The Butler

by Danielle Steel

  Olivia’s childhood felt like a long span of gray years to her, tainted by her mother’s constant depression, and later her drinking and dementia. She had no desire to inflict that on a child, although she couldn’t conceive of a life like her mother’s. She preferred her freedom to being tied down to anyone or anything, except her work. Being alone left her free to work as hard as she wanted, with no one to complain to her about it. It was when she wasn’t working that she didn’t know what to do. The free time she had in Paris was unusual for her, and she kept busy with the apartment. But she needed to meet people and find things to do. She went to museums and galleries and liked going to movies. She knew Joachim did too, but she would never have invited him to go with her. It seemed too forward. She never asked him what he did on the weekends, and he didn’t say.

  So she was startled after the following weekend, when he said he had been to London for two days.

  “To see old friends?” she inquired, which seemed nosy even to her, but she was curious why he had gone, and suddenly worried. She had conveniently forgotten that he was still looking for a job. She had hired him for three months, and four weeks of it had already rushed by.

  He was open with her about it. “I had an interview and stopped by to see the new marquess. He’s expecting a bid on the Sussex estate soon. He and his wife want to buy a house in the South of France. They seem to be enjoying themselves.” He had just commissioned a yacht and a sailboat in Italy. He liked living well, just not in the same way as his father had, who preferred staying on home turf.

  “How did the interview go?” Olivia asked with a knot in her stomach. Quite wrongly, she knew, she felt as though she owned him now, and interviewing for another job felt like an infidelity to her. She was well aware that she had no right to feel that way. He could see how anxious she was.

  “The interview went well, but it’s not a job I want. It’s an American film star who just bought a big manor house in England, but the lifestyle’s not for me.” The actor was well-known for his drug use and wild parties. He wanted a fancy English butler, and was already planning to give house parties every weekend. Joachim could easily imagine the mess that would be, with staff either dragged into it, or expected to turn a blind eye to inappropriate behavior. It was everything Joachim was determined to avoid. He was hoping to find an older couple, whose pastimes were similar to the Cheshires’, but then there was always the risk that the job would be short-term if they died. What he’d had with the Cheshires had been ideal, had suited him perfectly, and the agency had already told him it would be hard to replicate.

  In the meantime, he wanted to reassure Olivia. She looked panicked as soon as he’d said he had gone on an interview. “I feel obliged to at least go on some interviews,” he told her, “or the agency won’t take me seriously and will forget about me. But I’m very happy here, working for you.” He hadn’t missed living in Paris for almost twenty years, but now he was enjoying being back again, ferreting out interesting shops and galleries to take her to, and working on the apartment, which had taken shape nicely so far. “I won’t surprise you, Ms. White,” he said formally. “If I find a serious possibility, I’ll give you plenty of warning, and I won’t leave before the time we agreed on. If they want me, they’ll have to wait until I complete my commitment to you.” She was terrified that someone would snatch him up and hire him for a long-term job. If they had any idea how efficient he was, they would hire him immediately, and give him whatever he wanted. She had no idea what his requirements were, or his salary, for a full-time head butler’s job.

  “Would you consider extending your time with me, if we still have work to do?” she asked him.

  “I would, but I think another two months will do it, as we planned. I think you estimated it very correctly. We might even finish before that. And I don’t want to waste your money or time.”

  “You don’t. You help me with so many things, Joachim. I don’t know how I’m going to manage without you, when you leave.” She was genuinely sad about it, and it hadn’t happened yet. And she didn’t want it to. She had grown more dependent on him than she expected to. Language was part of it, since she didn’t speak French, and had only learned a few words. But more than that, he was so resourceful and intelligent, it was easy to rely on him, and they worked together so smoothly. There was never tension or dissent between them. He was so professional that even after the night he had made dinner for her and they had talked about their fathers, when he came to work on Monday, it was as though they had never spoken of them. He returned to work in his usual professional form, with no sign or mention of the confidences they had shared. He retreated back behind the lines of his boundaries.

  Two days later, after his weekend in London, she came back to him and asked him to stay for three additional months, for a total of six months in her employ, and offered him a raise. He answered her on the spot.

  “In theory, yes, I’ll stay another three months, under certain conditions. If I find the job of a lifetime, I’ll tell you and give you a decent notice, but those jobs are rare, and I don’t want to pass up an opportunity that might not come again. And the second condition is that if we see that eventually I really have nothing left to do for you, that we agree to wind it down. At a certain point, you won’t need me. I don’t want to become useless to you, so let’s see as we go along. But yes, in theory I would be very happy to stay three months longer than our original agreement. And I refuse the raise. It’s a very generous offer, but it’s not necessary. I’m not worth that to you. You are already paying me very handsomely for what I do, and I’m grateful for it.” She was shocked when he refused the raise.

  “That’s not businesslike, Joachim,” she chided him. “You’re worth every penny of it. I’d be lost without you. I will be lost without you when you go. And I hope you find a wonderful job you love, just not too soon,” she said sheepishly, and he smiled.

