by Jane Peart
As she began to sing in a clear, glorious voice, Addie felt tingles. The program was varied, beginning with a familiar soprano solo from Mozart's Marriage of Figaro and followed by the heartbreaking aria from Verdi's Aida, which brought tears to Addie's eyes. After a short intermission, she finished with some lighter selections, "leiders," lovely German love songs, and ended with a song from a popular light operetta.
The quiet that fell after the last bell-like note was sung broke into thunderous applause a moment later. Madame DeSecia took several bows and finally accepted the lovely bouquet of yellow roses Brook presented. Then people began to cluster around her with accolades and compliments. Mrs. Amberly was one of the first shoving her way forward to congratulate the singer. Addie let her go.
Still caught up in the music, which had temporarily lifted her out of the mundane, Addie drifted out into the lobby. She found a corner from where she could still see into the main lounge where a beaming Brook hovered over the singer, surrounded by her enthusiastic fans. Addie smiled to see him so happy at his successful achievement of his dream.
Suddenly something caught her attention. Addie drew in her breath. The towering figure of a man in the crowd. It was he! The man of her strange encounters! Seated as they were in the front of the room, she had not seen the rest of the audience taking seats behind. If he were among the invited guests, Brook must know him! Her heart began to thump excitedly. Perhaps Brook would introduce him to her during the postconcert reception, which Brook had promised would be as elaborate and elegant as anything given at the Palace Hotel in San Francisco.
A second glance brought the disconcerting fact that he was not alone. Standing next to him was a small, slender woman with masses of light, reddish hair, wearing a gray taffeta dress with a lace bertha collar. His wife? The possibility that he might be married had never occurred to her and caused an unexpected pang of dismay. How silly she had been, indulging in romantic daydreams about a stranger. Embarrassed by her own foolish fantasies, Addie panicked. She did not want to see him. Thinking only to escape she turned away and as she did bumped directly into Louis Montand.
"Careful, Miss Pride!" He regarded her quizzically. "Where were you going in such a hurry?"
"It was just a little stuffy," Addie improvised quickly. "I thought I'd get some fresh air."
"Come, then," Montand said, putting a strong hand under Addie's elbow. "I'll find us a nice, quiet spot near a window."
There was nothing Addie could do but accept his invitation. A quick glance informed her the concert crowd was beginning to flow out into the lobby, and she noticed that the alcove toward which they were heading was protected by a large potted palm. Placed just behind it was a small table and two chairs. Here Addie saw she would be concealed from the rest of the room.
Once they were seated, Louis remarked, "A penny for your thoughts, Miss Pride. I was observing you before I spoke to you, and you looked quite lost in another world—at least for a few minutes."
Addie's face grew warm and she wondered how long Montand had been watching her and what her expression might have revealed. She tried to keep her voice casual. "Oh, I think I was just still under the spell of the music. It was truly beautiful, wasn't it?"
"Yes, I suppose it was. Although I must admit music is not my forte. I'm sure I'm sadly lacking in true appreciation of it. Visual beauty attracts me more." His eyes made an appreciative sweep of her. "And to digress for a moment, may I say you are looking very beautiful this evening, Miss Pride."
Addie murmured her thanks. Then he continued. "Are you a student of music? Because if you are, I am certainly willing to learn, and if you'd care to give me your critique of tonight's performance perhaps I could be more appreciative."
"Oh, I'd never dare do that!"
"Come now, I imagine you've studied music to show such rapt interest. Do you play an instrument?"
"Like most Southern girls I was made to take piano lessons, so I play a little but not well at all."
Louis smiled at her indulgently. "I believe you are too modest about your talent. All your talents."
The lobby began to fill up with people, and the hum of conversation grew louder. Montand turned to look over his shoulder, then raised an eyebrow. "It amuses me how suddenly all these ranchers and farmers and storekeepers have become aficionados of opera...."
