by Jan Moran
Juliana took her place to greet the guests. “Good evening, Mr. and Mrs. Crocker.” Several of the guests were clients, too. Thanks to Caterina’s referrals, she’d helped many design and stock their private wine cellars with the finest wines their region had to offer, from wineries such as Mille Étoiles, Charles Krug, Louis Martini, and Inglenook.
She admired the parade of fashionable evening wear. All around her, women sparkled in voluminous skirted dresses or slim, elongated styles, with jewels sparkling at their throats and wrists.
Guests began to mingle and soon the evening was underway. Juliana and Henri sat together at dinner, but she hardly touched her food. She was busy organizing the speakers. As dessert and coffee were bring served, Juliana stepped up to the podium to introduce the evening’s speakers, including a noted pediatric doctor.
At the end of the presentation, she returned to the podium. “I’d also like to introduce the proprietor of Chateau Laurent Wines, whose wine you’re enjoying this evening. Join me in welcoming Henri Laurent.”
Amid applause, Henri made his way to the front. In his rich, knee-weakening baritone, Henri spoke briefly about his passion for wine and the methods he employed to raise his cabernet wine to new levels of excellence. Then he praised the group for its commitment to children’s medical care.
Juliana watched the guests as he spoke. The women in the crowd were mesmerized and she saw several men study the Chateau Laurent wine bottles she’d placed on each table.
When Henri stepped down from the risers that comprised the stage, she whispered, “You were so eloquent.”
“Not such tough crowd,” he said, grinning.
“They loved your wine. I heard several comments.” Juliana motioned to the orchestra conductor to begin and music soon filled the ballroom.
Several couples immediately took to the dance floor, waltzing across the room with ease and elegance.
“Would you care to dance?”
“Would I ever,” Juliana said. “I’m so relieved that’s over. Now I can relax and enjoy the evening with everyone else.”
Henri led her to the dance floor and took her in her arms, and then gracefully guided her to the melodic strains of the waltz.
Juliana was nearly breathless. Being in his arms was like nothing she’d ever experienced. “Where did you learn to dance like this?”
He laughed. “Boarding school, before the war. Dances were regularly organized to teach all of us little hooligans how to be proper gentlemen.”
“It worked,” she said, smiling up at him.
“I’m rusty. I don’t get much practice.” His face lit with pleasure. “I’d like to dance more often. Maybe you can accompany me.”
“Maybe.” Outwardly, she was poised, but inside she was a jumble of emotions.
They danced on, taking breaks only to rest or chat with a guest. Juliana couldn’t remember when she’d had so much fun. Henri was as good a conversationalist as he was a dancer. They laughed and talked as they swirled around the dance floor.
“Had enough, yet?” Henri had been teasing her about her bottomless supply of energy. “You young whippersnappers are apt to wear out old men like me,” he said, mimicking an old man’s voice.
“Hardly. You’re the one who’s been dragging me around the dance floor. I’m just following.”
“It’s about time you did that,” he said with a wink.
“Hey, I’ve let you lead.” Juliana laughed. “Most of the time, anyway.”
“It’s your forceful personality, but that’s okay. When you lead it gives me a chance to rest.”
She tapped him playfully on the chest. “You’re joking with me.”
Henri raised an eyebrow. “Am I?” He laughed and in a dramatic movement, dipped her low to the floor.
When he brought her back up, they were nose to nose, so close that Juliana could feel his breath on her cheek. They were motionless for a moment, caught in a trance.
“Let’s sit the next one out,” Henri murmured. Taking her hand, he led her from the ballroom onto an adjoining terrace where they were alone. They leaned against the stone guardrail, gazing into the night sky. A harvest moon hovered over the skyline, shimmering on the bay below.
The night air was cool and Juliana shivered involuntarily.
“Here, take my jacket.” Henri shrugged out of his tuxedo jacket and draped it over her shoulders. He rubbed her arms to warm her and drew her close to him.
