Sunset in St. Tropez (3 page)

“Better liposuction for him,” Pascale said, looking at her husband through the smoke, and he looked undismayed by the comment. “It's those damn blood sausages you feed me,” he accused her. “And if I stopped making them for you?” she challenged.

“I'd kill you,” he grinned, and handed her the cigar to take a puff, which she did, with a look of pleasure. For all their teasing and bantering, she and John genuinely liked each other.

“I"m serious,” Diana persisted. They had another half-hour until midnight. “We should celebrate our men coming of age.” Only she and Pascale were still several years from that landmark, although Diana was closer to it than Pascale, and she wasn't looking forward to it. “Why don't we take another trip together?”

“Where do you suggest?” Robert asked, with a look of interest. When they could get away from their demanding professional lives, he and Anne both enjoyed traveling to exotic places. The summer before they had gone to Bali and Indonesia. It was a trip they would remember forever.

“What about a safari in Kenya?” John asked hopefully, and Pascale looked at him with disgust. She had gone to Botswana with him years before, to a game preserve, and hated every minute of it. The only place she ever wanted to go was Paris, to see friends and relatives, but John didn't consider that a vacation. It drove him crazy to stay with her family, and visit her relatives with her, while she chatted endlessly in French, and he understood nothing of what they were saying, and didn't want to. He adored Pascale, but her relatives either annoyed or bored him.

“I hate Africa, and bugs and dirt. Why don't we all go to Paris together?” Pascale asked with a look of pleasure. As much as John hated it, she loved it.

“What a great idea,” he said, drawing on the cigar again, having just relit it. “Let's all stay with your mother. I"m sure she'd love it. We could all stand in line for a couple of hours, waiting for your grandmother to get out of the bathroom.” Like most Paris flats, they only had one, and Pascale's ninety-two-year-old grandmother lived with her widowed aunt and mother. It was an atmosphere that drove John insane, and to a lot of bourbon, whenever he stayed there. The last time he had even brought his own, since the most exotic thing in her mother's bar was Dubonnet and sweet vermouth, although there was always excellent red wine with dinner. Her late father had been a connoisseur of fine wines, and Pascale's mother had learned a great deal from him. It was the only thing John liked about her.

“Don't be rude about my grandmother. And your mother is even more impossible than mine,” Pascale said, looking very Gallic and highly insulted.

“At least mine speaks English.”

“You wouldn't want to stay with my mother either,” Diana volunteered, and the others laughed. They had all met Diana's parents several times, and although her father was a pleasant man, Diana made no secret of the fact that her highly organized, extremely domineering mother had always driven her crazy. “Seriously, where could we go together? What about the Caribbean? Or someplace really exotic this time? Like Buenos Aires, or Rio?”

“Everyone says Rio is dangerous,” Anne said with a look of concern. “My cousin went there last year, and they stole her handbag, her luggage, and her passport. She said she'd never go back there. What about Mexico?”

“Or Japan or Mainland China,” Robert suggested, beginning to warm up to the idea. He liked traveling with the others, and he had a particular fondness for Asia. “Or Hong Kong. The girls could go shopping.”

“What's wrong with France?” Pascale tried again, and the others laughed, as John pretended to slump in his chair in despair. They went there every summer. “I"m serious. Why don't we rent a house in the South of France? Aix en Provence, or Antibes, or Eze … or what about St Tropez? It's terrific.” John instantly objected, but as he did, Diana looked intrigued at the prospect.

“Actually, why not? It might be fun to rent a house, and maybe someone Pascale knows could find us a good one. It might be more fun than traveling around some exotic country. Eric and I speak enough French to get by, Anne is pretty good at it, and so is Robert. Pascale can handle all the hard stuff. What do you think, guys?” Anne looked pensive as she considered it, and nodded. “To tell you the truth, I like it. Robert and I went to St Tropez with the kids ten years ago, and we loved it. It's pretty, on the water, the food is great, and it's very lively.” She and Robert had spent a romantic week there, in spite of their children.

“We could rent a house there for August. And John,” Diana promised him with an earnest look, “we won't let Pascale's mother come near it.”

“Actually, we might get lucky. She goes to Italy every year in August.”

