A French Star in New York (The French Girl Series Book 2)

by Anna Adams

  “Maybe when your family doesn’t need you anymore you can follow your dream. Paris is a beautiful city to study in.”

  “Maybe someday we’ll meet there.”

  Cynthia nodded unable to speak. It was too easy. Too easy imagining them studying together, going to the library poring over international treaties on the stairs of the Sorbonne University. It wasn’t romantic by usual standards, but for Cynthia, it was the epitome of enchantment. And the look in Daniel’s eyes indicated his thoughts had joined Cynthia’s on the steps of the Sorbonne University.

  “I guess we have more common ground than we thought, Ms. Carlisle.”

  By pronouncing her name, her false name, the name that had made an impostor of her, the spell was broken, and Cynthia crashed back to earth. If he found out who she really was, he’d never look at her the same way.

  “I’ve think I’d better go. It’s getting late. Thanks for the salad, Mr. Siwel.” She threw her salad container in the empty garbage and walked out followed by Daniel’s pensive gaze.

  *****

  The next day, Daniel stormed Mindy’s cubicle criticizing her lack of legal reasoning and berating her deficient legal vocabulary and altogether lack of professional skills. Had Mindy looked up to face her irate boss, she would’ve realized although Daniel was yelling at her like she were a piece of rubbish, his frequent glances directed at Cynthia Carlisle shed light on the true reason behind his outburst. Catching a glimpse of her was well worth making Mindy cry.

  Cynthia followed her coworker for her daily trip to the ladies room. Mindy gave a whole new meaning to morning sickness. Listening to Mindy cry, shiver, and formulate an inarticulate wish to drown in her vomit, Cynthia felt ashamed to have wavered in her dislike of Daniel. He was one of Alan’s pawns on the checkerboard from which her father had been chased off. She held on to that thought while a whimpering Mindy held on to her leg. But it wasn’t enough. She’d peered at another side of Daniel’s personality and wanted to know more. Besides, if Mindy could find the tiniest bit of courage in her, she could stand up to Daniel and keep her breakfast in her stomach where it belonged.

  During lunch break, Cynthia went up to the fourteenth floor where Maude worked on a new song in Matt’s creation room.

  “Ready to go?” Cynthia asked as she popped her head in.

  “Yeah, I’m just putting the finishing touches to a song I’m going to record with Thomas soon.”

  “Aren’t you supposed to write it together?”

  “Yees,” Maude hesitated.

  “Have you seen him since the kiss?”

  “No, I’ve been ignoring his calls.”

  Cynthia wanted to refrain from commenting. She shut her lips but opened them immediately after.

  “I know I come off as preachy, Maude, which isn’t the effect I want to convey even though I probably do. I mean, Jazmine knows me, but you and I, we’ve been cousins for just over a year so I don’t want you to feel like you can’t tell me things because you can, you know.”

  “Cynth, is this about what happened with Jaz and Jonathan?” Maude asked. They hadn’t spoken about it because Maude knew it bothered Cynthia, but she had been waiting for her to mention it first.

  “I would’ve told you, but it wasn’t for me to tell, and Jazmine didn’t want to say anything.”

  “I just don’t get why she didn’t tell me! As sisters we share just about everything.”

  “She wouldn’t have told me either, but I walked in on them. It was embarrassing enough, I’m sure she wasn’t too comfortable with what she was doing. She didn’t want our troubled consciences to lecture hers. I’m sure you didn’t tell her everything about Peter.”

  “There wasn’t much to tell. And Jaz wouldn’t have listened if I had.”

  The girls laughed.

  “Cynth, I don’t want you to feel like I’m creating a wedge in your sisterly bond.”

  “That’s not how I feel. If anything, you strengthen it. Jaz is just growing up, I guess, and feels she needs to hide things I would disapprove of which is weird because she’s never done it before. I was always there to help clean up the messes she made. Lecturing siblings is an eldest sibling prerogative. If I don’t have that, what do I have left?”

  “You can still lecture me if you want, as I’m sure you were about to do. You know, Jaz is funny. She doesn’t want to hear sermons, but she has no problem lecturing me and even meddling in my relationship, yet I don’t get angry.”

