Magic (2 page)

Chantal had been thrilled when he and Valerie got married and thought they were perfect for each other. She was the godmother of their first child, Jean-Louis, who was now five. She had three grown children of her own, none of whom lived in France. She had devoted herself entirely to them after she was widowed when they were young, and Jean-Philippe knew that it was hard for her to have them all living far away. She had brought them up to be independent and pursue their dreams fearlessly, which they had. And now Eric, her younger son, was an artist in Berlin; Paul, her older son, was an independent filmmaker in L.A.; and Charlotte, her daughter, went to the London School of Economics, got an MBA at Columbia, and was now a banker in Hong Kong. And none of them had any interest in moving back to France, so Chantal was alone. She had done her job too well. Her flock had flown.

She always said she was grateful that her work kept her busy, and she visited her children from time to time but didn't want to intrude on them. They had their own lives and expected her to have her own. Her only regret was that she had been so dedicated to them, and busy with them, that she had made no effort to get seriously involved with a man while they were young. And by now she hadn't met a man who interested her in years. So she worked harder than she might have if she'd had someone to share her life, or if her children lived near. But she was busy and happy and never complained about her solitude, although Jean-Philippe worried about her and wished she'd meet someone so she wouldn't be so alone. Once in a while, she admitted to him how lonely it was to have her children so far away, but most of the time she stayed busy with her friends, had a positive attitude about life, and she added fun and intellectual sophistication to every occasion.

The rest of their group that night had also been to the White Dinner before, as Jean-Philippe and Valerie's guests, with the exception of a lovely Indian man they had met in London the year before. Dharam Singh was from Delhi, one of the most successful men in India, and a technology genius. He was consulted by high-tech firms all over the world and was a charming, unassuming, very attractive man. He said he had business in Paris in June, so they had invited him to the dinner, especially for Chantal, since she didn't have a man to bring and needed someone at her table. Jean-Philippe was sure they'd get along, although Dharam's taste seemed to run to very beautiful, very young women. If nothing else, the Dumases were sure that Dharam and Chantal would be good dinner partners and find each other interesting.

Dharam was fifty-two and divorced, with two grown children in Delhi. His son was in the business with him, and his daughter was married to the richest man in India, had three children, and was a spectacularly beautiful woman. Dharam's white suit, made by his tailor in London, made him look very handsome and exotic, as he sat across from Chantal. She had brought the tablecloth and table settings, and the meal, and he had added caviar in a silver bowl, champagne, and excellent white wine.

Chantal looked lovely that night and as always younger than her years with a trim figure, still youthful face, and long blond hair. She and Dharam were already deep in conversation about filmmaking in India and enjoying each other's company as he opened their champagne, and he had brought a bottle for Valerie and Jean-Philippe too. Several of the tables shared their food, and there was a congenial, festive atmosphere throughout. It was amazing to think that seven thousand people were dining elegantly and having a good time. And by nine-thirty everyone was sitting and the party was under way, as wine was poured, hors d'oeuvres were passed around, old friends were rediscovered, and new ones were made.

There was a table of younger people just behind them, with some very pretty girls in their midst, whom Gregorio and Dharam had already spotted, and then pretended not to notice, focusing on the people at their table. Jean-Philippe and Valerie had put together an attractive, lively group who were clearly having a good time as everyone laughed and had fun, as the sun set slowly, and the last rays reflected off the glass of Notre Dame. It was an exquisite sight. The church bells had tolled almost as soon as they had arrived, greeting them. And the priest had come out on the balcony to wave at them and make them feel welcome.

Half an hour later the sun had set, and the entire square in front of Notre Dame was candlelit, with candles on every table. Jean-Philippe strolled around to make sure that all his guests were having a good time. He stopped to talk to Chantal, and for just a flash of an instant, she saw a serious expression in his eyes, which concerned her.

“Is everything all right?” she whispered to him when he bent to kiss her. She knew him well.