“See, it would be perfect. What do you all think?” Diana asked, pressing the project through, even Robert was nodding his approval. St Tropez had a nice ring to it, it was civilized and fun, and they could charter a boat to visit other places on the Riviera.

“I like it,” Robert admitted, and Eric seconded the motion.

“I vote for St Tropez,” he said solemnly, “if we can find a decent house. Pascale, what do you think? Can you handle that end of the project for us?”

“No problem. I know some very good real estate agents in Paris. And if she can leave my grandmother, my mother could look at some for us.”

“No,” John said emphatically, “keep her out of it. She'll pick something we hate. Just go with the agent.” But he didn't object to the location, even though it was in what he usually referred to as Frogland.

“Is it unanimous then?” Diana inquired, looking around the table, and everyone nodded. “Then it's St Tropez in August.”

Pascale was beaming as Diana said it. There was nothing in the world that appealed to her more than a month in the South of France with their best friends, and even John looked somewhat resigned to it as Eric announced that it was midnight.

“Happy New Year, sweetheart,” Eric said, kissing his wife, as Robert leaned toward Anne, kissed her discreetly on the lips, and put his arms around her as he wished her good things in the coming year, as Pascale came around the table to kiss her husband. He was surrounded by a cloud of smoke from the cigar, but she didn't mind the taste of it, as he kissed her on the mouth with slightly more passion than she had expected. For all their battles and the noise they made, theirs was as solid a marriage as the others", in some ways even more so, as all they had as their bond was each other, and no children to distract them.

“I can't wait till next summer in St Tropez,” Pascale said breathlessly as she came up for air. “It's going to be fantastic.”

“If it isn't,” John said practically, “we'll have to kill you, Pascale, since it was your idea. Just make sure you find us a decent house. No summer rat trap that they foist off on unsuspecting tourists.”

“I'll find the best house in St Tropez, I promise,” she vowed to all of them, as she took the cigar from John again, and drew on it, as she perched on his lap, and everyone talked animatedly about the plans they'd made. The one thing they all agreed on easily was that it was going to be a terrific summer. Coming up with the idea had been a wonderful way to usher in the New Year.

The next time they all got together was at Pascale and John's West Side apartment, two weeks later, on a night when it was pouring rain. The Morrisons and Smiths arrived punctually, as always, and left their dripping raincoats and umbrellas in the Donnallys" front hall. The decor at the Donnallys" was eclectic, there were African masks, modern sculptures, antiques Pascale had brought from France, and beautiful Persian rugs. And there were fascinating objects she had bought on her travels with the ballet.

The light was soft and the aroma from the kitchen delicious. She had made thick mushroom soup, and rabbit in mustard sauce for the main course. And John had opened several bottles of Haut-Brion.

“It smells wonderful!” Anne said, warming her hands at the fire John had lit, as Pascale passed a plate of hors d"oeuvres.

“Don't believe everything you smell!” John warned, pouring them each a glass of champagne. “You-know-who made dinner!” he said with a grin of warning.

“Toi alors!” Pascale said with an evil glare at him, before disappearing into the kitchen to check on dinner again.

But she had good news for all of them, she said, when she came back to sit down with them on the dark red velvet couches in their living room. There was a handsome painting over the fireplace, and candles lit everywhere, and on one wall were dozens of photographs of Pascale with the New York City Ballet. It was a room that reflected both their personalities, the places they had been, and the life they led. And the aura of the room was definitely French.

There was even an open pack of Gauloises on the table, which Pascale indulged in from time to time, while John smoked his cigars.

“So what have you been up to?” Diana asked, as she leaned back against the couch, in a well-tailored black pantsuit, sipping her champagne. She had been hard at work all day, organizing another fund-raiser at Sloan-Kettering. And Eric had been up for three nights in a row, delivering babies. The whole group seemed quieter than usual, and a little tired.

“I found a house!” Pascale beamed, as she went to the handsome old partners" desk she and John had found in London years before. She returned with a thick manila envelope, and handed a stack of photographs to her friends.

