Island of Secrets

by Karen Abbott

  She caught her breath … and at that moment he turned towards her. She blushed, certain that he could read her mind and knew exactly what she was thinking about. But he merely smiled and asked a few pertinent questions, surprising her slightly with his depth of knowledge. She felt that her answers impressed him and was pleased to note how often he nodded or murmured his agreement. At last, he closed the final page.

  She looked expectantly at his face.

  He smiled. “Are you ready to eat?”

  “Yes.” Her mouth was dry. Trying to appear calm, she took a sip of her wine and popped one of the tiny morsels of food into her mouth. After swallowing it, she asked, “What do you think?”

  Vincent nodded. “I think you have a lot to offer. I would like to take the portfolio to an associate of mine, who knows more about these things than I do … but I am sure that she will be as impressed as I am.”

  He signalled to the waiter, who immediately came forward to lead them to their dining table.

  When they were seated, Vincent said, “I have taken the liberty of ordering our meal in advance. I hope that is to your liking. I thought it would give us more time to discuss our business. Now, whilst we await the first course, tell me more about this shop you hope to rent …. or was it to buy?”

  “The premises are for sale. If the owner had been willing to let me rent them, I would have got a bank loan, I’m sure. As it is …” She left the sentence open.

  “You need me … as much as I need you,” Vincent smiled at her.

  Gini blushed prettily. She was finding him very easy to get along with. Her pulse was racing as he reached across the table and took hold of her hand.

  “You have the talent and I have the money,” he said softly, smiling into her eyes. “I’m sure we can come to terms on blending our resources. Don’t you?”

  Gini nodded. She didn’t know whether it was the wine or Vincent’s close proximity that was making her feel slightly light-headed. Whichever, it was a pleasurable feeling.

  “The shop is on La Rue de Clemenceau,” she told him. “It’s been empty since March and I think we could bring the price down a little because of that.”

  Vincent laughed. “Leave that side of it to me, ma cherie. How do you envisage setting up your salon? Have you any ideas? Or were you waiting until you had completed the deal?”

  “Oh, I’ve plenty of ideas! The main problem would be fitting them all in!” Gini replied, laughing delightedly, encouraged by his obvious pleasure in her company. “I would like to build a clientele of the middle to upper price range. My tutors felt I had enough flair to be able to create some of my own designs but warned me that it would take time to make a name for myself. So, in the meantime, I plan to concentrate on designing clothes for the ready-to-wear market. A number of my drawings have already been accepted by one of the clothes manufacturers. I think I will be able to buy a consignment at reasonable cost and I plan to hand-paint designs on some of them, possibly waiting until a customer places an order and making each into an exclusive design. I have done quite a lot of hand-painted designs on silk. That was in one of the small fashion houses I worked for last summer. And some of the less expensive fabrics take hand-painting very well.”

  A plate of lightly grilled oysters had been placed in front of them. Gini placed one in her mouth. It was delicious. She liked them raw but these were equally appetising.

  “What about accessories? I notice your drawings always include them.”

  Gini nodded enthusiastically. “Yes. I believe that the accessories either make or spoil the total look and, whilst many women instinctively choose the right ones, many others don’t. I want to eliminate that possibility by providing complementing accessories such as hats; shoes, scarves; bags. Maybe with a choice … but a limited one.”

  “That would certainly be money-spinner,” Vincent agreed. “But how would you obtain them? You don’t intend to manufacture those as well, do you?”

  “No, not at first. I would look around until I found someone who could supply what I need. I would probably be able to come to an agreement over a reasonable price, especially if I agree to give the firm I choose an exclusive contract.”

  Vincent smiled. “You have certainly put a great deal of thought into all this. I think I would prefer you to be on my side than against me!”

  Gini smiled back. “I know what I want and I won’t settle for less. Quality will always be my password.”

  The main course of medallions of lobster, with chive sauce and button mushrooms was equally delicious; as was Vincent’s choice of dessert—Cherries Jubilee … vanilla ice-cream, cherries simmered until soft, poured over with a light syrup of cherry brandy, cinnamon and the juice of orange.

  By the time the small cups of coffee were served, with tiny dark chocolate petals, Gini was enveloped in a delightful haze of fine food, wine and heady romance. When Vincent ordered a glass of brandy for himself, she wisely refused.

  “I think you and I will do very well together, Gini St. Clare,” Vincent murmured, smiling warmly at her. He lifted his glass of brandy and tilted it in her direction. “To our joint-business venture!”

  Gini raised her wine glass, surprised to see that it was almost empty. “Our business venture!” she echoed.

  Vincent eventually led the way to his car. Gini had wondered whether or not they would finish the evening by strolling around the port or the citadel but, as the evening air hit her with what seemed to be considerable force, she was relieved when Vincent opened the car door for her to climb in.

  She let her head fall back against the headrest, drinking in the balmy air. It had been a wonderful evening. Her business plans were back on track and she sure she had made a hit with Vincent. His attentiveness had been flattering, to say the least.

  The car drew up outside the Reception area. Vincent switched off the engine and leaned over.