  “There’s no risk of that. If I’d taken the job I was offered this weekend, I’d probably wind up in jail for drug trafficking, or running an opium den.” There had even been signs of it during the interview. The potential employer had offered him a joint, which he declined. And he appeared to be on coke or some form of speed or upper during the interview. He had recently been arrested in the States for possession of cocaine and crystal meth. He had adult children who were drug addicts too. “You’re safe for now,” he assured her, “and I’ll let you know if I see any serious contenders in London. So far, there is nothing I want at all.”

  “I’m relieved,” she said, and looked it.

  A week later, she had a new project for him. She’d gotten an email from a very important American decorator, Audrey Wellington. They had met several years before when the magazine interviewed her for a cover story, and she had kept Olivia’s personal email address. She was an older woman, had decorated the White House for two presidents, was a greatly respected interior designer, and had taken a liking to Olivia. They stayed in touch, she had heard about the magazine folding and that Olivia had moved to Paris right after it did. She wrote to say how sorry she was about the magazine and said how much she had always enjoyed it and read it religiously. She was coming to Paris and hoped to see Olivia while she was there. She was in her seventies, and still very active. She said she had a longtime client who wanted to redo her apartment in Paris, and she was coming on a reconnaissance mission to see what needed to be done. Olivia was happy to hear from her, answered her immediately, and said she’d love to have her over for tea. She went to find Joachim as soon as she pressed send. He was checking under her bathroom sink for another leak, and he had promised to hang another painting she had bought at Drouot. The apartment was becoming a much bigger decorating project than she had originally planned. She kept finding things that she loved, and it already felt like home.

  She talked to him while his head was still under the sink. “I have a friend coming from New York. I’d
love to have her over for tea. I mean, a really lovely English tea, proper tea service and all, little cucumber or watercress sandwiches. You playing butler, all of that.” He stuck his head out with a smile.

  “I think I can manage to ‘play butler’ rather well.” He sounded very English when he said it and she laughed.

  “I know you can. I just wanted to warn you. We can use the tea service I got at the flea market.” It was a beautiful antique English silver service and she had gotten it for next to nothing. “Maybe I should go back for a tray.”

  “I can borrow one from my mother. She’ll be happy to lend it to you. She has a nice one I got her from the silver vaults in London. You don’t need to buy one.”

  “Thank you.” She was touched and appreciated the offer. “Maybe scones and clotted cream too.”

  “I’ll give you a sample menu. Egg sandwiches too, I assume.”

  “Yes, that would be perfect. I know it sounds silly, but I want to impress her. She’s one of the most important interior designers in the States. Kind of a ‘grande dame’ and she’s very chic.”

  “Don’t worry. We’ll do it up royally for her. Black suit and all.” He was still wearing jeans to work every day, which made the most sense given what they were doing. His mother kept asking him if he was sure it was all right with his employer and he wasn’t slipping in his standards. He promised her it was fine. “My mother will be relieved. She’s been worried about my workman’s clothes.” He smiled. He was looking forward to doing something fancier for one of her friends. “I’ll give the tea service a good polish before she comes.”

  “Thanks, Joachim.”

  Olivia heard from Audrey Wellington the following week. She called Olivia at home, on the number she had given her, and was delighted with the invitation to tea.

  “Would you mind terribly if I bring a friend? I’ve known him for years. We’re going to look at a job together. I want his advice. His name is Jean Beaulieu. He’s a wonderful decorator. He does mostly yachts, but the occasional chateau.” Olivia had heard of him, and said it was fine to bring him. They were coming to the apartment in two days, and Olivia rushed to tell Joachim as soon as she hung up.

  “There will be three of us. She’s bringing another decorator. Another very famous one, from here.”

  “We will impress them to death,” he promised her. “It will be pure Downton Abbey,” he said, and she laughed. She had confessed to him how much she liked the show and wondered before she met him if he would be like the butler on the show. “I will do my Carson act,” he said with a grin, and had a sample menu for her half an hour later. She approved it, and she saw him polishing the tea service that afternoon. He enlisted Fatima’s help, the new Portuguese girl. She was proving to be immaculate, scrupulously honest, and a hard worker. Joachim had chosen well, a lot better than she had with the ill-fated Alphonsine she had hired.

  * * *

  —

  The apartment looked beautiful. Everything was in order, the wood surfaces shone. The curtains looked splendid, Olivia had arranged white flowers in a silver bowl, and bought an orchid plant for the entry hall. All her new furniture, art, and decorating touches added to the charm of the apartment, and Joachim had everything in control in the kitchen. He had brought his mother’s tray, and his black formal butler’s suit, which he was wearing with a perfectly tailored white shirt, a black Hermès tie, and impeccably shined John Lobb shoes. He looked strikingly handsome and like a butler in a movie when Olivia saw him.

  “Carson never looked that good,” she said to him, and he laughed. His tall, blond, Teutonic looks served him well, and were an asset along with his training and skills.

