“How is it being back at the hotel?” he asked kindly.

“It was harder than I thought it would be getting here,” she admitted to him. “I was wiped out when we arrived, but I'm feeling better now. I can't believe what a jolt it was. And we ran into some paparazzi at the back door. I probably looked like the Bride of Frankenstein getting out of the car. I could hardly walk.”

“I'm sure you looked beautiful. You always do.”

“One of the paparazzi threw me a rose, which was sweet. It almost knocked me down. The expression ‘you could have knocked me over with a feather’ seems to have taken on new meaning.” He laughed at what she said.

“I was going to ask you to take a walk with me, but it doesn't sound like you're up to it. Would you like a visit instead? Maybe we can go for a walk tomorrow. Or a drive, if you prefer.”

“Would you like to come to tea?” she offered. She didn't feel up to having him to dinner, and wasn't sure she should anyway. Their relationship was tenuous, heavily impacted by the sorrows of the past, as well as the love they'd shared.

“That sounds perfect. Five o'clock?” he suggested, grateful that she was willing to see him.

“I'm not going anywhere,” she assured him. “I'll be here.”

He was there an hour later, in a dark business suit, and his gray topcoat. It had gotten bitter cold that afternoon, and his cheeks were pink from the wind. Carole was wearing the same black sweater and jeans she had worn leaving the hospital, the black suede loafers and diamond studs on her ears. She looked exquisite to him, although very pale. But her eyes were bright, and she felt better as they sat down to tea, pastry, and macarons from La Durée, which the hotel had sent her. He'd been pleased to see the guards on duty outside her room, and noticed hotel security in the hall around the floor. They were taking no chances with her, as well they shouldn't. The incident at the hospital had put everyone on warning that she was at risk.

“How was Lyon?” she asked with a quiet smile. She was happy to see him.

“Tiresome. I had a court appearance I couldn't put off. And I almost missed my train back. The trials and tribulations of an ordinary citizen and lawyer.” He laughed at himself, and was obviously happy to see her too.

She seemed to come alive again as they sat and chatted, and became more animated and more herself. She ate half a dozen macarons, he noticed with pleasure, and shared a coffee éclair with him. He hoped her appetite had returned, she was looking very thin, but not quite as pale as when he walked in. Considering how far she had come in recent weeks, it was remarkable to see her sitting there in diamond earrings and jeans. She'd had her nails done in the room that afternoon. They were a clear pale pink, which was the only color she'd worn for years. He silently admired her long graceful fingers as she sipped her tea. Stevie had left them alone, and retired to her own room with the nurse. Stevie was satisfied that Carole was comfortable alone with him. She had looked at her questioningly before she left the room, and Carole smiled and nodded, letting her know it was all right.

“I was afraid I'd never see this room again,” Carole admitted to him, as they sat in the living room of the suite.

“I was afraid you wouldn't either,” he confessed, with a look of relief. He was aching to take a walk with her, and get her out of the hotel, but she was obviously not ready to venture so far afield, although she would have liked it too.

“I always seem to run into trouble in Paris, don't I?” she said with a mischievous grin, as Matthieu laughed at her.

“I'd say this time was a bit extreme, wouldn't you?” he commented and she nodded, and then they started talking about her book.

She'd had some ideas for it in the past few days, and hoped she could get back to work once she was back in L.A. He admired her for it. Publishers were always asking him to write his memoirs, but he hadn't done it yet. There were a lot of things he said he wanted to do, which was why he was planning to retire in the coming year, to do the things he dreamed of, before it was too late. His wife's death had reminded him that life was short and precious, particularly at his age. He was going skiing with his children at Val d'Isere over Christmas. Carole said regretfully that her skiing days were over. The last thing she needed was another bump on her head, and he agreed. It reminded them both of the fun they'd had skiing together during her time in France. They had gone several times, and taken her kids. He had been a fabulous skier, and so was she. He had been on a national racing team in his youth.

