Chapter 19

19

M ax showed up at the café fifteen minutes late. He stood at the entrance, his eyes blinking in the poor lighting. Jean sat to the right of the small round table with anempty espresso cup, hooded eyes fixed on Max and a lit cigarette poised in his hand.

Max finally spotted him. He moved unhurriedly to the chair at the left of the table and threw his book-bag on the floor. With deliberate movements, he took out a cigarette, tapped it on the package and lit up, exhaling before he spoke.

“Okay, I’m here.”

Jean stared at him until he penetrated Max’s armor of confidence—the chink that was his youth. “Don’t be late again,” was all Jean said.

He stood, threw a couple of euro coins on the table and said, “Come,” without a backwards glance. Max slammeddown the menu, grabbed his bag, and followed his dubious mentor. When they were on the street, Jean led the way over the crosswalk into the Jardin des Tuilieries , where there were plenty of people, and just as many empty spaces to talk.

Climbing onto a park bench, Jean sat on the back of it, his feet planted on the seat. Max did likewise. “So? What happened.” Jean lit another cigarette.

“I was able to get the money again, so he won'thave it. What are you going to do to him?”

Jean ignored the question. “Did he ask you about it?”

“No, why would he?” Max answered with hostility. “He doesn’t suspect me. I mean, the guy doesn’t have a clue. I don’t know why you insist on using him when I would do a much better job.”

Jean took a drag on his cigarette. When he spoke, Max felt the hair stand up on the back of his neck. “Drop the attitude, kid. I know all about your ambition. I was you not all that long ago. Now. Give me half of what you stolelikewe agreed.”

Max played with the strap on his bag while staring at the ground. Finally, he reached into the side-pocket of his jacket and took out a wad of cash, handing it over without looking. “It’s all there.”

Jean counted it. “I’m sure it is.” When he flicked the last bill, his gaze went to Max. “I need Louis for a little longer to serve my own purposes. When I’m done with him, I’ll need someone with more balls. If you drop the attitude, it’ll be you. If not, I’ll find someone else.”

Max exhaled, and contemplated the blue sky. He thought about where he would be if he were no longer ableto provide the other kids the drugs he had promised. He swallowed his bileandnodded. “I’ll wait to hear from you.”

“Smart kid.” Jean climbed off the park bench, dusted the seat of his pants, and sauntered off. Max waited until he was sure he wasn't looking, then gave him the finger.

* * *

Chastity didn’t know why she was so nervous to go to the museum exhibit. She put on neutral lip-gloss and leaned close to the mirror, puckering her lips. “Your lips are kissable”—words that came back to her unbidden. Marc had told her that before he kissed her for the first time, and itwas one of the few good memories she had of that time.

The front of her hair was clipped back, and the rest fell in large ringlets to the middle of her back, partially covering the royal-blue, low-backed dress she was wearing. Swiveling to the side, she admired the way the pleats of the dress accentuated her curves. She shook her hands nervously and padded out of the bathroom in stocking feet.

Her mother wore a modest beige dress with a blazer. Her face was unadorned, but her eyes were merry. “You look lovely, Chastity. It’s so nice to see you dressed up.”

“Thanks, Mom. I guess we should go.” Chastity bent down to slip into her high heels. “I’m glad the car’s fixed so we can drive. There’s a parking lot there.” She reached for her navy wool coat, which belted in the middle, and grabbed her car keys and clutch. “Do you think Tommy is all right?”

“Thomas is fine, dear. He’s sleeping, and the nurses are there.” Her mother walked to the elevator at a sedate pace.

The air was crisp and cold under the starless night sky. As Chastity parked the car, they could see streams of people pouring into the lit museum, and they were greeted at the door with live jazz music.

The museum was built with old stones and bricks, its tall windows comprisingsmall, irregular squares of hand-blown glass. There were exposed wooden beams on the ceilings, and worn squares of stone on the floor. Music floated from one of the rooms upstairs, and people were milling through the large gallery graced with elegant paintings. All the canvaseswere of still life, with the exception of two portraits.

