Gently Bebe took Daniel’s hands away from his head. “Do you know what, Daniel? I bet I can get Reuben to sleep with me. I bet I can. How much do you want to bet?”
Daniel pulled away from her instinctively. “I don’t want to bet anything. Because you’d lose. You shouldn’t be talking like this. The only way you could get Reuben into your bed is to tie him there when he’s either drunk or sound asleep. Forget it. Get the thought out of your head!” He should get up—get up right now and go to bed. He didn’t like this conversation and knew it was going to get worse before it got better.
“You’re probably right about getting him in my bed. His, then. I can get him to…to…you know, do it. Let’s make a bet. Ten dollars? Fifty?”
“Stop it, Bebe. I’m telling you, Reuben will never…he won’t. Forget it!”
Bebe ignored him. “Sure he will. You’re upset, Daniel, and I know why. You don’t want your idol to have clay feet. He’s only human, you know. Come on. A wager—me and Reuben. If I don’t succeed, I owe you a favor that can be called in anytime during our lives. If I succeed, you owe me the favor. It’s simple.” Bebe sat back and shot Daniel a look of distaste. “You’re a coward. I can see that now. You want to bet, but you’re chicken. You know I’ll win. Admit it, you know Reuben will cave in.”
“Damn you, okay! How will I—”
Bebe clapped her hands in triumph and finished his sentence. “Know if I’m successful? You’ll know. Trust me. Is it a deal, then? If so, we have to shake hands on it. That’s more binding than a written contract, did you know that?”
“It’s no such thing,” Daniel said hotly. “A written contract can be disputed. You have to go to court. A handshake is just a man’s way of sealing a bargain.”
“Fine, then let’s make up a contract. Let’s see what Monsieur Faroux taught you. Legal and binding, a contract that can’t be broken by either of us. Still game?”
Daniel knew he was in over his head, boxed into a corner with no way out. I’ll kill you, Reuben, if you fail me on this, he vowed silently.
“We have to set a time limit. Sometime during the next month. Maybe we should make it two weeks. I think we’re going to Paris after the New Year. What do you think?”
“I don’t think anything,” Daniel snarled. “You’re the one who’s doing all this. I’m betting against you, remember?”
“You’re very foolish, Daniel,” Bebe said sweetly.
They sat together for another hour. With each word Daniel wrote, he felt sicker and sicker. Something deep inside warned him that he was going to lose, that Bebe would win and go about her business and destroy what Reuben held dear.
It was a mess, and what was worse, he still liked Bebe. If he were older, smarter, he’d be able to talk her out of what she was contemplating. Still, there should be something he could say, something to make her stop and at least think about the consequences. At least he had to try.
“Let’s say for the sake of argument that you do seduce Reuben in either a drunken state or by some trickery. Do you want him like that? I think—and this is just my opinion—he’ll hate you forever if you do that to him.” He could tell by the excited look in Bebe’s eyes that his words weren’t making a damn bit of difference.
“Oh, poo, men aren’t like that,” she said airily. “What’s one little tumble in the sheets? He might like it so much he’ll come back a second time. I am still a virgin. That’s supposed to count for a lot. He might even want to make an honest woman of me, ask me to marry him. Is that so impossible?”
“Yes,” Daniel replied, a horrified look on his face. “And you’re deluding yourself if you think it will happen. I’ve known Reuben a lot longer than you have. I know how he thinks and feels. You might win now, but in the end you’ll lose. Mark my words.”
“That doesn’t make sense,” Bebe said, standing up and stretching languidly, like a cat. “I don’t like riddles late at night. Besides, I didn’t say I would do it for sure. I…we just made a wager. I can exercise it if I want. It isn’t carved in stone.”
She dropped to the floor next to Daniel and gently nudged his leg until he uncrossed it. Then she cuddled against him. It was a scene and a feeling that would stay with him for a long time. The fire burning and crackling, the wind howling and whipping through the château like some mad demon bent on revenge. A nice end to a nice day—with the exception of the past few minutes.
“Do you like me, Daniel? You know…like?”
“Sure. Do you like me?” He wondered where the conversation was going.
