Cognac & Couture (The Passport Series Book 2) (19 page)

THE MOMENT MY
foot hit
British soil—well, British tile—I was hailed by an even-more-pregnant
Charlotte. I willed myself to not outwardly react. Seeing Liam poke up the
corners of his mouth, I immediately corrected my expressionless face and beamed
a bright smile. He gave me a thumbs up. Charlotte walked slowly. The glow she’d
emitted when she’d first arrived in Paris was gone. Now, she looked tired and…
done.

Liam raced ahead of her. When we hugged hello, he chastised
me, “You looked positively horrified.”

“Sorry! Is she all right?” I was genuinely worried for my
friend.

“Watch it. That’s the mother of my child. She’s beautiful.
But to answer your question, the doctor assures me everything is okay. The baby
has dropped, which is why she’s moving so slow. He/she might be early.”

Charlotte had given up and lowered herself into a chair; she
winced. He sighed while observing her. “I’ve been scouting personal trainers
and plastic surgeons.”

I punched him hard on the shoulder. “
Ow
! She asked me
to.” He rubbed the spot, giving me a pained sidelong glance. I immediately
apologized.

“What was that for?” Charlotte asked suspiciously when we
reached her, overlooking the pleasantries of saying hello.

“Your husband was making fun of my outfit,” I improvised. I
wore a beautifully tailored charcoal-wool Armani suit with a crisp white linen
shirt.

Charlotte summed up the situation quickly. “You’re both
terrible liars. The doctor says I’m fine. Being tired and swollen is normal.
Well, normal-ish.”

Once she stood up, she reached up and hugged me. “I’m so
glad to see you. I need the distraction.”

“Anything I can do. You name it. Maybe a massage or
pedicure?” I offered. Liam and I stood on either side of her and walked slowly.
Without thinking, I said, “You’re kind of like a Weeble Wobble.”

She stopped, grasped my arm, and threw her head back,
laughing. “That's so funny.” Her reaction was pure Charlotte. I laughed with
her, harder by the minute. Soon, we had a fit of the giggles.

Utterly confused, Liam wondered, “Did you say Weeble
Wobble?”

Catching my breath, I answered, “Yes, they’re toys—well,
were
toys—from when we were little. They had round bottoms, like a ball. If you
pushed one over, it would roll back up. ‘Weebles wobble, but they don’t fall
down,’ was the slogan.”

He chuckled, but it was obvious he didn’t find it nearly as
funny as we did. Instead, he took my weekend bag and guided us to the car. By
the time we were buckled in, dinner at a Mexican restaurant on the Sutton high
street had been decided upon.

Once seated in the tiny restaurant, we ordered the moment
the waiter arrived. Charlotte, pointing at her belly, made him promise to
return quickly with two orders of garlic mussels, a Pink Cadillac for me, a
pint of lager for Liam, and a glass of water for herself.

“Come here often?” I asked, inhaling the shockingly pink
cocktail once it arrived.

Charlotte, foraging her way through a vast bowl of mussels,
spoke as she parted creatures from their shells. “What makes you say that?”

Liam nodded while gulping down half his drink. “Charlotte’s
only craving has been for Mexican food. I think we’ve tried all the Mexican
restaurants in London. We really like this one.”

Sipping my drink suspiciously, I was delighted with its
sweet-and-sour flavor. “Wow, tasty.”

“Isn’t it? I love them. I’m living vicariously through you.
Again,” Charlotte said, holding a hand in front of her mouth as she chewed.
“How goes the apartment? Get any ideas last week?”

I nodded. “Actually, I was inspired by the bar at the Hotel
Cambon. I’m thinking something very zen and calm. Nothing fussy.” This would
prove a departure for me, since I had a tendency to get carried away by a theme
and then have to pare back. The idea of starting with simple and keeping it
simple would be the tricky part.

Liam inserted himself into my thoughts. “Kathleen, since we
have you here
and
you are a decorating genius, how about some decorating
tips? The house, guesthouse, nursery, garden… anything! We need help with it
all.”

Brilliantly done
, I thought to myself. I leapt in. “I
can’t wait for a tour. I heard from Hillary it has great bones. I’d be happy to
offer my two cents.”

Looking down at her plate, Charlotte missed the smile that
passed between Liam and me, but answered, “Absolutely. We’ve got the baby’s
room sorted, but that’s about it. I’m not sure when we’ll get much done. If not
you, we’ll probably have to hire a decorator.”

His smile grew cartoonish as he silently nodded.

“Can’t wait to see it,” was all I said.

It wasn’t until I was confronted by the school-bus-yellow
nursery that I fully understood Liam’s desperation. It was truly awful.

Standing in the middle of the room with her, I watched as Charlotte
chewed her lip. “It looks better during the day, not quite so… bold. You’ll
love it in the daylight. The windows let in a lot of light.”

“Wow! It’ll be great to see it with natural light,” I said,
while thinking that sunglasses might be required.

