Magic (16 page)

“No, it's not,” she admitted. “You're always doing too much or too little for them, not there when they want you to be, or too present and driving them insane. You have to let them try their own wings, and pick up the pieces when they fall. And whatever you do, no matter how hard you try, there's always something you did wrong that they never forgive you for. It's a thankless job. But the best one in the world.” She smiled at him. “It's hard to get it right, and they always blame you for something. If you're lucky, one of them thinks you're cool, for about five minutes, and the others think you're a disaster, or they all do. Charlotte has always been tough on me. Eric always forgives me my mistakes. Even in the same family, they're very different people. And it's a miracle if you get it right even some of the time, no matter how hard you try.”

“That's why I've never wanted kids. You have to be Einstein to figure it out.”

“No, you don't. You just do the best you can and love them a lot, no matter what.” And let them go when it was time, which was the hardest of all.

“Children never seem to forgive their parents. It seems very harsh to me.”

“Do you really not want children?” she asked him thoughtfully. Sometimes she felt like she was keeping him from a woman his own age who could give him kids.

“Not really. I never thought I'd be good at it. I'd rather deal with yours or my brother's. It's easier when they're grown up, and they're blaming someone else for whatever is wrong in their lives. Little kids are too scary. And I'd probably screw that up. And women who are desperate to have babies always make me nervous. I'm much happier with you,” he said, leaning over to kiss her. He knew what she was thinking and wanted to put her mind at rest. He had no regrets about being with her, and hadn't since they'd met. “You're not depriving me of anything. If I wanted kids, I'd have figured it out by now.”

“Lucky for me,” she said, and kissed him back.

When they woke up in the morning, Xavier ordered breakfast from room service, and Chantal went back to the hospital, relaxed after the night she'd spent with Xavier. It was a whole different story than it would have been if she were alone. He told her he'd come to meet her at noon, and bring them lunch. And when she got there, Eric was complaining about his casts, and the food, and he wanted to go back to his apartment. She calmed him down, and one of the nurses gave him a bath. And by the time they were finished, Xavier arrived with two big bags of food from a beer garden down the street.

“I have schnitzel, sausages, more schnitzel, and more sausages, and schnitzel,” he said, and Eric laughed.

“I like them both.” They set the food out on paper plates, and Eric ate a hearty meal, and afterward the nurse gave him another shot and he went back to sleep, while Xavier and Chantal took a walk around the neighborhood, and then decided to try and get to a museum for an hour. They went to the Neue Nationalgalerie to see the spectacular glass structure. They only had time to see a small portion of the museum, but it was a nice break for both of them from the tedium of the hospital, and Chantal told Eric about it when he woke up. Xavier had gone back to the hotel to do some work and return calls to clients, and said he'd be back with dinner.

And miraculously, when he showed up, he had found a Chinese restaurant near the hotel, and brought Chinese food for all of them, and Annaliese joined them. It was more of a waiting game now, until Eric was well enough to be transferred to the rehab hospital, which was scheduled for the end of the week. And the following day Xavier went back to Paris, since the worst was over, and Eric had to face his long convalescence. Chantal was planning to go back to Paris once Eric was settled at the rehab, and she was eternally grateful that Xavier had come with her for the initial crisis. She would never forget it.

“Who's going to bring me schnitzel and sausages?” Eric asked him, when Xavier came to say goodbye, and they both laughed.

“Be good to your mother,” Xavier admonished him. “No more motorcycles.” Eric reluctantly nodded agreement.

“Come back and visit when I can walk again,” he said to Xavier, and thanked him for the meals.

After Xavier left, Chantal sat with Eric every day till the end of the week, and then helped settle him at the rehab, which was big, sun-filled, and modern, and there were several other young people there, who had had similar accidents or worse. She stayed for the weekend, and then left him. He was going to be busy every day with physical therapy, although he couldn't do much yet. His friends had started to visit him, and Annaliese was with him every night. He didn't need his mother there anymore. She promised to come back and see him in two weeks, and again when he went home in a month. She had begun feeling redundant sitting there as his friends dropped by day and night. And he was busy with therapy in the daytime, to get his arm and leg strong again. She kissed him when she left, and flew back to Paris that night. She always hated leaving her children. It was such an empty feeling. She was happy to find Xavier at the apartment, waiting for her.

