The Double Rose (15 page)

A yellow butterfly with indigo-tipped wings danced its way to Marie and rested on her hand, then flew over the ashes with its companions. “I am so sorry for your loss. What a tragedy to have such a unique library destroyed . . . and the beautiful artwork.”

Jacques looked past her with a wrinkled, aged face. Something in the sky caught his attention. “Look!” He pointed, and all eyes followed his finger. “There is a rainbow.”

Chapter 15

The Seventh Day

Paris, France

Sunday, 22 July

It was the seventh day that Marie would spend with Josh.

Madame Gest’s plush sitting room, surrounded by historic paintings, was the perfect environment to still her nerves before performing. Instead, doubts entered her mind. She sat on a harp stool, wondering if the newly discovered feelings she had for Josh were real. “Is it possible that I could have changed so dramatically in one short week? . . . I can't think about this now,” she said with no one but herself to hear. “I have to practice.”

Sophie slipped into the room with a gleeful smile. “Hello, my darling. I faintly detected Handel’s
Concerto in B Flat Major
from the hallway and followed the notes. You sound wonderful. Just as I expected. And you look more beautiful than ever.”

“Thank you, Maman.” Marie raised one eyebrow as her fingers engaged in a genuine infatuated relationship with the strings. “But you are more than a little prejudiced.”

Sophie appeared regal in her black, formal evening gown. The freshwater pearls embellishing her waistline added to her stately presence.

“I am just being honest,” she stated matter-of-factly and then sat on a matching harp stool four feet from Marie. Sophie raised her fingers and playfully strummed a little, gold-crowned, mahogany lever harp.

Marie laughed with delight.
Age is a state of mind. Maman is perpetually youthful.

“Is Josh here?”

“Of course.” Sophie shrugged her shoulders. “I have danced with him twice already. He is sitting at our table.” Her hand whisked over her leg, brushing away a strand of white lint glaring against the jet-black fabric.

“You danced with Josh?” Marie was not sure she approved.
He may weasel his way into Maman’s heart before mine.

“Yes. He asked me, and I must say he is an excellent dancer. He also happens to have exceptionally good taste in women.” Sophie winked at her daughter.

“Oh no, you are not prejudiced at all! Seriously, Maman, I do not know what I am going to do about Josh. He is determined to win my heart. I know I should be flattered, but, it's all too fast.” She sighed, exasperated by her own indecisiveness. “At least for me. Apparently he has felt this way for years.”

Sophie's gentle smile resonated with love. “
Chérie
, I think you have had feelings, too, but you were not in touch with them because you allowed your fears to build a wall between your mind and your heart. After all, my darling, you aren't an island onto yourself. We are all influenced by those around us. You were young when Geneviéve married, and as a teenager you dwelt a lot on her life—perhaps because she was the oldest. Consequently, her dysfunctional marriage had an adverse impact on how you perceived men and marriage.”

A familiar light, like a siren, flashed inside Marie’s head. “I have to practice for tonight’s performance. I'm not sure I have time for one of your lectures right now.”

“This will only take a few minutes, darling.” Sophie stood, her eyes focused on the seventy-four-and-a–quarter-inches tall Prince William harp positioned between Marie’s knees, examining the master craftsmanship of the artistic instrument. Marie knew there was no use in protesting. Her fingers dropped to her lap, silencing the magical melody of the harp.

“I believe in your dreams, Marie, and I believe that you have a special destiny with the man who calls to you through those visions, but,” Sophie gently ran her stretched fingers over the hand-painted, twenty-three-karat gold bouquets of flowers on the Rosewood soundboard as she admonished her daughter. “Josh is made of flesh and blood and is right in front of you. Do not allow what you
think
these dreams mean to detach you from reality.”

Sophie admired the gilded roses over the mahogany finish of the column. “My darling, trust in your heart. The second you surrender your anxiety about Josh and allow yourself to feel his love, only then will you be able to know if you can ever reciprocate it.”

Her mother’s words sowed seeds for a new vein of thought to sprout in Marie’s mind. “I love you,” summed up her feelings. She resumed the proper posture, raised her elbows, and commenced on one last run through Handel’s masterpiece.

Sophie kissed Marie’s cheeks goodbye, then left her to finish her warm-ups for the few minutes she had left before the performance.

* * *

Sophie returned to her table on the grounds of Madame Gest’s estate where she found Christophe and Josh engaged in a deep conversation. It took twenty minutes to reach them due to the “hellos” from old friends and quickly playing catch-up on life’s happenings.

A beautiful stage on the east lawn of Madame Gest’s magnificent estate had been erected for her annual gala. Her glistening, gold Louis XV special concert grand harp held a prominent position on the temporary edifice that had been specially constructed for the occasion. Over two hundred and twenty guests donned black-tie apparel for the event. The lawn came alive with vibrant colors from the ladies’ glittering designer gowns.

