44 Charles Street (14 page)

“Brad beat her up. Badly. She’s got bruises all over her face and body and a black eye.”

“Jesus.” Chris looked furious. “Did she call the police?”

Francesca shook her head. “She said he told her he’d kill her if she told anyone. She can’t even go to work. She looks a mess.”

“Do you think she should move out?” he asked practically, as Marya worked on the whipped cream and made so much noise she couldn’t hear what they were saying.

“She begged me not to. I told her she can’t have him here again. He took her key. I’ll get the locks changed tomorrow. We can put the chain on tonight.”

Chris sighed and leaned back in his chair. “I hope she’s not addicted to the guy, or getting beaten up. Physical abuse is a tough addiction to break, one of the worst.” But as far as they knew, it had never happened before. Francesca was encouraged by that.

“I think he’s just a random bad guy she met on the Internet. I wish she’d give that up. She doesn’t mean to, and she’s a sweet kid, but she’s putting all of us at risk along with herself.” Chris nodded, and Marya arrived with the dessert. Francesca picked at it, and Chris ate most of it. It had been a delicious meal. Marya’s recipe was flawless, but what was happening upstairs was upsetting to Francesca and Chris. They didn’t tell Marya, and agreed that she didn’t need to know.

After helping Marya clean up the kitchen, Francesca went back upstairs to see Eileen. She looked terrible, but she had eaten some of the food Marya sent her and felt better. She made a thousand promises to Francesca, who went back downstairs to talk to Chris. They were uneasy about Brad, but they hoped he’d leave Eileen alone after this. She had sworn to Francesca that she’d never see him again.

Francesca put the chain on that night, and Chris said he’d call the locksmith the next day and get the locks changed while she was at work. There wasn’t much else they could do, except keep an eye out for him. And Francesca had told Eileen that she would call the police if he showed up at the house again. Francesca could hardly sleep that night, thinking about the bruises on Eileen’s face, and she wondered what Chris had meant about physical abuse being a hard addiction to break. Who could possibly be addicted to abuse? It made no sense. She was sure Eileen had learned a lesson, and would stay well away from Brad from now on. After seeing what he’d done to her, Francesca had no doubt about that.

Chapter 10

C
hris arranged to have the locks changed, and Eileen took a week off from work. She told them she’d had a car accident, and eventually she admitted what had happened to Marya, who was shocked. She was relieved that Francesca had changed the locks, and she felt desperately sorry for Eileen, who was such an innocent, harmless young girl. And even if she was foolish about her Internet encounters, she didn’t deserve to be beaten up. No one does. It crossed Francesca’s mind that Eileen’s problems weren’t with the Internet, which was just a venue for her to meet men, like a bar, or any other place. Her real problem was the poor judgment she exercised about the men she met, and her attraction to the wrong ones.

It took them all some time to settle down after that.

Francesca went out with her artist again, and was even less impressed. He was a nice man, but they had nothing in common and were just too different. She didn’t want to make that mistake again and decided not to pursue it. He acted like an irresponsible kid, unlike Todd, who was a man. There was no point forcing things, and she told him she couldn’t go out with him anymore. She was content to be alone, although her mother was nagging her about it. She couldn’t understand Francesca’s willingness to be without a man, and suggested she go back to her shrink. Francesca laughed and said she was feeling fine. She was in no hurry to get involved again—she had been with Todd for a long time.

The next shocking piece of news she got was from Todd. He called her at the gallery, asked her how she was doing, chatted for a few minutes, and told her he was engaged.

“Already?” She was stunned. “You just moved out five months ago. What’s the rush?”

“I’m forty-one years old. I want to get married and have kids.” She was thirty-five and still felt none of that.

“Is that the woman I saw you with a few months ago? She’s tall and blond, you were at Christie’s together.” Francesca sounded sad. It was hard to get used to the idea of his being with someone else.

“Probably. I’ve been seeing her since February. We’re getting married early next year. I thought you should know before we announce it or tell anyone else.”

“Thank you,” she said softly. She was happy for him if that was what he wanted. But hearing it still hurt. He knew it would. They were different people with different needs. It was what had driven them apart. And now he was engaged. It left her feeling dazed all day after she thanked him for telling her and wished him luck.

