Crossings (4 page)

Two years after that they left London. Armand was reassigned as Ambassador to Washington. It was the first time in five years that Liane would be living back in the United States. It was an exciting time for them both, filled with the prospect of an important post for Armand and lots of responsibility for Liane, and the only thing that marred it was the fact that Liane lost a baby, this time a little boy, shortly after their arrival in the States. It had been a rough crossing, and she had had a hard time from the first. But aside from that, the years in Washington were a time they both remembered fondly, filled with spectacular dinners at the Embassy, glittering evenings amongst heads of state, nights at the White House, and acquaintances with important politicians who filled their lives with interesting events and fascinating friendships. It was a time they would miss now, and it seemed as though it were ending much too quickly. It was hard to believe that the Washington years had already come to a close. They would both miss their friends, as would their daughters. Marie-Ange and Elisabeth were respectively nine and seven now, and they had never known schools other than those in Washington. Armand had already made arrangements for them in Paris, and they both spoke perfect French, but still it would be a big change for them. And with a war possibly coming in Europe, God alone knew what would be in store. Armand had already discussed that possibility with Liane, and if anything happened, he planned to send the three of them back to the States. Liane could stay with her uncle in San Francisco, in her father's old house, and at least he would know that they were safe there. But for the moment, that didn't enter the picture. For the time being, as much as one could know that sort of thing, Armand knew that there would be peace in France, though of course there was no way of knowing for how long.

At present he had to ready the Embassy for his replacement, and he turned his attention back to the work on his desk, and it was almost ten o'clock when he looked up again. He stood up at his desk and stretched. He had been feeling so old lately, despite Liane's amorous protests, but at fifty-six he had led a very full life.

He locked the door to his office behind him, bidding good night to the two guards posted in the hall. And then he inserted his key in the lock of the private elevator at the rear that would take him to their apartments, and he stepped in with a tired smile and a sigh. It was always good to get home to Liane after a day's work, even after all these years. She was a wife any man would be lucky to even dream of having. She had been devoted and understanding and patient and humorous and loving for all of their ten years. As the elevator reached the fourth floor it ground to a halt, and he opened the door into the ornate marble hall that led to his study, their large paneled living room, and their dining room, and he could smell something delicious still being prepared in the kitchen beyond. And as he glanced up the marble staircase to the top floor, he saw her, still as lovely as she had been ten years before, her blond hair in a handsome pageboy on her shoulders, her blue eyes unlined, and her skin as fresh as it had been the first time he had seen her in his garden at fifteen. She was a rare beauty, and he cherished every moment with her, although these days the moments they shared were fewer than they had been in a long time, he was so damnably busy.

“Hello, my love.” She slid her arms around his neck as she reached the bottom of the stairs, nuzzling his neck in the way she had for the past ten years, and as it always did, the gesture warmed him to his very soul.

“How was your day, or shouldn't I ask?” He smiled down at her, proud of her, still proud that she was his. She was a beauty, and a rare, rare gem.

“I think I've almost finished packing. You won't recognize our bedroom when you come upstairs.”

“Will you be in it?” His eyes danced as he looked at his wife, even after his long day.

“Of course.”

“Then that's all I want to recognize. How are the girls?”

“They miss you.” They hadn't seen their father in four days.

“We'll make up for lost time next week on the ship.” He smiled at Liane. “Our reservations were reconfirmed today, and”—the smile widened—“I have quite a surprise for you,
chérie
. The gentleman who had reserved one of the four Grand Luxe suites has had to cancel, because his wife was taken ill. Which means …” He seemed almost to be waiting for a drumroll as Liane laughed and took his arm to escort him into the dining room. “It means that as a courtesy to this tired old returning Ambassador, we are being given one of the
Normandie's
four most luxurious suites. Four bedrooms, a dining room of our own, if we wish to use it, which we won't. We'll be too busy enjoying the Grande Salle a Manger. But perhaps the children will enjoy having a dining room of their own and a living room with a baby grand piano. Our own promenade deck, my love, where we can sit at night, looking up at the stars …” His voice drifted off dreamily, as he was really looking forward to the crossing on the ship. For years now he had heard nothing but raves about the
Normandie
, and he had never been on it. Now it was an extra treat that he could give to his wife. No matter that she could have paid for all four of the Grand Luxe suites herself, he would never have let her. He had too much pride about that sort of thing, and he was happy to be able to spoil her a little, and happier still that they would have five days together, suspended between two worlds. At last he would be free of the final exhausting days at the Embassy in Washington, and he would not yet have been swallowed up by the work he was to do in France. “Isn't that good news?” His eyes danced.

“I can hardly wait.” And then she giggled as she sat down at the enormous dining table set for two. “Since we have a piano in our cabin, should I practice the piano a little before we leave? I haven't played in years.”

“Silly girl. Hmm”—he turned his attention to the odors emanating from the kitchen—“that smells awfully good.”

“Thank you, sir.
Soupe de poisson
for my lord and master,
une omelette fines herbes, salade de cresson
, Camembert, Brie, and chocolate soufflé, if the cook hasn't fallen asleep.”

“She must be ready to kill me with these hours I'm keeping.”

“Never mind, my love.” Liane smiled at him with a kiss in her eyes, and the maid came in with their soup.

“Did I tell you that we're dining at the White House tomorrow?”

