Dangerous to Know (22 page)

I was completely alone.

I did as she asked and ordered a car for her. Then I went to my office in the winery. I had work to do. But I also wanted to avoid Catherine.

I didn’t want to say good-bye. I didn’t want to see her again.

Not ever. Not as long as I lived. –-.- *FPflI*W’

Anger was fulminating inside me. I tried to shake it off. Work was the answer. I sat pouring over the papers that had arrived by courier from Locke Industries in New York yesterday. Concentration eluded me. I pushed them away from me, sat back in my chair, and closed my eyes.

Endeavoring to calm myself, I made an effort to focus on my business affairs. I was not particularly successful. Emotions were crowding in, getting in the way.

I was angry. And hurt. I felt betrayed by Catherine. She had let me down by getting pregnant. It was irresponsible on her part.

We’d had more than one conversation about birth control. She knew my feelings about children. I’d never wanted any when I was married. So why would I want them out of wedlock?

Suddenly her last words echoed in my mind. Had she spoken the truth?

Did I really believe that I couldn’t love a child because my-father had never loved me? I had no answer for myself. How could I have an answer to an unanswerable question?

Catherine had said I was irrational about my father. But this was not the case. I was very rational when it came to Sebastian. I knew where my feelings of antipathy sprang from. My childhood. He had never tried to help me when I was growing up. Never ventured to teach me anything.

He had never made an effort to be a real father. Like other boys’ fathers did. He had always left me to my own devices. Left me with Luciana and Vivienne. We had never indulged in any masculine pursuits.

Or exchanged confidences. All he had ever talked about was my duty. And he had never loved me.

At least Catherine hadn’t tried to convince me I was wrong about that.

Instead she had given me a psychological explanation. DisassocLa tion.

That is what she had called it. She said it sprang from lack of bonding in the first years of a child’s life. She ascribed Sebastians inability to love to this condition. It made sense. His mother had died -in childbirth. He had never bonded with Cyrus. He had said as much once.

I knew he had hated my grandfather.

But I didn’t suffer from disassociation. I had known mother love for two years. Those crucial years of a child’s life. Then Christa had come along. She had been there to love me. And after Christa went away there was my Special Lady, Antoinette Delaney.

I sighed under my breath. Catherine might be right about my father.

But she was totally wrong about me. Wasn’t she?

Oh what the hell did it matter what she thought or said or did.

She was out of my life. Or would be within the space of the next hour.

It was regrettable really. I had cared about her. We had been good together .

Built a good relationship. She had gone and ruined it. But then women usually did. In my life at least.

ZQ

“Good God, where did you spring from?” I exclaimed. I stared at the door, startled to see my unexpected visitor. Her sudden arrival was a mixed blessing. Part of me was glad. The other part mad.

“New York,” Vivienne said, laughing. She stepped into my office and closed the door behind her. “I got back to Vieux Moulin yesterday.

I was going to phone you, but then I decided to surprise you instead.”

“You succeeded.” I got up, went to hug her. We strolled across the floor together. She sat down in the chair next to my desk and went on, “You do look busy. All those papers. Oh, dear, I do hope I haven’t interrupted you.”

“It’s okay, Viv. I’d just about finished anyway. I’ve been hard at it all day. Locke Industries can be very demanding at times. Even long distance.” I glanced at my watch. “It’s almost five. I might as well pack it in now. Let’s go and have a drink.”

“It’s a bit early, isn’t it?” she demurred.

“Not necessarily. Depending on how you look at it. Here in Alx it’s five. But in Rome it’s already six. The cocktail hour. Anyway, I’m not offering you any old drink. But a very special one. So you can make an exception. Start drinking early for once. I want you to taste our new wine. Created by Olivier. In 1986. It’s just matured.

Come on, kid.

Let’s go down to the cave.”

“I’d love to,” Vivienne agreed, suddenly enthusiastic. She followed me out of the office.

Within minutes we were standing in the wine-tasting corner of the red wine maturation cellar. I ushered Vivienne to a chair. Then I took a bottle of the vintage 1986 red out of a wine rack and showed it to her.

