“And what of the girls? Are their dresses ready?”
“They’ll be finished soon,” Elena told her. “The shade is a soft lilac pink, and I’ll show you my dress later. It’s already here, a perfectly classical design, but I’ll leave it to you to decide on the style of your own dress, Annette. And the color, of course, as long as it doesn’t clash with the little ones’!”
After they had finished breakfast, she stood in Elena’s bedroom admiring the filmy white gown hanging beneath the tissue, and the valuable headdress and veil that had belonged in the Van Ness family for generations. Suddenly she felt an even greater pang than before. She smothered it with an effort, eyeing the dress professionally with a view to arranging the best style of bridal bouquet. The dress was similar to her own, she saw suddenly, her mind winging back to that far-off day when she had stood beside Tony. She swallowed back the sudden lump in her throat.
“I’ll probably choose a deeper shade of lilac pink than the color of Gerda and Lise’s dresses,” she told Elena. “That way I can get an overall effect in the flower colors as well. Yours will be the most important, of course, and I already have an idea as to the flowers I’ll use.”
Elena hugged her. “I knew your artistic sense wouldn’t be long in emerging! I have a sample of the lilac silk for the girls’ dresses, and we can go to the dressmaker’s in Amsterdam before you leave for her to measure yours and start on it. She’s a wonderful dressmaker, and you can leave everything safely in her hands once she knows your measurements and the style of dress you like.”
By the end of the morning, Annette had done some rough sketches for Elena’s approval. The bridal bouquet was unashamedly the same as Annette’s own, with the same flowers that spoke of love and good luck: red roses for love; lily of the valley that meant doubly dear; fern for sincerity; white heather for good luck; myrtle for unforgotten joys. It would be fashioned into a perfect heart shape, with fern trailing down the length of the wedding dress, and Elena would be the perfect bride.
For the little girls she had decided on flower balls to hold by a loop of ribbon, the ribbon to be the deeper lilac of Annette’s own dress. She would incorporate pink lilacs for them, to mean unadorned beauty, appropriate in the case of two small girls. For herself she was undecided as yet.
All were impressed by her professional approach when they were shown the rough ideas, and Pieter suggested she might like to see the famous Amsterdam floating flower market that afternoon, and also meet a personal friend of his who was a florist of some repute in the city. She agreed with pleasure, realizing after they were ready to leave that only the two of them were going. Elena and Nels had business of their own to attend to, and the girls had been invited to the home of other children nearby. It would have been foolish for Annette to object to being alone with Pieter. If she was honest about it, part of her didn’t even want to object. He was charming and pleasant, the complete host as he helped her into his fast sports car and drove expertly through the narrow streets of the city.
In daylight it was an enchanted place. Even in the cold early days of February the trees were beginning to push out a fragile latticework of green, and the canals sparkled in the sunlight, spanned by so many romantic bridges. Everywhere were the long yellow three-sectioned trams, hurtling around corners, comparing so oddly with the Dutchmen’s more leisurely mode of transport in their flat country, and the ever-present jangling sound of bicycle bells. Annette knew she was falling in love with the place, and didn’t choose to wonder whether the man and the city went together.
Suddenly they were at the Singel canal, where the floating flower market stretched for the whole distance between two bridges. Annette was fascinated at once. The wooden structures were actually over the canal, but the buckets and containers of the masses of flowers spilled out in front of the huts and onto the roadside.
“It’s incredible,” she told Pieter as they strolled along the several hundred yards of flowers. Her professional eye took in the prices. “And very competitive, too. I’m impressed, and pleased that you brought me here.”
She suddenly thought how very formal she sounded. Pieter had tucked her arm in his and they looked for all the world like two people in love, clad in their thick sheepskin jackets to keep out the chill of the day. Strolling alongside one of Amsterdam’s most beautiful tourist attractions, they breathed in the scents of many lovely blooms. Suddenly Pieter bent his head to hers, and she was aware of that other scent she remembered so well, cool and spicy, the tang of his after-shave.
