Sunset in St. Tropez (8 page)

“What difference does that make?”

“Because it would mean she's stable, and at least a halfway decent person.”

“Pascale doesn't have kids, and she's a great person. That's a silly thing to say. Lots of „decent" women don't have kids.”

“In Pascale's case, that's different, and you know it. I"m just worried about him.”

“So am I. But if he's going out with women, it's a terrific sign, and I feel a lot better. Why don't you and Pascale mind your own business and leave the poor guy alone?”

“We wanted to warn him for his own good,” she insisted.

“This is the best thing that could happen to him. And maybe she's a nice girl.” He preferred to assume the best rather than the worst, unlike Diana and Pascale who already hated her, in defense of Anne.

“A movie star? Are you kidding? How likely is that?” Diana persisted in her point of view.

“Not very likely, I'll admit. But at least he'll have some fun with her.” There was a twinkle in his eye as he said it, and as she went to her bathroom to undress, Diana looked annoyed. The fraternity of men always stuck together, and as long as Robert could have some “fun,” who cared what kind of tramp Gwen Thomas was? Clearly, Eric didn't, and John was saying much the same thing to Pascale at their home.

“Oh, alors!” Pascale was arguing with him. “And what if she is going to break his heart, or use him?”

“Use him for what?” John said in obvious irritation. “Hell, I can think of worse fates than being used" by a movie star.”

“Well, I can't. Robert is a kind, loving, decent, honorable man, and an innocent.”

“Maybe she is too.”

“Mon oeil.” My eye. “You must be drunk. Or maybe you"re jealous of him.”

“Oh for chrissake. The poor guy has been heartbroken over Anne. Let him have some fun.”

“Not,” Pascale looked daggers at him, “with the wrong girl.” “Give the poor guy a break. He'll probably never even see her again. I"m sure a sixty-three-year-old superior court judge isn't her idea of a hot ticket to romance. Maybe he was telling the truth, and they"re just friends.”

“We have to get him out of New York, and make him come to St Tropez,” she said firmly.

And with that, John laughed at her, and couldn't resist teasing her. “Maybe he'll bring her.”

“Over my dead body, and Diana's,” she said nobly, and John shook his head as he got into bed.

“God help him. The vice squad is here to protect him, poor bastard. I hope for his sake that he doesn't come to St Tropez.”

“You have to convince him to come,” Pascale looked imploringly at her husband. “We owe that much to Anne, to protect him from this girl.” Like Diana, she had become a zealot overnight, hell-bent on protecting their friend.

“Don't worry, there will be others. At least I hope so for his sake. What would you like me to do, get you a voodoo doll so you can protect him? I"m sure I can find one somewhere.”

“Then get it,” Pascale said, looking righteous and enraged. “We have to do everything we can.” She was now on a sacred mission, and as he put an arm around her in their big cozy bed, all John could do was laugh at her.

The last dinner the Morrisons and Donnallys shared with Robert was at the Four Seasons, just before Pascale left in June. They talked about a variety of subjects, and inevitably, they brought up the house in St Tropez. Robert still insisted he didn't want to go there, and John reminded him that he'd paid a third of it, so he might as well come.

“That was just to cover Anne's obligations,” he said, looking sad again. “She wanted so much to go. She would have loved it.” He had a faraway look as he spoke to them.

“So would you,” John said matter-of-factly. “I didn't want to go either. I told Pascale I wouldn't go when I found out she'd put a deposit on it before I'd agreed to it. But what the hell,” he looked a little sheepish as he said it. He had long since reimbursed her mother and agreed to go. “It'll be fun. Why don't you come with us? I don't think Anne would have wanted you not to go.” She had been far more generous of spirit than that, as they all knew.

“Maybe,” Robert said quietly, thinking about it. “It might be fun for Amanda. Maybe she'd join me for part of it at least. I don't have to stay the whole time.”

“There's enough room for Jeff and Mike to come too, if they come in shifts. We have plenty of room. I think Katherine and her husband will join us for a few days too.” As Diana said it, Pascale and John exchanged a look.

