Christmas Reunion in Paris

by Liz Fielding

  ‘That is so romantic!’

  ‘Honestly? I took to my heels and ran away, but he found me.’

  ‘Like a movie!’

  Despite everything, Chloe laughed. ‘Maybe. A bit. The love is still there, the passion is as strong as when we were teenagers. James wanted to whisk me off to London, to marry me before Christmas, but it seems that I have unresolved issues. Maybe we both do.’

  ‘Can you resolve them?’ Marie asked hopefully.

  ‘This isn’t a movie, Marie. Some things are not meant to be. Sadly, I will be leaving as soon as I can organise a taxi to the nearest railway station. Or maybe there’s a bus?’

  ‘You will go nowhere today, chérie,’ she said firmly. ‘I will make us something comforting for lunch and then you can put your feet up in front of the fire. You can weep, or sleep, or talk if you feel like it. Give your heart a little time to catch its beat. Tomorrow will be soon enough to pick yourself up and start again.’

  ‘I can’t afford—’

  ‘As my guest,’ Marie said, dismissing the notion that she should pay. ‘I tried to refund Jay for last night after he stepped in so gallantly to help us, but he wouldn’t hear of it. We spent such a good hour in the cave, where he tasted our best vintages, asked so many questions about the vineyard...’ There was a wistfulness in her voice, then a wry smile as she said, ‘He won’t want to serve it in his restaurant and be reminded of this morning...’

  ‘I doubt he’ll let that cloud his judgement. He’s always been driven. I don’t think, until now, I realised how much.’

  ‘His issues? It was clear that Fiona had recognised him from somewhere and a quick search on the Internet revealed him to be the youngest chef ever to be awarded a star...’ She waved a hand, fanning her face. ‘The embarrassment!’

  ‘There’s no need to be embarrassed. He could have been a short-order cook in a pub for all you knew.’

  ‘You are both so kind... Please stay, Chloe. At least for tonight. A small enough thank you.’

  The thought of travelling back to Paris, to the empty apartment, was not appealing and she surrendered to the temptation. ‘Thank you, Marie, but can I take a rain check on the pity party? There has been too much weeping in my life. What I’d really like is to see the château. From cellar to attic.’

  Marie gave her a long look, as if uncertain whether she would break down somewhere awkward, and Chloe turned to the orangery.

  ‘Shall we start here? Tell me all about the weddings that have taken place here, the events...’ Marie shrugged, produced a bunch of keys and opened the door. Explained how the room was set up for weddings, how each one was individually tailored to the couple’s wishes.

  ‘How much help do you have?’ Chloe asked as they walked back to the château. ‘The detail you put into each wedding, each event, must involve a huge amount of work.’

  ‘There is an army of young people who come in on the day, but I have to admit that the joints are stiffer these days. The recovery time from the pressure of weddings and events gets a little longer each time. And as I was telling James, my sons are eager for me to move to Paris to be nearer to them.’

  ‘I can understand that. With this beautiful château and a solid business, you’ll be inundated with offers.’

  ‘Maybe. But my husband and I put our hearts and soul into making the château viable.’ Marie paused to look up at the pretty pink and white facade, love for the place shining from every line in her face. ‘I can only let it go when I’m sure I’ve found someone who will love it as I do. Someone who can see beyond the fantasy to the hard work it takes to maintain it. I thought I had, but they changed their mind.’

  ‘You heard yesterday?’

  Marie nodded as they reached the door to the mud room and kicked off their boots, hung up their coats.

  ‘You said you worked in a hotel, Chloe. What do you do there?’

  ‘Housekeeping. I wait tables and help out in the kitchen at a bistro. Cleaning work.’

  ‘Odd jobs for one as expensively educated as you.’

  ‘Expensively?’

  ‘You have the poise, the accent and it was clear at dinner last night that you have a wide knowledge of the arts, Chloe.’

  ‘Expensive but disjointed. Like my life. I have to go back to Paris, Marie, but when I’ve sorted things out there would you consider giving me a job? A sort of internship? You don’t have to pay me. I’m not afraid of hard work and I’ll do anything for my bed and board and the chance to learn everything about how this works.’

