Letter from Paris (25 page)

“Thanks, Henry. She is,” she said. “She’s had a little girl. Five pounds five ounces. I’m going back to the hospital in a few minutes.”

“You must be very relieved. You’ve been on my mind. My cousin had an emergency c-section and I know it can be serious stuff. I hate to be blunt about this, but can you let me know how much more time off you need?”

“I don’t,” India said pulling on her jacket. “Just today.”

“Great because we need to talk. I’ve fired Samantha.”

“You have? Samantha? Really? Why?”

“It’s a long story. How about you come to the office in the morning. I’ll fill you in and we can look at where we go from here.”

“Sounds like a plan,” India said. “Do you know how Luella is? How’s her husband?”

“She’s okay. I spoke to her last night. Peter’s going to be fine too. Horrible business though.”

“Yes. That’s for sure.”

“Okay. I’ll see you in the morning.”

India checked her hair in the hall mirror, put her phone and keys in her purse, threw on her raincoat, and left for the train station, stopping at a nearby florist on her way. Sarah was awake when she put her head around the door of the hospital room.

“How’re you feeling?” she asked, resting the arrangement of pink peonies on a table and pulling over a chair to the side of the bed. “I’ll find some water for them in a minute.”

“Thank you. They’re lovely,” Sarah said bursting into tears. “I feel awful. I’m sorry Indie, but I can’t stop crying.”

“Is the baby okay? Where is she?” India asked, suddenly concerned to see the bassinette still empty.

“She’s being fed. She’s tiny. She needs special care, but they say she’s not in danger; they just want to get her weight up so they’re bottle-feeding her. I can’t even do that part right,” Sarah added, beginning to cry again.

“Sarah, you must be worn out.”

“I can’t stop crying. What’s wrong with me?” Sarah blubbered, turning her head to the wall. “I should be all excited. I’m supposed to be overwhelmed with these feelings of love. Where’s my maternal instinct? When I look at the baby, I don’t feel anything. All I want to do is sleep.”

“I’m sure it’s only because of the operation. Your hormones must be going crazy. Tell me what happened.”

“Can you pass me some of those?” Sarah asked, hoisting herself up on her elbows slowly and pointing to a box of tissues.

“Thanks,” she said, blowing her nose loudly. “I had these contractions. The baby’s head hadn’t engaged so I wasn’t dilating and I was in so much pain that Damien called the hospital and they said to bring me in. When they put me on the monitor they suddenly went into emergency mode. The cord was around her neck and they raced me down the corridor on a gurney and wouldn’t let Damien come with me. Then all I remember is being in surgery and somehow it was all so wrong. I’m a nurse. I’m not the one who’s supposed to be on the table. I was terrified lying there not sure what was happening. I thought I was going to die.”

“I’m sure. I’m sure it must have been horrific, but you’re safe and the baby’s healthy. You must be having a delayed reaction to the shock of it all.”

“Maybe. It’s a nightmare in here. They wake me up every few hours in the night and pump me full of antibiotics. I feel like I just want to die.”

“You’ll feel better in a few days, I’m sure. Your body’s taken a beating, that’s all.”

“Nothing’s ready at home,” Sarah sighed. “I was too superstitious to buy so much as a box of diapers until I was thirty-eight weeks. Damien can’t or won’t take time off work. What am I going to do? Was I insane to think I could have a baby all on my own?”

India looked at her friend and smiled sympathetically. “You’re not on your own, Sarah. You have Damien and you have me. Give me a list; it’ll only take me an hour to get anything you need. Right now, all you have to think about is bonding with the baby. With Alana, right?”

At the mention of her name, Sarah brightened a little. “Alana. That’s right. Press that button next to you and see if the nurse will bring her in.”

India made the call and Sarah lay back down and drifted in and out of sleep while they waited. Eventually a midwife arrived cradling the newborn. She woke Sarah gently and put the baby into her arms. India leaned over and gasped at the tiny bundle, at her shock of black hair, scrunched up face and her perfect tiny hands, marveling at how delicate she was.

