Invitation to Provence (20 page)

“Juliette, must we have the dogs for dinner, too?” Rafaella sighed, but Juliette just laughed her warm, booming laugh.

“Don’t be so stuffy,
chérie.
They’re only interested in what their mama is eating. It’s quite normal. Besides, they’ve been to all the great restaurants. Why can’t they do the same thing here?”

“Because that’s my brocade chair they’re wrecking.”

“Chairs come and go. Friends last,” Juliette said. “What counts is how fortunate you are to have these lovely young people around your table.” And Rafaella leaned her chin in her hand, smiling, because Juliette always got straight to the point, and as usual, she was right.

Jake tried again. “So how are you, Franny?” She gave him that steely look and he wished he hadn’t bothered.

“I’m well, thank you,” Franny said, so coldly he could have chipped the ice off her.

“I hoped you liked the Casablanca lilies.”

“They were beautiful. However, I didn’t get an opportunity to thank you.”

“Nor I you,” he said pointedly.

“I didn’t know you two had met,” Clare said, astonished
because Franny had never mentioned Jake, and besides she needed to know whether he was free territory or if Franny already had claims on him.

“Briefly” Franny said.

“I see,” Clare said, not seeing at all and wondering what the hell was going on.

Oblivious to the flying sparks, Rafaella sat at the top of her table, smiling that old smile Haigh loved to see. “And now I must propose another toast,” she announced. “To Haigh, my old friend without whom I would not have survived all these years.”

“To Haigh,” everyone said, smiling just as the great doors flew open. The wind rushed in again, blowing out the candles and sending great drafts of black smoke down the chimney.

They heard footsteps crossing the hall, then the doors to the dining room were flung open. A man stood there, looking at them. He was wearing a custom-tailored pin-striped suit and handmade shoes. His hair was streaked with silver and brushed smoothly back, and his hawk nose gave him an arrogant look. There was no smile in his eyes, though a faint mocking one pulled at his lips.

With a little cry, Rafaella sank back into her chair. For a moment she’d thought she was looking at the son she had buried just a few weeks ago.

“Mon dieu,”
Juliette said softly, “the prodigal son returns.”

“Well, Mother,” Alain Marten said, “aren’t you going to greet your long-lost son? I heard you’d sent Jake looking for me, so I came home.”

Jake was on his feet in an instant, standing beside Rafaella. Haigh flanked him, staring at Alain, daring him with his eyes to make a move.

“Odd, isn’t it though, how Felix and I got to look more alike as we got older?” Alain said, with that tight little mocking smile. “As you can see, we had the same expensive tastes, the same custom-tailored suits, the handmade English shoes. There’s nothing Felix had that I don’t have,
maman.
Are you not proud of me?”

Rafaella was silent as he embraced her. “Welcome home, Alain,” she said at last. And over her shoulder, Alain smiled mockingly at Haigh and Jake. He had won.

F
RANNY CAUGHT ALAIN’S
triumphant look. Something odd was going on and she knew instinctively it wasn’t good. Jake knew it too. That’s why he’d leaped to Rafaella’s side, the knight in shining armor ready to defend her. It must be nice to have Jake Bronson so completely on your side, she thought with a twinge of envy. Then she suddenly realized that Rafaella was Jake’s first true love. Of course, that’s why he was here at the château, that’s why he was protecting her. It all made sense now.

Alain offered Jake his hand and Jake stared coldly back at him. Alain grinned. “Surely you can’t refuse to shake my hand. Can’t you see all is forgiven and forgotten?” “I’ll never forget,” Jake said. “Nor would Felix.”

“But Felix is no longer with us to complain. Only you, Jake. And Haigh of course.” Alain turned to the butler who was standing poker-faced next to Jake. “And how are you, Haigh? Still ruling the roost no doubt. Well, of course now that I’m home all that will have to change.” He did not offer Haigh his hand and anyway Haigh had turned away before he’d even finished his little speech.

“Maman,
you really must teach your staff better manners,” Alain said with that irritating grin that had Jake tight-lipped. “And now, who else do we have here? Well, Juliette of course.” He strode to the end of the table and stood behind her chair. He put his hands on her shoulders, squeezing them. “Still missing Rufus, I’ll bet.”

