Seeing Julia (20 page)

This fantastic chateau was once a working vineyard that produced vintage champagne. Stephanie and Christian have been concentrating all their efforts into its transformation to bring it to its former grandeur after years of neglect by previous owners. They’ve updated the interior and have been planting, trimming and reestablishing the gardens and outside grounds. It’s Stephanie’s personal wonderland. My hostess waves from the garden with sprigs of fresh-cut flowers and flora in her hands. I smile, when I see this. She’s in her element with her wide brimmed straw hat she’s tied around her fine blonde head and raises her soiled garden gloves in my direction as evidence she’s been digging in the dirt and tending to and cutting flowers.

She has it all figured out. Envy surges inside.

“Just go on in. I’ll be right there,” Steph calls out.

I carry Reid in his car seat into the spacious living room, set him down, and traipse back to the car to unload our stuff.

“Moving In?” Steph grins over at me, while lifting another suitcase from the trunk.

“Looks like it. I think we accumulate more stuff every day. Just so you know, three fourths of this stuff belongs to Reid.”

Christian should be home in an hour. He’s bringing a surprise.”

“A surprise,” I say. “Like what kind of surprise?”

“I don’t know. He wouldn’t say.”

I follow her inside and we set up the portable crib for Reid in the guest suite near the window where Stephanie’s planted an early spring garden of purple, yellow, and white crocus already in bloom. I mill about the room appreciating its charm: the old-fashioned French Country chic with an elegant queen bed covered with the blue and white quilt to match, the headboard of polished burl wood, and a blue flowered porcelain wash bowl Stephanie’s placed on the dark wood dresser. The intricate white lace curtains at the window filter sunlight and cast lacy shadows on the pale blue walls and just add to the magical feeling the room must impart to every guest that stays here.

The tranquility of this place is taking me in, filling my empty soul with a peace I haven’t felt in a long while. The Chantal’s transformation of this chateau is admirable. They’ve kept its distinctive old world charm and only added to its refinement with chic understated comfort.

This isn’t a showcase home; it’s a lived-in one filled with love and charm and all the good things about life. Stephanie’s warm touches are everywhere from the freshly cut flowers and hand-blown glass vases in every room to the latest photographs of all of us displayed in antique silver photo frames throughout.
A home.

Stephanie pulls me along on a grand tour to show me what they’ve done, since I was here last, weeks before. All the while, I’m missing Evan and thinking too much about what could have been.
Evan, where are you?

“I love what you two have done to this place. It’s so charming. I’m envious.”

“Thanks. It’s home.” She comes over to me and hugs me. “I’m trying to convince Christian to make this our permanent one, live here full-time, and give up the apartment in Manhattan, start our family. But, well it’s complicated. There’s so much going on since…”

A shadow crosses her face.
Evan.
His loss affects us all.

I nod. “Love you, Steph.”

≈ ≈

A half hour later, we’ve baby-proofed the living room and set Reid free to explore. Then, make our way to the kitchen to work on dinner: toss a salad, whisk vinaigrette dressing, frost a chocolate cake, check on the roasted chicken, and finish plating the appetizers. Well, I do these things, while Steph looks on, in that sometimes helpless way of hers, in awe and appreciation at my culinary skills.

“I miss this,” Stephanie says with a wistful look.

“You and Kimmy both,” I say with a grin. “Do you starve? Now, that you don’t live with me?”

“Almost. I warned Christian about it right away, but he doesn’t seem to mind.” She blushes. “He’s ecstatic you’re going to be here all weekend. It’s been weeks since he had a meal of sustenance.” She rolls her eyes and laughs.

“He’s tired of soup, bread, and tea?” These are the three things Stephanie can heat up, toast or steep. “I don’t think so,” I say shaking my head. “I think you could serve him a spoonful of uncooked rice and he’d eat it because you were the one feeding it to him. The man adores you. Cooking isn’t everything.” Happy memories of our time together in L.A. and New York flood my mind, then the loss of both Bobby and Evan takes over; I struggle to hide my heartbreak. “Hey, with Reid, it’s harder to get anything done.”

“You okay?”

“I miss my life, Steph. I wish I knew where it was.” She gets this worried look. “I’m better though,” I say. “Don’t worry so much.”

“I just want you to be happy.”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.” I swipe the frosting from a bowl with my finger and lick it off. “I have Reid; you and Christian; Kimmy and Gregoire. What more do I need?”

Stephanie clinks her wine glass to mine and follows me to the living room. We discover Reid has rolled his way over to the French doors that lead out to the patio, but now he’s stuck, and working himself up into a big cry. Stephanie picks him up and holds him close and kisses the top of his head where his gold hair swirls like the curl of an ice cream cone. She sniffs his hair, getting a fix from his sweet baby powder scent, just like I do. “God, how do you stand it? He’s so wonderful and amazing. I don’t think I could ever put him down.”

“Oh you would, when he’s screaming in the middle of night and you can’t figure out what’s wrong or he’s teething and inconsolable or spits up formula on your favorite silk blouse or pulls your gold chain from your neck and breaks it with one chubby-handed swipe.” I laugh. “Those are the times when you want to put him down, but you always want to pick him back up, too. He’s the best thing that ever happened to me. The best thing Evan and I ever did together.”

Steph hands him over with one last kiss. “He’s amazing, just like you, Jules.” She hesitates. “He looks just like him.”

“I know.” I try to hide the pain and joy that comes in seeing that in Reid every day. “I’m going to feed him and see if I can get him down. Just watch the timer. I’ll be back in fifteen. We’re all set.” Stephanie gets this vexed look as if I’m leaving her permanently. “You’ll be fine. I’ll be right back.” I falter, lost in a moment, in saying Evan’s last words to me.