Madame Gest introduced Marie. “Ladies and gentleman, I have a special treat for you tonight. My dearest friends, who deserted us for America so long ago.” Applause and laughter erupted from the audience for the Fitzroy family who were well known, well loved, and well missed in France. “Christophe and Sophie Fitzroy have brought with them to Paris their daughter, whom you all have heard so much about. Marie Fitzroy is a much-celebrated young artist and visionary. Many of you know, but perhaps some of you may not, she is as proficient with the strings of a harp as she is with a paintbrush and canvas. Tonight she will perform
Handel’s Concerto in B Flat Major.
”

* * *

Marie took a deep breath. A loud applause escorted her on stage. She wore a classic A-line, red velvet, form-fitting gown. It was a custom one-of-a-kind dress for a one-of-a-kind lady. A diamond-studded, white gold fleur-de-lis necklace hung low to her bosom but was not obscured by the bodice of her gown. It had been a coming-of-age gift from her parents. Her long hair was worn in a stylish up-do graced by a simple tiara.

* * *

Josh nearly stopped breathing. She looked ravishing, more beautiful than any other woman he had ever beheld. Agony and ecstasy battled for victory over his emotions. He was mesmerized!

She sat on the stool as if she were presiding on a palace throne. Her hands raised, then her fingers flowed proficiently, just as Madame Gest had claimed. Healing energy resonating from the strings captivated the silent audience.

Josh wished the moment could stand still, eternally captured. He wanted to absorb it, absorb her energy, the vision of her exquisite beauty, and remember every note for eternity. She was his queen.

The audience rose to its feet in spontaneous unison, honoring Marie with a standing ovation—a high compliment considering the guests primarily consisted of professional harpists.

A crowd quickly congregated on stage to greet her. It took all the discipline Josh possessed to wait for the perfect moment. As he sat at his gaudy table, his vision never left her. He silently searched for the words and the strength to reach her wavering heart.

Forty minutes later the crowd dispersed to other festivities. Josh waited with anxious longing in his heart, yet retained his power of patience. Finally, only Madame Gest and Marie remained on the stage. At first sight of Madame Gest’s farewell to Marie, he stood in his polished formal footwear, verified his lapel and tie were straight, then stepped confidently toward his destiny. His eyes fixated on hers as he walked toward the stage. No earthly force could have stopped him.

* * *

Marie saw Josh coming with what she used to call his hyper-masculine expression advertised on his face, steeled with determination. She defined it as his “I am determined not to fail” look, much like a Marine on a mission. Now that she understood him better, she was not intimidated by the sober side of his character.
He is probably going to insist on a dance. No big deal
, she supposed, assuming what he was about to do. After all, he did look dashing in a tuxedo.

* * *

At that moment, no one else existed except Marie in Josh’s world. Without saying a word, looking deeply into her provocative, hazel-green eyes, he put his hands firmly around her beautifully feminine, velvet-lined waist and pulled her tightly toward him.

* * *

It happened so quickly and unexpectedly, Marie did not have time to react.

“I love you, Marie. Marry me?”

She had never been so stunned in her life. Even after all his creatively calculated advances, he still managed to surprise her. “Josh! I don’t know what to say.”

“Say yes.”

Their eyes were intimately interlocked like two pieces in a unique puzzle. The strength of his hands around her waist felt secure, but not definitive. Marie did not want to say no, but she could not say yes. She needed time to acclimate fully. “I don’t know, Josh. I'm sorry. I have to have time to think about it.”

“While you are thinking about
it
will you think about something else, too?”

“Sure.”

There, under the moonlight, Josh leaned in, his eyes still penetrating her soul, and firmly pressed his lips against hers, then passionately kissed Marie. The desire in his eyes overwhelmed her at least as much as his sensual embrace.

Chapter 16

First Date or Friendship

Independence, Missouri

Friday, 3 August

“He’s here!” Eliza and Anne screamed simultaneously from the bottom of the stairwell as if the studio were on fire.

“You guys need to chill. It's not like he is Chris Hemsworth! Just let him in. I will be down in a minute,” Marie hollered, wondering what the panic was all about, then returned to priming herself in a lighted vanity mirror. The exotic master bathroom floor was littered with the seven outfits she had tried on before raiding Anne’s closet.

* * *

The sisters raced to the foyer, anxious for the chance to deduce anything they could about Josh’s plans. They opened the door and there he stood, Josh Ryan, the once-upon-a-time arch enemy—now, the would-be-lover—accompanied by a generous dose of aftershave. In his hands, he held a long, white floral box containing a dozen long-stem, red roses bound together with a crimson ribbon and bow.

