That Spring in Paris

by Ciji Ware

“Brad’s going to give instructions to everyone on how to lie to the Feds?”

  “Who knows,” Jamie replied glumly.

  Juliet dug her phone out of her tote. It was silent. No little red dot to indicate a message. No summons for her. Apparently, she had departed from GatherGames at precisely the right moment.

  CHAPTER 25

  As soon as Juliet calculated it was nearing daybreak in Paris, she had twenty-four-hour room service bring up tea and toast at midnight, her time, and sat in her suite’s small sitting room to make a call to France.

  “He canned you, huh? What an idiot!” Finn said after she’d told him the latest news.

  “But what about the FBI appearing on our doorstep today?” she pressed.

  “They’re probably talking to a lot of companies in your industry.”

  “How far do you think they can pressure Brad about creating a ‘back door’ to GG’s encryption software so they could read messages if warranted?”

  “It’s a big question whether deciphering encrypted messages that have already been exchanged can even be done, technically, except—maybe—by the world’s most talented hackers. The degree of pressure by the FBI probably depends on whether any of the terrorists in all these various attacks around the world employed your company’s particular encryption software in their communications. It’s pretty clear the Paris thugs used the app called WhatsApp... but maybe the Feds are onto some other uses of encryption somewhere in the world that might point to GatherGames.”

  “Sheesh... this is getting serious.”

  “Well,” Finn judged, “just remember—cyphers and codes and encrypted messages go back to General Washington and the American Revolution. These days, there are more than six hundred American companies with their own version of encryption software out there, so the Feds are probably just covering all the bases. Odds are, the ones the FBI are after aren’t your company’s.”

  “Not my company, anymore, thank goodness,” Juliet reminded him. “I keep lecturing myself that my parents’ financial fate is in their own hands, but I can’t help but worry about how this is going to affect them at this stage of their lives if anything blows up about this. Maybe it could tank the stock. We could lose the hotel!”

  “Remember we talked about this?” Finn chided. “Your parents always had a choice, and so do you—and you’ve made it, or rather, it was made for you by Brad.”

  “Yes, but—”

  “No, ‘yes buts,’” he scolded. “Basically, you just got fired by your own brother, remember? What did your mother and father say when you told them Brad booted you out of the company you helped to found, and for no just cause, other than you wanted—maybe—to sell some stock when it becomes perfectly legal to do so?”

  Juliet hesitated, hating the answer she would have to give concerning the conversation with her parents after she got home from the restaurant. “My mother said I was wrong not to do whatever Brad said since ‘he was under a tremendous amount of pressure and deserved absolute loyalty from us all,’” she quoted.

  “And your dad?”

  She paused. “He just listened and didn’t say a word.”

  “That was it?”

  Juliet could hear the disappointment in Finn’s voice.

  “Well, after telling them what had happened with Brad and that the FBI was arriving, he squeezed my shoulder—I guess in sympathy—as I left their suite.”

  “You tell me something, then,” Finn said. Juliet could imagine him sitting in his leather reading chair, gazing out the pilothouse window at the Eiffel Tower as the sun rose over the Seine, his cell phone pressed to his ear. “Why are you so loyal to those who haven’t shown much interest in your welfare in all of this?”

  Emotion clogged her throat and she suddenly found she couldn’t speak. Finally, she whispered into the phone, “I don’t know... it’s just... they’re my family.”

  Silence reigned between them.

  “Tough stuff, this family business,” Finn offered. “Gives a person something to ponder, though, doesn’t it? But don’t think I don’t sympathize, sweetheart.”

  It was his tone—not his words—that soothed her soul.

  “I know you do,” she answered, her voice choked. Despite his expression of empathy, however, Juliet somehow felt he might also be frustrated at her lack of moxie to do anything but complain about the situation. Bleakly, she wondered how come she could never get mad at her dad, even though his silence so often let her down?

  “So, what’s next?” Finn asked.