Holding back tears, she murmured softly, “Hello, Alana. Welcome to the world.” She turned to her friend “Sarah, she is so beautiful.” she murmured.

“Yes,” Sarah answered, looking at India. “I’m sorry. I can’t.”

Turning to the nurse, she said, “Could you take her away again please? I need to go back to sleep. I’m sorry.”

India came into Henry’s office the next morning and tried to push from her mind all images of the last time they had been in there alone together. She was failing miserably. He swung around in his leather chair, took his legs off his desk, and stood up.

“So, Henry?” India said, sitting down and attempting to ignore the strength in his thigh muscles and the breadth of his shoulders as he walked toward the window.

“I don’t think you’ve met Joel Lichtenstein, my partner, yet. Have you?” he said.

“I did briefly a while ago. He was on his way to Cannes.”

“Ah! Right. Well, Joel hired Samantha a couple of years back after she’d interned for him. She was an international student here. We’ve been gradually giving her more responsibility. She was much more than a receptionist, as you know.”

“And?”

“She came up with a suggestion that took the wind out of me.” Henry recounted the story and India shook her head.

“That’s callous,” she said. “Sounds like she’d sell her granny.”

“I agree.” He nodded.

“Anyway, this now leaves me with a problem. Samantha was from Switzerland. She spoke fluent French and she’s been setting up the meetings with the Paris Fashion Institute. She was probably hoping to score a job there now that I stop to think about it. Anyway, you don’t speak much French do you?”

“Sadly not.” India sighed. “Un petit peu.”

“Yeah! I thought I remembered that. But I need you in Paris for a couple of days. We have to hold those meetings while
Faux Fashion
is fresh on the shelves and the publishers are still excited. Luella doesn’t want to be away in the next couple of weeks for obvious reasons.”

He crossed the room and leaned against her side of the desk.

“Sorry. I’m not following,” India said, looking up at him. “You want me to go to Paris? I just told you I don’t speak much French.”

“I want you to come with me to the meetings.”

“But again, you just pointed out that I don’t speak French.”

“It’s a PR thing. It’s not important. They all speak English, but opening the meetings in French is the polite way to do business there. You can describe the educational benefits of the projects. You’ve lived and breathed it these last few months, and two of us presenting together will be a stronger pitch.”

“Okay.” She hesitated. “When do you have to go?”

“End of next week, in ten days’ time.”

“I think that’ll be okay,” she said, hoping she was conveying a studied response and that he hadn’t noticed her breathing had become shallow the closer he was to her. “How many days will we need to be there?”

“Three I reckon. Possibly four. Are you up for it?”

“Yes,” she said. “Happy to help.” Oui oui! Oui! OUI! she thought. I’m going back to Paris. Le vais revenir a Paris. Wahoo!

“Perfect. Patricia will book us tickets,” he said hopping up and going around to the back of his desk. “I’m keeping her on. She’s working out well. Are you happy to stay in Hotel de l’Abbaye again?”

“Absolutely. I loved it there,” she said. “Henry, what do you think about Jean-Luc? I saw the newspapers. Do you know what that’s all about?”

“I don’t know a lot of the details. I know it has something to do with his financial advisers and he’s being used to get bigger headlines. I bet he’s like a lot of successful people. They leave the money stuff to managers, who sometimes get greedy. Jean-Luc is the talent. He doesn’t strike me as a crook, but I’ve been wrong about people before.”

“Okay. I hope you’re right. I like him,” India said, getting up. “Henry, I’m going to go to my desk and catch up on things. I’ve a ton of e-mails to send to the colleges. Did you send a letter of congratulation to the winners?”

“Yes, and I spoke to them too. We shot the videos the day you left. Everyone was on a high. Sorry you had to miss that. I’ve sent flowers to Annabelle and to the college deans. All taken care of. Didn’t I copy you in?”

“You probably did. As I said, I’m way behind on my e-mails.”

