Scent of Triumph (50 page)

Danielle had also designed a sheer, delicate veil. She lifted it above Abigail’s sleek coiffure and secured it with two antique hairpins. “And here, don’t forget your perfume.” She picked up a crystal bottle of Chimère she’d given Abigail for her wedding day and helped her apply it, taking care around the dress.

As she trailed the perfume along the nape of Abigail’s long neck, the rich aroma of jasmine, rose, and sandalwood transported her back to Philippe’s laboratory in Grasse where she’d created it. Memories misted her vision. Max had been in Germany and Poland searching for Nicky and Sofia.
How I had missed him and prayed for his safety.
And then Jon had arrived, giving her the dreadful news about Max.

Danielle swallowed hard. With so much horrible history between them, could she and Jon really be happy together? She shook her head to dispel the memories.

Danielle smoothed perfume on Abigail’s wrists, then turned to her. “There, you’re ready now.”

Abigail’s eyes began to fill. Danielle whipped out a lace handkerchief to dab Abigail’s eyes, and then her own. “We’ll have none of that. No tear-streaked faces allowed, this is a happy occasion.”

Abigail laughed, then clasped Danielle’s hands and sighed. “You’re such a dear friend. I’ve dreamt of this moment all my life. You’ve helped make my dream come true.”

A tap sounded at the door and Abigail’s father joined them. A smile lit his face when he saw his daughter. “My dear, how lovely you look.” Tall and lean, he was attired in formal nautical regalia.

Abigail returned his smile, her brown eyes glistening. “Have all the guests arrived?”

Nathan Newell-Grey nodded. “All present and accounted for. Are you ready?”

Abigail hugged Danielle, then turned to her father, who held his hands out to her. “I’m ready. Danielle, you’re first.”

Danielle walked to the top of the stair and glanced down. The intoxicating aroma of white lilies and forest fir perfumed the air, the aroma reminding her of her own wedding to Max. She blinked against her memories. She lifted her chin, smiling through her pain. Today, it was Abigail’s turn at happiness.
And tomorrow? Who knows?

She paused before starting down the steps. A pianist played in one corner of the living room, candles provided subtle illumination, and garlands of mistletoe and red berries lined the banister and mantle. Danielle’s heart brimmed with happiness for Abigail, for the wedding and the husband her friend so richly deserved.

Just four rows of chairs were arranged for the intimate ceremony. Danielle descended the staircase, her elegant, emerald green velvet dress trailing on the steps behind her. Walking past the guests, she nodded to the Newell-Greys and the triplets. Behind them were the Leibowitzes, Marie with Jasmin and Liliana, and a few other close friends. Victoria sat in the second row, her face a brittle mask.

Lou stood beaming next to the minister. Jon, acting as best man, waited next to him. As matron of honor, Danielle took her place across from Jon. Her heart lurched as she briefly acknowledged him, careful not to let her gaze linger. A moment later, Abigail made a grand entrance on the arm of her father amidst hushed murmurs of approval. “What a stunning dress...how lovely she looks.”

Abigail took her place beside Lou, and Danielle felt Jon’s unwavering eyes on her. She felt herself grow warm as she thought of their lovemaking, and lowered her eyes. She forced herself to turn her attention to the minister’s eloquent words.

The simple exchange of vows proceeded, and before long, the minister announced, “You may kiss the bride.”

“At last.” Lou’s bright blue eyes twinkled. He lifted Abigail’s veil and kissed her amidst a happy chorus of well wishes.

Danielle soon joined Marie and the girls. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a more beautiful ceremony,” Danielle said, “or two people more suited to one another.”

Marie sighed. “Ah,
l’amour
. You can see it in their eyes.”

Jasmin tugged Danielle’s skirt. “What do we do now, Mama?”

“The wedding party will pose for photographs, then we’ll go to the ballroom. An orchestra will be there, and you can dance for all of us, Jasmin.”

Liliana said, “I’m going to dance with Ari first.”

Jasmin raised her chin. “And I’m going to dance with Aaron.”

After photographs were taken, they were ushered into the grand ballroom where linen-covered tables laden with crystal and silver stood ready for the Christmas Eve dinner. Smooth teakwood rails and shiny brass fixtures were festooned with more mistletoe and berries. Soon the room was buzzing with laughter as more guests arrived for the formal dinner reception. But Victoria left before dinner was served.