Addie realized he was making fun of the townspeople now lionizing Madame DeSecia. She hated sarcastic comments. It was something she had to live with in her daily life with Mrs. Amberly. But she still hated it. Her father had always said sarcasm was the weapon of cowards. Feeling a stirring of dislike for Louis Montand, she looked at him. What was he really like under that veneer of sophistication?
The crowd began moving en masse into the card room where an extravagant buffet had been set up. A long table covered with a Battenburg-lace tablecloth, illuminated by tall white candles, held two large silver urns at both ends containing iced bottles of champagne; arranged down both sides were platters of sliced meats, salads, fruit, and elaborate desserts.
Apparently unconscious he had said anything Addie might not agree with nor approve of, Montand smiled ingratiatingly and asked, "Shall I get us some refreshment? A glass of wine?"
"I am thirsty. But I think I'd like some lemonade instead of wine."
Montand looked surprised but did not insist she change her request. "I'll be right back," he promised getting up.
After he left, Addie, hidden by the wide palm fronds, watched the panorama of the party. People were still pushing and circling around Madame DeSecia, whom Brook was trying to guide to a place where she could hold court as well as sip some refreshing champagne. From the look on his face, Addie knew Brook was satisfied his goal had been accomplished. The evening was the brilliant success he had hoped. Next she glanced around the room to see if she could find the tall stranger and the woman again. But somehow they had merged into the crowd.
Soon Louis was back. He handed Addie her lemonade then sat down opposite her. He raised his glass of champagne in a toasting gesture. "To music and friendship and coincidence ..."
Lifting hers, too, Addie took a sip. "That's a curious toast."
"Why so? It was impromptu, although I think appropriate for the moment. I enjoyed the music even though I confessed my ignorance of it; friendship because I hope ours will develop; and coincidence seemed altogether in keeping. Don't you agree, Miss Pride, that coincidence brought you and Madame DeSecia and me all to this small town that I don't think anyone ever heard of twenty-five years ago?" Louis smiled, his eyes narrowed. "I am more convinced than ever of what a large part chance plays in one's life. Sometimes the very things one looks upon as misfortune can be the very things that bring the most good fortune and happiness in life."
"Yes, that is sometimes true," Addie agreed.
"You see there was a series of unfortunate events in my early life—our parents died when I was only a little boy. Estelle was fifteen and at once took over my care. She has been almost like a mother to me ever since. And then as a child I was—delicate, suffering from various illnesses. So much so the doctors thought a change of climate might be advantageous to my health. That is how Estelle and I happened to come to California in the first place, seeking the most healthful place to live. And at last we came to the Napa Valley."
He took a long sip of his wine. "As you can see it was a very fortuitous decision of Estelle's, for here I became not only hale and hearty but we are—as they say—in the right place at the right time. We found wonderful land with good, producing vineyards. I foresee a prosperous future—all through no planning of our own. Now, do you understand why I believe in the unplanned, unexpected things in life?"
"For you. But I have known people who blame unforeseen circumstances for bringing them troubles and tribulations and—"
"Yes, but then we cannot blame anyone for our failures. Perhaps I should say I believe in such unpredictable causes to a limited degree. Sometimes we must recognize when life has b
rought us to a place of decision, and we then, using our knowledge, experience, and wisdom, make the right one."
Addie nodded. "Perhaps you are right."
"Take, for example, this property I own. I intend to make it the best known winery in California. I've been assured it is good, hardy stock, and I have been studying European methods of wine making." He leaned forward, eyes lighted with excitement. 'I'll show some of these old-timers around here who think they have a corner on the market. I even have a name for it 'Chateau Montand.' Do you like it?"
"It sounds . . . very French."
Louis threw back his head and laughed. "It is, and you, my dear Miss Pride, are very tactful. That was the thing I noticed about you at our introduction. Almost the first thing." He paused. "I'm building a home on a beautiful hillside overlooking my vineyards. My sister Estelle is in San Francisco picking out some of the finishing details, drapery material, rugs. I've selected most of the furniture, but I felt it needed a woman's touch to complete the ambiance I want."
He looked at her over the rim of his wine glass, reflectively or was it appraisingly?