“I'll call you tomorrow,” he answered so no one else could hear. “Let's have lunch if you can.” She nodded, always willing to be available to him if he needed her, or just for a friendly lunch to chat and laugh. He moved on to his other guests just as Gregorio's cellphone rang. He answered in Italian and switched immediately to English as Benedetta stared at him with a worried look. He got up hastily and walked away to continue the conversation, and Benedetta joined Dharam and Chantal's banter at the table next to theirs and tried to look unconcerned.

Chantal had seen the pain in her eyes. She suspected it was the latest of Gregorio's affairs. He was gone for a long time, and Dharam drew Benedetta into their conversation gracefully. He had been trying to convince Chantal to visit India and suggested locations she had to see, among them Udaipur, with its temples and palaces, which he said was the most romantic place in the world. She didn't say that she had no one to travel with, which would have seemed pathetic. And he was shocked to discover that Benedetta had never been to India either. He was still trying to entice both of them when Gregorio returned to the table half an hour later with a nervous glance at his wife, and said something cryptically to her in Italian.

Dharam had been liberally pouring the wine for all three of them in Gregorio's absence. Benedetta had looked more relaxed for a minute, until her husband returned to the table. She answered him rapidly in Italian. He had just told her he had to leave. He was speaking softly so the others wouldn't hear him, and Chantal and Dharam chatted so as not to appear to be listening.

“Now?” Benedetta asked him with a tone of severe irritation. “Can't it wait?” She had been living with a difficult situation for the past six months and didn't like it intruding on the time they spent with friends, particularly tonight, although she knew that the cat had been out of the bag for some time and was all over the tabloids. But no one had been rude or unkind enough to bring it up to her.

“No, it can't wait,” Gregorio answered tersely. He had been having an affair with a twenty-three-year-old Russian supermodel for the last eight months, and the girl had been foolish enough to get pregnant six months before, with twins, and refused to have an abortion. Gregorio had had other affairs, many of them, but he had never fathered a child with any of them. And given Benedetta's inability to conceive, the fact of the girl's pregnancy was excruciatingly painful for her. It had been the worst year of Benedetta's life. He had promised her that it was an unfortunate mistake and he wasn't in love with Anya, and as soon as she had the babies, he would disengage from her. But Benedetta wasn't sure how willing the girl would be to let go of him. She had moved to Rome three months before to be closer to him, and he had been running back and forth between the two cities for those three months. It was driving Benedetta to distraction.

“She's in labor,” he added, anguished to have to discuss it with her here. And if that was true, she was three months early, Benedetta realized.

“Is she in Rome?” Benedetta asked in a pained voice.

“No. Here.” He continued in Italian. “She had a job here this week. They just admitted her to the hospital an hour ago, in early labor. I hate to leave you, but I think I should go. She's all alone, and she's terrified.” He was mortified to be explaining it to his wife, the whole thing had been an agonizingly awkward situation for months, and the paparazzi had had a field day with it. Benedetta had been very elegant about it, and the Russian girl was less so. She called him constantly and wanted to be with him in situations that were absolutely impossible. He was a married man, and he intended to stay that way, and had told her so from the beginning. But she was on her own in a hospital in Paris, in labor three months prematurely, and he didn't feel he had a choice but to go to her at once. He was a decent human being after all, in a terrible situation for both him and his wife. And he knew that abandoning her at the White Dinner wouldn't sit well with her.

“Can't you wait until this is over?” Anya had been sobbing hysterically on the phone, but he didn't want to explain that to Benedetta. She knew enough.

“I don't think I should. I'm really sorry. I'll just slip away quietly. You can say I saw friends at another table. No one will realize I'm gone.” Of course they would, but worst of all, she would know that he was gone, and where, who he was with, and why. The joy of the evening was over for her at that moment. She was still trying to absorb the fact that he was going to have two children with someone else, while they had none.