“None of them is as beautiful as you, Annette,” he said softly, but before she could reply they had reached the end of the market and he was pointing out a large shopfront some distance ahead of them. “We’ll go now to Gerrit Campen’s establishment. He is expecting us.”
Annette had the feeling that Pieter could arrange anything he wished. The city would come to a halt if he decided it should. As they went into the elegant florist’s shop, she immediately felt at ease. This was her territory, and she looked around approvingly at the displays of winter foliage and forced spring flowers. The shop’s owner was obviously an artist and a craftsman, Annette thought approvingly.
Gerrit Campen came toward them smiling. He was a small elderly man, his face alight with pleasure at meeting Annette of London, whose artistry with flowers was well-known within the trade as well as outside it. He pumped her hand up and down with pleasure, and insisted on taking them both on a tour of his establishment before offering them coffee.
The workrooms made Annette feel at home at once. In floristry there were no class or ethnic barriers. The workmanship was the same, the tools the same; only the skills and individual touches were different. Gerrit was obviously delighted at her interest. Over coffee, he made his offer to her.
Annette felt a quickening of her heart as she glanced at Pieter. He had known about this, of course. Had he engineered this too? But it didn’t matter. The offer was so marvelous. The one thing that had been bothering her was the space she would need.
“And you’ll really let me have the complete use of one of your workrooms, Mr. Campen?” she echoed, her face flushed with pleasure.
The elderly man chuckled. “My dear, it will be such an honor for me to say that the celebrated Annette has used my workroom for her artistry. And naturally my assistants would be only too delighted to give you their services. Pieter and I will come to the financial agreements, so I am at your disposal. With such an important wedding, it would be impossible to arrange everything without a suitable workplace, though I’m sure that you, like myself, have had to use some very makeshift rooms before now!”
His small wink united them, and Annette felt a great liking for him. He was a darling, and she knew that Pieter had played no small part in arranging all this. She smiled at them both, suddenly conscious that if Elena hadn’t particularly wanted her services for her wedding, the commission would very probably have gone to Gerrit Campen. It made his offer doubly generous, and she had no doubt Pieter had made it financially worth his while to give her the use of his establishment.
“I’m really very grateful,” she began, including Pieter in her words, but Gerrit waved her thanks aside.
“It’s I who am grateful, my dear, and I expect my girls to benefit greatly from working with you. And if you would permit an old man’s vanity, I would be even more honored to announce in my window, when the time comes, that Annette of London is working from here while she is in Amsterdam.”
“Of course,” Annette said at once. She heard Gerrit give another teasing chuckle.
“Who knows? Perhaps you will like our city so much you’ll decide to stay! If you ever do, Annette, there would always be a position for you here at Campen’s!”
“What a charmer!” Annette grinned at Pieter as they walked back to the car. “I know I have to thank you for this, Pieter. So much has happened in a few days, I hadn’t got around to thinking where I would work, and this solves the problem beautifully.”
“I shall expect payment for my help, of course.” He smiled back as they sat inside the car in the quiet side road where he’d parked. She looked at him suspiciously, but not wanting to break the amiable mood between them. He laughed at her expression, leaning forward to press his lips lightly on hers. In the confines of the sports car there was nowhere she could go to avoid it, and though it was a fleeting kiss, his touch was enough to set her nerve ends tingling. That wasn’t all the reward he expected, she guessed.
“Tonight you and I will go out together,” he announced, expecting no argument. “Elena will want your company for the rest of the week, but you must allow me this one evening to have you to myself, Annette. You owe it to me.”