There was a series of paintings of comice pears, and next to that were arrangements of fruit and vegetables—watermelon ripped apart with red jagged edges, and onions shedding their outer layers onto a shiny tabletop. Chastity crossed to the adjacent wall with paintingsof kitchen counters with mason jars and water pitchers. Each painting was breathtaking in its cerulean color scheme and realistic detail.

Chastity heard Charles’s voice behind her, and she turned. He was in mid-conversation when he saw her, and he abruptly stopped speaking and took a step forward, his face lighting up with a boyish grin. The gentleman next to him looked startled, and glanced from his face to hers. She hardly had time to register any of this when another man clasped the viscount’s shoulder.

“Charles,” the man called out pompously—in English—as he reached out his other hand to shake. Charles had stepped back slightly, and his profile was visible to Chastity, revealing hardened features. Although she felt she should move away from what did not concern her, she could not.

Charles returned the handshake stiffly, speaking in chilly accents. “I’m surprised to see you here. I assume Manon has told you about the exhibit?”

“We came together. She’s here.” The Englishman gave a forced laugh, swiveling his robust frame to try and catch sight of her in the crowd. “She said you'd be happy to see us and maybe you could show us around your castle later.”

Charles answered in a cold voice. “I regret that I’m unable to at present. If you wish to make an appointment with my business manager, I’m sure he can find the time to show you the chateau. And now I must—”

“These paintings are magnificent,” the man interrupted, gesturing around the room. “I’ll be buying a couple to put in my country house.”

“This,” Charles replied, seemingly with effort, “is a museum exhibit. The works are not for sale. I’ll put you in touch with the artist’s manager, and you can make arrangements with him. Now if you’ll excuse me—”

“Charles, darling.” Manon came up in a cloud of Poison by Dior, her red lipstick matching the beads sewn into the lining of her white dress. Her blond pixie cut was nothing short of elegant, and her diamond earrings glittered as she moved. Chastity focused on the paintings in front of her again. She heard the actress say, “I couldn’t wait to surprise you. Isn’t it wonderful that Bruce could join me?”

Chastity’s mother sidled up to her, and whispered, “You’re right. His face can change in an instant if he doesn’t like someone.”

“Oh, he likes her all right," she muttered, pulling her mother towards the exit."Manon Duprey is his…Let’s go, Mom. I don’t even know why I came.”

“We can do that, of course, sweetie—if you wish to. Oh, but look. There’s Elizabeth. Let's go and say hello before we leave.” Her mother had met both Elizabeth Mercer and Maude during their visits to the hospital to see Thomas. She steered Chastity over to where Elizabeth was standing.

“Chastity,” exclaimed Elizabeth in a rich, warm voice. “How wonderful to see you out. And you look…beautiful.” She shook her head back and forth, as if amazed by the vision before her. “Are you behind this?” Elizabeth winked at Chastity’s mother—two conspirators.

Sherri smiled. “No, it was Dr. de Brase who invited us. He thought I might like to see some of the town since we’ve been spending most of our time at the hospital.”

Elizabeth raised her eyebrows. “So you see Charles at the hospital then. He told me he would only be working there for a week.”

“We used to,” Chastity said, quietly, “but not so much anymore. It was thoughtful of him to invite us when he’s got so much going on. Mom—Elizabeth, my mother and Iwere just leaving.”

“Oh no, no. You’re not leaving until you have some of the hors d’oeuvres with Maude, Michel and me. They’re holding a table and there are a couple of extra seats.” In a tone that brooked no argument, Elizabeth gestured for Chastity’s mother to lead the way. “How do you find Thomas, Sherri?”

Chastity’s mother spoke over her shoulder as she climbed the stairs. “He does seem to be improving rapidly. The doctor thinks he can come home soon with full-time care.”

Elizabeth turned to Chastity as they rounded the stairwell. “That sounds like good news. Does that mean, then, that you’ll be caring for him full-time?”

“Well…” Chastity chewed her lip. “I did want to talk to you about that. If our mutuelle covers it, I think I’d like to take advantage of having a specialist come and work with him while I’m teaching—handle his physical therapy and all that. In some ways, I feel out of my depth with him. I’m afraid I’m not the best one to help him overcome the challenges. I just want to be there to love him.”

