First Sight (3 page)

The mother nodded then, having seen Timmie’s unconscious gesture, as she gently stroked the boy’s hair and he stopped crying, and stared up at the stranger. The two women exchanged a smile then, as the young mother thanked her in French, and said
“oui,”
as Timmie handed both children the lollipops, and then helped the young woman with one of the bags, to get it on the cart. Both children politely said
“merci”
to Timmie, and then the family went on their way, as Timmie watched.

She had noticed from the tags on their bags that they had come from a French city, and not from the flight from Milan. The little boy turned and waved at her with an impish grin, before they disappeared, and the mother glanced back with a grateful smile, as Timmie waved back. Her eyes followed them until they were gone, and then David and Jade joined her. They hadn’t seen her exchange with the two French children, but it wouldn’t have surprised them. Timmie had a soft spot for kids, and had none of her own. She was always talking to children in supermarkets and airports, or while standing in line in department stores. She had a way with them that defied language and nationality, and bridged the gap between her age and theirs. She was just one of those people who liked children, and they seemed to sense that about her. She had an easy way of talking to them, which was unusual for someone in her position, with a career, and no family of her own. She always said that she was alone in the world. She had often said to Jade that she might adopt one day, but she never had.

Jade had biological clock issues of her own. At thirty-eight, she was worried that she’d never have babies. She had spent ten years as the mistress of a married man, and had finally broken up with him the year before, but had met no one important to her since. Her clock was ticking. And Timmie’s had stopped ticking years ago. She felt too old to have a baby now, but adopting a child still appealed to her, in a distant dreamy way. She knew it was unlikely to be a dream she would indulge, but she still liked thinking she might one day, although she hadn’t mentioned it in a while. David thought she should. He worried that she would be lonely in the years ahead without children. Even Timmie couldn’t work forever. Or could she? She always said she planned to work until she keeled over at a hundred.

Jade thought the idea of Timmie adopting a child was silly, and that Timmie was fine as she was. She was a sophisticated, successful woman, who headed up an enormous conglomerate. She couldn’t even begin to imagine Timmie with a baby. She knew, as Timmie did most of the time, that it was just a dream, and she would never do it. But on quiet, lonely nights, once in a while, Timmie still thought of the dream with an aching heart. Her life was lonelier than she liked to admit, and the prospect of being solitary for the rest of her life depressed her. It wasn’t how she had expected her life to turn out. But over the years, much had changed. She was philosophical about it, enjoyed her life, and tried not to think about how much lonelier her life would be in her old age. Without ever intending to, she had wound up with a career, and no man or kids.

Gilles, Timmie’s Paris driver, was waiting for them just beyond immigration and customs. He was a familiar, welcome sight, and greeted them with a broad smile and a wave. As always, a cigarette was firmly embedded between his lips, as one eye squinted to avoid the ever-present curl of smoke. He had driven Timmie for ten years, and had married and had three children in the years since. His wife was a pastry sous-chef at the Crillon, and between them they made a decent living, while his mother-in-law took care of their kids.

“
Bonjour
, Madame Timmie!
Vous avez fait bon voyage?
You made a good trip?” He spoke heavily accented, fairly accurate English, and always enjoyed driving for her. She was reasonable, friendly, and never made outrageous requests of him. She apologized profusely when she kept him out late, which never bothered him anyway. He liked his work, and the people he met. It made him feel important driving clients like her, and impressed the other chauffeurs. She was generous with her tips, and she sent him a suit for Christmas every year. As a result, he was one of the best-dressed drivers at the Plaza Athénée or any other hotel. She had also given him gifts for his wife and kids. He enjoyed her passionate love of Paris and all things French. She was a pleasure to drive and chatted with him easily, as she and Jade slid into the car, and David got into the luggage truck with their bags. It was not a job for a vice president of marketing, but he wanted to keep track of their things, so nothing got lost or went astray along the way.

“How are Solange and the kids?” Timmie asked pleasantly.