She knew John wasn't in love with the idea of entertaining their kids. But after a quelling glance from Pascale, he didn't say a thing.

“The boys go to Shelter Island in the summer, and they wouldn't have time to come to France. But Mandy would.

I'll ask her. Maybe if she comes with me, it would do me good.”

“It would do you good either way,” Diana said. Pascale had noticed again that night that she was looking strained.

But Eric seemed in good spirits, and he was being very sweet to her. But Pascale noticed that Diana was cool to him, which was unlike her. Normally, they were both affectionate and warm.

“I'll let you know in a few days” was all Robert would say. And he called Pascale the day before she left in June, and told her that Mandy had agreed. She was going to be with them for five days. And he wasn't sure yet, but he thought he might stay for two weeks.

“You can stay as long as you want.” Pascale was delighted. “It's your house too.”

“We'll see.” And then he surprised her with what he said next. “I might bring a friend.” There was a long pause after he said it, as Pascale struggled to find the right words to ask him what he meant. “A friend?”

“I don't know yet. I'll let you know when I"m sure.” Pascale wanted to ask him who it was, but somehow didn't dare. And she couldn't help but wonder if it was a woman or a man. She knew it couldn't be Gwen Thomas because he had just met her. But she wondered now if he was seeing someone else. She knew he was still grieving for Anne, and he looked devastated when he talked about her, but at the last dinner she had noticed that he seemed to be doing very well. He was getting out more than he had in years, seeing people, going to dinners, playing tennis. He looked younger and healthier than he had before, and being thinner actually suited him very well. It was very odd now to think of him as a single man, and she had to admit he was very attractive, and he suddenly seemed more youthful than he had when he was with Anne.

Pascale gave him her number in Paris and told him that she was going to St Tropez two days before their lease began. The owners had said she could get there early, to open the house and settle in. They hadn't used it for the past two years.

“I'll have everything ready by the time you get there.” John and the Morrisons were arriving on the first of August, and Robert said he was planning to fly over on the third. And Mandy would probably arrive with him for her five days.

“Call me if you need anything,” he said, and then had to rush back into court before she could inquire again about his “friend.” She didn't even know when they might come, or for how long, if at all.

And a few minutes later, she called Diana to tell her he was coming, and Diana said she was thrilled. But Pascale thought she sounded distracted and tense, and finally Pascale decided to ask her what she'd been wondering for a while. “Is anything wrong?”

Diana hesitated only for a fraction of a second and then insisted that everything was fine. And after that, Pascale told her about Robert's “friend.”

“What kind of friend?” Diana sounded puzzled by what Pascale said. “I don't know. I didn't have the courage to ask him. Maybe it's just another judge, or a lawyer. It's probably a man.”

“I hope it's not that actress,” Diana said, sounding worried, but she agreed with Pascale that it couldn't be. They hardly knew each other, and it was much too soon for him to be taking her anywhere, let alone to France. By the time they all got to St Tropez, Anne would have been gone for less than seven months.

“I"m glad Mandy is coming with him, that'll be good for him.” Although possibly less good for them. She was a sweet girl, and loved her father, but she'd had some conflict with her mother over the years, and sometimes it extended to her mother's friends as well. And having a girl her age around wasn't always easy for them.

“He doesn't really need Mandy,” Pascale said practically, “he has us. And she's a little difficult sometimes. She used to get on Anne's nerves too.” Anne had had some very tough years with her. The boys had always been easier for her.

“That's all right, she was younger then, and it'll only be for five days, it'll make him happy. I"m just glad he decided to come,” Diana said generously.

“Me too,” Pascale said, sounding pleased. It had taken five months to convince him, after the death of his wife. And in another six weeks, they'd all be in France together, much to Pascale's delight.

“Call me when you see the house,” Diana insisted, and Pascale promised to do that. “I'll bet it's terrific,” she said, sounding excited, and Pascale laughed. She was still concerned about Diana, but she just hoped it wasn't a problem with her health. After Anne's death, she was more anxious than usual about her friend. She assumed that whatever had been bothering her lately, they would talk about in France.

