The Outsider

by K'Anne Meinel

  As they arrived in the picturesque town of Lausanne, she was relieved when the hotel not only had a room for her, but its old-world charm included a private bath, and dinner would soon be served. She didn’t know if it was the mountain air, but she was starving once again. She paid off the driver, adding a tip, which she didn’t know was not necessary. The driver kept the money, figuring the American girl would never know the difference. Later, she would learn about such things and would be angry at herself, but then let it go as a learning experience.

  Joy was grateful and surprised that everyone seemed to speak English as well as French. In fact, she was to learn, a lot of Europeans spoke two or more languages. Lausanne, where she was staying, was in the French-speaking part of Switzerland. It was the capital of the Canton of Vaud. She looked up to the Jura Mountains in the northwest and enjoyed the view. Over the next year, she would look up there many times, amazed at where she was living and how different her life was becoming.

  The old-world inn where she stayed was heaped with history. From the four-poster bed to the wood and stucco on the outside of the building. It didn’t feel like a hotel at all and Joy was enjoying the beauty of the place. The whole town made her feel like she had stepped back in time. The time she had to wait for ‘school’ to start was not wasted. In fact, her explorations helped her learn the town better. She learned the train schedules and took herself back to Geneva or on to Montreux, learning her way around. She was intimidated at the foreign languages at first including French, German, Italian, as well as a smattering of other countries, but people seemed friendly and enough spoke English that she learned her way around.

  As she readied herself to enter Château Mont-Choisi, she felt herself confident to face what was before her. She looked up at the four-story building with its one higher tower, making it a fifth floor, with its wood and stucco exterior, familiar to her now in this beautiful old town. It felt like an overly large mansion and she was pleased she was not the only one with numerous suitcases and an air of wonderment about her. Until she arrived, she hadn’t realized she had met one of her instructors in one of the pubs she ate at occasionally in her preceding weeks. Shyly, she smiled as the woman nodded to her. As the gates shut behind her, she looked up at what would be her home for the next year and smiled. She was ready to face her future.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  As the blonde woman confidently walked through the international airport, she was oblivious to the admiring glances her long-legged stride engendered. Her good looks were expertly enhanced by a minimum of makeup. Her clothes were some of the finest from Paris, Milan, or perhaps Rome. They fit her as though they had been made for her, and maybe they had been. She walked along like she hadn’t a care in the world, a laptop bag hanging from one side with a Louis Vuitton handbag carelessly slung over it. A Moncler Khloe coat was hanging through the handgrips. Her suit matched the handbag, Armani, and made her look like a powerful woman. The boots, also matching the suit and handbag, looked well taken care of and soft, allowing her ease of gait as she strode along. She was unconscious of the looks, not taking off her Cartier sunglasses in the terminal, but using the tinted lenses to people-watch, amused that she could see a lot more with them than most realized. It paid to be aware and Joy Parker had learned in the last seven years to be aware, to always be aware of her surroundings.

  What they saw was a confident young woman in her mid-twenties with expertly cut shoulder-length hair, an aquiline nose, a generous mouth that begged to be kissed, high cheekbones, good skin, and a ready smile. Her looks and her clothing caused people to misjudge her frequently and she used that to her advantage.

  As she walked down the concourse and towards her flight, she mused she could have caught a private plane. Any one of her numerous friends would have offered her a lift to New York or beyond, but she preferred to be alone for this trip, and anonymous. She did not realize that her bearing, her carriage, and everything she had learned these many years had changed her, some of it subconsciously, some of it with deliberate consciousness. She had become the woman she set out to do be. At twenty-six, she had learned a lot from the days at Château Mont-Choisi and the follow-up course she had insisted on at the Institut Villa Pierrefeu. It had cost her a mint those first couple of years, but she felt it was well worth it as the social graces she had learned were now ingrained in her. The friends and contacts she had made were a bonus.