“Do I?” She countered at the touch of arrogance in his voice once more, but they both knew she would be going out with him that evening. Pieter still had the little smile on his lips as he started up the car, and she had the nagging feeling once more that he was manipulating her very smoothly and neatly into doing exactly as he wanted. All the same, his mention that Elena would want her company for the rest of the week made her realize with a little shock that this interlude in her life was soon to come to an end. A few more days and she’d be leaving Amsterdam and going back to London. Already she knew she would miss its friendly charm, and its people.
“What do you have in mind for tonight, Pieter?” she said evenly, daring him to give her words a meaning she didn’t intend.
“I thought you’d like to see a show, somewhere other than the Van Ness Hotel!” He grinned, just as if he knew she had no desire to see Helga again. She’d almost forgotten the jealousy she’d felt at seeing the way the singer played up to Pieter last night, and was annoyed with herself now for finding the feeling was still there.
“That will be lovely” she said evenly.
She’d thought Elena might be put out when Pieter told her of his plans for the evening, but she had obviously anticipated it. The man did have a knack for getting his own way, Annette thought uneasily, and in such a way that no one ever objected. Maybe it would do him good to find someone who didn’t immediately fall in with all his plans! Except that she had, she reminded herself weakly, at least for tonight.
She decided on a dress of apple green for the evening, of which she was particularly fond. The color made her eyes appear to be a deep turquoise, which she enhanced with eye shadow. She wanted to look her best. She’d given up wondering why it should matter so much, but she knew it was all worthwhile when she saw the look in Pieter’s eyes as she came down the staircase. Annette’s heart thumped as his eyes met hers. He was incredibly striking in a dark suit and a white silk turtleneck shirt instead of formal shirt and tie. On him it looked exactly right and very elegant. Without false modesty, Annette knew they made an attractive couple.
“Have a lovely evening.’’ Elena smiled at them as she sat on the sofa with Nels’s arm around her. It was clear they wanted time alone together too. Nels would be taking the children back to their home on Saturday and he and Elena would be back at their separate employments by Monday. It suited them that Pieter should be willing to give his time to their English visitor.
He took her to a nightclub on the outskirts of the city, exclusive and intimate, but Annette soon discovered that Pieter Van Ness was a name well known in the district. They were given the best table and the best service. There was no shortage of acquaintances greeting him during the evening, and no shortage of beautiful women who smiled in his direction and looked curiously at her.
“You know a great many people,” she commented as he gave yet another elegant and perfumed young woman a continental kiss on both cheeks before she wafted off to rejoin her companion.
“Of course.” He smiled across the dimly lit table, the little creases at the sides of his eyes very much in evidence. Annette felt a crazy desire to touch them with her fingertips. “Does it bother you that I know so many lovely women?”
“Of course not,” she said crossly. “Why on earth should it?”
He leaned back in his chair easily, confidently. “I was rather hoping that it would,” he stated. “I was hoping to stir up a little jealousy in that cold heart of yours.”
Annette forced a laugh, trying not to remember Helga. “Jealousy! I’ve no reason to be jealous of your acquaintances.”
“That’s right. You do not,” he said calmly. “But it would still be interesting to prove there’s a real heart beating inside that beautiful covering.”
Annette felt the heat in her face as his gaze strayed to her breasts, caressed and molded by green silk, and his eyes and his voice disturbed her as always. She took refuge in anger.
“I don’t know why you should think I’ve a cold heart! I’m as capable of loving as anyone else. It’s just that I’m choosy –”
“Really? And you don’t consider me a worthy person for the selective Annette to love, is that it?”
He wasn’t angry with her, merely mocking. His tone said she had a hell of a nerve, coming here to his country and accepting the hospitality of his home and his assistance in establishing the aid of Gerrit Campen, and then as good as telling him he wasn’t good enough for her. Annette was suddenly swamped with embarrassment.
“Oh, please, Pieter, can’t we get away from these personal topics? I didn’t mean to snub you –”
“But you do, all the time. You’re afraid to let me get close to you, Annette. I can’t believe your husband was so perfect you see only imperfection in other men. If so, he did the world a great disservice.”