  ‘You would like to buy the château?’ she asked hopefully.

  ‘I wish! I have a little money, but nowhere near what I’d need to buy somewhere like this, and no one is going to give an ex hotel housekeeper that kind of loan. But I can dream. Start small, work hard and, with a following wind and some luck, build up to something grander.’

  * * *

  ‘Jay! How are things? How is Chloe?’ Sally said, swooping down on him before he could escape.

  The awards evening had been a nightmare. Sally had been leaving him messages...

  He’d had years of putting on a face, not letting his feelings show, smiling for the camera, but losing Chloe for a second time had been like forgetting how to breathe.

  All he’d had from her was a brief text to let him know that she’d taken all her stuff from the flat, emptied the fridge, cleaned up but she hadn’t said where she’d gone. Back to the horrible room he’d found her in, he had no doubt.

  ‘I can’t stop,’ he said. ‘I’ve got meetings.’

  She caught his sleeve before he could dodge around her. ‘Not so fast, Jay Harrington. Why have you been avoiding me?’

  ‘I’ve been run off my feet since I got back from Paris.’

  ‘Tell me about Paris.’ She hooked an arm through his and steered him purposefully through the obstacle course of scaffolding, ladders and workmen to the quiet of a small alcove she’d temporarily commandeered for her drawing board. ‘Where’s Chloe? I assumed you’d bring her back with you.’

  ‘She decided to stay in Paris.’

  ‘As in permanently?’

  ‘Yes.’

  She muttered a profanity. ‘I did warn you.’

  ‘Don’t blame Chloe. It was my fault. I messed up.’

  ‘I find that hard to believe. You adore her and you’re the sweetest, kindest man...’ He gave a half-shake of his head. ‘This has to be a mistake. What did you do?’

  ‘She said I was behaving just like her father.’

  ‘What? That’s ridiculous.’

  ‘Apparently not. And when you know everything that happened, you’ll understand that there is no coming back from that.’

  ‘Everything?’ She took his hand. ‘You look wrecked, Jay. Come around this evening.’

  ‘I’m working—’

  ‘It doesn’t matter how late. I’m still running on Singapore time.’

  ‘It suits you,’ he said, finally looking at her. ‘You have a sparkle.’

  ‘And you look as if you haven’t slept for days, but for all the wrong reasons.’

  ‘Right first time, but there’s nothing anyone can do about that.’

  ‘I can listen.’

  He managed a wry smile. ‘Chloe told me that the world needs more people who know how to listen.’

  ‘Did she?’ She gave him a thoughtful look. ‘That is interesting. Bring me something luscious from the restaurant and we’ll see how that goes.’

  ‘I’m not... I’ve passed the chef’s hat to Freya. I’ve been working on a new project, one of the big hotels has asked if I’d be prepared to create a James Harrington afternoon-tea service, but something Chloe said is bothering me...’ He shook his head. ‘I need to talk to Hugo.’

  ‘Don’t we all!’

  He gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. He had no c
onfidence in her ability to help him with Chloe, but there were things he needed to say to her.

  ‘I’ll be with you at about nine and I’ll cook for us but right now I really need to find Hugo.’

  ‘Tell him...’ He waited, but she held up her hands, backing off. ‘It’s okay, I’ll tell him myself.’

  * * *

  As Chloe walked up the stairs to the room where James had found her, her neighbour on the top floor passed her.

  ‘Hi, Chloe, have you been away?’

  ‘Just for a few days. Has there been a problem? The snow...?’

  ‘No, but the landlord came around to check the pipes and when he didn’t get an answer, he let himself into your place. When I caught him coming out, he made an excuse about checking your heating, but he’s bound to have gone through your stuff.’

  ‘There was nothing for him to find, but thanks for the warning.’

  Marie had been glad to offer her a job and she’d stayed on at the château for a few days but, as she’d promised James, she had wasted no time in calling Julianne.