When I settled into my bedroom for the night, I unpacked a
few things into the wooden dresser. I loved the dark mahogany pieces that had
once been Liam’s bedroom suite and fit easily in the large room. Climbing into
bed with my cell phone, I saw a text from Sébastien.

Back in Paris.
It isn’t as beautiful without you. How’s London?

I had sent him an email letting him know I’d decided to go
to London at the last minute. I knew it was cowardly, but I needed time and
space. If I’d stayed in Paris, I would have spent the weekend in turmoil, which
would have only led to questions and unhappiness.

Looking at the time, I saw he had sent it a few hours ago.
Deciding it was too late to respond, I turned off my phone. I’d text him in the
morning.

***

Waking up
startled, I searched the room for the crying baby before realizing I’d only dreamt
the wailing infant. After trying to fall back to sleep, I gave up and decided
to use my time to figure out how to pull the house into the twenty-first
century without losing any of its old-world charm. I tugged some thick socks and
a heavy wool sweater on over my pajama top before prowling around the house as
silently as possible.

A few hours later, Charlotte found me sitting on the floor
of the baby’s nursery, lost in thought. When our eyes met, she asked, “Couldn’t
sleep?”

“No. Too much whirling around in my head. How about you?”

She snorted. “I haven’t slept well for months. The baby
makes it hard to breathe, and then there are the endless trips to the
bathroom.”

“Sounds like fun,” I said as I rose to my feet. “Still not
selling pregnancy.”

“Am I supposed to be selling it? I never had the impression
that having a baby was something you wanted,” she said candidly, as she pushed
the curtains aside.

I turned my back to her to hide my uneasiness. She seemed to
accept my silence, as together we watched the sun rise beyond the bay window,
past the shrubs at the back of the garden, beyond the distant oak trees. We
watched the purple sky give way to hues of pink and orange and finally streaks
of yellow.

Finally, Charlotte proposed breakfast. Helping her down the
stairs, I let go of my worries and chattered happily about the house’s
potential. This was interspersed with Charlotte listing off all the potential
breakfast options. Deciding upon eggs and toast, we set about cooking and
brewing coffee.

Liam joined us just in time to take charge of the toast.
“Kathleen!”

I looked up to see him holding a piece of toast. I pushed
the eggs around the pan some more and said, “Two.”

Charlotte gave Liam a concerned look.

“What?” I asked.

“You want ‘two’ on your toast. What’s going on, Kathleen?”

Charlotte had given me an opportunity to confide in her… and
Liam.

***

Liam massaged
Charlotte’s legs, causing her to sigh.

“You’re in a tough spot.” Her somber voice mirrored my
feelings.

“Thanks for the recap.”

Liam took a different route. “It’s early days in your
relationship with Sébastien to be considering him in the decision, isn’t it?”

“I seem to remember you and Charlotte fell hard and fast. Or
am I remembering things incorrectly? Would you have made different decisions?” The
idea of not considering Sébastien or his feelings on the subject made my heart
clench. Moving, working for Aksel, living in Aarhus: it was all too much to
absorb. Besides, my heart already belonged to Sébastien and was letting me know
it wasn’t going to go down without a fight.

Still pondering, Charlotte added, “A job at a start-up,
though? That doesn’t sound like you.”

To be fair, I had been all “fashion, fashion, Paris, and L’Oréal”
for years. Other than my biennial remodeling of a new apartment, I had kept my
artistic side under wraps. Many people were going to be surprised if I uprooted
myself and moved to Aarhus. Close to the top of that list was going to be me.

I acknowledged her question with a confused shrug. I’d read
the packet Aksel had given me, and I was definitely excited about being
involved in a project from the ground floor. “The job, yes. It means less pay, hard
work, more responsibility, less… fashion. But something about it speaks to me.
It feels… exciting—they want to do very creative work, build kinetic art.” I
showed them the installation at the Changi Airport in Singapore on YouTube.
“Things like that!”

“Wow!” they said in unison.

I went to the window and stared out at the brightly colored autumn
leaves fluttering. Immediately, I remembered painting scenes like this. I could
hear my old mentor, John Harper, say, “Kathleen, you were meant to do this.”
Was I? Was I meant to paint canvases? Or was I meant to help others bring their
visions to fruition. I could do both. But, could I change my life that much? I’d
been struggling with that question ever since I’d read Aksel Pedersen’s
proposal.

I floated the sensible solution. “Maybe the thing to do is
to wait until Monsieur Detriche’s position is filled. If I don’t get it, there
would be more to think about.”

We sat digesting options for quite some time. Charlotte
broke the silence. “Sounds like a good plan, a safe plan. You and Sébastien
will have had more time together,
and
, if it doesn’t turn out how you
hoped
and
you have somehow made peace with living in Aarhus, you could
contact Aksel Pedersen and see if he/they are still interested.”

