Suspects(37)

The rest of the week moved just as fast. She hardly had time to talk to Mike and forgot to mention de Vaumont’s subsequent calls when she did. He had gotten so upset the last time she mentioned him, about the party at Versailles that she’d declined, that she wasn’t sure she’d tell him anyway.

Mike had been busy too. He never told her what he was working on, but she had learned to detect the stress level in his voice, or when things were going smoothly. Even long distance, they were learning each other’s ways and inflections. She loved talking to him and hated that she had so little spare time at the moment. Things didn’t slow down for her until late at night, and by then she was tired, but happy to hear him at the end of her day. He was usually still at the office then and getting ready to go home. He was working on finding a long weekend when he could come back to see her, but hadn’t found the free time yet. They might have to wait another month, until Thanksgiving, when he could take a week off, but it wasn’t a holiday for her in France, since it was an American holiday they didn’t celebrate.

True to form, Pierre de Vaumont called her on Friday afternoon, but he called during a lull when she was a little less rushed and slightly more pleasant to him.

“Do you think you’ll be going to the chateau this weekend?” he asked her. “My friend’s trip has been delayed, but he has authorized me to look at a number of chateaux for him. Yours, of course, would be the most beautiful, and his first choice, and certainly mine.”

“I haven’t made any set plans, but I do need to pick up some clothes.” There were several coats and a lot of sweaters she wanted to bring back, and there was no point leaving them since she knew she wouldn’t be spending time there. He was so pushy that it was easier to say yes than continue to fob him off. He was very artful at what he did, and persistence usually got him what he wanted. “I suppose I could go tomorrow, around noon.” She made the decision while she spoke to him. It couldn’t do any harm. He was annoying, but maybe he really would pull off a simple advantageous sale, since he knew plenty of rich people who could afford a chateau. And then she wouldn’t have to deal with realtors, strangers, and a curious press. She could see how he made his deals, all “among friends.”

“I won’t stay long. I don’t want to intrude. I just need to see enough to give my friend an idea. May I take a few photographs while I’m there with my phone?”

“I’d rather you didn’t,” she said bluntly. “It’s our home, and it’s not on the market.” And it had a shocking history now that the tabloid press was always hungry to exploit.

“Of course, I understand. See you tomorrow at noon,” he said quickly, and hung up before she could change her mind.



* * *



—

The next morning, Theo overslept by half an hour, which was unusual for her. She got three important emails from Matthieu’s CEO, which she had to respond to, so she got in her car a little later than planned. One of the bodyguards, Daniel, was going to drive her, and she’d given her driver the day off. Daniel was driving a station wagon they always used on the weekends. She could almost see Axel in the back seat when she got into the front passenger seat. She usually sat in the back seat with him, and Matthieu in the front seat where she sat now, with their driver at the wheel. Or sometimes she drove there alone with Axel, and Matthieu drove up on his own. She tried not to let the past surge into her head. There were so many good memories associated with the chateau, before the last bad ones replaced them. It was all a jumble in her mind now as she watched the familiar landmarks begin to slide by. It was only a little over an hour from the city, and it looked like real country, not a suburb. Matthieu had bought back a lot of land around it, which was planted in orchards and surrounded by farms.

She noticed that it was twelve-thirty when they reached the driveway and turned in. She could see Pierre de Vaumont waiting for them, and she wished she had gotten there slightly early as she had planned.

Minutes after they arrived, a man walked onto the grounds carrying a shovel and a watering can. He was clearly one of the gardeners, but she didn’t recognize him. He began shoveling dirt under some bushes. She hadn’t been there in over a year, so it didn’t surprise her to see a new face on the grounds. He respectfully touched his cap as she got out of the car and walked toward Pierre with a quick step, then shook his hand. He was wearing brown leather Hermès gloves and was very chic in a dark brown suede jacket, gray turtleneck sweater, crisply pressed jeans, and brown suede low boots. He looked like the cover of a men’s magazine.

“I’m so sorry, I got delayed,” she apologized, and he smiled. She studied his face as he did and noticed again how handsome he was. She didn’t know why she had such a viscerally negative reaction to him, but it was the oily way he always seemed on the make for what he could get out of a situation. There was nothing real or natural about him. It really seemed too bad. He was very good-looking and painfully polite, which made him socially acceptable, along with his aristocratic name, although she was sure he had no money other than what he made on his deals.

She pointed out the gardens and orchards to him and said that they were designed by Le N?tre, who had done the gardens at Versailles. Everything was in immaculate condition, and it tugged at her heart to see the place again and remember how much Matthieu had loved it, and why. It brought back tender memories for her too, of their happy times and watching Axel grow up there. They had gone faithfully almost every weekend.