The Ring (43 page)

On the last afternoon before they left Paris, Brigitte took them to the Galerie G+!rard Goddard on the Faubourg-St.-Honor+!, and they wandered around it in wonder for more than an hour, admiring the Renoirs, the Picassos, the Faberg+! boxes, the priceless antique diamond bracelets, the little busts and statues. It really was extraordinary. Noel looked at Brigitte with sheer delight and pleasure as they left.

It's like a tiny museum, only better.

She nodded proudly. Papa has some nice things. It was rather a severe underestimation, and behind her Noel and Tammy smiled. It had been why her father had sent her to Radcliffe, hoping she would get a solid background in history and art, but Brigitte had other leanings, like football games and parties, med students, and grass. And at the end of two years of disaster, her father had brought her home to amuse herself more simply in France. At the moment she was talking vaguely about studying photography or making a film, but it was obvious that she had no burning ambitions, yet she was really a lot of fun. She was kind of a sprite that ran off madly in all directions, always amusing, but never lighting anywhere for very long. There was a restlessness about her that was rapidly becoming the mal du si+?cle.

The odd thing about her is that she never seems to grow up, Tammy mused about her as Noel shrugged.

I know. But some people just don't. Is her brother like that?

Yeah. Only more so.

How come? Noel looked puzzled.

I don't know, spoiled, maybe unhappy. I don't know. You have to see the parents to understand better. Mama is kind of a nasty Lady Bountiful, and her father is just very withdrawn, as though he's haunted by ghosts.

The flight to Nice only took a little over an hour, and Bernard Goddard was waiting for them at the gate. He was as fair and beautiful as his sister as he stood there barefoot, wearing a silk shirt and silk slacks. He had an air of being totally absent, as though he had been deposited there without his knowledge. He seemed to come to when his sister threw her arms around his neck. The large silver box of marijuana in the glove compartment of his Ferrari explained something about his vague aura.

But when pressed into conversation with Tammy and Noel, he seemed able to spring back to life.

I'm planning to come to New York in November. He smiled at them sweetly, and for an odd moment Noel had the feeling that he resembled photographs he'd seen somewhere a long time before. Will you be there then?

Yes, we will. Tammy answered for Noel.

You're going when? Brigitte looked at her brother in surprise.

November.

I thought that was when you were going to Brazil.

That's later, and I don't think I'll go to Brazil anyway; Mimi wants to go to Buenos Aires. Brigitte nodded as though it all made sense, and Tammy and Noel exchanged a silent look of awe. Somehow Tammy hadn't remembered them as quite that racy, and suddenly she wished they hadn't planned to stop at St.-Jean-Cap-Ferrat before driving on to Rome.

Do you want to leave tomorrow morning? Tammy whispered it to Noel as they followed the two into a huge French Provincial house.

Perfect. I'll tell them I have to see a client of the firm on the way. She nodded conspiratorially and they went on to their bedroom, a huge room with endless ceilings, an antique Italian bed, and a view that included a vast expanse of sea. The floor was a pale beige marble, and on the terrace was a wonderful antique sedan chair, in which Brigitte had conveniently left their phone.

Lunch was served downstairs in the garden, and despite their somewhat zany lives and plans, Brigitte and Bernard both managed to be fun. Knowing that they were leaving the next morning, Tammy and Noel felt better, less like prisoners in a strange science fiction colony, and more like guests.

But they felt a great deal more like guests that evening when they entered the formal dining room and Noel was introduced to Brigitte and Bernard's parents for the first time. Before him stood a somewhat heavyset but still strikingly beautiful woman with enormous flashing green eyes. She had a dazzling smile and long, lovely legs, but there was also something very tough about her. As though she were used to commanding, as though she had always run her own show. She was not particularly amused by her children, but she seemed to find Tammy and Noel charming, and she made a great effort to be a good hostess, overseeing everything, including her husband, who was a tall, handsome blond man with quiet, but sad, blue eyes. Again and again through the evening, Noel found himself drawn to the older man. It was almost as though he knew him, or had seen him, and eventually he decided that it was only because he looked so much like his son.

