Precious Gifts (19 page)

“Where are you?” Juliette was annoyed. The girls expected her to be available when they wanted her, but not to bother them when they were otherwise occupied. She was supposed to be a mother on call, with no plans or needs of her own, and they were always surprised when she had other things to do, as though she lived in a locked room until they called, when she was expected to spring to attention.

“I'm at a gallery opening,” Véronique said, straining to hear. She was standing too close to the music, but didn't want to go outside. She could tell that Aidan wanted her with him, and this was his big night. She didn't tell Juliette that she was in Berlin, not in Paris. She didn't need to know. It would have led to other questions she didn't want to answer, like “with whom?” and “why?”

Juliette repeated what she had just said so her mother could hear her better, and went on as though Véronique had nothing else to do. It was often the style of their exchanges. “I'm busy, Mom,” ended a conversation immediately, Véronique being busy meant nothing.

“I talked to Timmie,” Juliette continued. “She's willing to sell to me at the price you and I talked about. She wants the money to add to what Dad gave her for the shelter, and she's starting to look at houses on the West Side, but it could take her a while to find one. I called Joy, but we keep playing phone tag. She got the job on that soap, and she's working every day for the next few weeks. I think she's sleeping with her new manager,” Juliette said as an aside, continuing the conversation they had about him in the South of France. “She sent me a text the other night that she was having dinner with him about the cosmetics campaign he's having her audition for. She said she'd call me when she got home, and she never did. Maybe she thought it was too late to call in New York, but I get a funny feeling about him, like she's hiding something.” The three sisters knew each other well, and so did Véronique. She had had the same feeling, too, that Joy had something up her sleeve with her new manager.

“I hope he's for real, and not taking advantage of her,” Véronique said, sounding worried.

“He's very well known, and he represents some big people,” Juliette reassured her. “I googled him when she told me about him. And she's right. He's
very
good looking. So what do you think?” Juliette asked her, as the music in the gallery got louder. They were playing jazz, and it reverberated off the concrete floors and walls.

“About what?” Véronique shouted in the noise of the crowd. “Joy's manager?” She didn't know what to think. It was too soon, and she had no information about him.

“No. About the price I'm asking for the shop. Is it enough?” Juliette was focused on the château project again, and what she had to do to make it happen.

“I don't know. What did Arnold say?” Véronique said, feeling pulled in different directions and sounding distracted.

“He said it sounded right to him, for the equipment, and my clientele.”

“Then I'm sure it's fine. I'll call you tomorrow,” Véronique said. It was impossible to pursue the conversation here and now, and she didn't want to.

“I'm busy tomorrow. I need to go to my storage space in Yonkers and inventory some spare equipment I have. I want to sell that, too.”

“Fine,” Véronique said, as Aidan waved her toward him, and she nodded. “I love you. Talk to you soon.” She ended the call then and went to find Aidan. He wanted to introduce her to an important German publisher, who was interested in doing a book of his work. He was a very interesting man, and he and Véronique had a serious conversation that lasted for quite a while. They were mutually very impressed. And it was nearly midnight when the crowd began to thin out. Aidan was thrilled with the turnout and the evening, and everyone he had hoped for had been there. The gallery owner had done a good job luring them in, and the work had been very well received. Johnny Gardner, his rep, was ecstatic about the show, too.

The reviews were great the next day, which wasn't always the case with work like his, which shocked and offended as much as it pleased. But the critics had “gotten” it, and seven of the works had sold at high prices. Aidan was delighted. He was being hailed as one of the most important young photographers on the art scene. And what he wanted now was to be in more museums.

They talked about it at lunch at the Paris Bar the next day, and Véronique gave him good advice. He had already come to respect her wisdom and good head for business. When he complimented her about it, she laughed and said it was in her genes, because of her grandfather's art business years before. Listening to her made him feel more every day that it had been destiny taking a hand in it from the moment he first saw her at the Fontana di Trevi, and again in Venice. And he said it to her several times. He was convinced they had been fated to meet, as part of their karma.