He stood up then, not wanting to argue with her but determined to go. However unfortunate their alliance and Anya's pregnancy, he didn't want to leave her in the hospital in labor, panicked and alone. Benedetta was sure it was just a ploy to get him there and it would turn out to be a false alarm.

“If she's all right, please come back,” she said, looking tense, and he nodded. It was embarrassing to have to cover for him, once they noticed that he was gone, which they were bound to do while she sat at their table without him, and left by herself when it was over.

“I'll try,” he said, still speaking to her in Italian. He gave her an uncomfortable look, and then without saying anything to their host or the other guests, he disappeared into the crowd, as people milled from table to table, visiting with friends between courses. He was gone in an instant, while Benedetta tried to appear as though nothing had happened and she wasn't upset. Chantal and Dharam were still talking, and a little while later Chantal excused herself to say hello to someone she knew at another table. Benedetta was trying to calm her nerves from Gregorio's hasty departure, when Dharam turned to her with a gentle look.

“Did your husband leave?” he asked cautiously, not wanting to pry.

“Yes…he had an emergency…a friend had an accident, and he went to help him at the hospital,” she said, fighting back tears while trying to sound nonchalant. “He didn't want to disrupt the party by saying goodbye.” Dharam had seen the tense looks exchanged between them and could tell that she was upset, and he did his best to cheer her now.

“How wonderful. It must be destiny,” he responded. “I've been trying to get you to myself all night. Now I can woo you relentlessly without his interfering!” He smiled broadly, and she laughed. “In a romantic setting like this, we should be madly in love by the time he gets back.”

“I don't think he is coming back,” she said sadly.

“Perfect. The gods are on my side tonight. Let's make a plan immediately. When will you come to India to see me?” He was teasing her to raise her spirits, but he was more taken with her than he would have dared to admit otherwise, and she chuckled at his performance, as he handed her a white rose from Chantal's vase on their table. She took the rose from him and smiled, just as the band started playing in front of the church. “Would you like to dance?” he asked. She didn't really want to, knowing where Gregorio had gone and what was happening, but she didn't want to be rude to Dharam, while he was being so kind to her. She got up and followed him to the dance floor, as he held her hand in the crowd. He was a good dancer, and dancing with him took her mind off her troubles for a while. She was smiling when they came back to the table and found Chantal deep in conversation with Jean-Philippe, who looked up when he saw them.

“Where's Gregorio?” he asked Benedetta, and Dharam answered for her.

“I paid two men to remove him and tie him up, so I could seduce his wife. He was becoming quite a nuisance,” Dharam said as the others laughed, and even Benedetta was grinning. And Jean-Philippe got the instant feeling that he shouldn't inquire any further about his friend. The look in Benedetta's eyes said that something unpleasant had happened, and Dharam was trying to distract her. He wondered if the couple had had an argument and Gregorio had stormed off. If so, Jean-Philippe had missed it, but he had seen Gregorio create scenes before. And he knew from Valerie that all was not rosy between them at the moment.

The story about the pregnant supermodel was all over the fashion world, and she had told him about it months before. But Jean-Philippe would never have mentioned it to Gregorio or Benedetta. He just hoped that they'd survive it, as they had before when he got involved with young women. He'd been pleased that they had agreed to come to the dinner that night, but it was unfortunate, especially for Benedetta, that he hadn't stayed. Jean-Philippe was grateful to his Indian friend for helping Benedetta save face and salvage the evening. Dharam was talking animatedly to Benedetta and Chantal when Jean-Philippe walked away to check on his other guests. Everyone seemed to be having a wonderful time.

Dharam had been taking photographs all evening with his cellphone, to show his children how beautiful the evening was. He was so glad he had come. They all were. Even Benedetta, thanks to Dharam being so kind and humorous with her. And he had plied her with excellent champagne to raise her spirits. Both she and Chantal were having a good time with him and the others in their group. Some delicious desserts were passed around, and plenty of wine and champagne. Someone else had brought a huge box of fabulous chocolates they shared generously, and another table provided delicate white
macarons
from Pierre Hermé.