Magic (24 page)

D
haram came to Milan to see Benedetta's show during Fashion Week in February. It was only her second one since she had streamlined the business, and she had invited him to be there, since Dharam had never been to Fashion Week before. She had warned him that it was always wild and frenetic, with a thousand things going on, and she would be busy, but it was an important part of her life, and she wanted him to come. She had reserved one of the best seats in the house for him, and he stayed in the background for the entire week, not wanting to distract her, but wanting to be there for her.

He was staying at her apartment, and working from his computer every day while she was at her office, and she let him come to some of the fittings and for a brief glimpse backstage before the show, and then he took his seat, with all the important people in fashion seated all around him. Magazine editors, stylists, buyers from all over the world, hundreds of press were confined at one end of the room. The lights went down, the music came on, and the show started, with the models rolling out onto the runway like gumballs out of a machine. Backstage Benedetta gave each one the signal to go, checking them for a last time before they did.

The show was a major hit, and afterward they went to parties, met other designers, talked to buyers, and charmed all the editors. The photographers got lots of shots of Benedetta with Dharam. They were the hot news in Milan by the end of Fashion Week, and the show got great reviews.

“Did you have fun?” she asked him when the evening was over, hoping he did.

“I loved it, and I love you.” And that night he gave her the second diamond bangle he had bought her when he got the first one, so she had a pair. They were spectacular, and it was easy to guess who had given them to her, since they were so obviously Indian. And she had used numerous details, colors, and fabrics that she had brought back from India, and other inspirations she had seen while she was there. She had integrated the Indian touches perfectly into the show, in a very subtle way. There was nothing subtle about her bracelets, however, which had caught the attention of the press immediately. Everyone was envious when they saw the two huge diamond bangles on her wrists, and she never took them off.

She told him about Gregorio's visit, and his offer to get back together, and he looked relieved when she said there was no question of it, and it was over for her. At one of the parties, she heard that Gregorio had been out with several models during Fashion Week. Gregorio wasn't wasting any time. He never did.

Benedetta went away with Dharam for a few days to rest and relax before she went back to work. They stayed at Il Pelicano in Argentario, which was a romantic spot on the sea. He was amazed by how hard she had to work every season, and he had huge admiration for how talented she was. Dharam wanted her to go back with him, but she had to start her next collection. She was hoping to visit him again in a few months, and in the meantime they would continue to meet in London or Milan every month. It sounded like an excellent plan to both of them.

He went back to India after their brief holiday, but promised to be back in a few weeks. Their schedules were in perfect harmony now, and all her worrying about it had been in vain.

“Happy?” he asked her as they snuggled in bed the night before he left.

“Always, with you.” She smiled sleepily, and he kissed her, as she looked up at him, thinking how lucky she was. He was the nicest man in the world, and it seemed like a miracle that they had found each other.

It was two months after they'd gotten back together, and Chantal and Xavier were sound asleep at three-forty
A.M.
when the phone rang. He heard it first and prodded her. He knew the drill now. She answered all calls at all hours, just in case something had happened to one of her kids. He handed her the phone off the charger, and she looked instantly worried, fearing another accident to one of them.

“Yes?” She listened for a long time. He watched her, wondering what had happened. He was beginning to think like her, and he couldn't tell what was going on from the questions she asked. “At what time?…How does she feel? How far apart now?…Call me later and tell me how it's going.” And then she smiled at him when she hung up. “It was Paul. Rachel is in labor.” They went back to sleep, and the phone rang again three hours later. Paul said she was almost ready to push, and the midwife didn't like the sound of the baby's heartbeat. They were going to the hospital by ambulance, and Rachel might need a cesarean. Paul was beside himself with fear for her and the baby. Chantal tried to calm him down, and then hung up.

“Why do I feel like we run an emergency hotline?” Xavier asked her as they both gave up the idea of going back to sleep. She hoped that Rachel and the baby would be all right. She had told them from the beginning that she thought they were crazy to do it at home.