“Hm.” With a grace inherent to her, Elizabeth faced Chastity’s mother at the top of the stairs. “You know your daughter and grandson better than anyone else. Do you think it’s a good idea?”

“When Chastity first told me about her plan, I'll admit I wasn’t keen.” She considered her daughter kindly. “But if she can get home by late afternoon each day and have someone to share the burden of his moods and struggles, I can’t think of anything better. I think Chastity has a good deal of foresight to know her limits.”

Elizabeth nodded. “That’s exactly what I think.” Then gesturing forward, “We’re in here.”

The jazz music grew louder as they entered the spacious room, well lit with chandeliers. The wait staff was circulating with plates of champagne and hors d’oeuvres, and Chastity glanced at the table nearest her. “Oh no,” she groaned.

“What?” Her mother looked around, perplexed, as Chastity scanned the room. “My dress is the exact color of the tablecloths,” she hissed. It was true. Apart from the usual touches of white, all the tables were covered withroyal blue linen, and all the decorations had royal blue accents.

Maude spotted them at the entrance, and as if sensing her friend's panic, rushed over. “Bonsoir, Chastity. You’re here.” She pecked her on the cheeks and grabbed her hand. Chastity’s mother followed them to the table. “Michel this is Chastity’s mom, Sherri Whitmore.”

“ Enchanté ,” He rose and greeted the older ladywith two kisses.

On the opposite end of the room, Manon walked through the arched doorway, followed by an entourage of men that included Charles de Brase. His face was stony, as he listened to the gentleman he had been talking to earlier—a man who looked out of place next to the viscount with his orange spiked hair, black leather, and hoop earring. Manon was radiant in her white gown and blond hair, set off beautifully in a sea of blue. Chastity sunk into her chair, cheeks burning.

“So I’ve got five guys who’ll mingle with the guests,” Jef said, “and they'll keep an eye on whatever’s going on in the room.I think that’s where there’s most likely to beaction.They’re well trained and will be a good complement to the officers.” Charles nodded, offering no reply.

They stood at the table nearest the door, with Manon talking and gesturing to an enamored young man with red ears. Jef watched them before asking with nonchalance. “So. Who was that beautiful young lady in the gallery downstairs?”

Charles’s reverie was broken. He glanced at Manon then back to Jef. “Oh, that’s…it’s, uh, Louis’s English teacher. Her son was hit by a car, and I was the neurosurgeon on call.”

“Was he all right?”

Charles nodded absently. “So far, yes. He's come out of his coma.”

“Good.” Jef gave a keen look. “I mean, I knowyou don’t have eyes for anyone but Manon—what hot-blooded man could? But this woman—” He waited, questioning.

“Chastity Whitmore,” supplied Charles.

“—Mademoiselle Whitmore,” Jef resumed, “seems charming.”

Charles ignored that comment and spoke with quiet deliberation. “As far as I'm concerned, things are over withManon. I didn’t invite her here tonight, and the only reason I haven’t ended things is because I’ve promised to accompany her to the opening of her movie, and it would humiliate her if I pulled out when all the mediahas talked about us going together.”

“Ever the gentleman,” Jef said, drily.

“You should try it sometime.”

“Ah, Charles.” Jef shook his head. “What are we going to do with you?”

“Take Manon off my hands.” Charles’s face was grim.“You’re a hot-blooded man.”

“Sorry, old friend. I only have eyes for Adelaide. And—there she is.” His friend walked off without ceremony towards Charles'ssister, and more out of curiosity than anything else, Charles followed him.

“Adelaide,” Jef whispered, worshipfully, taking both her hands in his and reaching up to kiss her on the cheeks. He was almost a full head shorter. “What do we need to do to get rid of this guy?” He jerked his head back towards Charles.

“Jean-Fran?ois.” Adelaide’s low voice was filled with mirth. “What makes you think I want my brother to leave?”

“Why, so we can talk privately, of course. So I can ask you to accompany me to the spring ball that’ll be held atthe chateau.”