Juliana looked up to thank him, but his lips were so close to hers that words failed her. A moment later, their lips met cautiously.
“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to kiss you,” Henri whispered. Enveloping her in his arms, he deepened his kiss.
At first, Juliana responded hesitantly. His kiss was nothing like she’d ever known; his desire was that of a man, unmistakable and overwhelming. Lingering on her lips, his hand trailed from her neck to the small of her back, pressing her gently toward him.
With this slight movement, Juliana was drawn in to him. His lips were warm, moist, and tasted of cabernet wine. Soon, her senses were fully engulfed. The sound of the orchestra faded away, the night air warmed, and they were in a world of their own making. Nothing else existed but this moment and the feel of his hands on her face, her neck, her arms. Responding to his touch, she slid her hands over his shirt, exploring his muscular chest beneath.
She didn’t know how long they’d been entwined in each’s others arms when he tightened his grasp. Overcome with passion, he lifted her from the ground and whirled around. Juliana laughed with joy.
“What in the name of heaven am I going to do with you?” he exclaimed, burying his face against her neck and teasing her earlobe with his tongue.
Juliana pulled him to face her, her palms pressing against his cheeks. With her eyes focused on his, she sought to catch her breath. Never had she felt so overcome with desire. Not even with Alfonso, the man she’d planned to spend the rest of her life with. “What have you done to me?”
“Me? I was fine until you insisted I attend your press event.” Henri lifted her hand and kissed it.
“Which you didn’t want to come to.”
“Now that would’ve been the worst mistake of my life. I’m so glad you walked into my life.”
Juliana touched her lips to his again. These few minutes of passion had changed everything. Her heart and common sense were warring within her, but she didn’t care about anything but being in his arms.
“I have someplace else I’d like to take you.”
“I can’t, Henri. I won’t.”
Henri looked horrified at her thought. “No, that’s not at all what I have in mind. Well, maybe it is, but I’m a gentleman and I will not compromise you.” When she looked hesitant, he added, “Even Mrs. Morales thinks I’m a gentleman.”
Juliana laughed at the thought of her landlord. “Ah, but you bribed her with a bottle of wine.”
“It was a very good bottle of wine.”
“Indeed it was.” Juliana couldn’t hide her excitement. “So where are you taking me this time? Another adventure?”
“Actually, yes.” With a mischievous smile dancing on his lips, he took her hand and led her through the ballroom.
Chapter 7
“What are we doing at the marina?” Juliana asked, as she hitched up a pinch of her long evening dress between her forefinger and thumb.
“Come, I’ll show you.” Henri took her hand and led her along the wooden walkway past boats that bobbed in their slips. Since Solange had died, he’d spent many afternoons here while the tutor worked with the girls. This escape had been therapeutic for him at a time when he’d desperately needed it. He couldn’t wait to show her one of his prize projects.
“Here she is.” Henri stopped in front of a sleek wooden yacht with masts that reached toward the sky. He felt like a kid again, proudly showing off his first sailboat.
Juliana let out a whistle. “She’s a beauty.”
Henri climbed onto the deck an
d held out his hand to help Juliana. She removed her high heels and stepped aboard.
“This is a real treasure.” He ran his hand along gleaming mahogany trim. I’ve spent the last year having her restored.”
“How old is she?”
Henri put his arm around her. “She was built in 1926 on the Scottish island of Bute. Alfred Mylne out of Glasgow designed her. She’s a 56-foot sloop and she’s come an awfully long way. I could sail around the world in this.” He noticed Juliana was shivering. “Want to go below? Or I could bring blankets and pillows up.”
“Bring some blankets so we can stay above and watch the stars. It’s such a beautiful night.”
“Then I’ll be right back.”
He went below and returned with cushions and woolen blankets. He spread out the cushions and then draped a blanket around Juliana’s bare shoulders. “I also brought a nightcap for you,” he said, handing her a snifter of amber-colored cognac. Trailing a finger along her face, he teased her lips with his.