“Hey, Josh,” the sisters said, trying to sound casual.

* * *

“Good evening, ladies.” Josh gleefully entered Marie’s studio for the first time. His vision vacillated between the women and the captivating qualities of Marie’s art displayed on the walls.

“Roses,” observed Anne. Her head bobbed in approval.

“Nice touch,” added Eliza.

“Marie loves red roses.”

Josh felt like a specimen under a microscope. He knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that every word–indeed every gesture he made–would be indelibly branded in these women’s minds, only to be related to Marie in meticulous detail later. Without question, these two sisters were his number one rivals for Marie’s affections, far more than any man could be except for the mythical one pursuing her while she slept.

After two weeks of phone calls and Facebook flirting, he finally convinced her to accept his invitation for a date, which he planned to perfection. At this particular moment, he knew the less said, the better.

The sisters led him to the heart of the studio. “Have a seat.” Eliza motioned to the sofa.

“Thanks.” He sat down nervously smiling and quietly admired the sublime beauty of Marie’s art while he tried to avoid eye contact with her sisters.

Eliza tapped her finger against her chin for four seconds in what appeared to be serious contemplation before the backside of her khaki pants slid on to the arm of the sofa ten inches from his arm. “So what are your plans for tonight?”

“It's a surprise,” he politely evaded her question.

“Marie hates surprises!” Anne quickly warned. She plopped down on his right side, not above cornering him.

“Unless she is the one doing the surprising.” Eliza laughed, and Anne followed suit.

“Well, I think she will like this one.” The room shrank as Josh felt the receiving end of the cat-and-mouse game.

“Are you sure you don’t want to run it by us? We might be able to help you avert a disaster,” the sisters offered.

“My plans are pretty much engraved in stone. There is no turning back. I appreciate the offer though.”

After fifteen minutes of sidestepping the sisters’ interrogation, Josh stood to his feet in awe when Marie entered the room. Dressed in a gorgeous, black cocktail dress with stiletto heels and a fancy up-do, she was as stunning as a tropical flower.

He could not remember a time when her intelligence and talent had not held his heart captive. “Marie, you look so beautiful.” This was a once-in-a-life-time moment for Josh, because this time she had dressed-up for him.

“Yeah, sis, love your dress.” Anne smirked.

* * *

Marie quickly winked back at her sister, then accepted the floral box. “Thank you, Josh. These are lovely. I had better put them in water before we leave.”

His black slacks and stylish dress shirt were a refreshing change from his everyday predictable apparel.
Hmm . . . Josh came out of his wardrobe comfort zone to impress me. That was sweet
.

“Don’t worry about the roses. We will arrange them for you. Just get going and have a good time.”

Kansas City, Missouri

Josh held the door open for Marie as they entered the restaurant. They were greeted by the aroma of fresh-baked dough, a shrine to Frank Sinatra, and a lovely young hostess. “Welcome to Buca di Beppo.”

“Thank you. I have reservations for two under the name Ryan.”

“Yes, sir, right this way.”

They soaked in the charming Italian décor as they walked to their table. The walls were lined with photographs of Italian people, the famous and the not so famous. Even a few non-Italian personalities managed to creep into the mix. The hostess seated them in the Sophia Loren room, where images of the exotic icon entertained the diners.

“Fine Italian cuisine was the perfect choice for our first date,” Marie said. “And I love the ambience.”

The red-and-white tablecloth vaguely reminded Josh of the blanket they sat on for their garden picnic.

“It is a wonderful surprise. Thank you.”

“This is not the surprise, but I'm very pleased you like it. There actually was a particular reason why I chose this restaurant.” Her facial expression suggested she did not have a clue as to what he meant. “Do you remember the summer of 2004 when we were assigned to work together in the cafeteria at Camp Arrowhead?”

* * *

“I remember.” How could she forget a food fight that could have rivaled any sitcom? Everyone jumped into the frenzy, except for the counselors, and Josh.

“So you remember the meatballs?” He offered her his hand from across the table.

She slowly placed her hand in his warm palm. She enjoyed his touch, yet remained uncommitted.

“How could I forget the meatballs?” She shot a flirty smile his way. “Mrs. Clark made us hose off before we were allowed in the girls’ showers. I guess we will never know what motivated Chad to start that food fight. I thought stuff like that only happened on TV.”

Josh was more interested in the opportunity for intimacy than his house salad drowning in vinaigrette dressing. He caressed her hand with his fingers.

“I will never forget Chad and Jason throwing meatballs at you as if they were baseballs.” She pushed her salad aside as the server placed their entrees in front of them. “You were such the young diplomat, too, trying to get them to stop fighting while being pelted with hot meat and sauce.”