Twenty minutes later they called from Cedars Sinai, and the contractions had picked up, and the baby's heartbeat was regular again.

“Sensible kid, he wanted to be born in a hospital,” she said to Xavier, and he laughed.

“I don't need children. I can live it all vicariously through yours.” The week before, Eric had called them when Annaliese's brother had been arrested on a DUI, and Eric wanted his mother's advice about what he should do about it, bail him out, or leave him there to teach him a lesson. He was eighteen and a student. Her advice had been to leave him in jail to sober up and pick him up in the morning, which was what they'd done. And now Paul was waiting for Rachel to deliver their little prince. Rachel's mother had arrived at the hospital by then and was driving Paul and the doctors crazy. She wanted to be in the delivery room, and Rachel didn't want her there. Listening to her son, she was very happy she was in Paris, and not another annoyance for them in L.A.

After the last report, they didn't hear for another three hours, and Chantal guessed that Rachel was pushing, and hoped that it was going well and nothing traumatic had happened. She didn't want to call and ask what was going on, and they probably wouldn't have answered anyway.

It was nine-thirty in the morning when they got a text from Paul. “No go. C-section in ten minutes. Poor Rache.” Chantal felt sorry for her, and finally, an hour and a half later, at eleven, which was two
A.M.
in California, Paul called her sounding euphoric. They had a nine-pound, four-ounce baby boy and were naming him Dashiell. Dash for short. He told her everything had gone fine at the C-section, although Rachel was exhausted, the baby had been too big. Chantal didn't point out what a disaster it would have been if they'd had him at home. The water birth idea had fallen by the wayside with the first real pains. They were sewing Rachel up when Paul called.

“When are you coming to see him, Mom?” he asked her, but she'd already considered that. She didn't want to be an intrusive mother, they already had one of those. She was going to see Dash at Charlotte's wedding, when he was two months old, not when Rachel was exhausted, trying to figure out how to nurse, and they were all frantically adjusting to a new baby. For once, she was not going to drop everything and run. The baby was healthy, and she didn't feel she needed to go. She had her own life to lead. She was happy for Paul about their baby, if that was what he and Rachel wanted, and it seemed to be. And she was sure he'd be a good father. He was a kind, responsible person, and he loved Rachel.

After she hung up, Chantal turned to Xavier, and told him all the details, how big the baby was, how Rachel was feeling, everything Paul had said, and how happy he sounded.

“You realize what this means now, though, don't you?” she asked him with a shell-shocked expression.

“What? They're going to call you every night for breastfeeding advice?” he asked, looking worried.

“No, she'll call her mother, who is an authority on everything.” Chantal wasn't crazy about her. “It means you are now sleeping with a grandmother.” She seemed embarrassed and grinned at him, and he laughed.

“Does that make me a grandfather by proxy?”

“If you want to be.” She smiled at him, as they lay in bed together.

“I think I like that idea,” he said, vastly amused. And she was trying to adjust to the idea that she had a grandson now. It was shocking.

In April, Xavier moved out of his apartment. They both agreed, it no longer made sense for him to be paying rent on an apartment he never used.

“Unless you throw me out again,” he said cautiously when they discussed it. “I haven't talked to a redhead since Christmas,” he reminded her, and she laughed.

“I think you're safe.”

He got rid of most of his furniture, which he didn't like anyway. She cleared a closet for him, and he moved his belongings in, and she let all three of her children know. She could almost hear an audible gulp when she told them, but only Eric, who was delighted, made any comment.