He suggested they go out to dinner, and they went to their favorite bistro and had a good meal. The weather was chilly and it was hard to believe it was already November. The year was flying past and almost over. And so much had happened in her life since June. They walked back to the apartment after dinner, arm in arm, and he looked down at her. Neither of them had expected to end the year together when they met at the White Dinner. Who could have guessed it, or that Jean-Philippe would be living in Beijing, or that Benedetta would divorce Gregorio? Life was so unpredictable. And she was excited to think that Jean-Philippe would be home in a few weeks to visit Valerie and his children. She had so much to tell him, and on her side, all of it good news.

I
t had been a juggling act for Valerie as soon as she took the consulting job with Beaumont-Sevigny, while carrying her full workload at
Vogue,
at the same time that Jean-Philippe left for Beijing. And without him, she had to manage the children on her own all weekend. Some days she ran from morning till night, and had to bring home work from the office, and do it the moment the kids went to bed. She fell asleep late every night, trying to keep up, and often woke up exhausted.

The consulting job was time-consuming but not complicated. She gave them a constant assessment of their products and if they were heading in the right direction. They tapped into her knowledge after years of working at
Vogue,
and her own taste and style. Their target market wasn't as sophisticated as the high-priced lines she usually worked with on the pages of
Vogue.
But it was fun advising them, and she had made three presentations already to suggest ways to improve their lines. They were interested in an international market, and were currently focusing on Asia, for the same reason Jean-Philippe had gone there to work. There was so much money to be spent there, and fortunes to be made. Valerie put a lot of work and thought into her presentations to them, and they were receptive and anxious for her advice.

She worked closely with their director, Charles de Beaumont, who was one of the owners of the company and had developed the concept of their business. His father had owned a major fashion brand, which he had sold to the Chinese two years before, and now the son was targeting the same market. He was more of a money man, but clever about fashion, and he collaborated with Valerie on her presentations. He was a thirty-six-year-old Frenchman who looked more like a model than a businessman, and he flirted relentlessly with every female in the office. Charles de Beaumont was possibly the best-looking man Valerie had ever seen, although she was put off by the fact that he was an obvious womanizer, and she stuck to business whenever she was with him, despite his best efforts to charm her. And she had to admit, his taste was flawless. He understood what she was trying to achieve with the direction of her summaries and presentations, and often contributed new features that improved them. And much as she hated to admit it, even to herself, they were a great team. His partner was less involved in the fashion aspect of the business, and only dealt with financial issues, so Valerie had less contact with him. All of her direct dealings were with Charles.

He always managed to schedule their meetings at the end of her workday at
Vogue,
supposedly as a convenience for her, but invariably she found herself alone with him in his office after everyone had gone home. He usually invited her to dinner, and she thanked him and told him she had to go home to her children.

“Can't your husband watch them?” he asked one night, looking exasperated. “There's so much more I want to discuss with you about the next presentation.” He was artful about prolonging their meetings.

“My husband is in China,” she said one night, as she put her coat on. It was nine-thirty, her nanny would be furious, and her children asleep. She hated not seeing them at the end of the day, but her meetings with Charles always went late.

“Is he on a trip there?” Charles asked with interest.

“He works in Beijing,” she said, looking distracted, thinking about her nanny, who complained about leaving late since she had to be back early the next morning in time for Valerie to leave for the office and drop Jean-Louis off at school.

“Are you separated?” he asked her, curious, which shocked her.

“Not at all. He had a great opportunity there, and I stayed here, for
Vogue.
”

He nodded. “How does he like it? I worked there myself for two years,” Charles said easily.

“Not much. He's only been there since September.”

“That must be difficult for you with your kids,” he said, with a sympathetic expression.

“It is.” She smiled at him. “That's why I don't want to make the nanny angry. I need her.”

“You should get a live-in. It would give you more freedom. You can't run out of meetings to rush home to your children,” he said with a slightly disapproving tone.

