The Paris Time Capsule (16 page)

She forced herself to speak. “I’ve known you a few days. The circumstances have been so intense for you. It’s understandable that you’re confused.”

Loic
was beside her. “Don’t know the word, Cat.”

“
Please.”

“
So you won’t risk anything, let alone your heart?”

They were outside the hotel, now. Its lights beamed a steady beacon out through the long windows onto the pavement. Something caught Cat’s eye, something other than the light.

A woman sat in a red velvet chair at a small table by the window. She was looking at them. Cat moved around to the hotel’s entrance. She reached her hand out, rested it on the handle.

“
Don’t do it to yourself, Cat.”

But Cat opened the d
oor and went inside. The woman climbed out of her red chair. Cat stalked towards the stairs. She wouldn’t wait for the lift. She had to get away. Fast. But the woman moved towards them. Probably admiring Loic, Cat thought, and a tinge of sadness crept through her. She pushed it away. She put her hand on the painted bannister, had her foot on the first step, and was intensely aware of Loic, who had stopped in the lobby. Perhaps the woman had approached him. It was important not to care.

“
Catherine? Catherine Jordan?”

A voice, clear, hard, American came from
behind her. Cat turned, full circle, too fast, raising her hands up to her flushed cheeks, both at the same time. She was hot, she still had Loic’s coat around her shoulders. Automatically, she took it off and lay it over her arm. The lobby seemed stifling.

The woman stood too close, Cat could smell the scent of her expensive perfume. She was wearing Fifth Avenue
jewelry and a kaleidoscopic blouse, with a tight pencil skirt.

“
Catherine.” She held out a hand, well-manicured fingers slightly down in that elegant way. “Charmed to meet you. Elise Rothschild.”

Cat felt faint.

Elise smiled, her tanned face forming into a perfect smile that seemed to complete the package along with her long blonde hair.

Loic
moved up a little closer. He had his hands in his pockets.

Cat handed him his coat. Everything seemed like a mirage.

“Christian found you, and here I am,” Elise smiled. “It was pretty easy, sweetie.”

Cat had a vision of Christian watching her through a webcam. In the restaurant, oh, dear God, outside!
“Christian?”

“
GPS. Isn’t it romantic?”

Cat wanted to sit down on the bottom stair.

“Cat -” Loic took a step towards her.

Cat held up a hand.
“I’m fine.”

“
You went an awful color there, sweetie.” Elise sounded cheerful. She turned to Loic.

It was impossible not to sense Elise looking him up and down, putting two and two together,
and making six. Why had Loic decided to be so stupid tonight, of all nights? Risks? Cat wished she had never heard the word.

Something had to be done.

“Loic Archer.” Loic held a hand out to Elise. “Cat’s been helping my mother.”

Cat felt her eyes widen, and then her shoulders drop.

Elise appraised Loic like nobody’s business. “Enchantee. Vous habitez a Paris?” You live in Paris?

“
Non.” Loic shot a glance towards Cat, winked, ever so slight.

“
Loic and I had a meeting. We were just finished. Elise is my … wedding planner.” She cleared her throat.

Loic
raised a brow, his lips twitched. Lips that had been kissing her, only a few minutes ago … thank goodness Elise
had
arrived, then!

“
Loic, Elise and I should talk. Now, I think.”

“
Are you sure, Cat?” Loic held her gaze.

“
Yes.” The word came out far softer than she had intended. “Yes!” she barked.

“
My, I wasn’t expecting to find you with … such a charming French man, sweetie,” Elise twittered.

Something sprang inside Cat. It was as if the entire evening had been a slow motion picture and now, she was back on track. Firmly gripping the reins.
“Loic, thank you so much. I’ll see you … in the morning.”

Yet, still, how was this going to work? How on earth was she supposed to scour Sarlat in a search that was becoming more impossible each day with Elise Rothschild,
society-wedding planner of the year in tow?