“No.” But Liane was used to surprise command social engagements. She had given dinner parties for as many as a hundred people with notice of only two days.

“They called today.”

“Is the dinner for anyone important?” The soup was good, she liked their cozy dinners tête-à-tête, and like Armand, she wondered now how many moments like these they would have once they were back in France. They both suspected that he was going to be terribly busy, and she might not see much of him for a while. At least not at first.

Armand smiled at his wife. “Tomorrow night is for someone terribly important.”

“Who?”

“Us. It's just a friendly little impromptu dinner for us before we leave.” There had already been a formal farewell reception three weeks before. “Are the girls excited about the ship?”

Liane nodded. “Very.”

“They can't possibly be as excited as I am. They call her the Ship of Light.” And then he saw her smiling at him again. “Do you think me very foolish to be so excited about the trip?”

“No, I think you're very wonderful, and I love you.”

He reached out and patted her hand then. “Liane … I am a very lucky man.”

he long black Citroen that had been shipped over from Paris the year before drew up to the Pennsylvania Avenue entrance of the White House, and Liane stepped out. She was wearing a black satin dinner suit with broad shoulders and a narrow waist, and a white organdy blouse underneath the jacket, lined in the finest of white silk. Armand had bought her the suit at Jean Patou when he had gone to Paris at Easter, and it fit her perfectly. Patou had her measurements, and Armand always chose gifts for her that suited her to perfection, as this one did. She looked like a high-fashion model, with her long, slim figure and her perfectly smooth blond hair, as she stepped from the car. Armand emerged just behind her, wearing his dinner jacket. Tonight was an informal evening. None of the men would be wearing white tie.

There were two butlers and a maid waiting in the entry hall to greet them, to take any wraps the ladies might have brought and to direct them upstairs to the Roosevelts' private dining room. And of course there were presidential guards stationed in the hall.

It was a considerable honor to be entertained at the White House. Liane had been here several times to lunch quietly with Eleanor and a handful of other ladies, and she was particularly pleased to be dining here tonight. Upstairs on the second floor, in their living quarters, the President and his wife were waiting, she in a simple gray crepe de chine dress from Traina-Norell and a handsome rope of pearls. There was always something unassuming about the woman. No matter who had designed her clothes or the jewels that she wore, she looked as though she might have been wearing an old dress and a sweater, sensible shoes, and a warm smile. She was the kind of woman one would have wanted to come home from school to, as there would have always been a warm welcome waiting and a gentle smile.

“Hello, Liane.” Eleanor saw her first and walked over quickly. The President was already engaged in animated conversation with the British Ambassador, Sir Ronald Lindsay, another old friend. “It's so nice to see you both.” Her smile extended to Armand, who diligently kissed her hand and then looked into her eyes.

“We shall miss you most of all, madame.”

“But not half as much as we shall miss you!” She spoke in a high-pitched, thready voice, which people made fun of often, and yet to those who knew her it had a comforting and familiar lilt. It was just another endearing aspect of Eleanor. It was difficult to find anyone who didn't love and respect her, and in the past five years Liane had been one of her most ardent fans, in spite of their recent heated exchanges over the SS
St. Louis
. Armand had already reminded Liane not to bring that up again tonight. She had heeded the warning in the car with an obedient nod and then a chuckle. “Am I as tactless as all that, my love?” “Never” had been the answer, but Armand had a fatherly way about him with his wife, and he often reminded her of things, as he would have the girls.

“How are the children?” Liane was quick to ask. The Roosevelts' grandchildren were always in and out of the White House.

“As naughty as ever. And the girls?”

“Excited, and wild. Every time I turn around they've unpacked their trunks to look for a favorite doll, or create some mischief.” The two women laughed. With five children of her own, Eleanor was well versed in the ways of the very young.

“I don't envy you the task of packing up! It's bad enough for us in the summer when we go to Campobello. I don't think I could ever have managed getting them all the way to France. Surely one of my children would have leaped overboard on a dare, and we'd have had to stop the ship. I shudder at the thought, but Marie-Ange and Elisabeth are much better behaved. You should have a peaceful crossing.”

“We hope so,” Armand added, and then the threesome joined the others, the British Ambassador and his wife, Lady Lindsay, the Duponts of Delaware, the ever-present Harry Hopkins, a distant cousin of Eleanor's who was in Washington for two weeks, and Russell Thompson and his wife, Maryse, a couple that Liane and Armand enjoyed a great deal and saw often. He was an attorney, closely allied to the Roosevelt Administration, and she was from Paris, and a very lively girl.

Cocktails were served for half an hour, and then a butler announced that dinner was served in the President's dining room. As always at the dinners that Eleanor arranged, the food was exquisite, the menu superb. The table in the private dining room was set for eleven with a beautiful service of blue and gold Spode china, and heavy silver, on a cloth of very old and delicate lace. And there were large arrangements of blue and white iris, yellow roses, and white lilac set amongst long white candles in silver candelabra, and all around the room handsome murals of the American Revolution caught one's eye. It was a dinner Armand and Liane would long remember, as the President guided the conversation artfully between subjects of interest to all, often punctuated with an anecdote about something that had recently happened in Congress or the Senate. There was no talk of war during the entire meal. But inevitably, the subject came up over dessert. But by then everyone was sated and content, having eaten caviar, roast duck, a delicately smoked salmon, endive salad, and a rich array of cheeses from France.