“If it isn't terrific, John will kill me. He's still crying over what we spent,” Pascale added with a laugh.

“It's worth every penny of it. He just does that so we know it's him.” The others had paid their shares without complaint, and thought it a fair price, but not John. He was still fuming over what it cost when Pascale left for France.

As always, she reveled in being home again, seeing her old friends, going to her favorite restaurants and shops. She spent an afternoon in the Louvre, looking at new exhibits, and dug around in some antique shops on the Left Bank.

She went to the theater, and enjoyed a number of quiet evenings with her mother, grandmother, and aunt. Her visits to Paris recharged her batteries for the whole year. And for once, she found her mother in fairly decent health. And not unlike what John said about his mother-in-law, Pascale's mother complained endlessly about him. According to Pascale's mother, he was too short, too fat, didn't work hard enough, didn't make enough money, dressed like an American, and had never made the effort to learn French. Pascale was used to defending them to each other, and turned a deaf ear while her mother made mincemeat of him. And she didn't say anything to John about it when she called him, but he managed to hurl a few insults at his mother-in-law while he had Pascale on the phone. They were a perfect pair. And through it all, Pascale's aunt said nothing. She was stone deaf, so she couldn't hear what her sister said about him, and she had always thought John a perfectly pleasant man. She was only sorry for them that they had never had children, but Pascale didn't seem to mind. And Pascale's grandmother slept most of the time and had always thought John was very nice.

Whenever she was at home with her family, Pascale seemed to become even more French. Her English got a little rough around the edges, and she forgot familiar words when she talked to John. Her accent got thicker, and she stocked up on French novels and read them late into the night. She ate all her favorite meals, and smoked Gauloises.

Every movement, every gesture, every expression, every word, became unmistakably French.

And by the time she left for the South of France at the end of July, she was relaxed and in great form. She had lost a few pounds, in spite of the big dinners she ate, and the cheese and desserts she loved, but she got so much exercise walking all over Paris that she looked better than ever. And the day before Pascale left for St Tropez, her aunt and mother left for Italy, as they always did. Pascale quietly left the apartment, her grandmother was asleep, as usual, and she told the nurse where she could be reached in the South of France.

The flight to Nice was filled to the gills, with couples and families and children, mountains of luggage, and endless shopping bags with straw hats and food, and everything imaginable. Every seat was taken, but people seemed in good spirits. Like most French people, almost all of them had a month's vacation and were heading south for the month. And as many as possible had brought their dogs along. No one except the English loved their dogs more than the French. The only difference was that the English treated their dogs like dogs. The French took them to restaurants, fed them at the table, carried them in handbags, and fluffed their hair. The dogs on the plane proceeded to bark at each other and drive everyone else on the flight insane. But Pascale didn't seem to mind it, she sat looking out the window, thinking about how much fun they were going to have in St Tropez. As a child, she had summered in St Jean Cap-Ferrat and Antibes. St Tropez had always been racier, and a little farther away. It was going to be at least a two-hour drive from Nice. And in traffic, it would be considerably worse. The easiest way to get there from the rest of the Riviera was by boat.

When they landed at the Nice airport, Pascale collected her bags. She had bought some new beach clothes in Paris, which added a third suitcase to the two she had brought from the States. And she was hoping to find a porter to help her get to the car rental and then to her car. She knew that if John had been with her, he would have made her carry at least two of her bags, and complained while he juggled the rest. She was carrying a large Hermes tote, and another big straw beach bag. It was undeniably a lot of stuff. And the porter happily put it in the trunk and on the backseat of her rented Peugeot. And half an hour after she had landed, Pascale was on her way to St Tropez.

Predictably at that time of year, the roads were crowded, there were lots of convertibles, handsome men, and pretty women, and a veritable herd of Deux Chevaux, the tiny little cars that seemed to multiply like rabbits in France. But John thought they weren't safe. Although he complained about it being too expensive, he always wanted her to rent a decent car. She would have preferred a Deux Chevaux, which means “two horses,” but it looked more like one.