Roxy’s Story (27 page)

I was lost in my memories until I heard the phone ring, and moments later, Margery
returned to tell me Mrs. Brittany was calling. I got up quickly and went to the phone
by the bed.

“Hello.”

“Are you settled in? Did my godson take good care of you?”

“Oh, yes. You didn’t tell me he was your godson.”

“It wasn’t necessary to tell you,” she said sharply. She wasn’t someone who accepted
any criticism easily.

“He’s returning to join me for dinner,” I said, to make sure she would approve.

“Good. You just relax and forget about the situation for now. I’ll call you if there
are any other significant developments.”

“How’s Sheena?” I asked quickly, sensing that she was about to hang up. “Did you explain?”

“She’s fine. She understands. I’m taking her to the clinic for her annual review,
anyway, and then seeing about a new prosthetic leg. Don’t worry. She’ll be occupied.
Worry about yourself for now,” she ordered. “I’ll check up on you from time to time.
You’re in good hands there.”

“Okay, thank you.”

I guess my small voice caught her rarely felt sense of compassion.

“Everyone here sends you his or her best. You have made a very good impression, Roxy.”

“Thank you.”

“Yes, but let’s not veer from our course, not now,” she warned. “Be careful.”

“I will.”

When I hung up, Margery brought me my glass of wine and some cheese and crackers.
I returned to the patio and sat for nearly an hour before I felt my eyes
closing. Moments later, I was in my new bed and fast asleep.

Fortunately, people on the Côte d’Azur didn’t eat dinner until eight or nine, especially
during the summer, when daylight lasted so long. I didn’t wake up until seven and
then leaped out of bed to shower and dress. I wore a simple off-the-shoulder peasant
dress. It was still quite warm, but I could feel the temperature moderating as the
sun began to drift toward the horizon. The patios all faced northwest, so I imagined
there would be wonderful sunsets.
Stop feeling sorry for yourself, Roxy Wilcox
. Few fugitives had as wonderful a hideout, I told myself.

When I went down, I found that Margery had set up a cocktail table on the main patio.
Ian assumed the role of waiter. He was dressed in a pair of black slacks, a white
shirt, and a black vest. There was a bottle of champagne in a bucket at the center
of the table.

“
Bonsoir, mademoiselle
.” He nodded at the champagne. “A welcome gift from Monsieur Norbert.”

Moments later, the doorbell rang, and Ian went to let Norbert in. Accompanying him
was a younger man with light brown hair styled almost the same way as Norbert’s and
a well-trimmed goatee. He had a firmer, more athletic build and was a few inches shorter
than Norbert. His features weren’t as perfect, but I thought he was handsome in a
more rugged way.

“
Bonsoir
, Roxy,” Norbert said. “I’d like you to meet my good friend, Paul Lamont. Yes, of
the Lamont cosmetics line,” he added before I could ask.

“Do you have to embarrass me instantly?” Paul
asked him. “
Enchanté
,” he said, turning back to me and taking my hand to kiss. “You’ll find that Norbert
enjoys having his friends at a bit of a disadvantage.”

“It’s hardly a disadvantage to be part of the Lamont cosmetics line,” I said. His
smile widened.

“Ah, finally someone you can’t confuse,” Paul told him.

“Thank you for the champagne,” I said to Norbert. “Shall we?”

I led them out to the patio, where Ian was opening the bottle.

“I had forgotten what a view you have here,” Paul said. “I was here once before with
Norbert to meet Mrs. Brittany.”

“Breathtaking,” I said.

“Save your breath. There are many breathtaking places to visit on the Côte d’Azur.”

“Norbert should be in public relations. I know no one who can do a better job of selling
the Riviera to first-time visitors,” Paul said.

“Does it need anyone to sell it?” Norbert said.

Ian handed us each a glass.

“Thank you, Ian,” I said.

“Let’s toast to what I hope will be the beginning of a memorable visit,” Norbert said.