“Okay. Catch you later,” Henry said as she stood up to leave. “Oh! And India.”

“Yes?” she said, turning back as she reached the door.

“We want to extend your contract. You’ve proved to be a real asset. We’re happy to renegotiate the terms. Are you good ’til the end of the year?”

India grinned at him. “Thank you, Henry. Yes. I am. I’m loving this job.”

“It shows,” he said.

India resisted the urge to throw herself into his arms and hug him. She smiled and left the room.

On her way to visit Sarah that evening, she mused on the fact that Henry had been so quick to protect Luella. I like that, she thought. I like that in a man. In fact, there’s a lot I like about that man, now that I think of it. A lot.

Roger was sitting with Sarah when she arrived at the hospital. She looked fragile in her hospital gown and slippers, her face free from makeup, her eyes hollow from lack of sleep.

“Hey. Great to see you India,” he said, standing up to give her a hug. “It’s been ages. How’s it going?”

“Good. Lovely to see you, Roger. So how’s the patient?” she said to Sarah. “And how are you today?” she crooned to the baby.

“I’m okay. We’re okay,” Sarah said. “They reckon we can go home in a few more days as long as she keeps gaining weight. It’s funny saying ‘we.’”

“That’s great,” India beamed. “Is Damien coming this evening?”

Roger shot India a look as if to say, “Don’t go there.”

“Not today,” she said. “He’s working.”

“Oh! Look at the time,” Roger interrupted. “Here, take my chair. I’m going to leave you two to have a chat.”

“Thanks, Rog.” Sarah smiled, looking over to the table and gesturing to the oversized stuffed animal. “And thank you for the teddy bear.”

India sat down on the chair when the door closed behind him. “Did you get much sleep last night?”

“Not really. But I feel a bit more human. They had me walking around today. I’m like a granny. I feel as if I’ve been sawed in two, which is pretty much what’s happened.”

“You look a lot better though. It’s good to see you out of bed, Sarah.”

“Yes. Well, I’m sorry for my meltdown.”

“I think you had every right to have a meltdown. Don’t beat yourself up. Is Damien going to stay with you when you get out? You’re going to need help.”

Sarah hesitated. “I don’t think so,” she sighed.

“Okay if I camp out with you then? I’m going to be away a few days with work the following week, but I can help you over the hump.”

Sarah’s look spoke volumes. “That’d be wonderful, Indie. Thank you.”

“No need to thank me.” India smiled. “I’m being selfish. I want Alana to get to know her Aunt India.”

“Indie. Can I ask you something?

“Sure.”

“Will you be her godmother?”

“Of course. Of course, I will. Absolutely. In fact, I will be her fairy godmother. She will be the best dressed little girl in town.”

“Thank you.” Sarah smiled. “I’d give you a hug but my stitches hurt too much.”

India checked her inbox and saw there was an e-mail from Luella changing where she wanted them to meet and asking her to come to her house. She was fine with that. It was close to Sarah’s and she could go straight on afterward.

Luella greeted her at the door, casual in a pair of blue jeans and an oversized cashmere sweater. “Great to see you, India. Come in. Cup of tea?”

“Yes, please,” India said, taking off her coat and putting it on the hall-stand. “It’s really cold out there today.”

“Margaret,” Luella shouted through to the kitchen. “Be a love and make a pot of tea before you go, will you? India and I are going to sit by the fire.”

India followed Luella through into the sitting room and warmed her hands at the grate. “This is such a lovely room, Luella,” she said looking around. “You have some beautiful paintings.”

“The paintings are Peter’s,” Luella said. “He collects watercolors. The books are mostly mine. I should show you my Alice in Wonderland collection before you leave. I’ve been collecting them since I was a kid.”

Margaret set out a tray with tea and biscuits. “I’m off now, Luella,” her assistant said. “Do you need anything else? I’ve scanned all the photographs from the book signings. I’ll archive them tomorrow.”

“No. I’m fine. Thanks, Margaret. Good morning’s work.”