  “Thank you for a delightful evening, Gini. I must have been away from the island too long, not to have noticed how you have grown.” He tilted her chin towards him.

  Gini held her breath. He was going to kiss her, she knew.

  His lips brushed over her slightly-parted mouth, the tip of his tongue fluttering lightly against her lips.

  Her response was immediate. The light taste of brandy on his breath seemed more intoxicating than the glasses of wine she had drunk during the evening.

  Realising her quickened response, Vincent’s hands drew her body closer to him. She could feel the beat of his heart against her chest and felt a burning desire spiral through her body. She heard a tiny moan of pleasure pass her lips and was disappointed when Vincent drew back.

  “I think that is enough for tonight,” he whispered in her ear. “I don’t want you to have any regrets about this evening. I think our partnership holds promise of many delights, don’t you?”

  Indeed she did.

  “I hope so,” she confessed softly, wishing he would continue the kiss. “It’s been a wonderful evening.”

  Vincent got out of the car and came around to open her door.

  “I won’t come in. I have to leave early in the morning to be in time to catch my flight to America. In the meantime, your portfolio will be safe. I will leave word for it to be sent to my colleague in Paris and instruct my solicitor to start proceedings with the estate-agent. And, when I return in two weeks time, I will be in touch.” He kissed her lips softly. “So, bonne nuit, ma cherie. Sweet dreams!”

  He broke away and returned swiftly to his car. Waiting until the engine flared into life, Gini waved and watched until the tail-lights disappeared at the end of the long drive. She sighed deeply with happiness and twirled her body round twice. Vincent Depetrine had kissed her and called her cherie … and he was going to back her business venture! She wanted to shout it from the rooftops.

  The house was quiet as she tiptoed inside. Jean-Claude made her jump as he stepped from the living-room into the hall.

  “Did you have a good evening?” he asked.
<
br />   “Yes. Wonderful! He’s going to back me!”

  “Great! Well done, little cousin!”

  “I’ll tell you all about it in the morning. D’you mind?”

  “No. Off you go. I expect you are tired.”

  She was … but she wasn’t going to fall straight asleep. She had the whole evening to think over … remembering every word; every glance; every endearment. She was sure she was on the verge of falling in love.

  The next two weeks passed by slowly. Gini longed to get everything signed and sealed but had to exercise her patience—which didn’t come easily to her.

  She told her family all about the evening spent with Vincent, missing out her growing feelings of love for him, of course. She would tell them that later, when there was more to tell. They were as excited as she was—though her father kept warning her not to count too highly until the agreements were signed.

  “Vincent said he will draw up the agreement as soon as he returns from America,” she assured him.

  “And he took your portfolio, you say?” Jean-Claude queried.

  “Yes. To show to a colleague in Paris.”

  “I thought you said he was going to America?”

  “He was … is. He’s there now. He was arranging for it to be sent to her.”

  “And who is she, this colleague?”

  Gini looked at him blankly. “I don’t know. He didn’t say. Someone in the fashion world. He wanted a second opinion, though he seemed very convinced anyway. Stop trying to spoil it. I trust him. Okay?”

  Her trust began to waver when there was no word from Vincent after three weeks.

  “He must have been delayed,” she excused him.

  At last a letter arrived.

  “See!” she cried exultantly. “He says he is coming back at the end of the week. He wants to see me on Saturday at his solicitor’s office in Dolus. I said I could trust him.”

  Christi smiled in relief. She had begun to be concerned, just like the rest of the family.

  “I’m going to look at the shop,” Gini announced when breakfast was over. “I can’t wait to start converting it. It’ll need a good cleaning and I’ll need new fittings. I wonder if I’ll be able to go inside to do some measuring.”

  Christi laughed. “You aren’t one to let grass grow under your feet, are you? … Just an English saying,” she explained, at Gini’s blank look.

  “Would you like to come with me?” Gini asked, glad of Christi’s support throughout.

  “I’d love to … but I have an appointment at the doctor’s this morning. And there are three novice riders to take out later. Try to be back by then. I prefer to have a competent rider at the rear as well as leading.”

  “You’re not ill, are you?” Gini was swift to ask, feeling immediately concerned.

  Christi smiled. “No. It’s nothing serious … just a check-up. I’ll come with you on your next visit.”

  Gini was relieved. Her own happiness was so complete, she didn’t want anything to mar it.

  She drove to the Square. She’d go to the shop first and then visit the selling agent to try to arrange a appointment to go inside.

  It was a lovely sunny day … as so many of them were. They were so lucky to live in such a lovely place, she reflected. It had everything she wanted. Her family, her friends, an almost Mediterranean climate, surrounded by the sea … and hordes of people to come to buy from her shop! What more could she ask?

  She was nearly at the shop before she realised that something was wrong. The ‘For Sale’ sign was gone, and the window had been white-washed over to prevent anyone from seeing inside. Another notice - this one on the door - read, ‘Under New Management. Opening soon.’

  Her heart began to beat painfully within her chest. What did it mean? It couldn’t be right. Nothing had been agreed. Nothing signed. Had someone beaten them to it? Surely Vincent had said that he would get his solicitors to deal with it all, hadn’t he?

