’d interrupted her flow of questions. “You just told me about the children today. No, this is one of those pure coincidences, Abigail.”

They often dined with a variety of people, and as she considered it, she realized they hadn’t discussed dinner because they’d been at the children’s home. “But really, Lou, you should have warned me. Just look at my dress.”

“You didn’t mind before, besides, you look lovely. They’ll understand. We have a seven o’clock reservation at Braga’s.”

At the mention of the restaurant, Abigail relaxed. Braga’s was one of their favorites, a casual Italian café with a lively atmosphere. She shook her head. Men didn’t understand some things. At least it would be dark in Braga’s. “Well then, what are we waiting for?” she said. “I’m starving. Let’s go.”

Lou hesitated for a moment, then reluctantly turned the key in the ignition, and shifted the car into drive.

As they drove, Lou told her about the progress he’d made on Erica’s new movie. They’d replaced Cameron, though everyone was still shocked over his suicide. “He was so troubled, I suppose he found it impossible to live without his crutches, his drugs and alcohol.” He shook his head. “Erica told me Danielle called her and the two of them buried the hatchet. After all, Cameron had been important to both of them.”

“Really? Why, that’s astonishing. What motivated Danielle to befriend Erica?”

“Ah, that’s interesting. Erica told me that on the day Cameron attacked Danielle at the office, she’d phoned Harry to warn Danielle of Cam’s threat. Seems Danielle told Erica she’d never thanked her properly.”

Abigail nodded. “Amazing, at one time those two women were at one another’s throats. But Erica’s really changed, too, for the better. Look, here we are.” She removed her scarf and smoothed her hair. “I can’t wait to meet your friends and tell them about the children. I love those kids as if they were my own, that’s why I ask so many questions. Forgive me?”

“Sure, I don’t blame you.” Lou watched her with great interest, and a smile danced on his lips. “In fact, I’m glad to hear you say that.” A parking attendant met them at the curb and they got out of the car. Lou turned to Abigail and offered his arm. “Shall we?”

They walked into the café, and Lou motioned to the maître’d, who greeted them and hurried to seat them at a red-checked, cloth-covered table for four. Lou excused himself to speak to the chef, an old friend who knew Lou’s favorite dishes.

When Lou returned to the table, Abigail asked, “What type of volunteer work did you say she does?”

Lou grinned. A thousand questions, she had. “I didn’t say.”

“Lou!”

“She works with orphans.”

Abigail sat up. “Really? What’s her name?”

Lou could hardly conceal his amusement. “Abigail.”

“Abigail?” She searched her mind, trying to remember having met an Abigail. “I’d surely remember if we had met, having the same name and all–” She stopped mid-sentence and threw a swift glance at Lou.

By this time, Lou was grinning broadly, his expression innocent. “Yes, dear?”

She looked around the restaurant, growing perturbed. “There isn’t another couple joining us, is there?”

“Perhaps not,” he mused. He motioned to a waiter, who delivered a basket of breadsticks, then vanished. Lou had been waiting weeks for the right moment. “Have a breadstick.”

Abigail rolled her eyes in consternation, then reached for a breadstick, and gasped. Encircling a garlic breadstick glittered the most beautiful diamond ring she’d ever seen.

Lou leaned across the table and took her hand. “I wish I’d met you and had children with you eight years ago.” His eyes twinkled. “Marry me and we’ll adopt the triplets.”

He kissed her, and a long-denied passion flamed within her.

“I have loved you from the first moment we met,” he whispered. “We’d make a perfect family, Abigail. We’ll be so happy, I promise.”

Tears of joy welled in her eyes. “Lou, my darling, I do love you. It
is
perfect, and I’d love to marry you.” Then she paused and frowned. “But darling, I must tell you something. I-I’ll never be able to have children.” Her terrible secret finally out, Abigail felt a tremendous sense of relief.

At that, Lou threw his head back and roared with laughter. “Three should be enough. And if you want more, we’ll adopt more. Hundreds, if you wish!”

“Anyone for a fire?” Danielle shivered. An early November chill had seeped into the living room of her home on Maple Drive. She knelt to open the flue, and laid the first fire of the season in the red brick fireplace.