The Paris Connection

by Cerella Sechrist

  “Very well,” she acquiesced, “but apprise Cole of the situation as soon as he returns, so he can get to the bottom of it. The faster we discover who leaked our candidate files, the sooner we can prevent such a thing from happening again.”

  “Of course, chérie. We will have the matter in hand as soon as possible.”

  She allowed herself to settle more comfortably into the couch in order to enjoy the rest of their conversation. They chatted for a while about this and that, including when she might make her next visit to Hawaii to see Ophelia and how often she might fly there should Ophelia become pregnant. They touched on topics ranging from their company to the latest headlines, and before Lillian knew it, they had spoken for nearly an hour and a half. With some regret, she urged the conversation to an end.

  Before hanging up, she thanked Julien, as she always did, for the call.

  “It is my pleasure, dear Lillian. Talking with you is the highlight of my week.”

  To her disbelief, she felt a happy warmth bubble inside her that made her feel a good thirty years younger than she really was.

  “I—” She hesitated. “I feel the same,” she admitted.

  She hung up the phone and then lingered in the glow of the rising sun, feeling warmed, for the first time in a long time, from the inside out.

  * * *

  EMMA HELPED AVERY over the bottom step of the bus’s doorway and handed over her Navigo Découverte for the fare, before finding them a seat near the front of the vehicle. Avery curled into her side as the other passengers filed onto the bus.

  The day had been long, and she suspected Avery might not stay awake for the ride to their apartment, but to her surprise, her daughter straightened before the doors even closed and looked up into her face.

  “Maman?”

  “English,” Emma gently reminded.

  “Oh, right. Mom?”

  She smiled, brushing her daughter’s long, dark hair out of her eyes. “What is it?”

  “Is Grand-mère—Grandma,” she quickly corrected, “going to die?”

  Emma felt a weight of grief settle itself in the pit of her stomach. They had spent the better part of their Sunday afternoon in the hospital by Jacqueline’s bedside. Her former mother-in-law looked little better today than she had the day before, but Emma continued to hope for a full recovery. “I hope not, sweetheart. The doctors are doing their best to make her well.”

  “I know, but what if they can’t fix her?”

  For a moment, Emma regretted bringing Avery with her to the hospital. But when she’d come home late the evening before, exhausted after her return from the retreat and her time with Brice, she had been accosted by her daughter. Avery hadn’t much appreciated being left with Solene for the day when she knew something was seriously wrong with her grandmother.

  She looked into Avery’s wide cobalt eyes, their depths searching hers for reassurance. “Don’t worry yourself, sweetheart. Your grandmother is in the best possible hands, okay? And you know, I think seeing you made her feel a lot better already.”

  Avery still appeared doubtful. “She looked really sick.” Her voice had fallen to a hush, as if she was afraid to speak these words aloud.

  “She is really sick,” Emma agreed. “But we’re going to send lots of love her way and visit her regularly until she’s out of the hospital so that she knows how much we care. And that is some of the best medicine she can have.”

  Emma leaned down to press a kiss to her daughter’s forehead. “She loves you, you know. And so do I.”

  “I know.” Avery relaxed a little, resting into Emma’s side once more.

  Emma was just beginning to feel relieved that the questions had ended when Avery came up with the most difficult question of all.

  “And my daddy? Does he love me?”

  Brice hadn’t been at the hospital when Emma brought Avery by to visit her grandmother. She wasn’t sure if he was avoiding her after the vulnerability he’d exhibited yesterday, or Avery, since he never seemed quite comfortable around her. Or maybe he had simply decided to go home and get some rest. Jacqueline had said he’d been with her that morning but had finally left shortly after the lunch hour.

  Emma swept her palm over her daughter’s forehead, across the crown of her head and down her back, scratching in reassurance. “You are a very loved little girl, Avery Marie. Trust me on this.”

  It wasn’t enough. Emma felt a flicker of dismay as Avery persisted. “But what about Daddy? Does he love me?”

  “Of course he does,” Emma replied, though in truth, she didn’t know how Brice felt about their daughter. He had shown only minimal interest in the years since their divorce, making an appearance for the occasional birthday or outing. He had been unprepared for fatherhood. Or maybe just indifferent about it. But Emma was determined that Avery would have every reassurance she could offer her on that score.

  The bus had moved forward by this point, carrying them in the direction of their neighborhood. She tugged Avery closer.

  “You’ve had a long weekend, sweetheart. Why don’t you just rest against me until we’re home?”

  She feared Avery might resist and press the subject, but weariness won out as the child sagged against her. Emma stroked her back throughout the ride and tried not to think on what she’d say when her daughter brought up the subject again.

  * * *

  COLE SAT ON the stoop of the apartment building and checked his watch for the third time. It was getting late, and he was beginning to think coming here had been a bad idea. He hadn’t counted on Emma not being in. And her au pair, understandably, didn’t feel comfortable inviting a strange man into her employer’s home. So he had politely volunteered to wait outside for Emma’s return.