  “That’s the prerogative of the second child; snubbing the eldest but acting the same way towards the third.”

  “What’s my prerogative?”

  “Suffering under two older sisters’ sovereignty?”

  “How about stealing their clothes?” Maude volunteered.

  “Deal.”

  The two hugged, headed for the elevator but were blocked by Adrianna.

  She held a threatening finger up in the air and pointed towards the emergency staircase door.

  Maude rolled her eyes.

  “We have to take the stairs,” Maude translated.

  “Why?” Cynthia asked as they changed their route towards the staircase.

  “Because I got photographed by the paparazzi with a bagel. In my mouth,” Maude answered as if she were admitting her main pastime consisted in slaughtering baby dolphins. “My punishment is using the stairs for the next seven days. Fourteen flights of stairs everyday at least twice a day. Remind me again, which of us has the craziest boss?”

  “My boss isn’t crazy.” Cynthia replied. “In fact, my opinion of him has changed tremendously since I first met him.”

  The girls descended the first flight of stairs but as they continued down, faint voices, pieces of conversation drifted to their ear. Angry voices, voices both of them knew and recognized as particularly disagreeable. Cynthia held her forefinger to her lips, and Maude nodded. The voices were closer, but even if the girls had spoken, the two men were too busy yelling to realize they weren’t alone. They kneeled, hiding behind the staircase. Cynthia peered under the staircase railing, and sure enough, Daniel and Alan were having a heated argument.

  “Dad, you know we can’t do that,” Daniel was saying. “Firing a pregnant employee is illegal!”

  “Who cares?” Alan said. “What’s the use of having a lawyer son if he can’t find a legal loophole?”

  Daniel raked his hand angrily, pushing his hair away from his face.

  “I didn’t study law to take part in these sketchy schemes.”

  “Maybe you shouldn’t have studied law and become a singer like I wanted. My schemes as you call them allowed you to be head of the legal department before your twenty-fourth year. Which is more than can boast some of your law school pals.”

  Daniel’s blood seemed to drain from his face.

  “I think I should resign. I’ve had enough. It wasn’t enough to scratch James Baldwin off your list—”

  “—Don’t you dare talk to me about James!”

  “Why? Does it make you uncomfortable? Maybe it should because from the moment we illegally threw James out after a series of secret board meetings—”

  “—Hush, don’t say things like that. Walls have darn clean ears!”

  Cynthia signaled to Maude it was time to leave. They tiptoed their way back to the fourteenth floor.

  “Daniel is Alan’s son?” Maude shrieked once they were in the safety of Matt’s creation room.

  “Shhh, didn’t you hear Alan. Walls have ears.” Cynthia paced about the room as if she had ants in her shoes and didn’t want to step on them.

  Daniel Siwel. Daniel Lewis. Siwel was Lewis spelled backwards. It made perfect sense now.

  “Not only they’re related, but now we know how to stop Alan.”

  “We do?” Maude didn’t have the faintest clue what her cousin was talking about.

  “Those secret board meetings preparing Dad’s departure that Daniel was talking about. They’re illegal. But they must’ve kept the minutes. Just not in plain s
ight. If we find them, we have leverage against Alan. Leave this up to me.” Cynthia said. “And let’s take the elevator this time.”

  *****

  “Amneris! Aida! I want Act 2, Scene 1.” Ms. Tragent called out.

  The scene where Aida avows her love for Radamès was one of the most difficult for Maude. Amneris tricks Aida into believing Radamès has died on the battlefield, prompting Aida to proclaim her love for the officer.

  Rebecca, usually poised during her singing, jittered through her parts. She smiled during Aida’s lament, which was disturbing for Maude, who tried to remain as concentrated as possible. She still had so much to prove. But she felt more in the character already. Having studied all Dolora Zajick’s moves was proving helpful. She used them and managed to display Amneris’ disarray. At least how it’d been interpreted by Dolora Zajick. Three grand steps, balled fists, frown, brows knitted with anger in a thin line.