  She had learned table manners from a Cordon Bleu-trained chef as well as with thirteen to fifteen other girls in a class to practice European etiquette. She was not only the student. They were also taught to be servers, so they would learn how to train their staff one day when they were expected to run a household. She learned to pick up her champagne flute near the bottom of the stem and offer the pear and Roquefort tarts from the left. Her humor had been tested many times over the course of time from these ancient and well-followed practices. After all her training in the social graces, she could handle any live-in staff in any home she chose to create. She could train them and manage them quite well.

  Joy had met the crème-de-la-crème of European society. She had befriended a princess with no hope of ever attaining the throne in her country. Another woman was the thirty-something mistress of a well-heeled playboy who wanted her to become socially accepted so he could eventually marry her. The age gap from sixteen-year-olds to the thirty-something woman helped them all better understand their eventual roles in society. Joy Parker had kept her own role quiet and not told anyone of her past. Speculation had been high, but if she could afford to attend the exclusive Château Mont-Choisi and later the Institut Villa Pierrefeu or IVP as it was abbreviated, then she had the money that high society demanded and they accepted her. It was not that they did not question her—it was an endless game trying to trip her up—but Joy would just smile her enigmatic smile and not answer. Occasionally she would slip in some tidbit that was based on their speculation, but told them absolutely nothing.

  Joy remembered how some of the teachers had assumed they would all be marrying and cautioned them about showing up their husbands. “If he is a slow eater, then you are a slow eater,” they were told. When Joy had the temerity to ask, “Why can’t he hurry up and eat faster?” she was joined in laughter by the other women, but the instructor merely frowned at her question instead of answering it. Later, it was explained that this was a man’s world and women had to outsmart them in order to survive. Joy understood that, but also resented the patriarchal society that these teachers were perpetuating, making a new generation of women accept it instead of rebel against it.

  Joy felt the floral arrangement and table decoration course to be a waste of her time. She still learned these skills, but was more interested in the contacts, the names of people she should know, and who knew whom. She learned it was not necessarily what you knew, but who you know in their society, and she had the names of some very important people. She learned to serve afternoon tea and charm the pants off people with her witty repartee and knowledge of current events. She never showed how much she knew, but steered the conversation so the people she served were intrigued and talked far too much about themselves and their business. Daily practice taught students how to whip up the trendiest desserts and how to gracefully adhere to local customs in over twenty countries. Joy realized her mistake in attending the course in San Antonio; she hadn’t been ready at the time. The two schools she attended in Switzerland were more intense, more in-depth, and not geared to the women who held M.B.A.s. Château Mont-Choisi, and later the Institut Villa Pierrefeu, both gave her the social graces she needed. Later, the private tutors and schools she attended gave her the knowledge she wanted that could now hide the fact that she had never graduated high school. Her GED did not matter. She was a graduate of a private universität as well as the Geneva School of Diplomacy. She spoke French, a smattering of German, and enough Italian to wind up in someone’s bed if she chose. She’d learned to smile demurely, pay attention, and keep her audience i
ntrigued.

  But Joy did not know what she would do with the education she had sought. At first, she had sought not to seem like a country bumpkin from Milwaukee. She had come into an incredible amount of money and with that money there was responsibility. While people like her lawyer, Lenora Abner, had taken care of the basics, after all these years she knew she had outgrown that firm. Annette Whitley, while managing the portfolio she had been given, was also way behind someone of Joy Parker’s now sophisticated tastes. With a knowledge based on what she had gleaned from her schoolmates, contacts, and now business acquaintances, Joy was ready to go out into the world and conquer it. She had slowly built her immense fortune into an almost opulent wealth that few could understand. She was now well on her way to being a billionairess and her old lawyer and investment broker were about to be left behind. She’d invested discreetly based on what she overheard at parties, weekends with friends, and love interests, and the return was much higher than what she had seen on her prospectus. She now felt that managing her wealth was her duty.