  The woman had been all innocent sweetness and saying sorry that she wasn’t coming back.

  She unlocked the door. After nearly two weeks shut up, it smelled of damp and, despite the cold, she dropped her bag, crossed to the window and threw it open. Then she saw the roses James had bought her.

  The crisp white petals had softened and when she touched one of the flowers, they fell in a shower onto the table.

  This was the moment to weep, but instead she felt a powerful surge of anger. Not with James, not even with her father.

  With herself.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  ‘I’VE BROUGHT SCALLOPS,’ Jay said, when Sally had buzzed him into her apartment.

  ‘Fish? My neighbours will love you!’

  ‘Sorry. I remembered how much you like them and, living above the restaurant, I don’t have to think about food smells. If you’ve got some eggs, I’ll make a soufflé omelette instead.’

  ‘Help yourself, but just for you,’ she said. ‘I’m not hungry.’

  He gave her a long look. ‘Not hungry, or not eating?’

  ‘Not hungry. Really,’ she said when he didn’t look convinced. ‘Louis produced some wonderful veggie dish for us to taste at lunchtime, but to be honest my stomach doesn’t know what time of the day it is.’

  ‘If you need to sleep...’

  ‘Oh, no,’ she said, grabbing his arm as he made a move towards the door. ‘You’re not going anywhere until you’ve told me what happened in Paris. What would you like to drink?’

  ‘If I’m going to face an inquisition it had better be Scotch with just a splash of water.’

  ‘No inquisition.’ She pushed him towards an armchair, poured a large measure of Scotch into a glass and handed it to him with a bottle of water, so that he could add his own. She topped up her own glass from a bottle of tonic water then curled up on the sofa. ‘Okay. Start at the beginning and tell me everything.’

  He took a sip of the Scotch, sat on the edge of the armchair. ‘Can I get something off my chest first?’

  ‘That sounds ominous.’

  ‘No...’ He looked into the glass he was holding. He’d planned what he was going to say, but this wasn’t a moment for a speech. ‘You said, when I saw you at the hotel, that I was the sweetest, kindest man.’

  ‘You are.’

  ‘No, Sally. No one sweet or kind would have walked out of school without a thought for you. Not caring how you would cope.’

  ‘Jay...’

  ‘You were struggling with the loss of Mum, afraid of Nick. I knew that and I abandoned you. I want you to know that I’m sorry I did that. To tell you that if you should ever need me again, I won’t let you down.’

  When he looked up, Sally was wiping a finger beneath her eye, blinking furiously.

  ‘Oh, sorry, I’ve made you cry.’

  ‘No... Yes...’ She shook her head, laughing a little as she contradicted herself. ‘I love that you felt the need to say that.’ She reached across and laid a hand over his. ‘I’m not denying that it was painful. You had always been there, a second heartbeat, and I felt desperately alone. And at the time I was angry... But you had just been hit with the kind of blow that would have broken many men and you were just a boy.’

  ‘I grew up very quickly.’

  ‘And look at you now,’ she said.

  ‘Now... Now I feel exactly like that boy, Sally. Confused, lost.’ He swallowed a mouthful of whisky. ‘The difference is that this time I’m going to have to live without hope.’

  ‘There is always hope. Tell me what happened,’ she urged softly.

  For a while the only sound was the faint buzz of traffic, then Jay began talking. Starting at the beginning, the moment he’d seen Chloe’s reflection in the window. Each step until he was at her door and that first extraordinary, clothes-tearing sexual meltdown...

  ‘Wow...’ Sally said, pulling at her collar to let in a little air. ‘Just wow.’

  ‘I mistook it for more than it was. I thought she felt the same reconnection, the same till-death-us-do-part, second-chance joy.’

  ‘I’m not sure that sex is ever that important.’ He looked up and caught a look on her face. ‘It sounds more as if you were both breaking a ten-year-long drought,’ she continued briskly when she saw him watching her. ‘Go on.’

  He took the little leather folder from the pocket in his shirt, opened it and handed it to his sister. She looked at it, looked at him. ‘Is this what I think it is? Chloe had the baby?’