“It was good weather that summer and fall. If you remember, Viv,” I explained. “And the wine is excellent. It’s aged well. Olivier mixed ––*- -148Barbara Taylor Brndford three different grapes. It has a wonderful taste. Very soft on the palette .”

“I can’t wait to try it,” she replied and smiled up at me. “Go on then, open it. Let me taste your triumph.”

“Olivier’s triumph,” I said.

I felt her eyes on me as I handled the bottle. I did so carefully.

Slowly. I followed the steps taught to me by Olivier years ago.

Once I had poured a glass for each of us, I raised mine. “Here’s to you, Viv.”

“And you, Jack.”

She took a sip and then another. After a moment she nodded.

“It’s wonderful. Like velvet on the tongue. And there’s just the right hint of violets. Congratulations.”

“Thanks. But I told you, it’s Olivier’s wine. Not mine.”

Vivienne drank a little more, pronounced it the best wine ever created at the chateau and said, “I’d like to order some of it, if I may.”

“Sure. I’ll give you a couple of cases. Tonight. Before you leave.”

“I want to pay for them, Jack.”

”No way. What’s mine is yours. You should know that by now.”’ “Thank you. That’s sweet of you. Anyway, don’t stand there, come and sit down with me.”

I did as she asked. Groaning under my breath. I knew her so well.

Better than I knew myself, at times. And I could tell from her expression what was on her mind. She was about to launch into a long recital.

About her trip to New York. About Sebastian. About the damned profile.

Wanting to get it over with, I broached the subject. “How’s the profile on Sebastian coming along?”

“Very well, in certain respects. I talked to a lot of people at Locke Industries. The the president and his vice president.”

“What did Jonas and Peter have to say?”

“Only good things, of course. I spent a lot of time with Madge Hitchens at the foundation. In all the years she went to Africa with Sebastian she never met any women with him. And certainly not last year. At least none that he might have been romantically involved with.”

“She actually said that?”

Vivienne nodded. “Yes, she did, and, in fact, no one knows anything at all about a new woman in his life. Nor did they know he was planning to get married this spring.”

“Except you.”

“That’s right.”

I laughed out loud.

Vivienne stared at me. “Why’re you laughing like that?”

“Maybe she didn’t exist. Doesn’t exist.”

“What do you mean?”

I laughed again. I knew I sounded cynical. I couldn’t help myself. I said slowly, “Maybe this woman was an invention on his part.”

“That’s ridiculous. Why would he invent a new woman, tell me he was in love, say he was getting married this spring?”

“To light a fire under you, Viv. Get you going.”

“Now why on earth would he want to do that?” she exclaimed.

“To make you jealous. That’s what I’m trying to say.”

“That’s preposterous. Very far-fetched indeed.”

“Not necessarily. Not when I really think about it.” I gave her a knowing look. “Sebastian always cared about you the most. More than the other wives. You meant more to him than your mother ever did.

Als”

“I really find that hard to believe,” Vivienne cut in. “He loved my mother very much.”

Ignoring her comment, I said, “He could have wanted to start up with you again. Why not? Once you were very special to him. His favorite. Yep, that’s it.” I laughed more loudly than before. “He wanted to get you back. So he made himself look highly desirable.

By inventing a new woman in his life.”

“That’s a ridiculous premise on your part-“

“I bet I’m right,” I interrupted. “He did make you jealous that day.

Admit it.”’

“No, he didn’t,” she protested indignantly.

“It’s me you’re talking to, Vivienne.”

She was silent.

I sat drinking my wine for a few minutes. Neither of us spoke. I realized that I had hit the mark. He had made her jealous. When they had lunch at Le Refuge. That was typical of him. He had always been very clever when it came to women. And at pushing the right buttons.

After pouring more wine for us both, I murmured, “Why don’t you fly to Africa? Go to every place he visited without Madge. The last year of his life. You’ll discover he was there alone. I mean without a lover.

Without a new woman. And of course Madge Hitchens was his only companion in the places he usually went to. Madge and some of the others from the charities.”

Vivienne said, “During lunch at Le Refuge, when I asked Sebastian questions about his new girlfriend, his fiancee, because that’s what she was, he said she worked in Africa. That she was a doctor. A scientist.