  What was next? She’d been so completely tied up in the drama of unfolding events that she hadn’t had time to even think about it. It was the first of April... April Fool’s Day, she thought wryly.

  April in Paris!

  Her father loved the Frank Sinatra version of that great song...

  A quick rush of excitement ran through her. In early May, a summer session at L’École would commence that was especially designed for visitors from abroad. In June, there was also a week’s workshop she could take at Art Colony Giverny where enrolled students were allowed to paint in Monet’s garden two hours prior and three hours after the public was allowed in. There were also classes in watercolor in the “style of the Impressionists” at the art school in the lake city of Annecy, south of Lyon.

  What was next? France!

  “You still there, Juliet?”

  “Yes, I’m here... I’m thinking.”

  “About...?”

  Finn’s voice sounded teasing, as if he anticipated what she was going to say and that he’d be pleased by her announcement.

  “I’m coming to France.”

  “Fan... tastic! For how long?”

  “I’m going to commit to stay at least six months to enroll in as many landscape painting courses in both oil and watercolor as I can squeeze into seven days a week.”

  “Excellent plan!” he complimented her, adding as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, “And you know you have a bunk with me. I’m not even in Paris half the time since the school has me flying drones all over France as part of my training, so I don’t think I’d get on your nerves too much.”

  But would I get on yours? she wondered.

  Some instinct told her it would be risky for both of them if she simply flew to Paris and moved in with Finn, given that there was so much still to learn about each other. For Finn’s part, studying commercial drone aviation wasn’t the only thing he had to work on—there was still the whole PTSD situation. His suddenly having a permanent, live-in woman in his life before he might be ready to take such a step could be disastrous. It could also very well be heartbreaking for her, since Juliet couldn’t deny that Finn Deschanel was a very important factor in her yearning to study painting in France. What if it didn’t work out between them... ?

  By this time, her intuition was practically yelling at her that if she were serious about switching from commercial art to fine art to make her living at the ripe old age of thirty-six, such a career change had to be her first priority. She also knew without question that serious focus and attention had to be paid while she took on the challenge of becoming an expatriate artist in a foreign country. If she and Finn were eventually to be together, their evolving relationship must be on a separate tract from their professional endeavors—and treated as such.

  “You are the kindest, most generous person I know, you know that?” she began. “And I am so touched you’d invite me to share the barge, but let’s remember ‘our song.’ Nice ’n Easy does it every time, right?”

  “Are you saying you don’t want to live with me?”

  “I’m saying I’d love to live with you full time, but not yet.”

  “C’mon, Juliet, is that the real reason you won’t move in with me?” The warmth had disappeared from his voice. “Or is it because you think I wouldn’t be able to handle—”

  She interrupted him. “I don’t actually know if you or I could handle such a big step, given all the upheavals in our lives r
ight now. I just think we should try to ease into all these transitions, which are huge for both of us right now, don’t you agree?”

  There was a long pause on the other end of the line. Finally, she heard him sigh. “You’re right. They’re huge life changes. I’m warning you, though, rentals in Paris are horrendous. I hope you’ve got some serious money saved.”

  Relief flooded Juliet as she realized that she’d been holding her breath as to his reaction to her rejection of his offer to live together right off the bat.

  “Things are definitely lining up, Finn,” she said, enthusiasm beginning to bubble inside. “Avery just emailed me yesterday that she’s moving into Alain’s studio to sleep as well as paint and was giving the landlord notice next month about the Rue de Lille flat. I’m sure if I told her right away that I wanted to take it over for a while, she’d let me. It’s good weather, now, so I won’t freeze, and it’s right around the corner from L’École, which will make life so convenient for taking my classes... and,” she added, hoping this compromise would sit well with Finn, “it’s affordable and it’s less than two miles away from your barge. It might be the perfect, intermediate step for us.”

  She waited for his response, which came after a few moments’ hesitation.

