Christmas Reunion in Paris

by Liz Fielding

  ‘London? You’d come to London for the day?’

  She smiled. ‘It’s just a couple of hours on the train.’

  ‘Touché.’

  ‘I’m not scoring points. I told you, James, I’m not running and I’m not hiding, and I have you to thank for that. You were absolutely right when you said my father was still controlling my life. Because of you I realised that I had to face him, or I would never be free. And now I have.’

  Now she had his full attention. ‘You’ve seen him?’ he demanded. ‘When?’

  ‘This morning. Hence the disguise,’ she said, indicating the outfit she was wearing. ‘I had my hair trimmed and styled, my nails gelled, and I wore the amber necklace left to me by my great-grandmother,’ she said, fingering the big round beads that lay next to her throat, ‘because he’d recognise it and he’d know that, however low he imagined I’d sunk, I had never been reduced to selling it.’

  ‘I should have been there...’ he began, then caught himself, holding up his hands in a gesture of surrender. ‘I get it. It was something you had to do on your own.’

  ‘Who are you?’ she said, laughing. ‘And what have you done with the real James Harrington?’

  And, finally, he was grinning, too. ‘Okay, you’ve got me. How did it go?’

  ‘Let me buy you lunch,’ she said, ‘and I’ll tell you.’

  * * *

  Somewhere, out in the city, over the sound of traffic a bell was sounding the Angelus. A door slammed below them. And Jay hesitated.

  His intention in coming back to Paris had been an attempt to take their relationship back to the moment in the doorway when they’d both lost it and start again. Only this time do it right. Take nothing for granted.

  Wait to be invited in but accept Chloe’s decision if she chose to keep him on the doorstep.

  Give her the repaired pin. Accept her decision if she didn’t want it.

  Apologise for not hearing her. Listen to what she said in response.

  With each step he would leave the next move to her.

  No touching, no hanging around waiting for more than she was prepared to give.

  They had been skating on the surface of the past with him attempting to drag her into a future that he had planned. If they were to have a future, they needed to build something new. Together.

  The offer of lunch was unexpected. But it was on her terms and if he had to bite his tongue to stop himself from insisting on paying for it, then that was what he’d do.

  ‘How are your plans going?’ Chloe asked as they walked down the road.

  His plans were unimportant. Pretty much non-existent, if he was honest. He wanted to hear about the meeting with her father, but he curbed his curiosity.

  ‘The book is with my editor,’ he said, ‘and a kitchen has been booked for a photographic session. I’m not looking forward to that.’

  ‘And the tea service?’

  ‘The hotel I was in talks with are not interested in the vintage theme.’

  ‘It was only an idea, James.’

  ‘I know, but it’s one that I like too much to compromise on. It may fit the Harrington image, but Hugo and Sally appear to be at loggerheads over some design issue at the moment. It’s not the moment to toss in another complication.’

  He took her arm without thinking as they crossed the road. She didn’t pull away but, remembering her comment about the elderly aunt with the walking stick, he let go as soon as they reached the other side.

  ‘I always felt bad about the way I abandoned Sally when I walked out of school,’ he told her, ‘but we’ve talked. It’s good.’

  ‘Maybe I’ll get a chance to see her when I come to London. How is your friend Louis settling in? It’s a big change for him.’

  ‘He’s loving the creative freedom and producing some amazing food. The Harrington restaurant will have a star in no time.’

  ‘That’s great. No star here,’ she said as they reached a busy bistro. Despite the cold there were people sitting outside, drinking coffee and smoking. Inside it was warm and, as they waited for someone to spot them and seat them, Chloe was enveloped in a hug.

  ‘Chérie! It’s so good to see you! Have you changed your mind?’

  ‘Sorry, Augustin, I’m just here for lunch with my friend from England.’

  ‘England?’ Augustin gave him a long look. ‘Your face is familiar, monsieur.’