“Very good. Very big,” he said, with a broad smile, still squinting in the smoke, as Jade rolled down the window with a disapproving look. Timmie didn’t mind, and lit another cigarette herself. She always smoked more in France, since everyone else did. “We get another baby next year,” he said, looking happy about it. Timmie knew it was their fourth. He had asked her about investment advice more than once. He and his wife made a good living, and they owned their own house outside the city, where Solange’s widowed mother lived with them. Timmie liked knowing about the people who worked for her, and she had always been fond of Gilles. “It’s good with you?” he asked, glancing at her in the rearview mirror, as he darted expertly through the traffic leaving Roissy. She always looked beautiful and sexy to him, despite her age. He didn’t have the age prejudices about women that men did in the States. Forty-eight seemed young to him, particularly looking as good as she did.

“Everything is fine,” she said, looking pleased. “We’re doing the ready to wear shows next week. I might get some time to shop this weekend.” She was hoping that they would finish all their work by Friday, so she could have a day or two to herself, to wander through antiques shops and check the boutiques in Paris. She liked staying on top of local trends, wherever she went, and the competition. But in Paris, she also liked to wander along the Seine, visit the stalls of the
bouquinistes
who sold old books, and just breathe deeply of the atmosphere of Paris. She liked going to church there too. Gilles always took her to out-of-the-way places she wouldn’t otherwise have discovered, and tiny quaint churches she had never heard of before. She was fun for him to drive around. He loved showing off the city to someone who appreciated it as much as she did.

She had already told Jade and David that, once their preliminary work was done, they could go away for the weekend. They both wanted to go back to London to see friends. They didn’t share her passion for Paris, and David had even said something about Prague. There would be no meetings or interviews over the weekend, and hopefully by then, all the fittings would be complete. The seamstresses Timmie had sent over would be working on alterations and last-minute adjustments all weekend, but were well able to manage it on their own. She would handle all the last-minute details herself, and with Jade and David on Monday. The runway show was Tuesday, and on Tuesday night Jade and David would head for New York. She was flying to meet them on Friday, after two days off on her own after the show. And if she got time to herself over the weekend as well, it was an added bonus, and an ample reward after three weeks of hard work so far. She didn’t look it, or even admit it readily, but she was tired.

She and Gilles chatted easily on the drive into Paris, while Jade quietly read her notes. She left several messages on their office phone in Los Angeles, for when the office opened, and several more in New York. It was just after noon in Paris, and still too early everywhere else. Timmie’s first interview wasn’t until two-thirty, so she’d have a little time to get organized, and gather her thoughts before they got started. There was traffic on the way in, and they drove onto the Avenue Montaigne just before one. Timmie beamed the moment she saw the Plaza Athénée. It was her home away from home. She loved staying there, the elegance, the people, the exquisite service, and she loved meeting friends for lunch at de Relais.

“You always look happy in Paris,” Gilles commented, as he opened the door for her, and the doorman smiled as he recognized her, and touched his hat.

“Welcome back, Madame O’Neill,” he said, as Jade organized the removal of their hand luggage, and David pulled up behind them with the truck full of their bags and the trunks with the collection.

One of the assistant managers came out to escort her to her suite, as Jade quietly doled out tips, and told Gilles what time to come back. Timmie usually ate late in Paris, and liked going to little bistros, where they made no fuss about her, and she could eat simple French food. As she wandered up the steps, through the revolving door, and into the subdued opulence and elegance of the lobby, there was no denying she was an important person, as members of the staff acknowledged her, and the assistant manager preceded her to her room. Here, their paying attention to her didn’t bother her quite as much as it might have in other places. She hated having a fuss made over her, but at the Plaza Athénée it seemed affectionate and familiar, and she smiled broadly as she walked into the same suite she had occupied for the last fifteen years. It had a living room and a bedroom, with long beautiful French windows hung with elaborate satin curtains. The furniture was worthy of a small French château, with gilt and mirrors, chandeliers in every room, and a bathroom where she loved to soak in the tub for hours. Her favorite chocolates and fruit were sitting on a table, with a huge vase of flowers from the manager of the hotel. She always felt spoiled and pampered just being there, and even though she knew the days ahead would be frantic, she was thrilled to be there for more than a week. Ten days in Paris would restore her, no matter how hard she worked. Even Hell Month was a small price to pay, in Timmie’s eyes, for the sheer, unadulterated joy of being in Paris for a week.