“That will warm me in no time. So will the cognac.” Her eyes sparkled as she inhaled the rich perfumed bouquet. “Not one for yourself?”
“I might have a sip, but I still have to drive us back to Napa. Though sometimes I stay here. Mrs. Peabody lives in, so the girls are fine with her.” He leaned back on the cushions and held her next to him, searching the constellations overhead.
This was the dream that had sustained him for so many years. A fine boat, a beautiful woman by his side, a peaceful evening. He grazed her lips and sighed, finally feeling fulfilled. This was only the beginning of what he had planned for them, if she would have him.
Juliana lifted her face to his and moonlight lit her eyes. He searched her lovely face, trying to read the thoughts behind her dark gaze. “I’ve been looking for you all my life,” he said, caressing her shoulder. “I have never met a woman like you.”
As soon as he’d said that, he felt her stiffen under his touch. “You can trust me, Juliana.” He relaxed his hold on her. “I respect you. I’ll promise I’ll wait for you as long as you wish.”
“No, it’s not that.” Juliana sounded confused. “I—I’m concerned. You speak as if you’ve forgotten all about Solange.” She hugged her arms around herself.
“Not at all. I will never forget her. Solange was an important part of my life and the girls’ lives for many years. Of course I miss her. We were more than family, we were the best of friends.” Now he was baffled. Why was Juliana so concerned about Solange?
“It’s good to hear you say that,” she said, but she didn’t sound convinced. “She’s only been gone a year.”
“She’d been trying to talk me into going out and having a life before she died, but I couldn’t leave her then.”
“I should certainly hope not!” Juliana looked at him as if he’d lost his mind.
Henri rubbed his forehead. Why was this beautiful evening suddenly going wrong? “Look, she just wanted me to date, get married and have a normal life. What was wrong with that? We’d been through hell together. She was an amazing woman, but she’s gone.”
Juliana stood up, throwing off his jacket and blankets. “I don’t know if this is some modern way of thinking or what, mister, but I can’t believe you would have even thought of dating while your wife was dying. You’re despicable. I knew you were too good to be true.” She spun around, grabbed her shoes, and marched to the edge of the deck.
“No, no, no. Solange was not my wife.”
Juliana jabbed her hands on hips. “That’s even worse. You have two children together.”
Pressing his hands against his temple, Henri let out strangled yell. “Damn it, what is going on here? Anne and Beatrice are not our children. They’re my wards.”
“You,” Juliana said, pointing to him, anger flashing in her eyes. “There is something very, very wrong with you. And this entire charade. How dare you deny your wife and children to me? Everyone in the valley knew you were married. Get me out of here now.”
Henri scrubbed his face in frustration. There was no getting through to her. She’d gone nuts. “Fine, I’ll take you home.”
“No. I am not driving all the way back with you. Take me to the St. Francis. I’ll stay there tonight.” Juliana stormed ahead of him to the car.
When Henri arrived, she was sitting in the front seat with her arms crossed. He flung his jacket onto the backseat and started the car. “There has clearly been a misunderstanding. Let’s talk about this.” How had this night gone off its tracks? His head was spinning. “Juliana?”
She said nothing, but stared straight ahead.
“Please listen. There’s a lot you don’t know about me.” How could he even begin to tell her about his past now?
When she didn’t reply, he gave up. The silence was as thick as the fog rolling into the city.
Henri arrived in front of the St. Francis Hotel and the doorman opened her door. Juliana was out in a flash, but not before he saw tears streaming down her face.
With his heart aching, Henri watched her walk into the hotel and out of his life. Swearing, he banged his hands against the steering wheel. What the hell had just happened?
“Move along, sir,” the doorman said, waving him on.
Fighting back tears of his own, Henri yanked the wheel and turned the car toward the marina. He didn’t feel like driving back to Napa, not when he’d just lost the woman who meant everything to him.
Chapter 8
For days Juliana ignored Henri’s telephone calls, despite her landlord’s pleading to call the ‘nice gentleman’ back. Henri Laurent was many things, but he was not that, Juliana assured her.