  ‘James is a chef, Augustin. His restaurant has a Michelin star. He’s a bit of celebrity but he loves honest French cooking. So, do you have a quiet table for us?’

  ‘That depends, darling girl, on whether or not he is the reason I found you in tears the last time you were here.’

  The clink of cutlery on dishes, the lively hum of conversation, dimmed as Jay turned to look at Chloe.

  ‘Tears?’

  ‘I had just discovered that I’d lost my hairpin,’ she said, taking his hand before turning to Augustin. ‘The silver one that your wife admired so much? James found it, bent and broken. He’s had it repaired and has travelled from London today for the sole reason of returning it to me. I wanted to buy him lunch to thank him and where else would I bring him?’

  The man melted, made a slight bow in his direction and a few moments later they were seated in a quiet corner. Menus were produced but Jay shook his head.

  ‘I am in your hands, Augustin.’

  Wine arrived. White, and crisp as a winter morning. Water. Warm bread, fresh from the oven. Butter from Normandy. A wonderful vegetable broth...

  ‘This is the way to live,’ he said. ‘Everyone relaxed, focussed on the good food Augustin has placed in front of them.’

  ‘He would be flattered to hear you say that.’

  ‘It’s not flattery,’ he said. ‘It’s the truth. In London lunch is something to be grabbed on the run. Traders come into the ground-floor bar and are never off their phones. I doubt they even taste the food.’

  ‘That’s terrible, but it must be different upstairs?’ she said. ‘I’ve seen the photographs on the website. Your dining room is so elegant, and the food looks just beautiful.’

  ‘Fine food for people who are counting every calorie. Pictures for their social-media pages to show the world that they are living an aspirational lifestyle. Businessmen and women whose only interest is the deal they’re making.’

  He heard the words he was saying and didn’t know where they’d come from.

  ‘You sound a little disillusioned.’

  ‘Am I being ungrateful?’ he asked.

  ‘Honest, maybe.’

  ‘It’s not all like that. In the evening there are family parties, celebrations, couples getting to know one another. The occasional proposal, choreographed with the help of my staff.’

  ‘That must be fun.’

  ‘Yes, it is. The best part, but an occasional proposal is not enough. I seem to have reached a peak, Chloe. Fulfilled all those early ambitions I bored you with when we were at school. I’m not yet thirty and suddenly I’m wondering where do I go from here?’

  ‘Another star?’ she suggested, and there had been a time when that had seemed important, but he shook his head. ‘Is that what the tea-service idea is about? A new challenge?’

  ‘I suppose so, but, put like that, it seems like a very small ambition.’ He managed a smile. ‘First-world problems, Chloe,’ he said, shaking it off. He wasn’t there to talk about him. He was in Paris to listen to Chloe. ‘Tell me about your meeting with your father. How did you set it up?’

  ‘After you left, Marie insisted I stay the night with her. While I was there Claud, her chef, phoned to tell her that his wife had broken her hip in the fall. She’s not young, it’s going to be a long job.’

  ‘Poor woman.’

  ‘It’s not good. Marie is fairly certain that even if she recovers fully, she’ll decide not t
o return to work. In the meantime, Claud is spending all his time at the hospital and when she comes home, he’ll be needed to take care of her.’

  ‘Will they manage?’ he asked, concerned.

  She nodded. ‘They don’t have to work. They both have good pensions, but they enjoyed working at the château because it was not full time. It was Marie who was in a fix. She had a full house that weekend for a Christmas craft workshop being run by a television celebrity.’

  He grinned. ‘And of course, you offered to help.’

  ‘I was happy to stay for the weekend and pitch in.’

  ‘Happy, full stop,’ he said. ‘I saw your face when we drove through the gates of the château and I know what love at first sight looks like. I take it she’s offered you a job?’

  ‘I’d already asked her if she’d take me on as an intern. I wanted to learn about the events business.’ She nodded. ‘I just came back to Paris to pack up.’

  ‘And to meet with your father.’

  ‘Yes, that.’