  “Aida!” Ms. Tragent called out in a sharp voice. “Did I see a smile while you lamented your lover’s death? Amneris, I see you’ve been studying Dolora Zajick’s rendition of Amneris which is great.” Ms. Tragent walked in her direction on three legs. Her cane struck the floor like lightning, leaving tiny dents in the stage. “But nobody’s coming to see a replica of Dolora Zajick. I want to see your version of Amneris. Don’t be someone you’re not.” She sighed, shaking her head with disappointment. Maude held her head high, but the acuteness of her shame pierced her like a spear. She couldn’t disappoint Ms. Tragent. Not again.

  “Okay, now Radamès and Aida, the scene of the betrayal.” She gave a tired wave of her cane.

  Nathan approached Maude, his arms hugging his sides, as he shook with laughter.

  “Plagiarizing Dolora Zajick’s Amneris? Really? That’s smart, Maude.” His face lost its laughter and became serious again. “Seriously, you better get your act together because I’ve never been submitted to ridicule during my career. And I won’t start now.”

  “Why don’t you worry about your own part, Nathan? I’ll take care of mine.”

  Aida’s declarations of love were heartening, and Rebecca’s voice rang truer than ever.

  When rehearsal ended, Rebecca flew to Maude, her fiery hair flowing behind her.

  “Maude! I’ve got such news!”

  “What is it?” Her friend’s joy was communicative, and Maude found herself smiling, prepared to rejoice for her friend’s good fortune.

  “I’m deliriously happy, that’s what! As you know, I’ve had a lifelong admiration, for Matt. I’d asked him out after the NAM Awards. He turned me down oh so kindly, but still, I was crushed. But perseverance pays. Yesterday, I ran into him in this French bakery I like called Benoit’s Boulangerie. We chatted, I asked him out again, and he said yes!”

  Rebecca didn’t hear Maude’s heart stop, didn’t notice her enlarged pupils, was blind to Maude’s wavering smile, couldn’t see the crimson ribbon of anguish tightening around Maude’s guts, twisting her insides into a grimacing bow.

  “And it’s all thanks to you! I’m sure I’ve thanked you a million times for inviting me to your NAM Awards, but here I go again!” She hugged Maude with all the vigor of abounding joy.

  “I need your advice for our first date. Everything has to be perfect, and you’re one of his closest friends. You have to tell me everything I need to know.”

  “I don’t think I can help you.” She walked away from her friend, yet not fast enough to escape Rebecca’s overbearing and insistent pleas.

  “You have to help me! Please, this is very important to me.” Rebecca’s eyes misted as did Maude’s resistance.

  “I—I can’t. I don’t know him that well.”

  “You know him more than I do! It’s a dream come true. I don’t want to ruin it.”

  “Rebecca, you’re twenty-two, right?” Maude asked. She knew Rebecca’s age, her birthday, which shampoo she used to wash her flaming red hair, and every detail of her career. She knew she wanted to strangle her right there on the spot and ditch her body under the cardboard pyramid of their Egyptian setting.

  Rebecca nodded, puzzled.

  “Then you have no business asking advice from a seventeen year old!” Maude snapped. Rebecca’s pained expression tweaked a ray of humanity back into Maude’s automatic vessel.

  “I’m sorry,” she mumbled.

  “What’s wrong with you? Is this about what Tragent said? I can help you if you want.”

  “No . . . I . . . oh all right, I’ll help you,” she gave in. “What do you need to know?”

  “Which topics should I avoid mentioning?”

  “There aren’t really.” Maude thought about it, but the only topic that embarrassed Matt was his Love Doctor hit. “You should talk about the Love Doctor. Tell him how much you love it. He’ll be flattered,” she lied. She patted her nose to check it wasn’t growing into a tree. All was clear except for the guiltiness she’d triggered in her heart.

  “Great advice, tell me more.”

  Maude sighed whether at herself or at Rebecca, she would never know.

  When Maude returned to her grandfather’s that evening, she found Harriet waiting for her in her room. Maude paused at the doorway making sure she hadn’t mistakenly stepped into another dimension where Harriet sought her with apparent eagerness.

  “I’m sorry to barge in here without warning.” Harriet rushed to her and helped take off her coat.