“You didn't mind being with the oldest woman in the room?” she asked him with a cautious look. It had occurred to her several times. Some of the girls at the opening were younger than her daughters, and he could have been with any of them. It was a very youthful scene, and Véronique looked different from everyone there, whereas Aidan fit right in, even with the salt-and-pepper hair. It was definitely his milieu, not hers, and although she had enjoyed herself, she had felt it.

“Don't be stupid,” he scolded her, sounding very British. “You were the most beautiful woman there, by a long shot. Who cares how old you are? I don't, why should you? And I saw all the men watching you, half of the room wanted to meet you. And my German publisher wanted your phone number. I wouldn't give it to him. I saw you first.” He smiled at her.

“Thank you for that.” She had liked talking to the publisher, but had no interest in pursuing it further. She was totally happy with Aidan, and it amused her again to realize that he was jealous and somewhat possessive. It was flattering and told her that he cared. “That whole scene is a lot edgier than I am.” Even if she had been wearing black leather jeans, her shoes were Chanel. Almost everyone else there was wearing flip-flops or sneakers. Most of them looked as though they had dressed out of secondhand shops. She didn't have the knack to pull that off, and didn't want to. Aidan had worn black cowboy boots that he had found at a vintage shop in London, and that had been well battered by whoever wore them before him. It was a look that she just didn't have. She was chic and well put together whatever she wore, and sophisticated in a way they weren't.

“I was proud to be with you,” Aidan said quietly. “That's all that matters, and if I wanted to be with a girl with a vulture tattooed on her chest, a snake around her neck, and pierces all over her face, wearing a torn T-shirt, I would be. There are lots of girls like that. There's only one you.” He smiled at her, and she could see that he meant it, and she was relieved. She had admitted to him that she had felt out of place for the first part of the evening, and then relaxed and forgot about it, as she talked to more people and had interesting conversations with them all. It was a very international crowd and everyone spoke English.

For the next two days, they explored Berlin. They went to the Museum of Photography, one of the Berlin State museums, and the Museum for Contemporary Art at the Hamburger Bahnhof, a former train station. They drove around the city, went to the Botanical Garden, and window-shopped on the Kurfürstendamm. And Véronique insisted that she wanted to go to the Jewish Museum, which had a Holocaust Tower, and honored the Jews who had died in the Holocaust. It was an overwhelming experience, as she looked at photographs and exhibits, and they listened to the tour. They were both deeply moved. They were silent when they walked back out into the sunshine. The experience had been haunting, and Véronique couldn't shake off the mood. They talked about it for the next two hours as they walked around, and then went back to the hotel, and lay down for a while to rest before going out to dinner. It had been a very full few days since she'd arrived. And she had loved every minute of it. Suddenly her life was more interesting than it had been in years.

She thought about it, lying on the bed, as Aidan dozed off, and her cell phone rang. It was Timmie.

Véronique answered in a whisper, not wanting to wake Aidan. “Where are you?” Timmie asked her. “At the movies? Why are you whispering?”

“I'm just around other people,” Véronique lied. She seemed to be doing that more and more often. But there was no way to explain Aidan, and certainly not that he was asleep next to her. Suddenly Véronique had a secret life. It was a first for her. That had never happened. “What's up?” Timmie had on her most serious voice and sounded as though someone had died. Véronique had instantly picked it up, she knew her children well.

“We all got a letter today, and you will, too. Bertie is suing us, and the estate. He wants a quarter of everything, including the château, and he wants to bar Sophie Marnier from getting anything, since Dad never acknowledged her in his lifetime.”

“That doesn't matter,” Véronique said calmly. “You can make bequests to anyone you want. You can leave it all to your dog if you want, in the States. In France, you have to leave your children two-thirds of everything, but not in the United States. So he can't take anything away from Sophie.” She wondered if Bertie had a chance of prevailing with the others, she wasn't sure, but Paul had made it perfectly clear why he had cut Bertie out, which seemed reasonable and fair, in view of everything Paul had given him before.

“I can't say I'm surprised,” Véronique said with a sigh. “But I'm sad to hear it. It's a headache none of you need, nor I. What does Arnold say about it?”