  “You know, you on Rue de Lille is the next best thing to your being full-time on the boat,” allowed Finn, and from the warmth that had returned to his tone, she knew she had struck upon a workable solution. They could be close, and yet independent as they took time to explore what it was like to be together. “How soon can you get here?”

  She smiled at the sound of Finn’s voice, gruff and pleasingly impatient.

  “Within a week?”

  She had no idea how she could arrange things so quickly, but she couldn’t wait to leave for Paris.

  “Tell me the date as soon as you have your flight booked and I’ll rearrange my classes to meet you at De Gaulle. You’ll stay with me the first night, though, right? Two or three nights, maybe? I could even take you to Rennes to see my crazy flight school.”

  Juliet felt a familiar flutter of excitement spread through her midsection, along with a sense of enormous gratitude that Finn Deschanel was a man who could be counted on... a man of his word. He was that sort of ‘Stand And Deliver’ guy that could fly aircraft in formation and not screw up. He would show up when he said he would, and would never disappoint unless something bigger than he was got in the way.

  Something horrendous like the aftermath of being shot down flying a helicopter and watching four buddies die... or returning home to a wife, pregnant by another man...

  As for Juliet, there was a very good chance her mother would never speak to her again when she announced she was leaving San Francisco. Yes, indeed, they both needed time to heal their own wounds. More certain than ever that their proposed living arrangements were wise for now, she finally said, “Of course I’ll stay with you when I arrive. Are you kidding? I get all hot and bothered, just thinking about it.”

  “I can’t wait either, sweetheart. Really.”

  Juliet felt a surge of joy. “You’re probably going to have a terrible time kicking me off that barge.”

  With the phone in one hand, she walked to her closet and pulled out a large suitcase wedged in the back that she probably hadn’t used in five years. She dragged the heavy luggage across the room as Finn said, “Are you sure you won’t forget all this sensible ‘transition’ stuff and just move in with me?”

  She leaned down and located the suitcase’s industrial-sized zipper that would open the bag. “Well, I gotta admit, your offer’s pretty tempting, but, truly, don’t you think it’s important we try to do this the right way?”

  She waited a beat, and then came his answer. “Yes, I do, but man, have I been fanaticizing about you on this boat.”

  She flashed on the moment he had stood before her, naked by his bed, the scar etched down the length of his outer left thigh, visible in all its vulnerability.

  “I have a few fantasies of my own,” she confessed. “Tell Truffles to move over! Juliet’s coming to town.”

  His laughter filled her ear and she could imagine his wide grin and ink-blue eyes creased at the corners.

  “Oh, by the way,” he added, and by the tone of his voice, Juliet realized he was trying to sound casual. “The divorce is final. Just got all the stamped paperwork two days ago. I am officially not married. After two, long years in legal limbo, there’s no more ‘technical’ anything. I am well and truly a single man once more.”

  It certainly does feel as if the stars were lining up for us.

  “Congratulations—or, as we say out here in the West—cool beans, flyboy. I’m going to hang up now. Gotta start packing.”

  * * *

  Juliet’s preparations to depart from her hometown soon became a blur of frantic activity, first to confirm with Avery that she could take over her lease on Rue de Lille; then to pack the rest of her things and send them separately to France, care of Finn on his barge, including her paint supplies and the winter clothes she’d need later. She waited to go downstairs to inform her father of her plans until she knew her mother had left for her bridge luncheon. Juliet was banking on her father telling her mother about her plans, so that the explosion sure to follow would erupt without her having to be a witness.

  She took the service elevator all the way to the basement and walked along a cement corridor to a door at the far end of the hotel’s east wall. The underground area instantly brought to mind their family’s lore about the founding couple of the Bay View. James and Amelia Thayer had actually lived in this subterranean space while the six floors of the hotel were being constructed above their heads in the year following the cataclysmic 1906 earthquake and firestorm that obliterated 400 city blocks. Knocking softly at the door of her father’s wood-paneled office, where he kept tabs on the hotel’s day-to-day operations, she waited for his friendly, “Come in!” and swiftly entered his lair before anyone else knew she was there.