As Danielle watched Victoria leave, Marie caught her daughter’s eye. “Remember what I said earlier about
l’amour
?”

Danielle nodded thoughtfully, thinking about her evening with Jon.

“Life is short, darling.” Marie lowered her voice. “Victoria is gone. You and Jon shouldn’t suffer any more.”

Danielle opened her mouth to protest, but Marie put her hand on her daughter’s arm. “I know you well, and you are wise enough now to follow your heart.”

Marie invited Jon to join them at their table. As they dined, she asked, “What keeps you in London, Jon? I thought you lived outside of the city.”

“I have some business here.”

“During the holiday season?”

“Ships sail every day of the year.”

Marie glanced pointedly at Danielle. “Indeed they do.”

Jon continued. “Usually I stay with my family or the Leibowitzes here in town, but because they have a full house with the wedding party, I plan to remain at the Savoy a while.”

“And where will your wife spend the holiday?”

“Victoria will stay with her parents in the country. Under the circumstances, we thought it best.”

He didn’t elaborate, but Marie nodded, seemingly satisfied.

The guests dined and danced until three o’clock in the morning, and Danielle thought she’d never had more fun. She and Jon laughed all evening, and had a marvelous time dancing and whirling around the floor, and stealing kisses beneath the mistletoe in a darkened corner of the snowy terrace. And with all eyes on Abigail and Lou, no one seemed to notice them at all.

After Abigail and Lou retired, Jon accompanied Danielle and her family back to the Savoy. As they strolled through the hotel lobby, Danielle and Jon traded a brief look, then parted to go to their respective suites. After the children fell asleep, Danielle crept from her room. She tapped softly on Jon’s door.

He opened the door. “My darling,” he murmured. “I didn’t think you’d come tonight, it’s so late.”

“How could I stay away?” She sank into his warm embrace. “You’ve become a habit I can’t bear to break.”

Though the night was nearly spent, neither of them felt like sleeping. Jon lit a fire, then warmed two cognacs above the blaze. He handed one to her and they cuddled on the sofa, talking about their future.

Jon cradled Danielle in his arms, and as he did, she felt a warm sensation course through her. She smiled as she recognized it. It was happiness, pure and simple.

Outside, bells began to chime.

Jon kissed her forehead. “Merry Christmas, Danielle.”

She tilted her head and their lips met in a slow, passionate kiss. When the last of the bells rang, Danielle smiled up at him. “Merry Christmas, Jon.”

It was New Year’s Eve, and Abigail shivered in the crisp morning air. Pristine snow blanketed the streets like a velvet throw, and her breath formed misty clouds as she raised the brass knocker on Libby Leibowitz’s massive Georgian door.

With the wedding and Christmas behind her, Abigail was eager to return to work. Libby had helped her arrange passage for orphaned children from Europe to travel to new homes with relatives or adoptive families.

“Come in, Miss Newell-Grey,” Hadley said automatically, opening the door and taking her coat.

“It’s Mrs. Silverman now, Hadley,” she said, pleased to see Libby’s loyal butler.

“So it is, and best wishes to you. Mrs. Leibowitz is in her study. She’s expecting you.”

“Thank you, I’ll see myself in.”

“I’ll take your coat. Would you care for tea?”

“I’d love it, thank you. I fear my blood has thinned considerably since living in California.”

Abigail tapped on the door and opened it. Her diminutive friend sat at her writing desk, wearing a robin’s egg blue wool suit. Libby looked up and smiled.

“My dear Abigail, come in.”

“Good morning, Libby. You look wonderful today.” She put her purse down and glanced around the sunny, lemon yellow study. She loved its spring-like ambiance on such a wintry day.

After they embraced, Abigail crossed to the fireplace where a fire blazed and crackled. She rubbed her hands near the fire.

“Marriage agrees with you, my dear. You’re absolutely glowing.” Libby joined her by the fire. “Before we begin, I must say, that was the loveliest wedding I’ve ever seen. Lou is such a gentleman, and the triplets are adorable. I’m terribly happy for you. And your wedding dress was beautiful. I didn’t realize Danielle was so talented.”

“She’s made quite a name for herself.”