Juliana lay on her chenille covered bed staring dully at the ceiling. Caterina had brought an extra set of clothes to her at the hotel and drove her home the following day after work. Her friend had listened to her rant about Henri, commiserating with her as good friends do.
Henri had misled her—surely for devious motives, she decided—and she’d lost a client because she’d crossed the professional relationship line. She had only herself to blame. Her glamorous world didn’t seem so dazzling anymore and she wished she could crawl into a cave until her bruised pride and broken heart mended.
Now, with her anger spent, Juliana blinked back tears of despair, wishing Henri had been the man she had imagined he was.
She began to feel sorry for herself. Her sweet Alfonso, the only man who would probably ever love her, had died. However, she was not alone. Many men and women had given their lives in the Second World War and the Korean War, so the country was full of women like her who were widowed or would never marry.
The radio often blared statistics of unmarried women and it had been pretty sobering to her. Would she end up like Mrs. Morales, running a boarding house and trying to mother every young woman who passed through her doorway?
Turning on her side, Juliana punched her feather pillow with a vengeance. But was a life like her landlord’s really so bad? If the alternative was a man like Henri, she’d be just fine on her own. She didn’t need a man in life, thank you very much.
She huffed in disgust. It was official; she was twenty-seven and now entering old-maidsville.
That was far better than being married to a duplicitous man.
She felt sorry for Anne and Beatrice, for having a father like that. Recalling the day she’d been at Chateau Laurent, he had seemed so genuine around them.
But if she were honest with herself, she’d had several questions along the way. Why had he appeared so suddenly in the valley and bought one of the largest properties around, only to hide his family away behind locked gates and doors? No one locked their homes up like that here. Well, hardly anyone. What was he hiding?
Restless, she turned over again and laced her fingers behind her neck, studying the ceiling. How had he acquired that strange French-American accent he had? And why had he left Boston?
He’d told her he’d gone to boarding school and then joined the war effort in Europe. Y
et, he never talked about the war, his rank, or his branch. Every other man she knew who’d been in the armed forces had something to say about it. There has been nothing in his home to even suggest he’d ever been at war.
Nothing.
That was suspicious in itself. No, there were too many clouds around Henri Laurent and she certainly didn’t want to weather the storms.
She dozed off thinking about him and her lonely life ahead.
A few minutes later, her eyes flew open. That day at his home, hadn’t Anne and Beatrice called him Henri? She was almost certain of it. Spying the letter the girls had written to her on her dresser, she pushed off the bed and snatched it.
There was the proof at the end of the letter: P.S. Henri is nice too.
Who calls their parents by their first name? Maybe some precocious children did. But these were sweet girls.
Who looked absolutely nothing alike and were both eleven years old. On the boat, Henri had called them his wards, but she’d been too stubborn to listen.
Juliana sat on the edge of the bed, her head suddenly pounding. Drawing her hands over her face, she had a sinking feeling. Could there have been truth in Henri’s words?
She couldn’t sit still. Jumping from the bed, she paced the room, thinking. Then she jerked open her bedroom door and raced downstairs.
One of her housemates was on the phone. “Oh, for Pete’s sake,” Juliana cried. She make a rolling gesture with her hand for the other woman to hurry up.
Her neighbor frowned, shook her head, and turned her back to her.
“What’s the rush?” Mrs. Morales looked out from the kitchen where she had been cooking. The center hallway smelled of chicken soup and cornbread.
“I’ve got to call Henri back right away.”
“You should have a long time ago. But the party line was busy all morning and Agatha just got her young man now. You’ll have to wait. It’s impolite to interrupt.” She frowned and shook her wooden spoon at Juliana. “And pull yourself together. Ai, yi, yi, your hair is a mess.”
Juliana hastily pushed her hair into place. She waited for a few minutes, pacing the hallway, but her housemate seemed determined not to hand over the phone just to spite her.