Parisian Affair (19 page)

'What's that?' she asked, only half paying
attention as she continued to study the sight of the emerald on her
finger.

'I will take you to lunch,' he said, 'and you
will wear the ring there.'

'Oh, no. I couldn't,' Allegra protested.

'Oh, but you could,' he replied. 'We will
simply walk a few steps around the arcade, right here in the Palais
Royal, and have lunch together at Le Grand Vefour.'

Allegra remembered her recent view through
the restaurant's windows and the resplendent room with its glorious
murals. She knew that it was one of the most expensive restaurants
in Paris, if not the world, and his invitation was tempting.

'Come,' he said, 'you must say yes.'

'I—I can't,' she said. 'I really appreciate
your offer, but it's impossible. I—I have engagements I have to
keep today.'

'I thought you were simply sightseeing,' he
persisted.

'Yes, but. .. but I have to make some
telephone calls,' she said, hearing the lame excuse for what it
was. 'And I have to see a couple of friends before they leave
town,' she added.

'That's too bad,' he said. 'Perhaps another
time, then.'

'That would be wonderful,' she replied. 'I'd
really better get going now.'

'So soon?'

'Yes,' she said, pointedly looking at her
watch. 'I'm going to be late as it is.'

The man extended his hand across the
showcase. 'I am Ramtane Tadjer,' he said, 'and it is a pleasure to
have met you.'

'I'm Allegra Sheridan.' She laughed and shook
his hand. 'It was wonderful to meet you and have the opportunity to
try on some of your beautiful creations.'

He shrugged his shoulders. 'It was nothing,'
he said. 'All my pleasure, I assure you. Getting to see my jewels
on such a beautiful young lady who is worthy of their perfection
was a treat for me. I usually see them on the arthritic,
age-spotted fingers of the very old ladies who can more often
afford my merchandise.'

'Well, thank you very much,' Allegra
said.

'Please take my card,' the man said, slipping
a gold card case from the inside breast pocket of his suit. He
flipped it open and took out a heavy cream-colored vellum card with
his name, address, and telephone number engraved—not cheaply
embossed—on it. 'This is my personal card,' he added, 'and you must
feel free to use it at any time.'

Allegra took the card from him as she
searched through her shoulder bag for her own case. When her
fingers finally touched upon it, she pulled it out, opened it, and
handed him one of her cards. 'This is my business card,' she said.
'I'm afraid that's the only one I have.'

He took it and looked down at it. 'Atelier
Sheridan.' He recited the

address and telephone number. 'You may be
surprised to hear from me one day.'

'It would be a pleasure,' she said. 'I could
show you around town if you're in New York.'

'I'm in New York often,' he said, 'so I may
take you up on the offer. In the meantime, if you have a free
moment in Paris, don't hesitate to phone me. We could have dinner,
perhaps. Or just a drink.'

'Thank you, Mr. Tadjer,' Allegra said.

'Ram, please,' he replied. 'My friends call
me Ram.'

'Oh, that's a wonderful name,' she said. 'My
friends call me Ally.'

He nodded. 'Ally,' he said, trying the name
on his tongue. 'I think I will call you Allegra, if you don't mind.
I think it befits you more.'

Allegra smiled. That was the first time she'd
ever heard that. 'Whatever you prefer,' she said. 'Now I really
must get going.' She turned toward the door.

'Don't hesitate to call,' he said.

'I won't,' she said.

He came from behind the counter and walked
toward the door with her, opened it, and bowed slightly as she
stepped out onto the walk. 'Ciao, Allegra,' he said.

'Ciao, Ram.' She sketched a wave in the air,
then walked purposefully toward the nearest exit from the Palais
Royal's arcade.

Her boot heels beat a loud staccato on the
stone walk, resonated about the plaster and brick walls, ceilings,
and arches. When she had gone through a passage and back out onto
the street, she stopped and leaned back against the building for a
moment.

Oh, my God
, she thought, breathing
deeply, as if she had been deprived of oxygen.
He's so charming
and handsome. But I've pledged myself to Todd. The former
philandering Todd. Or so he says
.