  The longer the minutes dragged on, however, the more he wondered what could be keeping her. As soon as the group had arrived back from the retreat, he had called to check in with Julien and been told about the leaked candidate files. To make the situation worse, Julien had recently learned the recruiter’s name for the fourth stolen candidate. The person responsible for all four lost placements was Solene Thierry, a disgruntled former employee of Aquitaine but also one of Emma’s best friends. Julien was particularly unhappy about Solene’s involvement. Whatever bad blood was between them, it ran deep. The severity of the situation was easily apparent to Cole. A few lost candidates were one thing, but being targeted by another firm could be a declaration of corporate war. It would threaten the success of the merger and possibly his credibility as the new director of Aquitaine. At the minimum, it was a headache that needed to be dealt with immediately. And while he easily could have brought Emma up to speed in the morning at the office, he felt a restless desire to see her straightaway.

  Part of this was simply because he wondered how her ex-mother-in-law was doing, and, if he was honest with himself, he wanted to know how things had gone with Brice. He knew curiosity would divide his focus for the rest of the night, so he’d convinced himself he might as well head to her place. After all, he decided it would be good to get out in the city, even the more residential arrondissements, on his own. So he’d flagged a cab, still not familiar enough with the bus system to attempt it, and used his phone’s contact lists to track down Emma’s home address.

  His taxi driver was eager to put his English to good use, and he gave Cole a broad background on the Batignolles village of the seventeenth arrondissement, where Emma lived. The seventeenth featured many upscale residences, but Batignolles was the northeastern bohemian district, known for its hipster vibe. Though a residential area, the seventeenth still offered much to enjoy, his driver assured him, including the Haussmanian architecture and the knowledge that many of the world’s most famous painters, from Monet to Degas, had started the Impressionist movement here in the late nineteenth century.

  Though Cole didn’t say so,
these facts concerned him little in comparison to his desire to see Emma. But he was grateful for his driver’s assistance when he pulled up to the curb of Emma’s apartment building and explained how to find his way from there.

  The au pair had not been quite as helpful, though she’d done a lot of blushing and fidgeting when he’d spoken to her. When she’d hesitated to let him into the apartment, he’d spent some time wandering the neighborhood, taking note of the architectural styles the cab driver had mentioned and trying to imagine Emma walking these streets. He made the effort to see the village through her eyes, wanting to know exactly what it was about this place that she found so special. It struck him that he had never cared much before, when Ophelia would speak of the city. Maybe his ex-girlfriend had spoken so much about Paris that it had failed to hold any significance for him after a while. But now, knowing that Emma had chosen to stay here even after her divorce, he had to confess to a certain interest about what sort of allure it held.

  After he had wandered for a while, he’d circled back to her apartment building and settled himself on the steps to await her return. He thought the au pair might have looked out a window to check on him, or at least that’s what he told himself when he felt as though he were being watched. But the time slid by, and he debated heading off to hail another cab until he realized that the au pair would surely tell Emma he had come. She had enough on her hands at the moment without worrying about the reason for his visit. He’d come this far, he might as well see things through.

  He was just considering ringing for the au pair again and asking where the bus stop was so he could meet Emma when she arrived, when he saw her in the distance, struggling to balance a large bundle in her arms that he realized must be her daughter. He stood and hurried in her direction, noting that the girl she carried had obviously fallen asleep.

  “Hey, looks like you could use some help.” Without waiting for her to accept, he easily lifted the child and tucked her into his arms.

  “Whew, she’s heavy, isn’t she?” He hoisted the girl up, and her head instantly found its way to his shoulder, her face pressing into his neck. She was petite for a five-year-old, and her tiny form fit snugly against him. The warm breath of her exhaustion brushed his skin, and he felt a stirring of protectiveness. “She’s had a long day, I take it.”

  He turned his attention back to Emma to find her staring, slack-jawed and wide-eyed, at him.

  “Oh.” He realized how strange it must be to have her come home and find him waiting for her. “Sorry.”

  She blinked, coming to life. “Sorry? What for?”

  “For showing up here unannounced.”

  Before she could respond to this, the girl in his arms let out a deep sigh of contentment, and Emma suddenly seemed to realize he had taken on her burden.

  “You don’t have to carry her. I can do it.”

  “Don’t worry about it. I can carry her up. You look exhausted.”

  And she did, with dark smudges beneath her eyes highlighting how pale the rest of her face was.

  “Why don’t I take her to your apartment for you? Your au pair wouldn’t let me in because she had never met me before.”

  “I’m sorry,” she automatically apologized. “Melanie’s been away all weekend and just got back this afternoon. I called to tell her what’s been going on, but she’s probably a little overwhelmed by it all.”

  “She’s a smart girl. I wouldn’t want someone watching my kid if they just let anyone and everyone into my home.”

  Emma still appeared bewildered as he began walking down the street toward her building, waiting a beat before she followed. She took a side entrance—a gated entryway—before leading him through a courtyard and another door into the building.

  “There are no elevators,” she apologized. “Many older buildings in France don’t have them. If you want me to carry her—”

  “I’m good. Just lead the way.” He followed Emma up the stairs until they reached her floor, and down a hall to her apartment. She used her key to let them inside and called softly for Melanie, the au pair.