When at one point Madame Goddard took Tammy out of the drawing room after dinner to show her a small Picasso, G+!rard Goddard turned to Noel, and it was then that the American noticed his accent for the first time. It wasn't entirely like the others, not quite as rich or quite as French. For a moment Noel wondered if maybe he was Swiss or Belgian. He wasn't sure, but more than ever he was intrigued by the sorrow he could see amid the lines in the man's face.

When Tammy returned from her errand, the group began its aimless chatter once again, until Tammy put her hand on the table and the diamond signet ring sparkled in the candlelight. For an instant G+!rard Goddard stared at it and simply stopped midsentence. And then, without asking for permission, he reached for her hand, held it, and stared.

Pretty, isn't it, Papa? Brigitte was quick to admire the ring again, and Madame Goddard looked disinterested as she made conversation with her son.

It's lovely. Monsieur Goddard still held Tamm's hand in his own. May I see it? Slowly, she slipped it off and handed it to him with a smile.

It's my engagement ring from Noel.

Is it really? He stared at his young guest. Where did you get it? In America? He seemed to have a thousand questions.

From my mother. It was hers.

Really? For an instant G+!rard Goddard's eyes searched inward.

It has a long family history that she could tell you better than I could, if you ever come to New York.

Yes, yes ' He looked vague for a moment, and then smiled at his young friends. I do that sometimes I'd like to call her. And then, quickly, You know we've just opened a whole space for jewelry at the gallery. I'd be very interested in anything else she might have.

Noel smiled at him gently. The man was so persistent. In a way so desperate, and so sad. I don't think she'd sell anything, Monsieur Goddard, but she does have another of my grandmother's rings.

Really? His eyes were wide.

Yes. Tammy smiled at him. She has a fabulous emerald. She showed him with her fingers. About this size.

You really must tell me how to reach her.

Of course. Noel took out a pad and little silver pencil and began to write. He put down her address and phone number. I'm sure she'd be happy to hear from you whenever you're in New York.

Is she there this summer?

Noel nodded, and the older man smiled.

The conversation then moved on to other subjects, and at last it was time to go to bed. Tammy and Noel wanted to retire early so that they would be fresh for their long drive the next day. They were going to rent a car in Cannes and leave from there. And Brigitte and Bernard had a party to go to, which they insisted wouldn't even start till twelve or one o'clock. So in a moment only G+!rard and his wife were left in the salon, staring at each other and what remained of their life.

You're not starting again with that nonsense, are you? As she looked at him in the soft light from the candles, her voice was harsh. I saw you with the ring the girl was wearing.

It would be a good piece for the gallery, if her mother-in-law has others. I have to be in New York anyway this week.

You do? She looked at him with suspicion. What for? You hadn't mentioned it before.

There's a collector selling a very fine Renoir. I want to see him before he officially puts it up for sale. At that she nodded wisely. Whatever his failings as a man, he had certainly done well for the gallery, better than her father had ever dreamed, which was why eventually she had let G+!rard change the gallery's name to his own. But it had been an arrangement from the beginning, when they'd taken him in, given a home, a job, and then an education in the world of art. It was when she and her father had escaped to Zurich during the war.

They had met him then, given him shelter, employment, and a home. And when they'd gone back to Paris when the war was over, they'd brought him along. And by then Giselle was pregnant and the old man had not given G+!rard any choice. But in the end it was he who had prevailed over the two wily Parisians, he who had learned the m+!tier so well that he had made the gallery a huge success. And as for Giselle, it didn't matter. For twenty-four years now, he'd played the part. They had given him what he wanted, a home, a life, success, money, and the means he needed for his search. But it was the search that had kept him going for all these years.

For twenty-seven years now he'd been looking for his father and his sister, and he had known long since that he would never find them. Still, he kept on looking, when he thought he had a lead to something, when someone thought they knew someone who ' He had made over sixty trips to Berlin. And it was all fruitless. Useless. In his heart G+!rard knew that they were gone. If they weren't, he would have found them or they would have found him. His name was not so different. From Gerhard von Gotthard, he had become G+!rard Goddard. But to wear the name of a German after the war in France had been to invite ridicule, assault, anger, beatings. After a while he had been unable to take it anymore. It had been the old man's idea to change his name, and at the time it seemed a wise one. Now, after all these years, he was more French than German. And it didn't matter. Nothing did. His dreams were gone.