Allegra straightened up and started walking
down the street, not knowing where she was going, but determined to
quit thinking about the very sexy Ramtane Tadjer and the man she
was fairly certain she was in love with, Todd Hall.

Wandering aimlessly, she finally decided that
she would return to the apartment to change clothes, have something
to eat, and try to get hold of Jason and Todd.

Allegra slammed down the telephone in a
mixture of anger, curiosity, and worry. Jason had answered at none
of his numbers, and he should have been in the atelier by this
time. In any case, he was once again incommunicado, wherever he
happened to be, and Allegra was disturbed by this new behavior of
his.

Pacing the small studio, she fretted, but
came to the conclusion that it was a waste of her time. She decided
to try to get hold of Sylvie.

She picked up the telephone and dialed the
New York number.

'Hilton Whitehead's residence,' Sylvie
said.

'Sylvie, it's Allegra.'

'Ah! I'm so glad you called,' Sylvie
exclaimed, her accent more pronounced than usual.

'What—?'

'It's Todd,' Sylvie growled. 'When I came in
this morning, he had left a message on the answering machine. Which
I ignored, of course. But he's already called again.'

'Todd! But how—?'

'You tell me,' Sylvie said. 'How did he get
this telephone number? Surely, Allegra, you did not give it to
him.'

'No, of course not,' Allegra replied
defensively. She was seeing a side of Sylvie that she'd never seen
before. 'How could you even think such a thing? I haven't
told—'

'Never mind,' Sylvie said. 'However he got
it, he did, and he's going to drive me crazy.'

'What the hell is going on?' Allegra
asked.

'Dear Todd is worried about you,' Sylvie
responded. 'He doesn't seem to believe your story about going to
Paris for a photo shoot, and he thinks I know something.'

'You didn't tell him anything, did you?'
Allegra said.

'Of course not,' Sylvie said. 'I played
completely dumb. Anyway, he is very persistent, and I finally told
him not to ever call me here again.'

'Good,' Allegra said. 'I can't imagine why he
called there. He's bugging me about changing my ticket, so that he
and I can spend the weekend in Paris together, then fly back
together Monday.'

'
Mon Dieu
,' Sylvie swore. 'What did
you tell him?'

'I told him I would see about it,' Allegra
said, 'but that I didn't think it was possible.'

'Do you want to do that?' Sylvie asked.

'No,' Allegra quickly replied. 'Well ... I
mean, it would be nice to spend the weekend in Paris with him, but
if I have the ring ...'

Sylvie paused a moment, thinking the
situation over. 'The ring will be in the bank?'

'Yes, but—'

'But nothing,' Sylvie said. 'I can talk to
Hilton and unless he has plans for the weekend, I'm sure he won't
mind your staying until Monday. I'll just have to alert the pilot.
You and Todd can have a fun weekend together.'

'Are you sure about this?'

'I'll talk to Hilton right now,' Sylvie
said.

'Oh, God,' Allegra said.

'What?'

'Then I'll have to explain to Todd why we
can't fly back together,' she said. 'If he wants to try to get
tickets on the same flight. I mean, I can't tell him I'm flying on
a private jet.'

'Before you worry about that,' Sylvie said,
'let me talk to Hilton. I'll call you back in a few minutes.'

'Sylvie, you're so great,' Allegra said.

'Just doing my job,
cherie
,' she said.
'Besides, Todd sounds very much like a young man who's madly in
love. How can I resist trying to help?'

Allegra replaced the receiver in its cradle
and stared into space, a puzzled expression on her face. Sylvie
seemed to have accepted the delay awfully quick. Allegra wondered
what Hilton Whitehead would have to say. The ring was certainly a
major purchase after all, and one he would probably want brought
back to New York immediately. She would have to wait to see. In the
meantime, it occurred to her that she would be responsible for the
ring all weekend if Whitehead agreed to a change in plans.

Oh, well, she told herself, it's going to be
in the safe-deposit box. What could possibly go wrong with it in
the bank?

Her reverie was interrupted by the
telephone's shrill ring, and she picked up the receiver.
'Hello.'

'It's Sylvie,
cherie
.'

'Already?' Allegra replied, surprised.