It wasn’t anger that took hold of her then. She was filled with a coldness that he could speak so of Tony. No other man she’d known since Tony died had spoken of him so blatantly. Whenever she’d retreated from their advances, they’d assumed it was no good, and gone regretfully away. They’d never thrown her love for Tony at her as if it were a big chip she carried on her shoulder! How dare Pieter Van Ness think he could shake her this way. He was the one who was heartless, not she!
“Tony was perfect,” she said deliberately. “And together we were perfect. Why should I try to spoil the memory of it by trying to compare him with lesser men?”
She saw the dark color rise in his face and knew she had angered him with that little barb. In Pieter Van Ness’s eyes, he was anything but a “lesser man,” and she knew her impulsive words were well-chosen.
“I assure you I’ve no wish to be compared with your Tony or anyone else.” He spoke quite pleasantly, though there was an edge to his voice. He tipped some wine into her glass, and she drank deeply, sure she had greatly offended him, and uncertain whether she was glad or sorry.
Blast the man, she raged inside. If he’d never come into her life she’d still be happily engaged in her chosen profession in London and not behaving like a lovesick teenager. She hadn’t felt so jittery with a man in years. She had always been able to cope with any situation, but then, she’d never met a man like Pieter Van Ness. He was in a class of his own.
He was still charming and polite all evening, but Annette knew there was a difference. She hardly recognized what it was, until she realized she was being treated more like his sister than as a lady to be wined and dined. And all the while, he paid court with his eyes and his impeccable manners to any other lady of his acquaintance, as if to prove to himself and to her that he didn’t need her. He could have his pick of women. He should never have bothered to try to impress her, Annette thought bitterly, because she’d never doubted it for a minute.
The evening wasn’t a great success. Annette felt miserably that she’d been lacking in grace in insulting him, but still thought it was his own fault for driving her to say things she didn’t mean. She was more vulnerable in his presence than with any other man she’d ever known, and it was making her constantly on her guard.
Chapter Six
She didn’t see a lot of Pieter during the following three days. He suddenly found it was necessary to be at his hotel after all, and appeared only on rare occasions. Annette
was determined not to miss him, or to comment on it. Instead, she and Elena concentrated on the choice of flowers for the wedding and the huge displays that would be needed for the various other venues. It was a full-time occupation, coupled with the clamorings of the little girls to be taken out, which they and Nels did quite happily.
It was a busy and joyful three days, despite Pieter’s absence. Annette was involved in the work she loved, and at other times drawn into the children’s chatter and laughter. Only when she was alone and had time to think did she admit that she was piqued because Pieter wasn’t around. Elena didn’t think it odd, since he didn’t often take time off, though of course, he could get away anytime he liked.
He was always there at breakfast, and sometimes he arrived at the house during the evening, but any closeness between him and Annette seemed to have gone. She should have been glad and relieved that he appeared to have stopped his pursuit of her, but she wasn’t. In her heart she admitted it. And though she knew she’d miss the warmth of the city’s atmosphere, she was suddenly glad when Sunday came and it was time to go home. Maybe from a distance she could sort out her own emotions more clearly. Maybe then she could see Pieter for what he was – a man far too attractive to women with his rich sophistication and security...yet with a warm, caring aura about him. Oh, blast, Annette said crossly to herself for the hundredth time since meeting him.
Nels and the children had left for The Hague on Saturday, so it was Pieter and Elena who took her to Schiphol Airport on Sunday morning. When her flight was called, she felt a sudden perverse regret. There were so many things left unsaid. Elena hugged her quickly and said she looked forward to seeing her again soon. Then Pieter ignored her proffered hand and pulled her into his arms. His kiss was long and passionate, and all the calmness of the past three days was swept away in an instant. As he let her go, he whispered against her mouth: “Will you remember that, my lovely Annette? I hope the memory of it warms you until we meet again.”
The Language of Love Page 6