The Matchmaker's Gift(75)

“Of course,” Abby said. “No problem at all.”

But when Victor walked into the conference room on Monday, Abby barely recognized him. The dapper, stylish man she knew looked as if he hadn’t bathed for days. His hair was greasy, his shirt untucked, and instead of his trademark butter-soft suede loafers, he wore a pair of muddied sneakers.

“Mr. étoile!” she exclaimed, unable to mask her surprise. “Is everything okay?”

He lowered himself into a chair and shrugged. “I am not myself, Abby. I am … adrift.”

“Did something happen?”

He rubbed the stubble on his chin. “Nicole was so busy with work this weekend, she barely had time to speak to me. Of course, she is far more productive than I ever was—efficient and focused—a perfect business partner. But our house feels more and more like an office—not the home I hoped to make for my girls.”

“How are Isobel and Chloé?”

“Since Friday night, they have not stopped talking about your friend.”

“What friend?” Diane swept into the conference room. Despite the fact that she had come straight from the airport after a harried morning of travel, Diane was as put together as ever.

Abby tried to tamp down her nerves. “Diane! You’re back! How was your trip?”

“The trip was fine. What friend are you talking about?”

“Oh, Mr. étoile was kind enough to share some extra tickets with me—for the Shakespeare Festival in the park on Friday. I brought a friend of mine, that’s all.”

“It was a lovely night for the performance,” Victor added, in an unfamiliar, wistful voice.

Diane shook off her confusion. Abby knew she wouldn’t ask too many questions, not while Victor was in the room. “How nice,” Diane said. “Now then, let’s get to business, shall we? Why don’t we begin by going over the changes to your agreement?”

Victor rubbed his eyes and yawned. “I apologize, Diane—I haven’t been sleeping well. If it’s all the same to you, I will take the documents home and go over them tomorrow. May I call you then?”

Diane did not seem pleased. “Victor, your wedding is in six weeks. And your engagement party is Saturday. I thought you wanted to wrap this up before then?”

“Of course. But I’m afraid I don’t have the energy today.” He pointed to a thick pile of papers on the table. “I assume that is for me?”

Diane looked stunned. “Yes.”

Abby tucked the document into a heavy manila folder. “Here you go, Mr. étoile.”

He rose from his chair. “I’ll call you in the next few days. And I’ll see you at the party, yes? Both of you should feel free to bring guests.” He tucked the folder under his arm and pushed his way through the conference room doors.

Diane waited until he was out of earshot. “What on earth happened to him?” she said. “Did you see what he looked like? He’s a total mess.” From across the table, she glared at Abby. “What was all that about the show? Did something happen that I should know about?”

Abby felt a throbbing in her temples. “What? Of course not! He sent over two tickets and I brought my friend, that’s all. Victor had his daughters with him.”

“And what about Nicole? Where was she?”

“He said Nicole had to work late.”

“That doesn’t sound good. Did you see the look on his face when I brought up the wedding?” Diane slammed her hand on the conference room table. “Damn it!”

Abby chose her words carefully. “What would happen if they didn’t get married?”

The tone of Diane’s voice was bitter. “Prenups are a mind game,” she said. “Putting people through a hypothetical divorce right before they promise to love each other forever? It’s a miracle they ever get signed. But people want them, and more important, they want a scapegoat to go with them. We’re the scapegoat, Abby. That’s our job. Bride-to-be thinks her fiancé is a secret greedy bastard? Oh no, darling, he’ll say. It isn’t me. It’s the lawyers. If it were up to me, there’d be no prenup at all … Do you know how many times I’ve heard my clients say that?

“As you know,” she continued, “Victor’s engagement has been in all the papers and magazines. The wedding is a highly anticipated event coming after his very public divorce. Everyone knows there will be a prenup, and everyone knows we’re the ones doing it. If Victor doesn’t get married when he’s supposed to, people will assume it’s the fault of this firm—that we were too tough in the negotiations, or we made things too difficult, or maybe, that we’re just bad luck. And that could mean that future clients might not want to work with us.”

Diane tapped her manicured nails on the conference room table. “You’re sure nothing else is going on? Did he say anything strange on Friday? Anything to make you think he was having problems with Nicole?”

“Nothing that jumped out,” Abby lied.

“What was he saying about your friend and his daughters?”

Abby shrugged. “Just that Jessica—my friend—was sitting next to them. She’s an ophthalmologist, and she’s great with kids. I guess the girls really liked her.”