They talked about a multitude of things as darkness fell outside. It was nearly eight o'clock when he got up, feeling guilty for keeping her up for so long. She needed rest. He had stayed quite a while, and she looked tired but relaxed. And then she exclaimed as she looked out the long-curtained windows as they stood up. It was snowing outside, and she opened the window and put her hand outside, reaching toward the snowflakes as he watched her. She turned to look at him with the wide eyes of a child.

“Look! It's snowing!” she said happily. He nodded and smiled at her, as she looked into the night and felt gratitude overwhelm her. Everything had new meaning to her, and the smallest pleasures brought her joy. She was the greatest joy of all for him. She always had been. “It's so beautiful,” she said in wonder, as he stood just behind her but didn't touch her. He was basking in her presence and trembling inside.

“So are you,” he said softly. He was so happy to be there with her, and that she was allowing him to spend time with her. It was a precious gift.

She turned to look at him again then, with the snow falling behind her, her face turned up to his. “The night I moved into the house here, it was snowing… you were there with me… we touched the snowflakes, and kissed … I remember thinking I would never forget that night, it was so beautiful … we went for a long walk along the Seine, with the snow falling around us … I wore a fur coat with a hood …,” she whispered.

“…you looked like a Russian princess …”

“That's what you said to me.” He nodded, as they both thought back to the magic of that night, and then standing in the open window at the Ritz, they moved imperceptibly toward each other and kissed as time stood still.





Chapter 16




Carole looked worried when Matthieu called her at the Ritz the next morning. She was feeling better and her legs were stronger, but she had lain awake thinking about him for hours the night before.

“That was a silly thing to do last night … I'm sorry…,” she said as soon as she answered the phone. It had troubled her all night. She didn't want to go there with him again. But the memories of that long-ago night had been so powerful, they had swept her away. It had had the same effect on both of them, just as it had then. They had an overwhelmingly intoxicating effect on each other.

“Why was it silly?” he asked, sounding disappointed.

“Because things are different. That was then. This is now. You can't go backward in time. And I'm leaving soon. I didn't mean to confuse you.” And she didn't want him to confuse her. After he had left, her head was spinning. It wasn't from her injury. It was him, and the re awakening of all she had felt for him before.

“You didn't confuse me, Carole. If I'm confused, it's of my own doing, but I don't think I am.” There was nothing confused about his feelings for her. He knew he was in love with her all over again, and always had been. Nothing had changed for him. It was Carole who had shut the door, and was trying to again.

“I want to be friends,” she said firmly. But nothing more.

“We are.”

“I don't want to do that again,” she said, referring to their kiss. She was trying to sound strong but feeling frightened. She knew the effect he had on her, and had felt it like a tidal wave the night before.

“Then we won't. I give you my solemn word.” He promised, but she knew what promises meant to him. He never kept them. Or never had.

“We know what that's worth.” The words slipped out, and she heard him gasp. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to say that.”

“Yes, you did. And I deserved it. Let's just say that my word is worth more than it was before.”

“I'm sorry.” She was embarrassed by what she'd said. She didn't have her usual control, but it was no excuse, whether he deserved it or not. He didn't seem to hold it against her.

“It's all right. What about our walk? Do you feel up to it?” The snow had already melted from the previous night. It had just been a brief flurry, but it was cold outside. He didn't want her to get sick. “You'll need to wear a heavy coat.”

“I have one… or actually, I did.” She remembered that she'd been wearing it that night in the tunnel, and along with everything else she'd been wearing, it had disappeared, blown right off her back. She had been wearing rags when the ambulance picked her up. “I'll borrow Stevie's coat.”

“Where do you want to go?”

“Bagatelle?” She looked pensive.

“Excellent. I'll arrange to have your guards follow us in another car.” He wasn't taking any chances, which sounded fine to her. The trick would be getting out of the hotel. She suggested meeting him in front of the Crillon, and switching from her car to his. “Sounds like espionage to me.” He smiled. That was familiar to him, they had been cautious in the old days too.

“It is espionage,” she laughed. “What time shall we meet?” She sounded happier and more at ease than a few minutes before. She was trying to set boundaries with him.

“What about two o'clock? I have meetings before that.”