Sometimes he wondered what he would have done if he had found them. What, in reality, would it have changed? In his heart he knew that it would have changed everything for him. He would have had the courage finally to leave Giselle, and maybe even take his children more firmly in hand and maybe even sell the gallery and enjoy his money for a change. He smiled at the endless options, knowing secretly that to find them would be not the end, but the beginning of his whole life's dream.

The next morning Tammy and Noel said good-bye to Brigitte and her brother, and just before they left, G+!rard Goddard came hurriedly downstairs. He looked deep into the eyes of Noel, wondering if ' but that was crazy ' he couldn't be ' but maybe this Mrs. Max Thomas would know ' it was a kind of madness G+!rard Goddard had lived with for almost thirty years.

Thank you so much, Mr. Goddard.

Not at all, Noel ' Tamara ' we hope to see you here again. He said nothing of the address they had given him, but simply waved as they shouted their good-byes again and drove way.

I like your friends from New York, Brigitte. He smiled at his daughter warmly and for once she returned the smile. He had always been so vague, so distant, so unhappy. It had made him an absentee father all her life.

I like them too, Papa. They're very nice. She watched him then as he walked pensively back toward his bedroom, and later that morning she heard him on the phone to Air France. She wandered casually into his bedroom. Her mother was already out. Are you going somewhere, Papa?

He nodded slowly. Yes, New York. Tonight.

Business? He nodded. Could I come with you? He was startled as he watched her. Suddenly she looked almost as lonely as he. But this was one trip he had to make without her. Maybe next time ' if '

How about if I take you with me next time? This is going to be a little rocky. Kind of a tight deal I'm making. And I don't think I'll be gone for long.

She eyed him quietly from the bedroom door. Will you really take me next time, Papa?

He nodded slowly, awed that she would ask him.

Yes, I will.

* * *

He was vague when he talked to Giselle later that morning. And then he went quietly back to his room and packed his bag. He didn't plan to be gone for more than a day or two, scarcely longer. And after hastily kissing Giselle and the children, he hurried to the airport to make the flight. His long stride allowed him to reach the gate in time, and the flight went from Nice to Paris and then directly to New York. From Kennedy he took a taxi, and then with trembling hands he had the cab stop at a phone booth very near to her address.

Mrs. Thomas?

Yes.

I'm afraid you don't know me, but my daughter is a friend of Tammy's .

Is something wrong? She was suddenly frightened but her voice held nothing familiar for the man who listened. It was probably another wild-goose chase. He had been on so many before.

No, not at all. He was quick to reassure her. They went to Italy this morning and everything was fine. I just thought ' I had some business to do here ' a Renoir ' and I was so impressed with your daughter-in-law's ring. She mentioned that you had another, an emerald, and I had a spare moment, I thought ' He faltered, wondering why he had come all this distance.

My emerald ring is not for sale.

Of course, of course. I understand that, Poor man. He sounded so boyish and so shy. She realized then that this was probably the G+!rard Goddard Tammy had mentioned and suddenly Ariana felt bad about being so unwelcoming and unkind.

But if you'd just like to see it, perhaps you'd like to come over in a little while?

I'd like that very much, Mrs. Thomas ' Half an hour? That would be fine."He didn't even have a hotel room; all he had was a taxi and a suitcase, and he still had to waste another half hour. He had the driver drive him around in circles, up Madison Avenue and down Fifth and finally into the park. And then at last it was time to meet her. With trembling knees, he got out of the cab.

Do you want me to wait here? The cabbie offered. The fare was already forty dollars. Hell, why not? But the Frenchman shook his head, handed the man a fifty-dollar bill he had changed at the airport, and took his briefcase and his bag. He rang the doorbell beside the brass knocker and waited for what seemed like a very long time. His well-cut gray suit hung well on his thin frame and he was wearing a dark blue Dior tie; his white shirt looked sadly crumpled from the trip, and his shoes were handmade in London, like his shirts. But for all the expensive trappings, G+!rard felt like a very young boy again, waiting for a father who never would return.