  “Well, this is a nice surprise,” he said, smiling and glancing over the reading glasses resting halfway down his nose. And then with a look of irony, added, “But, of course, you are now a lady of unexpected leisure and can call on dear old Dad in the middle of the day. Good to see you, pet. How’re you doing?”

  He gestured for her to take a seat opposite his desk. In one corner of the room stood a large leather chair, not unlike the one taking up space on Finn’s barge. Her father’s version had files stacked high upon it, along with rolled-up drawings from his “other job” as a practicing architect who only took on small commissions these days.

  “My being unexpectedly a lady of leisure is the reason I’m here, Daddy,” she said, getting right to the point. “I’ve just bought a one-way ticket to Paris. I leave tomorrow night. I’m going to take at least six months off and go to France to do a concentrated study of landscape painting.” Then she added, “And by the way, I officially broke up with Jed just before Christmas. I should have told you earlier.”

  Her father remained silent and she could see he was mulling over her multiple announcements and probably wondering how the rest of the family would receive Juliet’s declaration of independence. Then he said quietly, “I understand. Jed’s been a good friend of Brad’s, but I never thought he was the right match for you. And as for painting landscapes, I’m glad you’re going to give it a try. It’s what you always wanted to do, isn’t it? You were very loyal to put aside your own plans to help your brother launch the company.”

  “Brad sort of forgot that part,” she said archly. “Did he tell you he wanted me to sign an agreement that I could never sell my stock until he gave permission?” Bradshaw Thayer III’s startled expression telegraphed the fact that this was the first he’d heard any of this news. “What did he say to you was the reason he fired me?” she demanded.

  “He just said your work wasn’t up to par lately and he had to replace you.”

  “And did you believe that?”
/>   “No.”

  “Did Mother?”

  Her father shifted his weight on his executive chair and glanced over to a pile of file folders on his desk as if he were suddenly anxious to get back to work. Without looking at her he said, “Well, as usual, she didn’t take issue with anything Brad said on the subject.”

  “Did you?” She stared at him steadily until he reluctantly pulled his eyes away from the papers to meet her gaze.

  “I knew you’d been doing an excellent job on projects not to your taste or sensibilities, so I didn’t have to discuss it with either of them.”

  “Did you defend me, or at least ask questions?” she demanded again.

  His chin sunk to his chest and he heaved a sigh. “Brad won that round.”

  “As usual.” It was a biting, bitter comment, but at the moment, she didn’t give a flying fig. “You let him win every round.” She felt her head begin to throb. “So does Mother.” She paused and then asked a question that had been rolling around in her brain since she was six years old. “Will you please tell me why Mildred Thayer thinks her Golden Boy can do no wrong? Ever? Even when you know, and I know, and Jamie knows, and the entire staff at GatherGames knows that he behaves like a narcissistic shit in almost every aspect of his thirty-nine-year-old life—and no one ever calls him on it!”

  “Isn’t that a little harsh?”

  “No. As a matter of fact, I think it’s quite an accurate description of how things go down around here. Just ask anyone—except Mother, whose darling first-born son can do or say any outrageous thing and she’s just fine with it!”

  Juliet’s father was silent for a long moment. Then, as if he’d come to a decision, he said quietly, “Your brother Brad was not her first-born son.”

  Juliet’s lips parted with surprise. She stared at her father for several long seconds. “What? What do you mean, ‘not her first-born?’ I don’t understand.”

  “I know, but perhaps it’s time you should.” He shifted his gaze to the window, avoiding her open-mouthed gaze. “I wish we had shared the truth with you kids long ago. If we had, perhaps we might have prevented this unhealthy dynamic between your mother and Brad from dominating our lives.”