“That’s a lot of ‘ands.’” It was a strange situation to be
in. In order to take this incredible opportunity with Aksel Pedersen, I had to
bet against every other aspect of my life.
Or
, my brain whispered,
you
could try to have your cake and eat it, too.
I shook my head to clear it.
It was all too much.

Since she’d offered me sound advice, I offered her some
back. “Charlotte, that yellow is atrocious. Why not just paint it a nice warm
white and call it done? Then, boy, girl, twins, it doesn’t matter. Use
accessories to add color to the room.”

Liam’s mouth hung open. Charlotte pushed away from him and
looked up into his green eyes. “Admit it, you asked her to pick out another
color!”

He had the grace to admit it. “Yes. I’m sorry, my wee
Weeble, but that shade of yellow is dreadful.” He shot me a thankful but harsh
look.

“You really think that a warm white is better?” Her voice
was a little woeful.

Hormones. I softened my tone. “Yellow is a really tricky
color to get right—ambient lighting and all that.”

She countered by saying, “Think of all the handprints and
scuffmarks on the walls.”

Liam let out a sigh. “That will happen anyway.”

“Thank god for housekeepers,” she said.

“Amen!” Liam said enthusiastically, giving her a gentle
squeeze and a chaste kiss. “Now, can I go to the DIY and buy the paint for the
baby’s room?”

Charlotte took me by surprise when
she pressed me. “Kathleen, tell me one thing about Mikkel.”

“Life with him seemed limitless.”

She reached over and held my hand firmly in her grip, as if
trying to lend me strength. “You’ve never had a chance to talk about him. Maybe
this is where you start.”

Her words hung in the air between us. Then, haltingly, I
began to tell her about the first time I’d kissed him. “It was the perfect
summer evening. We’d gone to an Italian restaurant, really cheap but good food.
More importantly, a lot of food. He was a big guy with a big appetite. He ate
all of his food and half of mine.

“Afterwards, we went to a party at a friend’s house, and
hung-out, danced. We’d gone out a few times already, but this was our first ‘we
are a couple’ date. Oddly, he still hadn’t tried to kiss me. When he dropped me
off at home, he walked me to the door, and we talked. When he said goodbye, he
went to do the European kiss thing, and instead, I grabbed his head and kissed
him. I kept my eyes open. And so did he.” I looked at Charlotte, and saw that
her smile mirrored mine. “You know what he said to me?” I asked her. She shook
her head. “He said, ‘You’re taller than I thought you’d be.’”

“Oh my god. He didn’t!” she squealed.

“He did.” I flushed, thinking back on the memory and how
embarrassed I had been. I laughed and felt all the joy of that summer night
pulse through me. As I gave voice to our story, I drifted along the timeline of
our love affair and found myself laughing and crying at memories. When she
laughed and cried with me, I felt all over again how much I had loved him.

She surprised me when she asked, “
Sébastien
has a daughter, right? Does that bother you?”

“Not at all. I can’t lie. I’m glad she’s older, and I don’t
have to deal with a young child. I’m not ready for that.”

“How old is she?”

“She’s almost twenty-one.”

Liam came downstairs and called out, “I’m going to put the
kettle on! Anyone want coffee? Tea? I bought some ginger biscuits.”

I looked at the clock. “Don’t you need more than that?”

A few hours had passed and, in pregnant-woman time, that
seemed like a long time without a solid meal. She shook her head. “No, that’ll
be perfect.”

“I think our Americanism is fleeing us. If we were home, it
would be coffee and doughnuts! I’ll go help Liam.” Truthfully, I needed a break
and a change of view.

For the rest of the afternoon, I focused on being my usual
self: dragging Charlotte around the house with paint samples, giving her some
ideas to consider.

“Well, I can probably have the painting done before the baby
arrives. The furniture will have to wait,” Charlotte decided as she yawned.

“No furniture is perfect. Give yourself time to pick the
perfect pieces. Just rent what you need to get by,” I suggested, as we stood in
the center of the empty formal dining room. “Have you considered pulling up
these dreadful carpets and seeing if there’s any decent hardwood underneath?”

“I have an answer for that!” Charlotte gave me a devious
grin. I raised my eyebrows when she said, “We’re having new carpet put down,
everywhere but here. Hardwood is too cold in this environment for babies to
crawl around on.”

I countered, “Radiant heat is great, and hardwood is easier
to keep clean.”

Charlotte called up to Liam, who was painting a second coat
in the nursery, “What do you think of hardwood floors?”

He dashed down the stairs at a quick clip. “Hardwood? I
thought carpet.” He seemed annoyed.

“Yes, but I thought we had decided on yellow, and you’re up
there painting white!”

Liam gave me a look of betrayal. “Traitor!”

I smiled at him. “It works both ways, my friend.”

Looking at his wife and seeing her determination, he quickly
agreed. “Fine! But I get to help decide what color the wood will be stained.”

I intervened once again. “Fine, so long as it’s dark.”