She was still feeling down about it when she went home that night. Chris was getting out of a cab as she walked up the front steps. He had delivered a design project to an art director uptown, this time for a New Age–looking capsule designed to contain laundry detergent. He looked happy to see her.

“How was your day?” he asked as she unlocked the front door. It was nice for both of them to have someone to come home to. Neither of them would have otherwise.

“Not so good. Todd called to tell me he’s engaged.” They had few secrets from each other now, if any, except for their hopes and dreams, which they kept to themselves. But after the drama with Ian’s mother, and Eileen getting beaten up, they talked about everything that happened to them on a daily basis, and considered each other friends, as they did Marya and Eileen.

“Wow, that’s heavy,” Chris commented as he followed her into the front hall. There were the usual fabulous smells coming from the kitchen. They were used to it by now, they loved it but were less impressed, although the smells wafting up to them were particularly good that night. All of them offered to chip in for the food, but most of the time, Marya insisted on providing it herself. It was her generous and greatly appreciated gift to them. They all gave her little gifts whenever they could, and Chris bought her some very good wine. “Are you upset?” Francesca looked shaken as she turned to look at him. She hadn’t expected this from Todd, not this soon anyway.

“Yes, I am,” she said honestly. “I guess I should be gracious about it and say I’m happy for him, but I’m not sure I am. I’m still sad for me that it didn’t work out with us.”

“At least you both admitted it and cut your losses. It took me ten years to do that, and by the time I did, I was a mess and never wanted a relationship again. You did it in half the time, and you were decent to each other. I waited till she nearly destroyed my life along with her own. I kept thinking Kim would get clean and stay off drugs for good. The relationship we had was totally sick. I was addicted to her, and thought I could help her fix herself. No one can do that. She’s a mess. You and Todd are whole people, but you wanted different things. You figured that out and moved on. He found someone, so will you. You didn’t destroy each other on the way out.” She felt sorry for him when he talked about Ian’s mother. She could barely imagine what a nightmare that must have been, and it still was, at their child’s expense, which was even worse.

“You’re not too old to find someone too, you know,” she reminded him gently.

“Not too old,” he admitted. He was thirty-eight. “But possibly too damaged and too badly burned. I’m not sure I could ever trust anyone again, in a relationship. She lied to me constantly and I believed her. She slept with her dealer. It took me three years to figure out she couldn’t stay off drugs. Addicts are incredibly convincing and amazing liars. She’s a piece of work. I feel sorry for her now, but I hate what she does to Ian.” Francesca nodded. He had been essentially out of the marriage for two years, ever since he gave up on her, although he had only left her six months before. He had stayed with friends in the beginning, then a hotel, and had finally come here. Francesca was sure he’d find someone again, and he was equally sure of it about her. They were both too young to give up on love forever.

“Let’s go see what Marya is cooking up for us tonight,” he said, to distract them both. They had been trying out recipes for her almost every night. She’d been cooking up a storm, and all of them were gaining weight.

Francesca followed Chris down the stairs to the kitchen, expecting to see Marya, and both of them looked startled when they saw a tall white-haired man instead. He had fierce blue eyes and a mane of shoulder-length white hair. He looked at them with suspicion for an instant and then burst into a broad smile.

“Francesca and Chris?” he asked in a heavy French accent. He seemed to know who they were. He introduced himself as Charles-Edouard, and suddenly Francesca realized who he was. His last name was Prunier, and he was one of the most famous chefs in France and obviously one of Marya’s friends. She appeared a moment later and explained that he was in town from Paris and was cooking for them that night. She promised that it would be an unforgettable experience, and he looked at her with eyes that sparkled. He was a very handsome man.

They shared a bottle of champagne he had brought with him, and everyone in the house was excited about dinner. Eileen came home a few minutes later with flowers she had bought for Francesca and Marya and a bottle of wine for Chris. They were a lively bunch talking about France as she walked in. Charles-Edouard said that he and Marya had known each other for thirty years. It was easy to see that he had a crush on her, and he flirted with her as they cooked together. She was playing sous-chef that night and chopping things for him, as he juggled half a dozen pans, and twice as many bowls. She looked at him with affectionate smiles from time to time, and they seemed very comfortable with each other.