I change Reid into pajamas and feed him his nighttime bottle. Together, we rock in the old-fashioned wooden rocker near the bedroom window where I stare out at Steph’s garden and absently hum a little tune while Reid plays with my fingers. He gives me a milky grin, when he finishes, but is still wide awake. I kiss each side of his face and he grabs fistfuls of my hair.

Muted sounds invade as I hear an approaching car as it comes to a stop, and then, two car doors opening and closing, one after the other, signaling a fourth guest for dinner. I catch my lower lip between my teeth, feeling sudden disquiet with the idea of someone else invading this safe haven. A few minutes later, I saunter into the living room with Reid in my arms and grin over at Christian, who is busy pouring brandy into four snifters.

“Well, he’s wide awake, so I guess he needs to see his Uncle Christian first,” I say.

“Bonjour, Julia,” Christian says easily.

He sets down his glass, comes over, and takes Reid from my arms. In the next minute, he holds my baby up in mi-air. Reid giggles.

“Bonjour, la petite enfant, Reid. Comme ca va?”

“
English,
Christian. How’s he going to learn English, if you only speak French to him?”

“It’s only right that his first word should be a French one,” Christian says with a laugh. He looks past me. “Jake, what do you think?”

I turn and find myself face-to-face with Jake Winston, who stands in the kitchen doorway right behind me. My pulse soars like a rocket.

“I think he should learn English, Christian.”

His lips twitch with a hint of a smile. He exudes this amazing sex appeal all over again with his rolled-up white dress shirt sleeves revealing his tanned forearms of golden brown hair as if he’s spent time in the sun. The persona of James Bond is back.

Only this time, I’m not stoned out of my mind, overindulging in painkillers, martinis, margaritas, or wine, or singing
Landslide
or Christmas carols or taking little white pills to battle grief, or even inappropriately draped in his arms at his place in Amagansett.

“Hello, Jake.” A formal greeting. I sound like I’ve just stepped out of a Jane Austen novel.

He looks confident as he extends his hand and I shake it with a practiced firm handshake. We act as if we’re doing a job interview with one another.

“Julia, you look…” The man seems intent on getting the word just right. “Fantastic.” His blue-eyed gaze takes in my skinny black jeans, the low-cut blue blouse, and my black stilettos.

I boldly return his gaze.
Steady now.

“How are you?” Jake asks.

“I’m doing fine. Absolutely fine,” I say.

“So, this is the surprise,” Stephanie says with a nervous laugh. She gives me the are-you-okay? look as Jake walks over to the bar and picks up one of the brandies Christian’s poured.

Christian looks over; he’s been playing with Reid on the Persian rug, completely oblivious to the rising tension in the room between his best friend and me.

“Jake flew in from London. He’s going to stay the weekend, so we can start working on the quarterly report for Hamilton Equities.”

And I should know this. I’m only the God damn chairman of the company.

“Great. Absolutely great,” I say with a practiced smile. Steph pulls me into the kitchen with her as I use the code word with the excuse of checking on dinner one last time, which is probably a good idea, since I’m chef for the evening.

“I didn’t know he was coming,” she says with a groan. “Christian should’ve warned us.”

“Not sure that would have helped. I’m fine. Really. Absolutely.” Steph looks uneasy. “Sorry. That word just tumbles out at the sight of him.”

“Absolutely,” Steph says with a laugh. “God, it’s hard to concentrate without just outright staring at him the whole night.”

“Watch it, Mrs. Chantal. You’re married.”

“Absolutely.” We both start to laugh.

≈ ≈

During dinner, the three of them ensue in back and forth banter about the nuances of Paris, London, and New York City, while I remain caught up in an inescapable flood of anxiety. I’m out of sorts, undone by the man, because seeing him again brings back all these intoxicating sensations I shouldn’t be feeling. Vivid memories come alive, the ones I harbor, in kissing him, almost kissing him, not kissing him, and just shaking his hand. I fight this raw hunger, this craving, in desiring to be unhinged and unchained from grief’s shackles for a while, to languish in the freedom of just feeling alive for a few minutes, just one more time.

It seems we’re at opposite ends of the emotional spectrum this evening. While I’m all but drowning in this inner raging current of want and need, he’s the stillness that is water and appears unbelievably tranquil. My covert observation of him asserts he seems different, in a good way. Perhaps, he’s more at ease because he’s not fighting with Savannah Bennett on a cell phone about the cancellation of their wedding or being seduced by the likes of me at his beach house. This last thought causes a new round of pandemonium to roil away inside of me.
Stop thinking about him. Stop staring at him. Just stop Julia.

His southern drawl charms me once again. I still the compulsion to put my hands over my ears to keep from hearing it, so I can quell this reverberating sensation inside of me that responds in just hearing his voice again.
What is wrong with me?
His accent becomes even more pronounced as he describes the things he likes about London. I attempt to converse with Stephanie about
Liaison
and give her the rundown on some of the clients I’ve been working with since my return, while Christian and Jake have a side conversation about the best places to ski in Europe. And, I’m trying to hang on to his every word like a school girl with her first crush.

“Kimberley wants me to think about running the team for Christian’s account,” I say to Stephanie.

“Take a promotion and everything. VP Client Relations.”

“That sounds great,” Stephanie says. “But, is that what you want to do?”

“That’s just it. I don’t know what I want. Do I put roots down here in Paris or not?” The two men have grown quiet; my conversation with Steph has been overheard. “Is Paris the best life for Reid?” I ask in the ensuing silence.

“Is that what you want? A life in Paris? For the long-term?” Jake asks.

I look over at him, disconcerted by his dubious tone. Somehow, my son has made his way around the table to Jake. He holds Reid in one arm, while he tries to eat with the other.