The assistant manager bowed, left her keys on the desk, and disappeared as she took off her mink jacket, tossed it on a large velvet chair, and checked her messages on the desk. There were already ten of them, and four faxes from her office. Jade went through the messages for her, and said that all the textile people had confirmed their appointments, and one of the interviews had been put off for the next day. The days ahead were going to be busy, which wasn’t news to either of them, and as they chatted, a room service waiter appeared with a tray with a pot of tea. The moment she arrived, they knew just what to bring her. It was Earl Grey with her favorite cookies. Impossible to resist.

“You’re looking happy,” David commented as he stuck his head into the room, and Jade showed the bellboy where to put Timmie’s bags in the bedroom. Everything at the Plaza Athénée moved with the precision of a Swiss clock. David smiled at the beatific look on her face. She looked like a kid in her T-shirt and blue jeans, with her mane of red hair all over the place. She sat down happily on a couch in the living room, munching a cookie, and put her ballerina-clad feet on the coffee table.

“It feels so good to be here,” she said, looking relaxed for the first time in weeks. She was beaming.

“Tell me that on Tuesday,” he teased her. He knew that by then, they’d all be tearing their hair out over the collection, endless headaches with the models, technical problems with lighting and sound, and shaky places on the runway, all the usual miseries that plagued them during the shows, but for now, she didn’t care. She was just happy to be there. “You really ought to get a place in Paris, since you love it so much here.”

“I know. But I’m too spoiled at the hotel. This would be hard to beat.” She waved vaguely at the flowers, the tea, the cookies, the huge silver platter of chocolates, and the elegant furnishings in the suite. “I feel like Eloise at the Plaza Athénée.”

“Okay, Eloise, you’ve got an hour to change, if you’re going to,” Jade said matter-of-factly. “You’ve got two interviews back-to-back, a break, and then a meeting. Do you want me to order lunch?” Timmie shook her head. The tea and cookies were perfect, and all she needed for now. She didn’t eat much, and was as thin as their models. Years before she’d had offers to model, which she had never bothered to pursue. She was far more interested, even then, in making clothes for them to wear, than in being one of them. But she still had the look.

“I’m not going to change,” Timmie said quietly, glanced at her watch, and took a sip of tea.

She had a call to make to Los Angeles, to her current off-and-on male companion, although it seemed silly to call him at that hour. It was four in the morning in Los Angeles, and she didn’t want to wake him. Zack had made her promise she’d call him when she arrived, even though it seemed foolish to her. But he said he liked hearing from her and knowing she’d landed safely, which touched her. Most of the time, he wasn’t that interested or that attentive. But he surprised her with kind gestures now and then.

She knew he was still angry at her for not taking him on the trip. Often, like a child, he expected her to spoil and entertain him, and he had pouted for weeks before she left. He didn’t believe her when she told him she’d be working the entire time, and would have no time to play, in spite of the time she hoped to have to herself over the weekend. But it wasn’t worth his coming all the way from Los Angeles, for two free days she might not have anyway, if there was a crisis, or the two days she was planning to take off the following week. There was no point having him around while she worked night and day. She hadn’t had a single day, or even hour, off so far on the trip. She was wondering if calling him from Paris would make things worse, or pacify him a little. It was hard to tell. She thought about calling him later that afternoon, but then he might be annoyed that she hadn’t done what she’d said she would. She could always call him now, give him a quick kiss, and let him go back to sleep. She knew he hadn’t forgiven her yet for leaving him in L.A. for three weeks, while she traveled to New York, and three very appealing cities in Europe.

Before she left, he seemed to feel, despite their somewhat casual relationship, that taking him along to play while she worked was his due. She hadn’t agreed. It had been a bone of contention between them for weeks before she left, and still was. It was the nature of the beast with men like him, who went out with women like her. It was a role reversal she had never liked or believed in, but had found herself participating in, in recent years. Men like Zack seemed to her the only alternate option she had to solitude. It had its drawbacks, which she was realistic about, and at times its perks. Most of the time, he acted like a spoiled child. He was young, irresponsible, and completely self-centered.