Josh’s responded with deep longing in his brilliant, blue eyes.

“You know, I don’t remember you throwing anything back at them. Why did you take a beating?”

His back straightened from leaning forward toward her as he assumed a less romantic position. “Because I knew the problems Chad had at home with his dad. He was acting out to get attention. Unfortunately, all he accomplished was to get kicked out of camp . . . By the way, even drenched with meatballs and spaghetti sauce, you were still ravishing.”

“Not that you noticed then.” She giggled like a schoolgirl, twirling particularly long spaghetti on a spoon.

“I noticed everything you did,” he assured her.

“Did you happen to notice that I had an awesome pitch?” Marie paused from cutting up a huge meatball to extend a flirting twinkle with her eyes. “I hit both of them.”

* * *

Josh returned her flirty gesture with a broad smile. He recalled the event and how her long ponytail swirled next to him as she beat the boys in the chest with overcooked cafeteria meatballs. “Yes, I noticed that, too.”

* * *

“Wow, this gigantic meatball is delicious! Too bad we didn’t have any this big at camp. I could have done some real damage with one of these babies.” She winked.

Dinner proceeded smoothly, although Marie attempted to size up Josh. This man who sat across from her, whom she began to understand in France, seemed so different from the boy she remembered from her childhood
. How did I miss so much about his character when I was a kid? Has he changed or have I?

As they exited the restaurant, Josh’s suspicious grin widened.

“Now for the surprise.” He waved his hand toward a horse-drawn Cinderella carriage. “Your carriage, my lady.”

“You are so cheesy.” She threw back her head, clapping her hands. “But I love it! Thank you.”

“I am glad to hear it as I had it on reliable authority that you do not like surprises.” He put his hand on the small of her back as they walked toward the carriage.

“Normally I don’t, but this one I like very much. The truth is I have always wanted to go on the carriage tour of the Plaza. I am so preoccupied with my work that I never got around to it.”

Josh helped her into the carriage. “I actually did know that.”

The anticipation of fulfilling a forgotten dream tingled through her nerves. His romantic gesture became the cherry topping off their perfect date. “How on earth could you have known that?” The horse began to move as its driver urged it forward. Car passengers turned their heads as they whizzed by to see whom the lucky riders were.

* * *

“It pays to be a good listener. It was about two months ago when I happened to overhear our mothers talking.” A few loose strands of her hair blew in his face, happily distracting him for a minute as he savored the perfumed scent. “I don’t think they keep any secrets from each other.”

“Aw,” Marie agreed. “Yeah, their relationship is more like my sisters. My sisters and I do not have any secrets either.”

The bright lights on the shops and restaurants along Country Club Plaza were magical on the warm summer’s night as they glistened like stars. Josh moved close to Marie, put his arm over her shoulder, and gently kissed her neck. Anxious for her answer, he intimately whispered, “Have you had a chance to think about what happened in France?”

“Well, yes, I think we accomplished a lot in the estate. And I am grateful for your help.”

She is avoiding my question. He sighed, but with a smile to keep the mood upbeat. “Okay, have it your way; we will not talk about it tonight.”

She deftly changed the subject. “Anne told me that you and Aaron finished building the downtown theater. Are you satisfied with how it turned out?”

A bus of junior high girls in soccer uniforms waved as they passed by. The couple waved back.

“Yes. There is no secret to it. We have blueprints that we follow. When every step is completed accurately, and in the correct order, it always comes out looking as it is supposed to. I do love my work though. I get a great deal of satisfaction from bringing beauty to the city.” With his mouth an inch from her ear and in a lover’s voice, he whispered, “Although nothing I could construct could ever compare to the beauty in your gorgeous eyes.”

* * *

She blushed. Something she had never done before her last trip to Paris. “And speaking of a thing of beauty, did you get a call about a commission from Stacy Johnson?” he asked.

What is he up to?
Nothing he did could surprise her now. “I got a voice mail, but I have not returned her call yet.”

“She wants to commission some paintings for the foyer of the new theater. I showed her your website. She was impressed.”

“Thank you.” Marie offered him her hand, immensely enjoying his affectionate attention.
Maybe he is the one . . . but I have to be sure.
“You know, I'd enjoy contributing to one of your projects.”

* * *

“That is exactly what I was hoping you would say.” He kissed her on the lips exactly as he had in Paris. After years of dreaming about Marie, she was literally there in his arms, receiving his attention with pleasure.

Their time in the carriage sped by more quickly than he had hoped. Yet it would live forever in his memory as the perfect moment. As he went to thank the driver and offer him a tip, Marie joined a group of women lingering on the sidewalk in front of a chic fashion boutique.