Loic
caught her eye once more. “Excusez-moi,” he said, passing both her and Elise and climbing the stairs up to his room.

“
Great,” Cat turned to smile at Elise. “So.”

“
So,” Elise said, drawing her hand out, inspecting her watch. “You know, Catherine, it’s late. We have a lot to do. I want to talk first thing tomorrow.”

“
I still can’t believe Christian tracked me using my phone.”

Elise reached her soft hand out towards Cat’s again.
“There’s nothing wrong with a man missing his fiancée! I’m here to take you home, sweetie, but before that, we are going shopping!”

“
I see.”

“
Yes,” Elise started climbing the stairs. An elegant little yawn escaped. She arranged her fingers over her mouth. “Please, excuse me. Have a blissful sleep sweetie.”

Cat took in a jagged breath. Elise was here. There was nothing she could do. She would talk to Christian as soon as possible.
“Good night,” she said.

Ten minutes later, Christian’s phone went straight through to message bank. He was probably still at work.

“Christian? You can’t send people over here with no notice. Anyway …” she softened slightly. She had hardly been a model of propriety this evening. “I miss you. I’ll be home soon. Call me tomorrow.”

Cat went and stood at the
window of her hotel room. She would talk to them both in the morning.

Elise held her elegant hand up to decline the offer of another cup of coffee. She seemed as at home in the tiny breakfast room in Sarlat as she would have been in one of New York’s luxe hotels.

Loic
had not appeared at breakfast. Every time someone new walked into the room, Cat couldn’t stop her head swiveling towards the door like a robot’s. When a young couple arrived, their arms thrown around each other’s elegant waists, popping pieces of croissant in each other’s mouths when they had settled at the closest table possible, Cat beamed at Elise.

Elise pointed at her cream folder on the white tablecloth.
“Catherine, sweetie, I am so honored to be planning your wedding.”

“
It’s Cat,” Cat said, half absent.

“
Any chance that we might find some suitable … shops in this town? I need to get an idea of your tastes.”

Cat forced herself to eat a piece of baguette. Her mind, treacherous mind, kept lodging itself on that kiss. The way he had held her; the streetlight, shining on the wet pavement, a pool of silver forming underneath their feet. She put the bread back on the plate with a thump. What had she been thinking? Nothing, nothing at all. That was the problem.

“Because otherwise … Cat, I thought we’d take the opportunity to go up to Paris today. It’s the perfect chance. Then, we’ll get you home for your party perfectly on time. I promised!”

“
I have some things I need to take care of here, today.” Cat still avoided looking at her. “Do you have some things you might like to do today too? It’s a beautiful town. It’s France!”

“
I know France.”

“
Of course you do.”

“
We’ll do the smaller designers in Paris. The last thing you want is anyone else wearing the same outfit as you!”

Cat ran her fingers around the rim of her saucer.
“Did … Christian tell you what I’m doing here?”

“
He said you were helping some damned French family sort out a will. But, I mean, it’s not your problem.”

Cat chuckled at the thought of Christian’s words.
“It is sort of my problem.”

“
Yes, but, sweetie, this party is about you. You can’t sort out a will in France and miss your own engagement.”

“
No …”

“
Come to Paris. Once you get there, you’ll forget about all of this.”

Cat took the last sip of her coffee. Elise was right. Of course, her life in New York was her number one priority. It was madness to put that behind a crazy scheme that her grandmother had unwittingly involved her in years ago. But still.

She pushed back her chair. “I can’t come to Paris today. But I’ll do my best to sort this thing out here. If I can’t find anything today … then perhaps I’ll have to come back to Paris.”

Elise looked away for a moment.
“Is that a promise?”

Cat stood up.
“I really don’t know.”

It was far easier to push thoughts of Elise out of her head than it was to get rid of the idea of
Loic. After brushing her teeth, folding her clothes and putting them in her suitcase, automatic, so as the room did not resemble the tip that she had left it in last night, Cat stalked up the narrow hotel stairs to the second floor, and knocked on Loic’s door.