  The girl appeared, her eyes wide as she took in Cole holding Avery in his arms.

  “It’s okay,” Emma reassured her. “This is my boss, Cole.”

  “Oh, I’m so sorry,” Melanie apologized, her cheeks darkening to a dusky pink. “I made him wait outside for you. He’s been out there for over an hour.”

  Emma looked at him in surprise and then turned back to Melanie. “It’s all right. You didn’t know who he was.”

  “You did the right thing,” Cole affirmed. “It shows you’re a smart au pair, not letting strangers into the house.”

  This praise from him only caused Melanie’s cheeks to darken further. The conversation, or perhaps the sense of familiarity, caused Avery to stir, and she lifted her head to look into Cole’s face.

  “Bonjour,” she greeted him.

  “Avery, this is Cole. He speaks English,” Emma told her.

  “Hello,” Avery said.

  “Hey, there,” Cole replied, somewhat amazed that the child wasn’t more disconcerted to find herself in a stranger’s arms.

  “I was taking a nap,” she informed him and then cocked her head, eyeing him suspiciously. “Are you a prince?”

  He suppressed the urge to laugh. “Not quite, but you know, I was under the impression that you might just be a sleeping princess.”

  “The prince always appears after the princess wakes up from a long sleep,” she informed him.

  “Always, huh?”

  She nodded, her little face serious. Her features were like a miniature version of Emma’s, from the nose that pointed upward slightly at the end to the lips with the smallest of indents in their center. Only her eyes differed, their dusky blue a far deeper shade than Emma’s dove-gray gaze.

  “I think your mom is going to have to be careful when you’re a little older. I suspect there will be a lot of princes hanging around, waiting for you to wake up.”

  Whether she understood what this meant or not, her tiny lips unfurled into a smile of pleasure. “You’re handsome,” she informed him, and he heard Emma make a choked sound. He didn’t look her way.

  “That’s what your mom says.”

  “Okay, then.” Emma stepped in and reached for her daughter. “I think maybe Melanie should make you some dinner and then get you tucked into bed.”

  “But I want to stay and talk,” she protested as Emma pulled her from Cole’s arms and stood her on the floor. She turned away from her mother and looked at Cole. “Are you going to stay for dinner?”

  Emma jumped into the conversation. “You’re more than welcome to. I’m not sure what all we have in the apartment...”

  “No, it’s all right. That’s not why I came to see you.”

  Her expression creased in concern. “Is everything all right?”

  He decided not to answer that question. Instead, he looked to Avery, and Melanie, taking the hint, stepped into the conversation.

  “Come on, Avery, how about I make you a grilled cheese?”

  The little girl resisted at first and ran toward him. She reached his side and grabbed his fingers, her little palm soft and insistent as she tugged him down. Bending at the waist, he leaned toward her so she could stand on her tiptoes and reach up to drop a kiss on his cheek.

  Then, with a shy grin, she whirled away and out of the room. Cole straightened, inwardly melting at the little girl’s charming actions.

  Emma was staring at him when he turned his attention to her once more. He tried to keep his voice even as he spoke.

  “We need to talk.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  EMMA PINCHED THE bridge of her nose and tried to find her way through the cloud of exhaustion that had settled over her. She had suggested they take a walk fo
r the sake of privacy. Leaving Melanie to tend to Avery, they had left the apartment and headed back downstairs. Emma led the way past the courtyard and back onto the sidewalk, moving in the direction of the Square des Batignolles, the large park and garden that covered nearly four acres of the seventeenth arrondissement. She suddenly craved its serene fountains and statues, along with its variety of trees, shrubs and flowers laid out in an English-garden style. It was one of her favorite places in all of Paris and part of the reason she had chosen to move to Batignolles following her divorce. She wanted Avery and her to have access to it every day.

  Cole said nothing as they walked, and she was glad for the silence. After her visit to the hospital, the serenity of the château’s chapel and her time at the corporate retreat seemed as though it had happened months ago.

  They reached the entrance to the square, and she crossed over the threshold with Cole at her side. She heard him breathe in deeply, a sound filled with admiration. She stole a glimpse at his face and saw him looking toward the lake, where black swans floated around ornate sculptures. Then his gaze moved to the walkways edged with trees and lush vegetation, and then he watched a family playing a game of pétanque, where players tried to toss metal balls as close as possible to a wooden one in order to score points and win the game.

  “Even you have to admit how amazing this is.” She turned away from him and breathed in the park’s air, enjoying the late summer breeze as it ruffled her hair.

  “It is pretty impressive,” he conceded.

  “There’s even a grotto and a waterfall.”

  He eyed her in disbelief, and she held a hand up as though taking an oath.

  “Cross my heart and hope to die.”

  He began walking along the path, and she followed. “No need to do that, Aquitaine, I believe you. But remember, I’m from New York. I think Central Park is rather amazing itself.”

  She wasn’t interested in debating the features of city parks, so she cleared her throat and came back to the point.