  Joy had entered in business partnerships that few had access to. Her connections, her knowledge, and her good manners had accorded her access that surprised many. Once she was ensconced in these business deals, she quickly gained majority shares through a variety of sources. By the end of Joy’s twenty-seventh year, she would be the billionaire she had decided she would become.

  Joy had realized long ago she was better off alone. She could never truly trust anyone. Even the banker, Mr. Mueller, had steered her a little wrong. Keeping her money in one account was dangerous. Spreading it out through stocks, bonds, mutual funds, even that IRA was a good idea. But knowing how to spread one’s wealth was an art form and Joy had learned a lot from the days when she first won the Powerball. She’d also outgrown the Midwestern people who had given her so much to start with. It was not that she was ungrateful…she was very grateful. After all, they had helped her when she was a naive, young kid, but now she was a powerful adult and her own ideas and investments had made her much more affluent than their cautious investments could. Those people had made a lot with their fees, interest, and association, so she could only hope they were happy with the result of seven years of having access to her funds. If they weren’t, well that was not her lookout.

  As Joy sat down in the waiting area, she pulled out her phone and texted a few select people. She glanced around repeatedly for anyone taking undue notice of her presence and also to see if she recognized anyone. She knew she could have hired a private plane, but she did not want it noticed. She knew she could have hitched a ride, but she did not want anyone to know her personal business.

  Joy realized that the woman long ago at the seminar in San Antonio had gotten things wrong. Not because she had not been there, but because her ignorance and superiority kept her from finding out. Château Mont-Choisi was in Switzerland, that part she had gotten correct. It had been founded in 1885, but was closed in 1995 or 1996. It was in Lausanne; however, it was not on the bank of Lac Leman, nor did it take its students to Crans-sur-Sierre to ski. That had been Institut Château Beau-Cedre.

  At the Institut Château Beau-Cedre, no one had been allowed to give their last names. That way, everyone had their anonymity. Students could be mid-career executives, princesses, or the daughters of presidents or prime ministers. Small classes ensured that the women learned everything from how to entertain a visiting dignitary to gift giving while abroad in certain countries and their customs. During Joy’s time there and in the Chateau, she had met women from fourteen different countries. Some had been lawyers, consultants, even captains of industry, as well as the daughters of important people. No one knew who they were, not even the teachers, but eventually some felt comfortable enough to share. Later, when Joy went on to her private classes as well as to the college, she met some of them again and they acknowledged their shared studies.

  The refinement that came with her studies as well as the expense involved made Joy work hard. If she had trouble, and her background created some, she worked through it to conquer whatever it might be. She wanted to make her parents proud, had they been alive. They had wanted the best for their daughter. She realized now that she had been spoiled and coddled in their love. Her siblings had resented it all and now she understood it better. As she was introduced to her friends and their families, she watched, almost from the sideline, always an outsider as the interactions between them fascinated her. This was how families behaved. This was how families should behave. Hers was an anomaly and she was okay with that. It was in the past and she was who she was by what had happened. She did not need to bring up the past to tell her how they had behaved was wrong. She knew her worth and it was well beyond the three hundred forty-one million she had won.

  As her flight was announced, Joy gathered her things and made her way into the first-class cabin. Long ago she wouldn’t have thought to fly this way, but her tastes had changed and she enjoyed the additional leg room. She had grown between her nineteenth and twenty-second years. Perhaps it had been the inadequate sustenance before that, but the additional inches had caused her some problems until she took ballet and dance classes to learn balance. She also took gymnastics to further enhance her balance and muscles. She remained toned and tawny. She knew she demanded attention and used it to her advantage.

  “Champagne, Ms. Parker?” the attendant asked respectfully.