She would have to talk to him. Rehearsing what she was going to say while standing outside his hotel room was one thing, saying anything to him direct was going to be quite another. Cat put her ear to the wood. Nothing.

Until, it opened, fast. Cat almost fell inside the room. Light flooded in from the windows, which were bigger than those in Cat’s smaller room. Silently, she cursed the receptionist, who, perhaps, had taken one look at Loic and given him an upgrade. Cat took in a breath.

“
Bonjour.”

In a split second Cat
realized both that she needed to look down at the person standing at the door rather than up, and that the voice was not male, let alone Loic’s.

“
Bonjour?” Cat said, her own voice slightly hysterical now. “Er … Monsieur Archer, s’il vous plait?”

“
Non,” she said. The young maid appraised Cat. “Monsieur in zis room, he checks out early. Gone.”

Cat stared at the girl.
“Vous etes sur?” You are sure?

“
Oui.” The maid threw open the door.

“
Yes, thank you.” Cat darted her eyes up and down the corridor. “Look, did he leave any… messages, do you think?”

The maid folded her arms.
“Madame.” She was looking knowing now.

Cat took a step backwards, waved thanks, her cheeks warming out of all proportion to the temperature in the corridor. She took the stairs to reception at a brisk pace.

“Excusez-moi?”

“
Oui?” The young man at reception looked disheveled, as if he, too had had an interesting night.

“
Thank you,” Cat said. “I was just checking if my … if Monsieur Archer had left any messages before he checked out?”

The man reached down under the desk.

“Thank you,” she said, when the man handed her an envelope. It had the hotel logo on it. Cat checked the reception area. There was no one about. She moved across to the window seat, where she had first spied Elise.

Her hands fumbled with the envelope. She felt inside. There was something more solid than a letter. She pulled it out; the photo of Isabelle slid into her hand. There was nothing else in the envelope.

“Charming,” she said aloud. The man at the reception glanced at her. Cat put the envelope in her bag. Excellent.

No wonder she wanted to go home to New York. Of course she did. Cat slung her bag on her shoulder. She had googled the address that she had come to find. She would simply have to go on alone. But once she was out of the hotel, once she was walking up the winding streets of Sarla
t again, past the old houses, through the wide town square, she stopped at the entrance to a narrow, pretty laneway. The boutiques, their signs flapping in the sharp breeze, hadn’t opened up yet. It was too early.

Cat reached for her phone. She was not going to let
Loic walk away. She was doing this for him. For his mother. She had not initiated anything else. He had. She would not let him ignore her now. If she had to leave a message on his phone, well, then she would do so.

“
Cat?” He answered after the first ring.

A woman walked past Cat, down the lane. A little girl swung on the woman’s hand; they were singing a lilting, repetitive tune.

“I’m going to the address in Sarlat. Are you … still in town?”

“
Cat, you know what I think? I think you have so much more potential than you know.”

“
Do you want me to let you know how I get on?”

“
Ticket collector’s here.”

Cat turned into the lane, tucki
ng herself away from the breeze that she had suddenly noticed now.

“
Perhaps I should never have chased up the will,” he said. There was a shuffle of paper, a quick conversation in French down the phone line.

“
But you did …” Cat knew she sounded vague.

“
God knows why.”

“
I’m going to the house now.”

“
An entire line of mistakes won’t fix things, Cat.” He hung up.

Cat stood where she was a moment. Looked up the lane behind her. A woman was opening up her shop a couple of doors up.

She smiled at Cat. “Bonjour.”

“
Bonjour.” Cat straightened her bag on her shoulder. She would go to this address in Rue Charpentier. She would try to find out if Sylvie-Marie Augustin, a woman who had passed through the town seventy-two years ago along with potentially thousands of other refugees from Paris who were en route to the south of France, was the same woman as Loic’s grandmother.

Shouldn’t be too difficult at all.