"I'd like very much to take you out to see the house as soon as it's finished."
There was no chance for Addie to reply to the invitation because just then Mrs. Amberly lumbered up.
"So here's where you've got to, I've been looking all over for you," she said crossly to Addie. Then she quickly altered her tone of voice. "Oh, Mr. Montand, I didn't see you...."
He rose to his feet, bowed slightly. "You must blame me, Mrs. Amberly. I lured Miss Pride away from the crush of people. We were just enjoying a quiet chat, will you join us?"
Addie saw her employer undergo a painful decision. Addie guessed by this time of the evening, Mrs. Amberly's corset was biting cruelly into her layers of fat, her shoes killing her feet. Most certainly she could hardly wait to be in the privacy of her cottage where she could undress, soak her feet, and relax. On the other hand, Addie knew Mrs. Amberly was in awe of Louis Montand, and his invitation was a tempting detour from such relief.
As Mrs. Amberly hesitated, Montand suggested smoothly, "Perhaps the hour is too late? For a music lover like yourself, Mrs. Amberly, as delightful as the evening has been, you are probably emotionally exhausted. So may I escort you two ladies to your cottage?"
Addie could not help admire Montand's adroitness in managing to get out of an awkward half-hour's chat with Mrs. Amberly, a woman he clearly disdained.
Flattered, Mrs. Amberly took the arm he offered and, ignoring Addie, directed her conversation to him. "Mr. Stanton introduced me to Madame DeSecia—what a nice person—so thoughtful, Mr. Stanton, I mean. I thought she was a bit—well, stand-offish, if you know what I mean. And she can hardly speak English...."
Inwardly Addie groaned. Didn't she realize that Delia DeSecia was Italian, a star at some of the most renowned opera houses in Europe? The fact that this was her first American tour was written in the brochure Brook had had printed for this occasion. Evidently Mrs. Amberly had not read it.
Addie followed Montand's slow progress with Mrs. Amberly through the lobby. Although the crowd was beginning to thin, people were still gathered in small clusters chatting. At the front door, for some reason, Addie turned her head and saw—standing not five feet away—the tall stranger.
He was looking at her with an expression that startled her. Suddenly she knew she was blushing and why. Dazed, her heart hammering, Addie hurried out the door in the wake of Montand and Mrs. Amberly.
As they walked across the grounds she only half heard what Mrs. Amberly was rattling on about. At the cottage porch Montand said in his most gracious manner, "Good night, Mrs. Amberly, Miss Pride. It's been a pleasure. I hope when my sister returns from San Francisco we can have the pleasure of having you two ladies dine with us."
Addie saw Mrs. Amberly's mouth drop open in disbelief. She mumbled something incoherent, then glanced at Addie as if indignant that the invitation she had longed for from the Montands would include her paid companion! Inside the cottage Mrs. Amberly shambled off to her own room without so much as a good night to Addie.
As Addie went into her bedroom and shut the door, she felt suddenly let down. Something in the music tonight had struck a resounding chord deep within her. It brought back a memory from the past, one she had almost forgotten. When she was a little girl, maybe six years old, she had been awakened by the voices of her parents' departing guests and the sound of carriage wheels beneath her bed room window. She had slipped out of bed, run barefoot into the hall, leaned over the banister, and saw her parents dancing in the moonlight shining in from the open front door as her father hummed a waltz. She had watched as they circled slowly ending in an embrace that seemed to go on forever. Addie had tiptoed back to bed feeling somehow assured, safe in their love.
Her old longings for a love like she had seen in her parents, in Aunt Susan and Uncle Myles, even in Emily and Evan, swept over her in a deep wrenching loneliness. Would she ever find it?
Irrelevantly the old adage floated into her mind: "Journeys end in lovers meeting."
Was her journey to California to end in meeting her love? And who was it? Addie thought of the three men she had met since her arrival. Brook Stanton was the first. As interesting and fascinating as he was, Addie could not even consider him a possibility. Brook was a gambler, just like the man on the riverboat, and possibly every bit as dangerous. Louis Montand? He was undeniably attracted to her but—
Then the image of the tall stranger came. Could it be he?