  “Orange juice only, thank you,” she acknowledged, looking in the woman’s eyes with sincerity. She knew the woman would probably remember her and her needs more if she was acknowledged directly. She had seen others make the mistake of answering, not looking up, and dismissing people who served them. As a result, they got crappy service in the long run. Joy tipped and tipped generously. She respected those people who served her as she had so long ago as a bartender, and she never spoke ill of them unless they deserved it. Rarely was she forced to take someone to task for the work they did for her, but if they earned her ire, she was not hesitant about giving it.

  “Thank you,” she said once again as the woman returned with her champagne flute of orange juice. Joy knew better than to drink alcohol on a plane, especially one of the longer flights. Dehydration and stupidity from the alcohol only made for trouble. She had drunk several glasses of water and would need the facilities en route, but she would arrive feeling a lot better without the alcohol than her fellow passengers.

  “This is nice, eh?” sighed her companion as he reclined in the first-class seat. He had chosen the window seat, but Joy did not care. She had wanted the aisle seat so she could use the bathroom when necessary. He had accepted the flute of champagne the woman offered and was sipping it now, gulping it actually as Joy glanced over distastefully.

  “Yes, it is,” she responded courteously as she looked about the plane as it prepared for takeoff. First class was nice, but just because these people could afford it, did not mean they had class. Some behaved arrogantly, some felt the need for that superiority because of who they felt they were, some were just plain rude, and others showed their class in a myriad of ways. Good manners went a long way.

  “Could I hang that up for you, Ms. Parker?” the woman was back and indicating Joy’s coat on her knees.

  “Yes, thank you,” she responded, handing her the coat and watching as she put it on a hanger in a locker. Joy put her purse and computer bag under the seat in front of her own. There was still a lot of leg room and she enjoyed that as she stretched out for the long flight.

  “Going to Chicago on business?” her flight companion asked.

  Joy seriously considered not answering him. It was none of his business. However, she was going to have to sit next to him for the flight and not answering him would be rude. She smiled pleasantly and said, “Not quite.” She did not elaborate. She did not have to for, as she suspected, he asked more.

  “Oh, seeing family?”

  She shook her head, discouraging conversation, but he did not take the hint. The champagne was alre
ady loosening his tongue.

  “Is Chicago your final destination?”

  She shook her head again as she looked away, hoping he would take this hint. Apparently not.

  “Yeah, I’ve been over here dealing with the froggies on business. They don’t like Americans much.

  Perhaps it was because he called them froggies? Joy did not correct him though, letting him talk on as he apparently was wont to do. As the captain announced in French that they would soon be taking off, repeated it in English, the man continued, “You’d think they’d make English the universal language, eh?” As though Joy would join him in bashing other cultures.

  What she was really thinking was that it had been a long time since she had to deal with such arrogant rudeness. Were Americans really like this? Had she been? She’d traveled enough through Europe that she wouldn’t think of talking like this…to anyone. If she did not like something, she just refrained from talking about it. If it could be fixed, she might mention it. If not, it was best to leave things unsaid. No one needed to hear someone’s ignorance or stupidity, and he was guilty of both.

  “So, you’re from Chicago?” he continued after he bragged about the work he had been doing in France.

  Joy did not answer. He was not listening anyway. The plane was taking off and he must be a nervous traveler as he continued to chatter on. Soon enough, they leveled off and the stewardess returned to check on their first-class passengers. Joy considered asking for another seat, but it would antagonize the man beside her and she could see there weren’t other seats. She sighed. Maybe she should have taken one of her friends up on a seat in one of their private planes. “Excuse me,” she said to her traveling companion, interrupting his impressive monologue as she grabbed her purse to use the facilities. Once inside, she patted water on her face to freshen herself and touched up her makeup. Feeling the urge from the water she had drunk, she used the tiny bathroom and then washed her hands, drying them thoroughly before returning to her seat. She was just in time to see her companion remove her laptop and return another to her bag. She waited a moment, giving him the time to complete his transaction, and then used the stewardess to hide her as she returned to the seat. She pretended she had seen nothing. She now understood the nervous chatter a little better. He obviously thought he knew who she was.