“Of course I like you. My father would like you, too. He wouldn’t like Reuben, though. Do you know why he wouldn’t like Reuben?”
Daniel shook his head. “Why?”
“Because Reuben is just like him. When you see all the things you don’t like about yourself in someone else, you don’t like that person. That’s how I am, too. I’m like my father. I think he’d do whatever he had to to get to the top.” She giggled. “You can’t have ideals in Hollywood. Speaking strictly for myself, if I wanted something bad enough, I’d kick and scratch, claw and fight, and lie through my teeth to get it. And, Daniel, I want Reuben Tarz!”
Daniel’s stomach churned. “Why, Bebe?”
Why? Why did she want Reuben Tarz? She’d asked herself that same question over and over, at least a hundred times. Did she love him? He made her heart soar, her pulse pound, her blood sing. She felt drawn to him as a moth to a flame. There was something about him that made her want to be near him, to have him smile at her, to touch her.
What she felt for Reuben wasn’t a win-lose game the way Daniel thought it was. If he would toss Mickey aside for her, that had to mean she was worthy, a person to be loved and cherished. Suddenly she wished she were older, more experienced, so she could define what she was feeling. Daniel was probably right about having to trick Reuben into bed. If she did manage to get him into her bed, what would she do afterward? Would he hate her as Daniel said, or would he realize that she was worthy of his love? Would he look at her and smile the way he looked at Mickey? Or would he turn away in disgust? The thought made her shudder. I want him. I want to know what it feels like to make love. I want…I want…I need…I don’t care about Mickey or Daniel, I care only about Reuben. Whatever I have to do to get him I’ll do. And you’re going to owe me, Daniel Bishop.
She scrambled to her feet and held out a hand to pull Daniel from his chair. “Come on, I think it’s time we went to bed.” Quick as a flash she snatched the penciled contract he had written up. Smiling, she folded it into neat squares and slipped it between her breasts. “If you want it back, you’ll have to fight for it,” she teased.
“It’s yours, I don’t want it,” Daniel said sourly. “For all the good it’s going to do you.”
“You’re just an old worrywart,” she said, skipping ahead of him. At the door to his room she kissed him lightly on the cheek and whispered, “Sweet dreams,” before sauntering to her own room.
Sweet dreams, my ass, Daniel thought, grimacing. Why in hell had he allowed Bebe…He’d done it. She hadn’t twisted his arm. He was sorry now. Like Reuben, he was beginning to realize Bebe was the cause of all his discontent. Things had been so nice, so peaceful, until she’d appeared on the scene.
His gut told him Bebe Rosen was trouble…big-time trouble.
Chapter Eleven
The new day brought a harmony that prevailed right up to Christmas Eve. Mickey continued to explain her special traditions, particularly those that pertained to feasting on a wealth of old family recipes, French foods in creamy rich sauces. There would be pheasant and a ham and a leg of mutton. The vegetables would be crisply fresh, the bread warm and crunchy with Echiré butter as golden as a summer sun, melting in little rivers down the partially sliced bread. Marrons glacés and spiced rum cake that would flame at the end of the meal, she said happily. Dinner would be served in the formal dining room with the best linen cloths and the finest crystal and china. The silver would shine l
ike the first evening star. There’d be coffee in tiny china cups in the library before the fire. When Nanette had carried the last of the dishes back to the kitchen, they would gather round the tree. The candles would be lighted, and they’d sing “O Holy Night” along with other carols. At eleven o’clock they’d pile into the Citroën and drive to the village for midnight Mass. When they returned to the château the gifts would be opened, and then it would be Christmas Day. Their first Christmas together.
Bebe took her cue from Mickey and prepared carefully for the evening. She look a long, leisurely bath, then washed and curled her hair. It dried into springy little puffs all about her face. She applied makeup, but frugally, just enough to highlight her best features. The only jewelry she wore were diamond studs in her ears. Her dress was emerald green with a wide lace collar studded with tiny pearls, more elegant and sophisticated than any she’d worn since her arrival. She looked good and felt absolutely wonderful…until she saw Mickey pass by her room.