“Voilà! It's exactly what we wanted.” John reserved comment for once, he had already seen the photographs, and although he didn't like the price, he had to admit he liked the house. It was an elegant, well-maintained, rambling old villa, with beautiful gardens and lovely grounds. It was right on the water, there was a small dock, and a pretty little sailboat came with it, which would be fun for all of them, particularly Eric and Robert and Anne, who were the sailors of the group. And the photographs of the interior showed a handsome living room filled with French provincial furniture, five huge well-decorated bedrooms, and a dining room big enough to seat two dozen people. The kitchen was immaculate, though a little oldfashioned, but it was cozy and had a lot of charm. And best of all, there was both a maid and a gardener, who was willing to act as chauffeur. Pascale was right, they all agreed, it looked like the perfect house. In fact, it was called Coup de Foudre, which meant “love at first sight,” or “bolt of lightning.” It was available for the entire month of August, and quite reasonably, because of the desirability of the house, the owners wanted to know immediately if they were going to rent it.

“Wow, that looks great, Pascale,” Diana said with pleasure, poring over the pictures again. “It even has two guest rooms, if we want to invite friends, or some of our kids. And I love the idea of the maid. I don't mind cooking, but I hate cleaning up after.”

“Exactly,” Pascale said, looking thrilled that they liked it. “It's a little expensive,” she admitted hesitantly, “but divided by three, it's not so bad.” John rolled his eyes at that, but even he had to admit that it wasn't beyond reason.

He was going to use air miles to cover the air fare, and if the girls did most of the cooking, and they didn't go out to fashionable restaurants every night, it almost sounded reasonable to him.

“Do you suppose it really is as good as it looks in the pictures?” Robert asked cautiously, helping himself to Pascale's hors d"oeuvres. Her culinary skills were a lot better than John admitted. Most of the pretty little canapes had already been devoured, and the aroma wafting from the kitchen smelled delicious.

“Why would they lie to us?” Pascale asked, looking surprised. It was the same thing John had said. “I used a very reputable agent to find it. I can ask my mother to fly down to see it, if you want.”

“Oh God, no!” John said, looking horrified. “Don't let her get involved in this. She'll tell them I"m a rich American banker, and they'll double the price.” He looked agonized just thinking of it, and the others laughed at him.

“I think it looks absolutely perfect,” Anne said sensibly. She had been enthusiastic about the project from the beginning. “I think we ought to move on it before we lose it to someone else. And even if it turns out to be a little less perfect than the pictures, so what? How bad can a month be in a villa in the South of France? I vote that we fax them tonight and tell them we want it,” she said decisively, with a warm smile to Pascale. “You did a great job!”

“Thank you,” Pascale said, looking ecstatic. She loved the idea of spending an additional month in France. She always stayed with her family in Paris for most of June, and all of July. But this year she could also stay for August.

“I agree with Anne,” Robert said without hesitation. “And I like the idea of the guest rooms. I know our kids would love to come over for a few days, if the rest of you don't mind.”

“I'll bet ours would too,” Eric joined in, and Diana nodded.

“I don't know if Katherine's husband could get away, but I know she'd love to come over with the boys, and Samantha is crazy about France.”

“So am I,” Anne smiled. “Do we agree then? Shall we do it?” They rapidly calculated how much it would cost each couple, and although John pretended to clutch his heart as they converted it to dollars, in the end they all agreed that for a house as large and well cared for as this one, it was a fair price, and well worth doing.

“It's a done deal then,” Robert said, looking pleased. He knew he could arrange to take the month off, and he wanted Anne to take a vacation. She had been looking very tired, and even she admitted that she worked too hard. Robert had even told her lately that he thought she should think about retiring. Life was too short to spend every waking hour either in the office, in the courtroom, or preparing cases for their litigators to try. Although she loved her work, it was very stressful, and her clients demanded a lot of her. She worked nights and some weekends, and although her career was her passion, he was beginning to think it was time for her to slow down. He wanted to spend more time with her. “Will you take the whole month off?” he asked his wife pointedly as Pascale called them in to dinner, and Anne nodded, with a twinkle in her eye. “Do you mean that? I"m going to hold you to it, you know,” he said, as he pulled her close to him and kissed her. He was really looking forward to their time together in France. For the past two years, she had cut short their vacations in order to come back to the office and handle emergencies for her clients.