“Ah.” Adelaide’s eyes twinkled as she extricated her hands from her adorer. Although her brother’s best friend had been perfectly respectful from the time she was married to when she was widowed, his life-long crush on her was an established thing. “Charlie, will you kindly tell your friend that he is much too young for me?” She added with a tinkling laugh, “as much as he flatters me.”

Just then, Charles saw Chastity whisper to her mother, grab her coat and stand. “Tell him yourself.” He left them abruptly and made a beeline for Chastity.

" Mais — c’est qui ?a ?" he heard his sister asking in hushed tones.

When the viscount made his way across the room, Chastity found that she could, indeed, blush even more deeply than she already was. She was kicking herself for entertaining hopes, kicking herself for coming, and was furious that her mother was moving with exasperating slowness.

“Chastity,” Charles called out, stopping short when he noticedeveryone’s eyes on him. “Would you…like to see the paintings?”

She tried to slow her heart rate. “I have seen them. They’re wonderful. We were just on our way…”

“Let me introduce you to the artist.” He put his hand on her elbow and nodded to the rest of the table as he steered her towards the doorway. Chastity was thankful her friends didn’t say anything embarrassing before they were out of earshot. “The artist is in the gallery down these stairs.” Charles still had his hand on Chastity’s arm, and he dropped it suddenly.

When they reached the bottom of the stairwell, he escorted her into the nearest room—a small alcove where the Cézannes were hanging. There was a tall, lanky gentleman talking to someone in the archway that led to the main gallery.

Anelderly lady was takingher leave as Charles walked up with Chastity. He gave the introductionsin English. “Mr. Mooers, this is Miss Whitmore. She’s also from New York.”

“Chastity,” she said in a friendly voice, taking his hand.

“Randall. Where in New York are you from?”

“I grew up on 85th and Lexington.”

“We’re on 77th and Lex. Vivi.” He signaled to an Asian woman who was crossing the room with twoglasses of champagne. “This is my wife, Vivienne.”

Chastity peered at her intently for a moment, and then at one of the two portraits hanging to the right. “The portrait,” she said expressively, pointing at the obvious likeness.

“It’s from when we first met.” The petite womangave a reminiscent smile. “I was at a café and he walked up and asked if he could paint me.” Chastity went over to examine the portrait more closely, and Vivienne followed her while the gentlemen stayed behind in conversation.

Chastity saw another couple approach the artist. “Tell your husband I love his work.” She examined the perfection of his brushstrokes. “I don’t know why, but every painting isso cheerful. They make me happy.”

“I’ll tell him.” Vivienne brushed Chastity's arm thenfloated over to her husband's side and turned her attention to the gentleman who was speaking. Charleschose that moment to leavethe group and walk over to Chastity.

Chastity had moved to the large doorway that led to the main hallway where the exit was, her hands shoved low in her coat pockets. Charles stoodat her side, and she felt heat coming from him—or maybe the heat was from her. He leaned towards her, and shecaught a waft of aftershave with wood undertones. “I’m glad you were able to make it.” His blue eyes searched hers.

“Me too. It’s been awhile since I’ve gone anywhere besides the hospital and my apartment.” Her voice died down, and suddenly there was a total sense of calm as the noises and distractions of the room faded. Though they hadn’t moved, she felt a pull towards him. His eyes were on hers, and the corners of his mouth turned up as the silence stretched. Her own dimples started to form, and she took a breath to speak.

“Charles!” Serenityscreeched to a halt with one word. The viscount’s face grew unreadable again, and he inspected the wall beyond her instead of addressing the speaker. It was as if he were trying to garnerhis patience. Chastity’s mother followed in Manon Duprey’s wake, wearing her winter coat. She could have kissed her mom for showing up just then.

“It’s my mother.” She gave a tiny shrug. “We have to go now.”

Charles held her gaze. “But I’ll see you again soon?” He took a step towards her.

Chastity fought off the crushing sadness. Why am I letting myself get drawn in? He will never choose me. She gave a tight smile. “Maybe I’ll see you at the hospital.”