Chapter 7
One evening, a few days after the concert, Addie was entering the lobby with Mrs. Amberly when Louis, who was standing at the reception desk with a tall, slender woman, saw them and raised his hand in greeting. After saying something to his companion, he came across the room toward them.
"Good evening, Mrs. Amberly, Miss Pride," Louis greeted them. "What a coincidence. I was just talking about you to my sister." He addressed them both, but it was on Addie his gaze lingered. "Estelle returned from San Francisco this afternoon, and we were just about to dine. Would you ladies care to join us?"
Mrs. Amberly blinked. She opened her mouth, then snapped it shut like a startled turtle. Was she undecided whether to accept the invitation?
Her employer could not have been unaware of Louis's attentiveness to Addie since the night of the Madame DeSe-cia's performance. Although this was the social opportunity Mrs. Amberly had long sought, Addie realized it galled her to receive it through her companion.
She glanced at her employer, watching Mrs. Amberly swallow this bitter pill.
"I realize this is short notice," Louis continued, "but after all, we are fellow guests here, and I say there is no need for formality in this casual atmosphere. Don't you agree, Mrs. Amberly?"
Mrs. Amberly's own eagerness to be seen at the Montands' table overcame the umbrage she could have manufactured at such a last-minute invitation.
"Well, if you're sure it won't be an intrusion—"
"Intrusion? Nonsense. It would be a pleasure," Louis reassured, cutting her protestation short. "Now come along, I'd like to introduce my sister."
While this little scene was taking place, Addie noticed Louis's sister, standing aloofly at some distance. She made no move to join them or to add her own to her brother's urgings for their company at dinner.
"Well, if you're quite sure," Mrs. Amberly dragged out the words as she glanced into the adjoining lounge. Puzzled, Addie followed her glance, then saw the Brunell sisters seated in there, craning their necks. She then guessed Mrs. Amberly's purpose in delaying. Mrs. Amberly wanted to make sure her card partners witnessed her being escorted by Mr. Montand over to his sister. Assured of that, she took Louis's arm. With some inner reluctance Addie took the other arm he offered.
Estelle Montand very much resembled her brother. Although he had told her she was fifteen years his senior, her brown hair, sweeping up from the same high forehead as his, was untouched by gray. She had th
e same sharply defined features in a pale olive-complexioned face. The marked difference between them was their eyes. While his were keenly alive, hers were moody and melancholy.
Everything about Miss Montand exhibited expensive taste. She was dressed in a tobacco-colored silk promenade dress trimmed with fluted ruffles, and carried a glossy brown alligator handbag; her pointed shoes were of cordovan leather. From between the reveres of her jacket rippled a jabot of ecru Brussels lace, fastened by a carnelian and gold brooch. Addie always noticed such details because her mother had been beautifully fashionable. Perhaps now that she could no longer afford fine clothing made Addie aware of them more.
"Estelle, may I present Mrs. Amberly, one of our fellow guests."
"So nice to meet you at last," gushed Mrs. Amberly.
"How do you do," replied Miss Montand with weary condescension.
"And this, Estelle, is Adelaide. Miss Adelaide Pride," Louis announced bringing Addie forward.
"Miss Pride." Estelle nodded. "So, you are real after all." She regarded Addie steadily for a long moment before extending her hand. It felt as dry as a leaf, and her fingers only lightly touched Addie's palm, then quickly withdrew. A smile briefly touched her thin lips, and she lifted an eyebrow. "Louis has waxed so rhapsodically about you, I began to believe you must be a figment of his overwrought imagination."
Addie felt the warmth rise into her cheeks under Miss Montand's gaze, and she knew she was blushing.
An awkward pause followed Estelle's comment. Louis was so busy gazing at Addie he lost the thread of conversation and missed his sister's implication. Addie was acutely conscious of Mrs. Amberly's stare.