Her dress was a cranberry silk with lines so defined and elegant it could have been made for a princess. Her shoes were lizard, and very expensive. Bebe knew a thing or two about shoes since she owned over sixty pairs, but nothing she had could compare with the ones her aunt was wearing. Tonight Mickey wore jewels—in her ears, around her neck, on her wrists and fingers. Diamonds, hundreds of diamonds that sparkled and glittered in the dim light. She’d shine like a Christmas tree, Bebe thought nastily.
All her lightheartedness, her good cheer, had vanished. She couldn’t compete, and she wouldn’t even try.
Downstairs in the library, Reuben was pouring their predinner wine. Bebe drew in her breath in a long hiss. How handsome he looked in his dark suit and gleaming white shirt! His tie was knotted perfectly, his shoes had just the right amount of polish. From where she was standing she could see that his nails were clipped and buffed. She liked the authoritative way he gripped the wine bottle. His hair was slicked back, but already it was drying, with unruly strands falling over his wide forehead. He looked up when she entered the room. Thank God she’d had the good sense to dress…conservatively yet properly. Reuben did two rare things at that moment: he smiled and he complimented her.
“Pretty as a picture,” he said, his eyes warm as he gazed at her. “Your father should put you in one of his films.”
Bebe was stunned by the depth of her reaction to Reuben’s smile and his compliment. The strength of it would easily carry her through the evening and into Christmas Day.
She wondered what Reuben had given her for Christmas. Whatever it was, she would never part with it. She’d sleep with it under her pillow, and if it was small enough, she’d place it between her breasts.
She was a lovely child, Mickey thought sadly, watching her. And Reuben was right, she was as pretty as a picture.
If anyone noticed the worry in Daniel’s eyes, they didn’t mention it.
At dinner, everyone laughed and talked and told stories. “When I was a child there were no presents, just fruit and nuts,” Mickey said. “Once I got a straw doll from an old aunt. It was so ugly I cried, but I came to love that doll as though it were a real baby. I still have it somewhere. Probably in the attic at the Paris house. And what do you remember, chérie?” she asked Bebe.
“As you know, my mother wasn’t Jewish, so we celebrated both the Christian and Jewish holidays. The nicest, the most wonderful present I can remember was a train set. It was supposed to be for Eli, but I guess Mama got the name tags mixed up and it was in my pile of presents. Eli wanted to snatch it from me, but Daddy wouldn’t let him. He said if it had my name on it, it was mine. He said something about possession being the law. I played with it every day and then right after New Year’s I went to a birthday party and when I got back Eli had smashed the train to pieces just to be spiteful. I never forgave him for that,” she said softly.
Daniel spoke of his friend Jake and how they’d sit huddled together, wondering if Santa would find them at the orphanage. “Jake always said we were too big for presents and only sissies believed in Santa. He just said that to make me feel better because I was younger and smaller than he was. He looked out for me.”
Bebe thought it a touching story and told him so. She looked pointedly at Reuben and wasn’t surprised to see his jaw harden and his eyes grow steely. Ha! she thought. So now I know your Achilles’ heel, Reuben Tarz. It’s Daniel Bishop. She stored the knowledge in the back of her mind.
“It’s your turn, Reuben,” she said.
Reuben threw his hands into the air and gave them all a lopsided grin that Mickey found particularly endearing. “I never celebrated Christmas. This is a first for me. I’ve never been in a church, either. I’ll do my best not to shame you.” He gazed at Mickey apologetically. For what, Bebe wondered.
While Reuben’s physical body sat in the pew in the village church, he himself felt far removed. He didn’t belong here, not that there was anything wrong with it. The parishioners were all good, hardworking people, devout and caring. He felt…peripheral. And he didn’t know if he liked the feeling or not. Someday, maybe, he would go to church just to sit alone on the shiny hard pew and contemplate his life.
He looked around to see where the joy was, but all he saw were bowed heads, rosaries in every hand. It was peaceful and it was cold. He couldn’t wait to leave.