“I'm not exactly running out of the meeting. It's nearly ten o'clock,” she corrected him politely. She'd been putting in extra days and long hours for consultations.

“Why don't we finish this tomorrow? And let's plan on dinner,” he said practically. “That way we don't have to hurry through it.” He made it sound like it was purely business, but she felt odd having dinner with him. Inevitably, it would run late. And he was a handsome bachelor, and she was married. She didn't flatter herself that he was after her, but she didn't like the way it looked. And she had a feeling Jean-Philippe wouldn't either. She wouldn't have liked him taking late meetings with women in China, followed by dinner. And from what she could tell, he was working at home every night, and had no social life whatsoever. Neither had she since he'd been gone. She was already spreading herself as thin as she could, and had no time for anything but work and kids. She hadn't had any fun, or even been to a movie in the six weeks since Jean-Philippe had left.

“I'm serious,” Charles reiterated as they went down in the elevator in the deserted building. “Let's get together tomorrow at the office to finish this, and continue it through dinner at my place. I'll pick up sushi, if you like.”

“I'd rather not,” she said honestly. “I'm a married woman. I'd feel awkward working with you at your apartment.”

He laughed at her. “Oh, for heaven's sake, I'm not going to rape you, Valerie. Relax. I have a girlfriend.” And then she felt stupid for what she'd said and agreed to meet him at his office the next day. “Do you need a lift?” he asked her innocently, as he saw her reach for her phone to call a taxi, and she looked embarrassed.

“I'm fine. I didn't bring my car today. Sometimes I use G7. They'll come in a minute.”

“Don't be silly. Where do you live?” She told him. His car was parked at the curb in front of the building. She was impressed to see that he drove an Aston Martin. “I live just around the corner from you. You'll be home before the cab can get here.” She hesitated and slid into the sleek sports car when he unlocked it, and he talked business with her until they reached her building. He was totally circumspect, and she felt foolish for her earlier concerns. He must have thought she was crazy, and more than anything she felt stupid.

“Thank you for the ride home.” She glanced at him apologetically for her suspicions.

“See you tomorrow.” He smiled at her and roared off, as she put the door code in and hurried upstairs. And predictably, her nanny looked annoyed.

“I'm so sorry, Mathilde. I was stuck in a meeting. And I've got one tomorrow night too. Can you stay late? I'll be out till after dinner.” The woman nodded, it was money for her, and she was used to their going out when Jean-Philippe was home. But she had a husband she wanted to get home to, which was more than Valerie felt she had at the moment. Everything was so complicated without Jean-Philippe. She had no partner present, no backup, only hired help, which was limited at best, but better than nothing.

Once the nanny left, Valerie took out her presentation, made some more notes on it, and wondered what he wanted to discuss the next day. It looked finished to her. She put it back in her briefcase, answered some emails, checked her messages, and peeked in at her sleeping children. She felt as though she never caught up anymore. She was always behind, and she had the same impression at her office at
Vogue
the next day. They had several crises, and she arrived at the meeting with Charles half an hour late.

“I'm sorry. I had a crazy day at the magazine.” She looked flustered and had rushed there.

“Don't worry about it,” he said easily. “In fact, why don't we go straight to my place? I had my houseman pick up the sushi. That way we can eat and work without interruption. There's no point starting here.” She felt awkward disagreeing with him, and she followed him meekly out of the office. He drove her to his apartment in the Aston Martin, and although he only lived a few blocks from where she did, he had a beautiful penthouse in an old building overlooking the Seine on the Quai Voltaire. She walked out onto the balcony to admire the view as the barges and bateaux mouches slid by, and Charles handed her a glass of champagne.

“Thank you.” She hadn't expected it, and took a sip as she looked at the Right Bank of the city lit up across the river, and the glass dome of the Grand Palais. It was one of the prettiest views in Paris.

“It will help us work,” he assured her with a smile, and she followed him back inside. His houseman had set the table in his handsome black granite kitchen, and she took the presentation out of her briefcase and spread it out on the kitchen counter.