  Chloe smiled up at Augustin, who had paused at a discreet distance to check whether they needed anything. Whether the food was to their liking.

  He would have given it five stars no matter what it tasted like, but it was excellent and, curbing his impatience to hear Chloe’s story, he said so and received a compliment on his French in return.

  They ate while the soup was still hot but when the plates were cleared Chloe said, ‘I told you that meeting you again was a moment I’d dreamed about, James. And it was a dream. But my first instinct was to run, disappear...’

  She paused but he didn’t leap in to reassure her, tell her that he understood. A passing waitress topped up their water glasses.

  ‘It was wonderful being together,’ she said, once they were alone, ‘but while you were offering me your life, I was still running away.’

  ‘Because you want your own life,’ he said. ‘It took me a while. A verbal slap around the head from Sally, but you deserve to be so much more than an add-on to mine.’

  The one he’d thought so perfect until he was faced with living the rest of it without Chloe.

  ‘That is true,’ she said, ‘but being with you showed me that I had no life at all. When I left home, when I began running away, I didn’t imagine I’d still be living like this years later.’

  She paused and smiled up at Augustin as he placed a simple chicken casserole before them, listed the ingredients, then said a brief, ‘Bon appetit!’ and left them to their meal.

  ‘Not like this,’ Chloe said, with a smile, as she turned her hand to indicate the table in front of them.

  ‘I know.’

  ‘You were right when you said that my father was controlling my life and I’m not denying that it was a shock, painful to hear, but that didn’t make it any less true. If I was Sleeping Beauty, your kiss was a lot more than a wake-up call.’

  ‘It was a lot more than a kiss,’ he said.

  ‘It was and I loved every minute of it.’ And her smile was a lot more than going through the motions. It reached out, warming him as if she’d got up and put her arms around him.

  ‘Marie’s son is a lawyer and, once I’d decided that I had to face my father, I asked him if he’d be prepared to contact my father and set up a meeting in his office.’ She took a sip of water. ‘I did warn him that he’d be making an enemy.’

  ‘But he agreed. Brave man.’

  ‘Yes. He’s been amazing.’

  He heard the warmth in her voice and discovered that he possessed a hitherto undisturbed streak of jealousy.

  ‘How did that go?’ he asked. ‘Did you get a grovelling apology? Did he go down on his knees begging for forgiveness?’ he asked, hating that he sounded so cynical.

  The man was Chloe’s father and, no matter what he’d done, nothing could ever change that.

  ‘What do you think?’ she asked.

  ‘You know what I think, Chloe. I’d have gone after him myself when you told me what he’d done but his lawyers would have shut me down in a heartbeat. All it would have done was expose you.’

  ‘My hero.’ She reached across the table. Briefly laid her hand over his. Her touch went through him like a charge of electricity and, as if she felt it too, she quickly removed it to push back a strand of hair that hadn’t moved.

  ‘No hero,’ he said. ‘And no begging, I’m guessing.’

  ‘He said my name. I acknowledged him in return and then he asked me if I had anything to say to him. Clearly he thought I was the one who was going to be on my knees pleading to be allowed to return to the family fold.’ She managed a shaky little laugh. ‘I have to admit the knees were a bit wobbly.’

  ‘But they did not bend.’

  ‘No.’ She pulled a face. ‘Like it or not, James, I’m his daughter. The genes cannot be denied.’

  ‘You have his strength, Chloe. Something I failed to understand and for that I’m sorry. But you don’t have his weakness.’

  She frowned. ‘Weakness?’

  ‘His pride, his arrogant belief that he is superior to the rest of us mere mortals. His vanity.’

  ‘Oh.’ She sat back in her chair. ‘But that is what gives him his power.’

  ‘It’s not a power that I would want.’

  ‘No.’ His pride had denied him the joy of a granddaughter. She very much doubted the earl-in-waiting would have allowed the inconvenience of a love child to stand between him and a handsome dowry, should she have been prepared to knuckle under and marry him. Everyone had mix-and-match families these days.