When at last he pulled the car in front of the house, they all piled out and hurried to the door. “You aren’t going to put the car in the barn now, are you?” Bebe demanded.
“That’s where I usually put it,” Reuben replied.
“Not tonight,” Mickey said, linking her arm through his. “Who cares if snow piles on top of it? Tomorrow is soon enough. Come before Daniel and Bebe burst with excitement.”
Reuben began to understand that whatever was going on, Mickey had a grip on it. “It’s your car,” he muttered.
Bebe raced into the house, down the hall, through the library, and out to the kitchen. She waved to the old cook as she careened out the back door. Twice she slipped and fell as she raced to the barn. Inside she found the puppy just where Mickey had told Yvette to leave it. He was cuddled into a ball, his new collar standing out against his taffy-colored fur. He was shivering despite the hot water bottle under his little blanket. Bebe scooped him into her arms, blanket and all, covering him with her coat. He’d warm up in the kitchen if she put him by the hearth. Nanette would watch him until it was time to hand him over to Daniel.
This time she walked slowly, careful of her footing. So far the puppy hadn’t made a sound. Bebe crooned to it all the way back to the kitchen.
Nanette immediately threw a braided carpet on the hearth and took the puppy from Bebe. She, too, crooned to the animal, but in French. Bebe smiled. Who didn’t love a warm new puppy? “For you, Daniel, just for you.”
“Where were you?” Daniel demanded when she returned. “We’ve been waiting for you.”
“Curiosity killed the cat, Daniel,” Bebe snapped. “For your information, I went to the kitchen to see if I could help Nanette. She is old, you know. I was only trying to help. I’m sorry if I—”
“For God’s sake, Daniel, what’s gotten into you?” Reuben interrupted. “This is Christmas, peace on earth, kindness to one’s fellow man, that kind of thing.”
“Enough! We’re all here.” Mickey laughed, waving her hands for attention. “Nanette has just brought our toddies and a delicious tray of sweets. We can eat and drink while we open our presents. I think Reuben should hand out the gifts.”
Obediently they dropped to their knees and sat on petit-point cushions. Mickey instructed Nanette to turn on the phonograph and open the drapes. Reuben thought he’d never been so happy in his whole life. Here he was on Christmas Day in a warm, wonderful house with the two people he loved most in the world. He didn’t have to wonder if the others were feeling the same way. He could tell they were by the expressions on their faces.
Everyone’s special present was left for last. Daniel handed M
ickey the gift that was from both himself and Reuben. They watched as she undid the red bow and picked at the paper. She pried and jiggled the wooden lid until it popped open. When she could see what lay in the box before her, her hands flew to her mouth. “How did…when…I can’t believe…but how…?”
“Do you like it?” Reuben and Daniel asked in unison.
“Do I like it? I love it! I adore it! Bourdelle did it, didn’t he?”
“When we told him it was for you, he dropped all his other commissions and worked night and day on it. So you see, we are the Three Musketeers. Forever.”
They all stood back to marvel at the painting. “It’s an exact likeness of all of us. Exquisite!” Mickey cried. “It goes over the mantel. Oh, thank you from the bottom of my heart.”
Reuben’s eyes glistened when he opened his gift from Mickey. He felt his throat close when he read the inscription on the back. He knew his hands were trembling, but he didn’t care. He wished it were appropriate for him to scoop Mickey into his arms, but he held back. To think she cared enough to give him the only thing she had of her father’s. In his opinion, that said it all.
Daniel was so excited with his watch, he leapt over the boxes and clapped Reuben on the back. “You son of a gun! Now we both have one. I never had anything so grand in my life. Nothing,” he cried excitedly, “will ever be as good as this watch…except this set of law books!” He swooped down on Mickey, kissing her soundly on the cheek. Mickey reached for him and kissed him back.
Bebe unwrapped her present from Mickey, a strand of pearls. They were so beautiful she felt a catch in her throat. From Reuben she received matching earrings. Mickey must have helped him select them, but it didn’t matter. From Daniel there was a tiny pearl bracelet. She beamed her thanks at all of them. Her glance at Reuben was shy but warm. When he returned it, her heart soared.
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