Cat attempted to find Rue Charpentier without her map, given that she had been there the day before. However, it was half an hour before Cat stood and looked at number three. The shutters were closed on both floors. For a moment, Cat was reminded of the apartment in Paris. When she knocked on the heavy front door, she stood still in the silent street, listening for the sounds of movement inside the house.

It was the sound of wood, scratching against itself that made her jump: a creak, high up in the building. Cat took a few steps back onto the cobblestones. A woman’s face appeared in one of the top
story windows. She had thrown open one of her own glass windowpanes. She was in Number five.

“
Bonjour, Madame,” the woman, who looked about forty leaned out and looked at Cat.

“
Bonjour,” Cat smiled. “Er … parlez-vous Anglais?” Just then, her phone went off in her handbag. Cat glanced up at the woman, who still stood there, watching her.

“
Pardon,” Cat said, fumbling around in her bag. If it was Loic, he might be able to help her interpret. The woman muttered something in French and retreated behind her window, shutting the shutters with a hard clang.

“
Oh, no,” Cat said aloud, pulling out her phone. “Please, don’t go away.” She glanced at the screen. Christian! “Oh, mon dieu,” Cat cried, aloud again. She answered it, double quick.

“
Honey!” Christian sounded rattled, as far as Christian did get rattled. “Is Elise with you now?” he asked, his voice cutting into hers.

“
No.”

“
God, sorry, sorry Cat. She’s bloody convincing when she wants to be. Told me it seemed such a good idea. She loves France. You could bond over the boutiques. Insisted she surprise you. Mother agreed, and … I’ve been flat out … sorry.” He sounded as if he were in the next room.

“
I’ve been missing you.”

“
God knows, she and mother get carried away sometimes. I’m so sorry, honey. But, you have to understand. Elise is no threat. No matter what anyone tells you.”

“
Threat?” The green front door belonging to the house next door opened. Cat moved towards the woman standing there. A girl who looked around thirteen stood next to the woman. She was dressed for school, had a backpack slung over one shoulder. Cat moved closer to them.

“
Thing is. And I want you to know this, Cat. Have to be honest. Five years ago, we had a brief, well you know fling, Elise and I. God, should I have told you?” Christian coughed.

“
Oh?”

“
Mother and her mother are old friends, of course. Elise’s done a few other weddings lately. Mother was impressed. It’s a professional decision now, that’s all.”

“
Look, I’m not worried.”

The woman was saying something very fast in French to the young girl.
             

“
Excusez-moi, un moment,” Cat said to Christian, then shook her head at the involuntary French. “Can you hold on for a moment, Christian?”

“
Cat, honey, God only knew what you thought when she turned up like that, what must you think -”

“
I have a little English,” the young girl took a step towards Cat. “Can I help you?” Her words were halting.

Cat smiled at the girl.
“I’m so sorry, it’s my fiancé. I’ll be two seconds.”

The girl nodded, turned back to the woman, clearly her mother.

“Christian, I have to go. I’m just trying to …” There was no time to explain. To him, the answer was simple. Sell the apartment, go back to New York, offer the proceeds to Sylvie, if she took it, well and good, if not, move on. Perhaps, it was more sensible to live this way. Clear-cut. Cat sighed.

“
I’m looking forward to you coming back, honey.”

“
Oh, me too.” Cat hung up the phone.

The woman was pointing at her watch. There seemed to be some sort of argument going on. School. The girl would be late.

Cat held out a hand.

“
You are looking for Madame Delfont?” the girl asked.

“
Oui.” She would run with this.

The girl turned to her mother.

Her mother nodded.

“
You are relative?”

“
Oh! Friend … she is a friend of my … family.” Cat blew out a breath.

The girl said something fast to her mother. She turned back to Cat, reddened a little,
and then ploughed on.

“
Madame Delfont in the … er … hospital. Sick for a few weeks.”

“
I see.”

The mother said something, prodded her daughter in the back.

“Is pneumonia,” the girl said.