  ‘A girl. Chloe called her Eloise.’

  ‘Oh, Jay...’ She ran a hand lightly over the images then looked up, tears in her eyes. ‘You have a little girl. I have a niece...’

  ‘Yes, but the chances of us ever meeting are minimal. Chloe was forced to sign adoption papers.’

  A hand flew to her mouth. ‘She must have been heartbroken. How could they do that to her?’ she said. ‘Who cares about such things these days?’

  ‘Thomas Forbes Scott cared. He had other plans for Chloe.’ He told her the whole story. Their flight from her apartment...

  ‘Why didn’t you bring her straight back to London?’

  ‘She flat out refused. I thought that she needed time to get her head around what had happened.’

  Sally pulled a face.

  ‘What?’

  ‘A wee bit patronising.’

  ‘Patronising?’

  ‘You didn’t need time,’ she said. ‘Ten minutes after incredible make-up sex, you were behaving like an alpha caveman. All that was missing was the club.’

  ‘It wasn’t like that,’ he protested. ‘I was happy to give her all the time in the world, but whenever I brought up moving to London, the future, she...’ He shrugged.

  Sally raised an eyebrow.

  ‘She distracted me.’

  ‘She wanted the sex but not the commitment?’

  ‘She said she loved me, Sally.’ He dragged a hand through his hair. ‘I accepted her reasons for not wanting to go to the awards ceremony, but if she’d come home with me, there was time to book the registrar. We could have been married by Christmas.’

  ‘Christmas! Are you completely mad? A woman wants more than a quick walk-through at the register office on one of the biggest days in her life.’

  ‘It was just a formality. I said she could have the big-dress day later. At the château. Anywhere she chose.’

  ‘You said. I’m getting a lot of what you said, Jay. What did Chloe say?’

  ‘She said that she wasn’t sure the château would still be in business. That she was worried about Marie. The woman who owns it.’

  ‘Classic deflection technique. But what was the big hurry?’

  ‘Chloe’s father had shut her up in a private clinic once before. She had s
ome kind of breakdown after they took the baby from her.’

  ‘I’m not surprised, but what’s that have to do with anything?’

  ‘She’s the heiress to a huge fortune living in a ghastly walk-up, taking minimum-wage jobs. Her father would have had no trouble finding doctors willing to swear that she was behaving irrationally, that she needed protecting from herself.’

  ‘I’m surprised he hadn’t already gone there.’

  ‘Maybe he thought that eventually she would come to her senses. Accept the marriage he’d arranged. If she was married to me—to anyone—he would lose that control and he would try to stop it.’

  ‘Did you tell her that?’

  ‘I told her that I loved her, that I only wanted the best for her, that I just wanted to take care of her, protect her...’ He got up, helped himself to another Scotch, drank it down in one mouthful. ‘That’s when she informed me that they were the words her father used when he was taking her from school, taking away our baby to give to strangers. When he was shutting her away in a clinic.’

  ‘And what did you say?’

  ‘She compared me to her father, Sally!’

  ‘What did you say?’ she repeated.

  ‘That she had unresolved issues and that until she dealt with them, she would never have a life or a future.’ Angry, hurt, he’d said worse. A lot worse...

  Sally got up, took the bottle from his hand before he could pour another drink and put her arms around him.

  ‘What should I have said, Sal?’

  ‘Nothing.’

  He looked at her. ‘Nothing?’

  ‘Nothing is always the best option when the alternative involves a very large foot in a wide-open mouth. Even if what you said is, I suspect, true.’ She led him through to the kitchen and put on the kettle.

  ‘You think I’m right?’

  ‘Yes, but unfortunately being right is sometimes worse than being wrong. Always worse than just keeping quiet.’

  She opened a cupboard, found a packet of camomile teabags and dropped one into a mug.

  ‘I had such plans. I was talking to her about the tea service one of the big hotels wants me to set up for them. She had some great ideas. She even said that I needed to talk to Hugo first...’