“How could it be otherwise?” I replied.

Paul’s smile widened, his eyes brightening with an almost childlike delight. We sipped
our champagne, and then we all sat.

“Norbert seems to know nothing about you,” Paul
said. “Or else, he refuses to reveal anything. You’re a young woman of mystery.”

“Do you like that idea, a woman of mystery?”

“Oh, yes.”

“Then why ruin it with my telling you too much?” I asked.

Norbert roared. Paul looked lost for a moment and then laughed, too.

“Okay. We’ll bore you to death by talking only of ourselves,” he told me.

They did, but I wasn’t bored. Paul had recently graduated from the Sorbonne, where
he earned a dual degree in economics and tax strategy. It was clear from the way he
described his youth and his education that his family had a great deal to do with
whatever choices he made.

“Like a prince being schooled in what is necessary for him to rule a kingdom, my friend
is being groomed to be CEO of Lamont Enterprises,” Norbert said.

Paul didn’t deny it. He seemed resigned to the fact that his life had been prearranged.

“Even down to whom he will eventually marry,” Norbert added with a slight twist of
his lips.

“My family is quite old-school,” Paul offered in explanation. “My parents’ marriage
was prearranged, but both claim it worked out perfectly.”

“And your father has no interests on the side?” Norbert teased.

“I didn’t say that, but maybe that’s what makes his marriage perfect.”

Norbert laughed. I was astonished at how honest
they were being about themselves, especially with someone they had just met who wasn’t
being the least forthcoming about her own life and past. It wasn’t long before an
instinctive feeling about Norbert was confirmed. He was gay. His partner was busy
tonight, so he had brought Paul. I didn’t have a chance to find this overwhelming.
All of it came too fast, one thing after another, before I could react. But our dinner
was wonderful, with both of them entertaining me. Afterward, we had some ice wine
from Germany, a very expensive wine that I knew.

We sat talking on the patio. Yachts and smaller boats dazzled us with their lights,
which sometimes looked like stars that had fallen into the sea. Way off on the horizon,
I could see the ghostlike silhouette of a barge, and later, we saw another ocean liner
all lit up.

“It’s heading for Barcelona, I’ll bet,” Norbert said.

“Have you been on a cruise?” Paul asked me.

“No.”

“A yacht?”

I shook my head.

“Well, maybe we can arrange for that this coming week. My family’s yacht is in Monte
Carlo.”

“I thought your social calendar was full this month, and tonight was your only free
night,” Norbert told him.

“Yes, it was,” he replied, keeping his eyes on me. “But that was before you brought
me here.”

“I see. Be careful, Roxy. He’s a heartbreaker. That was really his major at the Sorbonne.”

“I’ve racked up a few of those myself,” I said, and they both laughed.

It all seemed so incredible when I considered how quickly I had traveled, not only
from New York to southern France but from the roach hotel to an elegant villa to be
entertained by sophisticated wealthy men. I was confident that I was more than holding
my own with every topic, too, every bit of repartee.

Suddenly, it occurred to me that this could be Mrs. Brittany’s way of testing me in
the field. I wondered again how much Norbert really knew about her business and especially
my upcoming role in it. Was Paul telling the truth when he said that Norbert knew
almost nothing about me? It was difficult to know how I should behave, what I should
say, and, most important, what I should agree to do with either of them. Decisions
weighed me down.

“You look like you’re falling asleep,” Norbert said. “Paul, let’s let her catch up.”

“Okay, but only if she agrees to my helping you show her around,” he said.

“Why wouldn’t I agree? Two for the price of one?”

They both laughed. I walked them to the door.

“
Bonne nuit
,” Paul said. He kissed me on the cheek. Norbert did the same.