  Of course he had. That must be it. They had gone ahead in his prolonged absence, in order not to have things held up. He was as keen as she was to get their venture started. But why hadn’t he contacted her? Surely there must have been a contract to draw up; papers to sign?

  She hurried to the office of the selling agent. She had visited it on a number of occasions earlier on, so she didn’t have to introduce herself.

  “Ah, Mademoiselle St. Clare. What can I do for you today?” Monsieur Mathoux asked, rising from his desk.

  “You can tell me what has happened to the shop in La Rue de Clemenceau that I was interested in,” Gini demanded. “I saw that the ‘For Sale’ sign has gone and that it is under new management. May I ask who the new owner is?” She was aware that her tone bordered on being impolite but she felt too wound up to care.

  Monsieur Mathoux didn’t seem to notice. He looked a little uncomfortable.

  “I’m not sure that I am at liberty to divulge the buyer’s name. Er … if you would return in a couple of days, I might be able to comply with your request.”

  “Rubbish! The notice says that the shop is to be opened soon! The name will be common property then! Besides, you knew I wanted to buy the property. Why didn’t you let me know if you had a better offer? I told you I was getting fixed up with a backer.” Her heart beat painfully. “Is that who has bought it? A Monsieur Depetrine?” She held her breath as she threw out the challenge, though still unclear what had happened.

  “You obviously know as much as I do, mademoiselle. Yes, Monsieur Depetrine is the new owner. He signed the papers this morning. No doubt he will be getting in touch with you later on today. He said you were to be his under-manager.”

  Chapter 3

  “His under-manager?” Gini all but spluttered. “How dare he!”

  Monsieur Mathoux spread his hands. “He said you were in agreement with him. Besides, he has the money. Whereas you haven’t. I’m sorry, mademoiselle, but that’s the way it is in business. Nothing is agreed until everything is signed. Now if that is all …”

  “No, it isn’t all. I demand the name of Monsieur Depetrine’s solicitor. I know his offices are at Dolus. You may as well tell me. I shall find out anyway!”

  “That is no problem, mademoiselle. I will write it down for you.” He did so quickly and pushed the piece of paper across the table. “I think you will find that is correct.”

  “Thank you, monsieur. Au revoir.”

  “Au revoir. Have a good day!”

  “Huh!”

  Gini flounced outside. Have a good day, indeed! This was just about the worst day of her life, so far. And it threatened to get worse!

  It was as well there were no speed checks as she drove the few miles to Dolus. She didn’t deliberately break the speed limit but, afterwards, she had no recollection of her journey there. She parked in the town centre and stormed straight to the address on the piece of paper in her hand. Her eyes glowered when she recognised the silver sports car parked outside. She thrust open the door and marched inside.

  The girl seated at the desk in the outer office stood up in alarm as Gini strode straight past her. “Pardon, mademoiselle. You cannot go in there. Monsieur Nicolas is already engaged!”

  Gini strode on.

  “I know!”

  She threw open the door and glared as the two men swung round to face her. The look of shock, tinged with embarrassment, on Vincent’s face gave her the courage to proceed. “So! It’s true! You’ve bought my shop! Home at the end of the week, huh? What a fool you must think me!”

  Vincent stood up and moved towards her. “Gini! It isn’t like that! I got away sooner than expected. I was going to call you later today.”

  “Then I’ve saved you the bother. I thought we had an agreement. You were going to back me; to lend me the money to buy the shop. Instead, you’ve gone behind my back and bought it yourself!”

  Vincent held out his hands, as if fearing a physical attack.

  “Now, Gini. You’ve got it all wrong. We had no such agreement. I
said I would help you—and I will, if only you’ll calm down and listen.”

  Gini paused, her eyes narrowing as she regarded him. She suddenly saw him through Luc’s eyes and a look of disdain crossed her face.

  “I’m listening.”

  “I liked your ideas and your enthusiasm—but you’ve no business experience. You’re too young to have the responsibility of so great a loan. You’ve no collateral. What if the business had failed?” He spread his hands. “I’d have lost my money. It was too great a risk. You must see that!”

  “I see that you led me on to believe you would back me and then bought the shop without telling me.” She made herself keep a level gaze on his face.

  It was Vincent who allowed his eyes to drop first.

  “I had to move quickly. Other prospective buyers were becoming interested.”

  “You could have let me know what was happening.”

  He shrugged. “I was going to call you, to tell you my proposition.”

  “Then tell me now.”

  “I would like you to manage the shop under the direction of my friend in Paris. She liked your drawings and thinks they have good marketing possibilities. You’d have plenty of opportunities to try new styles and innovative ideas. Gabrielle would want to vet everything, of course, but she would give you as free a hand as she thought possible. You’d have a regular salary and, who knows, in a year or two, maybe you could take over as manageress … if you fulfil our expectations.”

  “And whose name would be on the labels and over the shop?”

  “Well, Gabrielle’s, of course. She has been looking for a new line. She has other designers in mind. She wouldn’t be using your designs exclusively. It will be a great opportunity for you to be working with other designers who are more experienced than you.”