“Let's do that after dinner,” Charles said easily, and took the platter of sushi out of the refrigerator. It was obvious that it had come from a very fancy Japanese restaurant that catered and not the kind of neighborhood place where she bought hers. And as soon as they sat down, he opened a bottle of very fine white wine. She drank sparingly so she would still be able to work, and the sushi was delicious. And as soon as they were finished, he presented her with his latest ideas for their project, all of which were excellent, and inspired her to be more creative too. They fed off each other in adding to the original plan, and improved it immeasurably. He was a genius at what he did, and his suggestions sparked more of her own. And two hours later, they agreed that they had a highly polished product they were both proud of. She was pleased they'd spent the extra time together to get it right. And it was fun creating the final version with him.

“I love working with you, Valerie,” he said, sitting back in his chair and smiling at her, echoing how she felt about him. “We should do more of this. Brainstorming sessions always evolve better for me at home than in the office. There are no distractions here.” She had to agree it had certainly been true that night. Some of his concepts had been brilliant, and what she had added to them made them even better.

“And I enjoyed working with you.” She smiled at him. He was very quick, smart, and efficient.

“Would you ever consider going to the theater with me?” he asked her randomly as they relaxed after their evening of concentration and productivity. “Even as a married woman,” he teased her. “If your husband is living in Beijing and you're here, you need to get out and have some fun. How often does he get home?”

“He's planning on trying to get home every two months. He'll be home in a few weeks.”

“Precisely. I'd love to go to the theater with you. Or dinner sometime. The more we know about each other, the better we'll collaborate.” He looked serious as he said it, and she wondered if it was true. “Or do you like the ballet?” he asked innocently. “There is a wonderful production of
Swan Lake.
”

“I like both, theater and ballet.” She smiled at him. “That's very nice of you.” It seemed a little awkward to her, but it was generous of him, and she didn't want to appear ungrateful. He had been a perfect gentleman and focused on business.

“You need a night off from work and kids.” She knew that what he said was true, but so far she hadn't managed it, and was beginning to feel like a total drudge. She had nothing to tell Jean-Philippe anymore because all she did was slave away at the office and run home to see their children before they went to sleep. She hadn't seen a single one of their friends since he left.

“It would be fun,” she said easily, and a little while later she got up from the table, and he insisted on taking her back to her apartment. And she had to admit, it felt very glamorous being driven home in an Aston Martin. He was fully committed to the firm's success and a perfectionist about the product. And on the way, he told Valerie how impressed he was with her dedication to her projects. He kissed her lightly on both cheeks before she got out of the car and thanked him for dinner.

She was surprised to hear from him two days later. She didn't have another presentation due for three weeks, and the one they had done together over dinner was complete.

“All set,” he said victoriously. “I had to promise my firstborn to get them, but I got tickets for us to the ballet tomorrow night. It's the production of
Swan Lake
I mentioned. I hope you like it. It's very traditional, but the young prima who's dancing is fabulous. I saw her last season.” She hadn't expected him to come up with tickets so rapidly, or at all. She thought he was just being friendly when he said it, and since he'd had so much trouble getting the tickets, she was embarrassed not to go.

“That's very kind of you, Charles,” Valerie said, feeling awkward again. “I didn't realize you were going to get them so quickly.”

“I'd like us to get to know each other, Valerie. You're a very impressive woman, and I think we're a good team. We could do a lot more projects together.” He made it sound like he had something specific in mind for her, which made her even less willing to turn him down.

“Thank you. I have to see if my nanny is willing to stay late again.”

“Tell your nanny she has no choice,” he said cheerfully, “or we can drop the children off at my mother's,” he teased her. “How many kids do you have?”

“Three,” she said easily. “They're five, three, and two. Your mother may not be so thrilled.” He laughed at the thought.

“You've been busy, three kids in four years. Wow!”

“They're very cute. And they're good kids.”

“So is their mother. I'd like to meet them sometime. Actually, I'll pick you up tomorrow night before the ballet. You can introduce us. And I booked a table at Alain Ducasse at the Plaza Athénée for after the ballet.” He was going all out for her, and the evening he had planned for them was expensive. The only thing she didn't like about it was that it felt a little, even a lot, like a date. But since technically she worked for him, or with him, she thought it would be rude to refuse, particularly with
Swan Lake
tickets as part of the deal.