-****** .

It’s more than likely that she was working in a laboratory somewhere.

Maybe even somewhere isolated. I’m quite certain she didn’t travel around with him. Why would she when she had a job? And that is the explanation, in my opinion.”

“So you do believe she existed?” I asserted.

“Exists,” Vivienne corrected.

I shrugged. “Who’s to know. I still think it’s odd that no one met this woman with him. It’s not at all in character.”

“What do you mean exactly?”

“Sebastian liked to show his women off. You should know that better than anyone. He loved a beautiful woman on his arm. Certainly, you were the prime example, Viv.”

“If that’s a back-handed compliment, thank you,” she responded, and smiled at me.

“You’re welcome, honey.”

“Jack?”

“Yes?”

“Do you trust me?

“You know I do, Viv.”

“And my judgment?”

“Sometimes,” I hedged.

“Look, you must trust me now. I know instinctively that Sebastian meant every word he said to me. He wasn’t trying to make me jealous, so that he could get me interested in him again. He knew me, and he certainly knew that would be the wrong way to go about it,” she explained quietly.

“Let me put it to you very simply. He was telling me the truth that day over lunch. He had met a young woman in Africa, had fallen in love with her. He loved her in a way he had never loved before. He said that in those exact words. He was going back to Africa to meet her. They were traveling on to India together. They were going to spend Christmas in Connecticut. At the farm. And then he was bringing her to France. To viewc Moulin. To meet me. And you, I’m sure. They were going to be married here in France. This spring.

I honestly and truly believe that this is exactly the way it was.”

I realized how serious Vivienne was. I said, “Okay. Let’s just say you’re right. But why does it matter? You don’t need this woman to write your profile. You knew him better than anyone. She can’t add anything.”

“That’s true, yes. I could start writing the piece tomorrow. But you’ve forgotten something. I want to know why he killed himself.”

“Oh, Viv, honey. You’re never going to know.”

“I’m going to make a damned good try at finding out.”

“How?”

“I’m going to find the woman.”

“How?”

“I’m not sure. But I will. Believe me, I will.”

“Why?”

“I want to talk to her. Interview her.”

“why?” I asked again.

“Because in my opinion she’s got something to do with his death.”

I stared at her. “You gotta be kidding.”

“No, Jack, I’m not. I think that she’s somehow connected to his suicide. And before you say it, not because she might have jilted him either.”

“Then what?”

“I don’t know. Not yet.”

“Why are you suddenly so focused on this woman?”

“Because in his very predictable life she was the only thing that was different.”

I nodded slowly. “That’s true. But you’ll never findll. Believe me, I will.”

“Why?”

“I want to talk to her. Interview her.”

“why?” I asked again.

“Because in my opinion she’s got something to do with his death.”

I stared at her. “You gotta be kidding.”

“No, Jack, I’m not. I think that she’s somehow connected to his suicide. And before you say it, not because she might have jilted him either.”

“Then what?”

“I don’t know. Not yet.”

“Why are you suddenly so focused on this woman?”

“Because in his very predictable life she was the only thing that was different.”

I nodded slowly. “That’s true. But you’ll never find her,” I re marked. I meant this. I thought Viv was wasting her time.

“We’ll see. In the meantime, wrack your brains for me, darling, and maybe you’ll remember something, even a small thing could be pertinent

.”

“I’ll try. But I already told you. I didn’t see much of him last year.”

Vivienne finished her wine without further comment. A bit later she said, “I’m getting tiddily here. Drinking on an empty stomach.

And I’ve got to drive back to Lourmarin.”

“I’ll feed you,” I said. “Stay to dinner.”

“Why not? And thanks, I’d love to see Catherine. How is she?”

I cleared my throat. “She’s not here, Viv.”

“Oh. Where’s she gone?”

“I don’t know.”

Vivienne frowned. “I’m not following you, Jack.”

“She’s left me. Gone back to England. At least she went to Marseilles . Early this morning. To catch a plane home to London.”

“Oh, Jack, darling, I am sorry,” Vivienne commiserated. “You two seemed so well suited. Perfect together. I thought you’d found the right woman at last. Whatever happened?”