She shrugged him away. “You haven’t changed much, Alain. Still the great games player, I see.”

“What? No ‘welcome home, Alain’? Come on now, Juliette, you were always my friend.”

“I was your mother’s friend. I saw what she had to put up with from you.”

“And here’s the new winemaker,” he said, offering Scott his hand. Not knowing what was going on, Scott shook it. “Now that I’m back, we’ll have to make a few changes,” Alain said to him. “I’ve become quite a connoisseur, you know. I think you’ll find out that I know exactly what I’m doing, Scott, when I’m in charge of the winery again.”

His gaze fastened appreciatively on Franny. “Ah, and you must be the long-lost family member,” he said, his voice silky. “Franny, isn’t it?” He looked deep into her mesmerized eyes, then he lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it lingeringly.

Franny wondered, Why all the tension? Why was Jake
watching Alain through narrowed hawk eyes? Why was Haigh’s glance laser-sharp?

“Franny, you’re beautiful.” Alain was still holding onto her hand. “As all the Marten women were. Why bother working as a mere vet when you could easily catch a rich man, someone to lavish you with jewels and furs, grand apartments, and private planes.”

“I prefer my work,” she said coldly as he walked around the table to Clare.

Clare watched him warily. He put a hand under her chin, tilted her face up to him. “Clare,” he said softly, “I know you. We must talk later.” She stared at him, surprised.

Next Alain turned to the child, who seemed frozen in place, watching him through frightened blue saucer-eyes, the chopsticks still gripped in her fingers.

He turned her chair to face him, and with his face just inches away, studied her carefully. There was something unpleasant about the way he ran his finger over her small nose, the curve of her short upper lip, the length of her slender neck, in the way he traced the outline of her closed eyes, touched her blackbird’s-wing hair.

Then he laughed.
“Maman,”
he called, “I want you to meet my daughter. Oh yes, she’s mine all right. See how proud I am of her? And I’ll make you proud of the Martens again, too. I promise you that,
maman,
on my honor.”

Jake wasn’t the only one there who knew that honor was an asset Alain had never possessed. But Alain was her son, and Rafaella still loved him. She still wanted to believe him, and now she put her arms around him and welcomed him home again.

A
FTER THAT,
the party came to an abrupt end. Everyone went quickly to bed—except Rafaella, who was sitting on the sofa in the old library, talking to her son. In the candlelight Alain looked young and very handsome, and very much like Felix, but there were lines on his face now and a bitterness in his eyes that had not been there the last time she had seen him.

“I’m glad you finally came home, Alain,” she said, remembering that Felix had come home in his coffin. “I needed to see you …”

“Before you die.” Alain finished the sentence for her. “And are you planning on doing that sometime soon?” He laughed, making a joke of it, but he wasn’t joking and she did not smile.

“I hope not, now that I’ve discovered I have a family again.”

“My daughter.”

“And a niece.”

“Ah yes, the niece. I always liked a pretty woman.”

“I remember,” she said dryly.

He leaned back against the chintz cushions, as at home as if he’d never left.

“Actually, it wasn’t that I wanted to see you before I died.”
Rafaella’s voice was so unexpectedly firm that he turned, brows raised, to look at her. “I needed to see you once again to make sure I had done the right thing when I threw you out. Where have you been all these years, Alain? And what have you been doing? Where did you make the money you claim to have?”

She looked hard at him, but Alain had been interrogated before and he was an expert at avoiding issues. “Where have I been? Oh, not so far away from Felix, running around Asia, like him. We saw each other from time to time, you know.”

Jake had come into the room unnoticed. He leaned against the door, arms folded, watching, listening. Now he said, “And when
exactly
was the last time you saw Felix?”

Alain glanced up at him and sighed. “I might have known you’d still be around.”

“Did you really think I’d leave you alone with your mother? You’re the crazy one, Alain, not me.”

“Why is this any of your business anyway?”

“Because I asked Jake to make it his business,” Rafaella said sharply. “I asked him to find out what he could about you.”

Alain glanced up at Jake. “And did you?”

“Enough to know that you are under suspicion for drug dealing, that you were in league with some of the toughest cartels in Asia, that you left a trail of debts and violence behind you … that you were in Hong Kong the night Felix died.”