“That he probably won't win, or even go to court. But he could cost us a lot in legal fees. He says Bertie doesn't want to go all the way on this, he just wants to bully us into giving him a settlement. And we're not going to. I talked to Joy and Juliette this morning, and they feel the same way I do—screw him. He's a shit and an asshole, and he always was. He's been trying to rip us off since we were kids and he stole our allowances. He can go to hell.” Well, that was clear, as Véronique listened, and she didn't disagree, although she wouldn't have said it as harshly.

She still felt sorry for him, but she was appalled by his behavior. It seemed to get worse over the years, and there was a real tone of desperation to it now. She suspected that he must be deep in debt. His father occasionally had been, too, with bad investments he made, but had always gotten out of it honorably. Financially at least, Paul had been an honest man. Bertie wasn't.

“He wants to depose us. What a pain in the ass,” Timmie added, sounding livid. “And Arnold says he can't handle it for us, since he's not a litigator. He'll oversee it, but he's hiring a litigator for the case, so the meter starts running now. Just what we didn't need. I'll e-mail you the letter. Ours came in the mail, so yours probably did, too. It probably went to New York.” Véronique could easily imagine what it said and wasn't anxious to see it. “I have to meet the litigator tomorrow. Juliette has some kind of meeting she says she can't change with a restaurant broker, and Joy is on that soap every day and out at night. I can never reach her. She must be sleeping with her hot new manager,” Timmie said in an irritated tone, and Véronique smiled. Joy had definitely sounded smitten with him.

“We seem to be unanimous on that. Let's hope he's a nice guy and a decent manager, and not just bilking her for money.”

“Joy's too smart for that. She never loses money to guys.” Unlike Juliette, they both knew, but didn't say. “So I have to go to the meeting alone. I swear, I hate Bertie's guts.”

“He's certainly not a good guy,” Véronique said sadly, “but he's still your half-brother. Hopefully he'll see the light one of these days.” Véronique never gave up hope. Timmie had years before, and so had Paul. Véronique had continued to try to influence him positively, to no avail. And now he was suing them all. By now, Véronique was discouraged by it, too.

“He won't see the light in this lifetime, Mom. He's a crook and a petty thief.” Véronique couldn't disagree, but still found it depressing. “One of these days he'll wind up in jail, where he belongs. Dad thought so, too.”

“Thank God his father won't be here to see it if that happens. It would have broken his heart.”

“He knew what Bertie is. That's why he left him out of the will. Anyway, I just wanted to let you know what's happening here. When are you coming home? We need you here, Mom.” Timmie sounded young and vulnerable as she said it, which was unlike her. She was usually so tough and strong, and seemed so invincible. But their father's death had shaken them all. It was as though part of the foundation they relied on had crumbled, and now they all felt unstable and unsure of themselves. It reminded Véronique of how she had felt when her father died, which was why she had married Paul within the year. At any age, losing a parent puts one face to face with mortality, of those you love and yourself. Paul was an enormous loss, no matter how inadequate he was as a parent.

“I'll be home soon,” Véronique said vaguely. She had no plans, and she wanted to be with Aidan, but she sighed as she hung up. Aidan had woken up and heard the last of the conversation.

“Something wrong?” He was worried for her, when he saw the troubled look on her face.

“Yes. No. Predictable, but upsetting anyway. My stepson is suing all of us and the estate, because his father left him out of the will. I knew it would happen. He's not a good person, sad to say.” Aidan smiled at her, and kissed her.

“You know my answer to guys like that—‘Sod off.' ” She laughed at what he said, but she knew he meant it.

“Easier said than done. I've spent twenty years trying to keep the family united, despite the divorce, and children of two marriages, but Paul's will ended that fantasy. He cut out his own son, and included a love child no one knew existed. So much for my fantasy. But even so, if he's suing us, we have to deal with it and go through all the motions, even go to court if he insists. I think it's just a ploy for blackmail, but the American legal system is set up for this, and even encourages people like him to sue. He'll have a field day before it's over.”