  Audrey Wellington and Jean Beaulieu arrived five minutes later. She was visibly impressed when Joachim opened the door. She was wearing a navy-blue Chanel suit, with her still-trim figure and perfectly groomed blond French twist. She’d had two very well done facelifts over the years, and maintained them with Botox shots. She looked younger than her years, was energetic and very chic, as she sat in Olivia’s new Paris living room, while Joachim served an exquisite high tea. Jean Beaulieu admired her tea service and her utterly perfect butler, as Audrey smiled at her, holding one of the Limoges cups Olivia had bought with Joachim at an auction at the Hôtel Drouot. She had gotten a service for eighteen, with only two butter plates missing.

  “I was feeling very sorry for you, my dear, when I heard about the magazine. You did such a good job with it. I really enjoyed it. But now that I see you in your divine new Paris apartment, prettier than ever, with a most impressive butler,” she added, “I don’t feel sorry for you at all. In fact, I’m quite envious of you! Are you moving here?”

  “I don’t know yet,” Olivia said. “I haven’t decided. I have the apartment for a year. Everything happened at once, the magazine folded. We had to do it, we held on as long as we could. My mother died at the same time, I emptied her apartment, and now I’m here. I haven’t figured out the next step yet. I’m keeping an open mind and seeing what happens.”

  “Well, you’re certainly doing that in ideal surroundings, and well-staffed,” she said, eyeing Joachim, who had been the most dignified and professional Olivia had ever seen him. He really did look like a butler in a movie, and his formal service had been flawless. Then he discreetly disappeared to the kitchen. She didn’t tell Audrey that she only had her “staff” for six months, and after that, like Cinderella at midnight, the coach would turn into a pumpkin and the coachmen to white mice. Joachim would become a real butler in England again, for someone else. But he had definitely impressed her guests. Jean Beaulieu was a huge snob, and they had snowed him too. He was a little younger than Audrey, and a big deal in Europe. “I might have a project for you if you’re interested. Jean and I looked at it this morning, and I can’t take it on. I can’t run back and forth to Europe and do justice to my clients in the States. I do something in Europe every year or two, but this one’s not for me. And Jean can’t do it either.”

  He chimed in immediately. “I’m finishing two boats in Holland, one in Italy, and another one in Turkey, and a huge house in Saint-Jean-Cap-Ferrat. I absolutely cannot take on a massive chateau on top of that. It would kill me. And all of the boats will launch before the summer.”

  “I know you’re not a decorator,” Audrey continued to Olivia, “but you have a great eye, wonderful taste, and this isn’t a traditional job anyway. It’s for a Russian. He lives in Moscow and bought an enormous chateau less than an hour outside Paris. He’s never even seen it. He wants it to look like Versailles. That’s asking a lot. It needs a little reconstructive work, but it’s not in terrible shape. But it needs everything, decorating-wise. The floors need to be buffed up and restored in a few places, there are marble fireplaces all over the place. You need a good curtain man. And you need more furniture than for the Ritz. But if you want to, I think you could do a terrific job with it, if it amuses you. Most decorators won’t have the time. The Russians pay well, but it probably won’t ever make the cover of Architectural Digest. They’re fun to work with, but they go off in funny directions sometimes, and love flash.”

  “And they either pay you three times what you ask, or not at all,” Jean Beaulieu added. “They never show up when you want them to. Or they don’t come to see it for three years after you finish it, or sell it to a friend. They call you at four a.m. to see how it’s going. I can’t deal with Russian clients,” Jean said, looking exasperated.

  “Neither of us has the time,” Audrey explained more calmly, “and maybe you don’t either. If I had nothing else to do, it might be fun. I’m not taking any new clients. I have too much work from the ones I have. They keep buying houses. Now they’re all moving to Florida to reduce their taxes. They’re selling their houses in Mexico.”

  “And buying yachts,” Jean confirmed. “Thank God.”

  “Are you interested in doing any decorating?�
�� Audrey asked her directly. “You have the taste and the talent, but not the credentials. Most Russian clients don’t care about that. I don’t know why someone recommended me for the job.” Audrey could be very grand at times, and she accepted another delicately trimmed egg salad sandwich from the silver tray Joachim offered her. And the tea he had chosen was delicious. The cucumbers were sliced paper thin, and the scones were the best Olivia had ever tasted. He had produced a high tea they would never forget. Olivia was very pleased with him. He had made her look fabulous to Audrey, not like someone whose business had just gone down the tubes and had left New York in defeat. She was to be envied, not pitied, which was just the effect she had wanted to achieve, and Joachim had done it for her.

  “It sounds very interesting, and challenging,” Olivia said, thinking about it. “I’d like to see it before I give you a definite answer.”

  “Of course,” Audrey said, “I think it looks more daunting than it really is. With the right contractor, I think you could knock it out in under a year. The bones are there. You could stretch it out of course, but the Russian owner is very eager to have it finished. He’s more interested in speed than fine craftsmanship. See what you think, and then let me know. I thought of you, because I wasn’t sure what you were doing now. This might be a fun next step, and it could be an entrée into decorating here in Europe. He probably has a million friends who would hire you if he likes the results. They tend to follow each other in groups. It can be very lucrative,” she said, lowering her voice discreetly. Olivia was more excited than she wanted to admit, but she wanted to see it first so she didn’t get in over her head or start something she couldn’t finish before she went back to New York.