'Yes, and I've got good news for you,' Sylvie
said. 'I just hung up from talking to Hilton, and he says that it's
fine to return next week. He'll send the plane on a little errand,
so you and Todd can have a romantic weekend.'

'Oh, thank you so much, Sylvie,' Allegra
said. 'That's wonderful. Now I have to figure out how to explain us
not being able to fly back together.'

'One step at a time,
cherie
,' Sylvie
replied. 'I must run. The two of you have fun.'

'Thanks,' Allegra said. 'I'm sure we
will.'

She disconnected with Sylvie, then dialed
Todd's cell phone number. He picked up on the first ring. 'It's
me,' she said.

She heard the unmistakable sound of him
kissing into the receiver. 'Hello, you,' he finally said.

Allegra laughed. 'You're silly.'

'I'm in love,' he replied.

'Are you packed?'

'Are you serious?'

'Yes.'

'I'm nearly there with bells on my—'

'Forget about the bells,' she said. 'Just
come.'

'I'll do that, too,' he said. 'I'm so
excited, Ally.'

'I am, too,' she said, 'and I'll see you
soon. I'd better go now.'

'I love you.'

'And I love you.' She hung up the receiver
and hugged her arms against her chest.
I do love him, she
thought, and it feels so .. . good and so . . . right
.

What. . . ? Where . . . ?
Abruptly
Allegra sat up in bed, momentarily disoriented by where she was. A
frisson of fear, brief as a flash of light, ran up her spine. As
she fully awoke, she smiled at the reassuring sunshine pouring
through the window shutters.

Drawn by the sun's first appearance since
she'd been in Paris, she relinquished the comfort of the bed and
went to the window. She pulled the shutters apart and looked over
the nearby rooftops, observing that almost all of them were a
uniform gray metal in the mansard style. Directly opposite her,
beyond the small ironwork balcony and the French doors that led to
it, she could see a woman running a vacuum cleaner in a large
apartment with avant-garde furniture and large abstract canvases on
the walls. Below, the sidewalks were crowded with pedestrians, and
the street was a steady stream of motorbikes, scooters, and
cars.

She wondered about the time, suddenly aware
that the sun was high in the sky and the street life was too hectic
for the early morning. She turned and glanced at the alarm clock on
the little African stool at the bedside. The clock read ten-thirty,
and Allegra wondered how she could have slept for so long.

Worried about time, she dashed into the
bathroom, put on her face, and fixed her hair with record speed,
then quickly dressed. Hurrying down to the street, she went
straight to the cafe where she'd breakfasted the day before. As she
waited for her food, she glanced through a copy of
Le Monde
that lay on an empty chair next to hers.

On the front page, prominently positioned,
was a photograph of Princess Karima on the arm of Stefano Donati,
her former lover. The picture was a few years old, Allegra guessed,
and the woman was stunningly beautiful. Donati, while not handsome
in a traditional sense, exuded breeding, money, power, and polish
even in this newsprint photograph. The couple was dressed in formal
attire as if going to or leaving a ball. Allegra could see that the
princess was wearing a necklace of many large stones, a bracelet to
match, and several rings, the emerald the most easily identifiable
among them.

The article reported the upcoming auction, of
course, but its thrust was the new spiritual path that the princess
had taken. She was moving to a small millhouse in the countryside
outside Paris, it said, and selling all of her other
properties.

Sipping her coffee as she read, Allegra was
impressed by the article, but was curious as to what could have led
such a worldly woman to make such an about-face in the way she
chose to live her life. Fear? Allegra wondered. Fear, as a
believer, that she wouldn't receive a reward in the afterlife
unless she changed her ways? Or was it something as simple as
boredom? The woman had seen and done nearly everything humanly
possible in her lifetime. Perhaps this path would provide a
diversion for a jaded woman.

It was after noontime when Allegra left the
cafe and hailed a cab. She told the driver to drop her off at the
Madeleine, realizing that she would have time to slow down and walk
to Dufour from there, sightseeing along the way. After she had paid
the fare and walked for several blocks, she felt calm and relaxed,
distracted by the sunlit boulevards. However, when she reached the
intimidating gray stone facade of the auction house, she felt her
pulse begin to race.