  “I think I can manage,” But it was useless to deny Harriet’s help, and Maude gave in for the second time that evening.

  “I don’t usually come in people’s homes unannounced.” Harriet lay Maude’s coat on her bed and patted it, straightening imaginary ruffles.

  “Definitely not proper lady behavior,” Maude mumbled.

  “Please don’t make fun of me, Maude, I need your advice, and I can’t ask for help if you’re making fun of me.”

  “I’m sorry. Go ahead.” Maude’s advice was rarely sought, which she found to be an interesting experience.

  “Peter asked me to marry him.”

  Maude’s expression blanked.

  “Who’s Peter?”

  “Peter Longarm. You know him as Cynthia’s ex-boyfriend.”

  Maude’s jaw dropped to the floor, and she knew she’d never be able to close it properly henceforth. She leaned on the edge of the bed and slipped to the floor with a resounding thud.

  “Peter Longarm wants to marry you!”

  “I know! It’s preposterous. He’s five years younger than me.”

  Maude shook her head her eyes awakened with disbelief. Of all the arguments she might have raised against this abnormal union, age difference wasn’t one of them. She’d have put an emphasis on the fact he was Cynthia’s ex-boyfriend, arrogant as a peacock, insufferable, and a future politician. They never made good husbands. All these seemed like pertinent questions to be raised.

  “Is that all that’s bothering you?” Maude asked, her eyes the size of tennis balls, so as to better observe this strange creature who considered wedding Peter Longarm without any form of coercion.

  “Of course. What else could there be? He’s a young man of sizable fortune, perfect etiquette, polished manners, and political aspirations. The only problem is the one I’ve just spoken of. A young spinster like me can’t wed a man who’s younger than her.”

  “Why not?” Maude regretted asking, but the question was out before she could contain it.

  “Because men always have to be a bit older than their wives. It’s etiquette. I’ve never heard of the opposite.”

  Maude kept her laughter locked in her throat. If she exploded into hysterical peals of laughter now, no one would ever seek her advice again. And she was flattered to be the advisor. Now she knew how Cynthia felt.

  “I can name quite a list of women groomed with etiquette who didn’t have the same qualms.” Mentioning Hollywood stars would never do for Harriet although quite a few obvious examples came to Maude’s mind.

  “Louis XIV’s second wif
e, for example.” She didn’t add that his second wife had been his mistress to begin with, but mentioning Louis XIV’s court, she hoped, would conjure images of elegance and etiquette in Harriet’s mind.

  Harriet mulled over the idea, tapping her chin with her forefinger in thoughtful contemplation.

  “Why are you asking me for my advice anyway? The real question is do you love Peter? Are you marrying him for the right reasons?” She couldn’t think of any good reasons to marry Peter but thought Harriet could dig up a few.

  “How can you ask me that? It’s impossible not to love Peter.”

  “I can assure you it isn’t that hard,” Maude said before she could stop the words that stumbled out of her mouth. “You don’t need my help to make this decision. I’m the last person you should be taking advice from.”

  “You’re wrong. I couldn’t think of a better person than the person in the most beautiful relationship with Thomas Bradfield.”

  Maude frowned as her accreditation flew out the window.

  “Honey!” she cried out sounding uncommonly like Karrie. “I thought you knew! Our relationship is fake! I screwed up everything, and now the one I want to be with is going on a date with my friend and I feel . . . ugh! And I can’t blame anyone else but me! I created this gigantic messy heap of . . . poop!” Speaking about bodily discharges was far from Harriet’s idea of etiquette, and she gasped with appalled indignation.

  “Well, Maude. I’ve been deceived! Now you’ve recognized your evil doings for which I am astounded, you must remedy this shameful situation. My future husband and I cannot afford a scandal from a cousin who’s popped out from nowhere and is parading in a masquerade.” She grabbed her coat and swung it with force around her shoulders.

  “Oh! The French and their loose morals! You seem to have forgotten Peter’s political aspirations. This sort of scandalous conduct could have an impact on his budding political career. Maude Laurent, I will never ask advice from you again.”

  She banged Maude’s door shut leaving Maude to reflect on the abrupt end of her promising career as an advisor.