“Felix killed himself. He was always a coward,” Alain said coldly.

“But it was you who killed that poor young girl.” Rafaella realized the truth all of a sudden. “I never knew for sure until
now, though Jake did. Unlike me, he could always see through you. And poor Felix suffered for it. He couldn’t bear that I believed you and not him. I shall never forgive myself for that.”

“Felix left because he couldn’t stand being around Alain, not because of you, Rafaella,” Jake said. “And in the end, Alain killed him because he couldn’t stand the thought that Felix’s child would inherit everything he considered rightfully his.”

“Of course I didn’t kill Felix, or that girl,” Alain said calmly. “You know there’s not a shred of evidence. Besides, Shao Lan is my child. I challenge you to prove she’s not.”

“I already have.” Jake turned to Rafaella. “I was going to tell you tonight but I didn’t have the chance. DNA taken from Felix’s body matches with Shao Lan’s, and in his will, Felix left everything he has, which is considerable, to his daughter.”

Confused, Rafaella said, “But why didn’t he acknowledge her before? Why did he allow them to live like that?”

Jake shrugged. “I suppose Alain knows the answer to that.”

Rafaella stared at her son, lounging on the sofa, smiling as though nothing was wrong. She knew he was a man with no moral rules and boundaries, a man who lied when it suited him, a man who could kill a pregnant girl rather than face his responsibilities, a man who could kill his brother because he wanted his money and wanted to take over his life. How ever had she borne such a son?

“You can’t prove it of course,” Alain said confidently to Jake. “And besides, the authorities have closed the case.”

It was true, there was no evidence against Alain, not even
any witnesses to say he’d been with Felix that night. If there were, then Jake would not legally be able to do what he was about to do, because then the police would have had to be involved. He glanced at his watch. It was three in the morning. He had to protect Rafaella. He had to get Alain out of here. He had to bluff.

“You’re wrong,” he said. “I personally have evidence, but because of your mother I will not use it. That is, if you get up and leave right now. I’ll make it easy for you. My plane is at Marseille’s Marignane airport. You can drive to Marseille and be out of the country in a few hours, on your way back to Vietnam. If you don’t”—he raised his shoulder in a shrug—“then I’ll call the
gendarmes
right now. The choice is yours.”

Alain eyed him uneasily. He knew Jake was clever, he was good at his job, an expert they said. He’d believed he’d left no evidence but now he wondered… . Goddamn it, you never knew, and if they nailed him he was a man looking at a death sentence, or at least life in jail.
Fuck Felix and fuck his mother and fuck Jake to hell.
He didn’t dare risk calling Jake’s bluff.

He got to his feet. “So once again you are throwing me out,
maman,”
he said, “but let me tell you something: this time you’ll live to regret it.
Both
of you.”

Rafaella looked sadly at him. “My only regret was that you never told me the truth.”

Alain stepped closer, his face in hers. “But I
always
told you the truth. It’s just that you chose to believe the others. Now you leave me no choice.” Jake took Rafaella by the shoulder and pulled her away. Alain strode to the door, flung it open, then turned and glared contemptuously at them. “I
won’t say good-bye,
maman,”
he said with that mocking tone again. “You never know when you might see me again.”

They heard his footsteps ringing on the parquet as he crossed the hall, the sound of the door opening, the shuddering as it slammed. A car started up. There was the spurt of tires on the gravel … and Alain was gone as suddenly as he had appeared.

Rafaella’s shoulders drooped as she turned to Jake. He took her in his arms and held her tenderly. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered. “I wish it could have been otherwise. I’m just so sorry.”

And he stroked Rafaella’s hair and held her for a long time while she cried on his shoulder for Felix and for Alain.

I
N BED THE NEXT MORNING,
Franny felt the warm pressure of a small body next to hers. She rolled over and saw Little Blue, her eyes still shut tight. She must have been afraid in the night and come into her room. She studied her innocent face as she slept, admiring her delicate prettiness, seeing the true innocence of childhood that still lurked beneath the hard veneer that poverty had given her. She felt about her the way she did about an injured animal: she just wanted to look after her, make her well again, and heal her wounds. She vowed to do exactly that. Whatever happened, she would always take care of her new little cousin.