They went to the Cannes Film Festival in May, where they were showing one of her films, and it was very exciting. They had dinner with her producer and two major movie stars, and Xavier was duly impressed, and thrilled to be there with her. She won an award, which she didn't expect. And they stayed at the Hôtel du Cap in Cap d'Antibes, in incredible luxury, and had rooms in the lower portion on the water, called the Eden Roc. Xavier had heard about it for years, but never been there till he went with her. She stayed there every year when she went to the festival. And he was incredibly proud to be with her, and totally indifferent to the masses of starlets who fought to attend on some man's arm. And there were many famous actors, actresses, producers, and directors. It was a fascinating event, and they had fun at the hotel, and stayed for two days after. One of his clients had presented at the festival as well.

He had taken time off from work to attend, and two weeks later took another week to fly to Hong Kong with her for Charlotte's wedding. Chantal had been organizing it from a distance for months, but they also had a wedding planner, and Charlotte had handled many of the details herself.

Everything was in order when they got there. They stayed at the Peninsula Hotel, and Chantal finally got to meet her grandson, whom she had seen on Skype almost daily for the past two months, so much so that he recognized her voice and smiled as soon as he saw her. She was surprised by how moved she was when she held him. Xavier took a million photographs of her when she did.

“Is this so you can tease me later about being a grandmother?” she asked him, as he took more pictures from another angle.

“This is my first time being a grandfather, let me enjoy it!” he said, and she laughed at him.

“You're too young to be a grandfather,” she reminded him, and he looked insulted.

“No, I'm not. Do the math.” He had just turned thirty-nine, and could have had a twenty-year-old child himself.

“In that case, I'd be a great-grandmother. Let's not go down that path.” He laughed at that. And that night when she tried on her dress for the wedding, Xavier frowned at her.

“When did you get that?”

“In Paris when Charlotte was there for Christmas. She likes it.”

“You must have been depressed. That was after you dumped me. Let's go shopping.”

“Now? Before the wedding?” It was two days away. “I can't find anything here, at this late date.” She looked panicked. “Is it that awful?” She stared at herself in the mirror in the navy blue dress with the old-lady bolero and hated it too.

They left the hotel early the next morning like two conspirators, and went to the malls on Victoria Harbour in the hotel's Rolls-Royce, and Xavier was relentless. He was normally not a shopper, but he had decided that this was an emergency, and he treated it like a legal crisis. She explained to him that she couldn't wear white to her daughter's wedding, or any wedding—the bride would kill her, justifiably. He had found a gorgeous white satin dress that fit her perfectly, but it was out of the question. And black was considered rude and seemed too severe. Pink was too girlish, although it was pretty. “You can wear that to our wedding,” he teased her, “although I liked the white one.” But she knew he was only joking. They had no need to get married, they were happy living together. She tried on a sad-looking gray dress, but she knew the groom's mother was wearing gray. And there was a spectacular red one, which was too showy for her daughter's wedding. It would seem like she was trying to upstage the bride, and she would have. She looked incredibly sexy in the red satin. And finally at Dior, she tried on a pale blue satin dress the same color as her eyes. It was sexy and yet demure, it was young-looking but not ridiculous, and the color was elegant and subtle, and by some miracle they had pale blue satin shoes to match, and she had brought a silver handbag for the rehearsal dinner.

“Bingo!” he said, beaming at her. It was even the perfect length and needed no alteration, and it fit her like a glove and showed off her youthful figure. And he told her to wear her hair down because he loved it that way. The dress was everything she would have hoped for if she had been in better spirits when she shopped with Charlotte in December. And she had brought a short emerald-green satin Balenciaga dress for the rehearsal dinner that was young and sexy and showed off her legs, with silver high-heeled sandals. The groom's family was giving the rehearsal dinner at the Hong Kong Club, the same place as the wedding, but they liked it and Charlotte had approved. She said the rehearsal was going to be very dressy and traditional, and so was the wedding the next day, in a different suite of rooms.

“Thank you for helping me find a dress,” Chantal said gratefully to Xavier as they rode back to the hotel with the package. It had taken them four hours, but it was well worth it. She loved the dress she was going to wear now. It was elegant but youthful, and it was great on her.