I watched them walk to the car, and then I closed the door and hurried up to my room.
I felt as if I would fall asleep on my feet if I didn’t get into bed soon. It was
a comfortable bed, and despite all that had happened so quickly to bring me there,
I was feeling good about it now. I had really enjoyed my dinner
with Paul and Norbert, and I was looking forward to doing all the things they had
suggested. I was confident that even if this was another one of Mrs. Brittany’s tests,
I would come through it with flying colors.

Yes, how far I had come.

Smother any regrets or second thoughts,
I told myself. There was no turning back for me now.

Margery woke me when she brought me a cup of wonderful French café au lait, a small
orange juice, a croissant, and jam.

“To start you off,
petit déjeuner
,” she said.

“Yes, I know. My mother still sees this as breakfast.”

“Oh, your mother is French, then?”

“Yes.”

She smiled. Even though I could see that she was bubbling over with questions, she
kept her curiosity chained. She must have cared for other guests of Mrs. Brittany,
perhaps other Brittany girls. Maybe even Portia or Camelia had been here. I was sure
she knew how Mrs. Brittany felt about gossip.

“I looked in on you twice,” she said. “I didn’t want to wake you, but I thought you
might want to be up by now. It’s nearly noon.”

“Is it? I haven’t slept this late for months, maybe years,” I said, sitting up.

She placed the tray on the bed table and rolled it over. Then, without my asking,
she placed a second
pillow behind me so I could be more comfortable sitting up. I certainly didn’t mind
being pampered, not after what I had been through.

“There now. Comfy, are you?”

“Yes, thank you, Margery.”

“I can make you eggs and ham, if you’d like.”

“This will do fine for now. Thank you, Margery.”

“My pleasure. Just call if you need anything else,” she said, then hesitated a moment
as if she was deciding on another question to ask, thought wiser of it, and left.

I sighed and looked around at my cozy, bright, and warm room. I hadn’t noticed the
pastel painting of two little girls building a sand castle on the beach and the embossed
pewter candleholders on the walls. When I finished my
petit déjeuner
, I pushed the table aside and sprawled out again, letting myself sink into the soft
mattress and oversize pillows. After months of training and education at Mrs. Brittany’s
estate, this sort of lazy day was wonderful. There was no phone ringing to wake me
up, no one pouncing on me to move quickly and not keep someone waiting.

I deliberately took a lot more time doing everything. By the time I started downstairs,
it was nearly one-thirty in the afternoon. Ian was working on the grounds, cutting
grass and trimming bushes. Margery, after bringing me some of her homemade lemonade
out on the patio and asking me if I wanted anything else, went up to do my room.

It wasn’t as warm as yesterday, I thought, but the sky didn’t have a cloud in it.
Brittany girls were
forbidden to get too much sun. Our tans, if we were to have any, were to come from
creams. Claudine Laffette had told me that Mrs. Brittany expected her girls to look
young and beautiful well through their early forties. Early wrinkles were as deadly
for us as they were for vampires who realized they were reaching the end of their
so-called immortality. Mrs. Brittany’s skin was still youthful-looking, although she
had surely had some plastic surgery, and she did use certain skin creams and treatments.
I had some of her latest newly developed miracle creams in my makeup bag with instructions.

“You’re never too young to worry about that sort of thing,” she had told me. “Get
into the right habits now, and you’ll be happy about it later.”

By now, I was feeling like all the others under her command. I would probably walk
over hot coals if she told me it was necessary.

I sprawled on a chaise in the shade and sipped a glass of Margery’s cool natural lemonade.
She left the radio on for me. After all the tension during the last thirty-six hours,
it felt wonderful to continue just drifting and relaxing. I had nearly fallen asleep
again when I heard the doorbell. Margery hurried to see who it was, and I sat up,
listening.

Moments later, Paul Lamont appeared on the patio. He wore a light blue short-sleeved
shirt and light blue pants and was sockless in blue boat shoes. His hair was as perfect
as it had been last night. Everyone always looked different in the daytime, I thought.
Imperfections were always more visible, but if anything, he looked even more handsome
today.