  ‘What happened, Chloe? What did he say? What did you say?’

  ‘Um... Not much. But you can rest assured that there no longer exists any risk to you or any member of your family. Or to me.’

  He stared at her for a moment. ‘You threatened him?’

  ‘Yes. Georges was right after all. He was like the Wizard of Oz, all smoke and mirrors. I hadn’t realised it, but I always held the power.’

  ‘Chloe? What did you do?’

  ‘I looked him in the eyes, James, and offered him a choice. On the one hand public exposure, disgrace, his name dragged through the mud for conspiring in an illegal adoption to hide his own granddaughter. On the other, his assurance that everyone I know and love will live free from his malice.’

  He let slip an expletive.

  ‘What did he say?’

  ‘Nothing. But he looked away first.’

  ‘That was it?’

  ‘There was a document for him to sign, family business, nothing to do with any of this. When he’d done that he left.’

  ‘Without another word?’

  ‘There was nothing left to say.’

  ‘I guess not.’ Then, ‘Who’s Georges?’

  ‘Georges Bernier. Marie’s son.’

  ‘The brave lawyer.’

  ‘Yes.’ She smiled as if she knew what he was thinking. ‘It was his very chic wife who helped me to put this outfit together.’

  ‘I’m glad you had people to help you,’ he said. ‘And tomorrow you’ll be moving to the château to start a new life?’

  She nodded. They ate their lunch, declined a dessert. And Jay sat on his hands while Chloe paid.

  Outside, a light flurry of snow caught them and he hailed a taxi, but when he opened the door for her she said, ‘You take it, James. I can walk.’

  ‘And get wet. I’ve plenty of time so why don’t I take the cab and ask the driver to drive me to the Gard du Nord via your apartment?’

  It was a short ride to the apartment but, when the car stopped outside her building, she made no move to leave.

  ‘Thank you for today, James.’

  ‘As I recall, you paid for lunch. I should be thanking you.’

  ‘Lunch was really nice, but I meant thank you for having my pin repaired. For taking the
trouble to bring it back to me.’

  ‘Did you think I’d throw it in the bin?’

  ‘Most men would have done, but then you are not most men.’ She looked across at him. ‘Take care of yourself, James.’ He made a careless gesture and she caught his hand. ‘No. I mean it. I’m concerned about you.’

  ‘There’s a switch,’ he said, but Chloe not only looked fabulous, there was a real change in her.

  His instinct to protect her had not been wrong. All the time that she’d been with him, she had been mentally looking over her shoulder.

  Now she was looking forward and she credited him with helping her to do that, which gave him hope that they could, maybe, find their way to a future together.

  The taxi driver, who was paid less when he was moving slowly or at a standstill, held up his wrist and pointed at his watch.

  He promised him extra to cover the time and then turned back to Chloe. ‘Do you realise that we’ve never dated?’

  ‘You have to go, James. You’ll miss your train.’

  ‘There’ll always be another train,’ he said, but there would never be another Chloe.

  ‘We’ve spent a lot of time together, had a lot of sex, had a baby, but we’ve never done that thing where a guy calls for a girl, takes her out and then, at the end of the evening, walks her back to her front door and if he’s lucky gets a kiss goodnight.’

  ‘Do people do that any more?’

  ‘I have no idea, but I think they should.’ She was still holding his hand. ‘If I come to Paris, can we do this again? Just have lunch while you tell me what you’re doing?’

  ‘But I won’t be here, James. I’ll be at the château.’

  A caveat, but she hadn’t said no.

  ‘I can come and pick you up.’

  ‘You’d do that?’ she asked, but she was smiling. ‘Okay. Let me know when you’re coming and if it doesn’t clash with an event at the château it would be lovely to see you. But you don’t have to drive all the way out to Thoiry. I could meet you in Paris...’

  ‘I’m afraid the dating rules state that I have to pick you up from your home and return you safely to your door.’