“Indeed.” Libby tilted her head. “Danielle has certainly achieved a great deal. Why, I remember the day we met. I liked her from the very beginning. She had something solid about her, even when she was very young. Her success doesn’t surprise me. She always had such determination.”

“I suppose she must, her life has been so tumultuous.”

“I was sorry to hear about Cameron, and of course, poor Max. But pain strengthens a person, galvanizes them like iron. No one demonstrates that better than Danielle, don’t you think?”

Abigail nodded. “After Max died, I thought she’d crumple to pieces. But she didn’t. Then, when Cameron hung himself....” She shuddered. “Oh, it was just awful. You can’t imagine. Yet she kept right on going, like an engine gathering speed. I don’t know where she got the strength.”

“I think I know,” Libby said quietly. “She has good friends, like you and your brother.”

“She’s my dearest friend, too. You know, I didn’t realize that she and Jon had become so close.” She paused, remembering them dancing together at her wedding reception. “Danielle is twice widowed, I can’t help but wonder if she will ever marry again.”

Libby raised an eyebrow, and said, “I suppose that depends on the young man, or perhaps, his family.”

Abigail glanced at Libby. “What do you mean?”

Libby shrugged. “Everything works out in time. Time, it’s our best ally and our worst enemy.”

“But I do worry about Danielle. She still searches for her son, you know.”

“Nicky?” Libby looked surprised. “I thought he died, the poor little soul.”

“So did I. But she told me something about Max’s cousin, and she’s even called on orphanages here in London.”

“The death of a child must be very hard to accept. One can hardly blame her.”

A knock sounded at the door and Hadley entered with the tea tray. After pouring tea and exchanging pleasantries, he left.

Abigail sat on a floral chintz sofa. Libby joined her and handed her a cup, took a sip of her own tea, and motioned to a stack of files on her desk. “As you see, we’ll have quite a few children to send back with you. Are you sure you don’t mind? After all, it is your honeymoon.”

“Actually, we plan to take our honeymoon later in the coming year. We’re going on an African safari, a photo shoot, really. Lou will have more time away from the studio in a few months.”

“He won’t mind looking after seventy-six children?”

Abigail laughed. “It was his idea, believe it or not. Jon told him that one of our recently renovated ships, the
Newell-Grey Voyager
, was sailing the first week of January. The
Voyager
is such a fine ship, it’s her first crossing since she was rehabilitated after her war service.”

“Your father was kind to allow passage for all the children,” Libby said. “And we’ve compiled as much biographical information as possible for you.”

“I appreciate that. Where are these children from?”

“All over. Holland, Austria, France, and Belgium.”

Abigail nodded. “We’ll take good care of the new children.” She sipped her tea thoughtfully. So many families had been separated during the war. Some people had stuffed family photos and information into their children’s pockets, or stitched it into their clothing, in case the children were lost. It was a smart practice; now such photos had become part of the child’s file and often helped locate family members.

If there
were
any, Abigail grimly reminded herself. Children, especially Jewish children, had often been scurried away to safety, or placed to blend in with gentile families. Now that the war had ended, many surrogate families were trying to help these children find their parents. Often they could no longer afford to care for these orphans—such was the scale of devastation across Europe. The children scheduled to return with them aboard the
Voyager
were those whose parents had died, or had never been located.

“Oh dear.” Libby clicked her tongue. “I forgot, I received a call from a German nun just before you arrived. There might be some additional children, perhaps eight or ten. If they make it, do you think you’ll be able to arrange visas for entry into the United States?”

“I’ll certainly try.” Abigail drew her brows together. “If not, I know of an orphanage in Australia that will begin accepting soon. Are they from Germany?”

“Yes, but they’re not German, they’re from all over Europe. Several Catholic families sheltered these children on their farms for years. A fascinating story, actually. It was their version of resistance and religious service. Anyway, the families blended these young prison camp escapees into their own broods, hiding some of them, and passing off others as their own children. Most of the children are Jewish, but two are sons of a German priest, who is deceased, too, of course. I’m not sure how they managed to survive, but I’m sure it’s quite a saga.”

“Indeed it is. I’ll be sure to take care of them.”

“However, I haven’t received their paperwork. The Sisters said they’ll try to send it with the children.” Libby frowned. “Oh, I do hope they’re not too late to travel with you on the
Voyager
.”