The result when they sat down to dinner was stupefying. Everyone agreed that they had never had a dinner like it in their lives. He was modest and funny and outrageous, and he constantly looked at Marya with loving glances, which she happily ignored. She loved cooking with him, and they were thinking of writing a book together about the delicacies and herbs of Provence and how to use them. But the handsome Frenchman obviously wanted to collaborate with her on more than that.

“He’s adorable,” Francesca whispered to Marya as they did the dishes together. “And he’s crazy about you.” It was easy for anyone to see and they all had, while eating his astoundingly good dinner. He and Chris were smoking cigars in the garden, while the three women washed up. And after that, Eileen went upstairs. “What about him?” Francesca asked. She thought they made a very handsome pair, and he was about Marya’s age.

“Don’t be silly,” Marya said shyly, and then laughed. “And what about his wife? He’s very French. He’s married to a very sweet woman who used to be one of his sous-chefs. He’s cheated on her for years.” She said it as though talking about a badly behaved brother.

“Would he ever get divorced?” Francesca asked with interest. She was feeling better about Todd’s engagement after a very pleasant evening, an exquisite meal with good friends, and a bevy of fine wines.

“Of course not. He’s French. French men don’t get divorced. They cheat until they die, usually in someone else’s bed, like their mistress’s. I’m not sure she’s any more faithful to him, and he claims they’ve never been happy. But he sleeps with everyone in every kitchen he works in. I don’t want to get in the middle of a mess like that. I like him better as a friend.”

“That’s too bad. He’s cute. He’s very good-looking. Keep him away from my mother, or she’ll be chasing him and dragging him to the nearest divorce lawyer. Maybe you should think about that.” Marya shook her head and laughed. “Your mother might just be a match for him. I’m not. I can’t deal with men like that. John and I were faithful to each other all our lives. I prefer men like that. Charles-Edouard is handsome and exciting, but he’s a very, very bad boy.” Marya had no doubt about it.

“He sounds like my father before he married Avery. Sometimes men like that do reform.”

“Yeah, one in a hundred million. I don’t like those kinds of odds. I’d rather work with him and keep him as a friend,” Marya said firmly with a smile. “This way he’s someone else’s problem, not mine.”

Chris and Charles-Edouard wandered back into the kitchen then with what was left of the Cuban cigars the famous chef had smuggled in. He poured each of them a brandy then, and halfway through it he said he had been in love with Marya for thirty years. He looked at her adoringly, and she laughed at him. She took his declarations of love for her with a grain of salt.

“Yeah, me and ten thousand other women. That’s a long list, Charles-Edouard,” she teased him as he smiled.

“But you were always top of that list.” He twinkled as he teased her.

“That’s because you couldn’t have me, and you still can’t. Besides, I like your wife.”

“So do I,” he said matter-of-factly with a mischievous smile. “I’m just not in love with her. I don’t think I ever was. We’re very good friends now. She went after me once with a butcher knife,” he said, pointing to his lower parts with the stub of his cigar, and they all laughed. “I’ve been very nice to her ever since.” He said he had no children either, like Marya, and had never wanted any. “I’m too much of a child myself,” he confessed. He was totally charming and easy to be with. It had been a magical evening for all of them, and he promised to cook dinner for them again before he left. Francesca really liked him and wished he were available for Marya. It was obvious that they had a deep respect for each other, and a lot of fun together, and he loved flirting with her. She had opened up that night like a flower in spring. It was nice to see her that way and admired by a man. She was such a pretty woman, so kind and so talented, it made Francesca sad to think of her alone. She didn’t seem to mind it, but Francesca was sure she must get lonely at times. Marya didn’t have the strident quality of her mother, who was desperate for a man, but it made her all the more appealing. She was very feminine, and there was no question about it, Charles-Edouard was crazy about her. It really was too bad he had a wife. And she could sense that Marya was right and knew him well. He spoke of his wife with affection and fondness, and he would never get divorced. He was
very
French.