Serena ran along the beach, inhaling the salty air. She forgot how good it felt to fill her lungs with fresh oxygen and feel the sand under her feet. She gazed at the seagulls skimming the waves and the tightness in her shoulders relaxed.
She had stayed up all night thinking about Chantal and her father’s secret family. She pictured Charles and Chantal strolling along the shore while Nick and Veronique played in the sand. She saw them eating family dinners in the villa and sharing ice cream cones in Juan-les-Pins.
She stood on the balcony watching the morning sun glint on the bay and knew she had to get out of the Cary Grant Suite. She strapped on her running shoes and ran past the street vendors selling fresh coffee and chocolate croissants. She jogged down the Boulevard de la Croisette and didn’t stop until her calves burned and her forehead was covered in sweat.
Her phone buzzed and she reached in her pocket to answer it.
“Darling, I’m thrilled to hear your voice,” her mother’s voice came over the line. “I was worried I wouldn’t get a connection.”
“Where are you?” Serena squinted into the sun.
“Dakar,” Kate replied. “Don’t be alarmed, but your father is spending the night in the hospital. He had an incident on safari.”
“An incident?” Serena started.
“He swears it was nerves but they’re calling it a minor heart attack,” Kate replied. “I told him not to get too close to the water buffalos but he wouldn’t listen.”
“Should I come there?” Serena asked.
“Fly halfway around the world to hear your father complain about hospital Jell-O?” Kate laughed. “Don’t be silly. They’re pumping him full of drugs and he’ll be good as new in a couple of days.” Kate paused and her voice was soft. “I’m calling to see how you are. Your father and I are worried about you, we wish this nightmare never happened.”
“I’m wonderful.” Serena gulped, gazing at the fishing boats bobbing in the harbor. “Chelsea is so pleased with my story I’m getting a promotion.”
“How exciting!” Kate exclaimed. “I can’t wait to tell Charles.”
“Tell Dad to do what the doctors say.” Serena blinked away tears. “And send me a picture, I’ve heard Dakar is beautiful.”
“All I’ve seen is a hospital waiting room with Formica floors and vinyl chairs.” Kate sighed. “But I made Charles promise we’d go to an outdoor market. I’ve always wanted a sarong.”
Serena hung up and jogged back to the Carlton-InterContinental. She walked through the marble lobby and paused in front of the gift shop. She gazed at the elegant mannequins dressed in white Courrèges slacks and mesh Lanvin sweaters and suddenly knew what she had to do.
Zoe was right; she needed to tell Nick the whole story. She’d go to his apartment and wait for him to return from Saint-Tropez. She’d stop acting like a victim and buy something that made her feel glamorous and sexy.
She entered the gift shop and sifted through racks of designer dresses and Italian shoes. She selected a green Chloé dress and a pair of gold Manolos. She added a Pucci scarf and a thin gold belt. She carried the box to the elevator and pressed the button.
“Serena,” a familiar voice called.
She turned and saw Malcolm striding through the lobby. He wore a red blazer and tan slacks and a wide straw hat. He held hands with a woman wearing a beige linen dress with a wide silver belt. She wore low heels and carried a soft leather clutch.
“I’m glad I found you, I’ve been looking for Zoe,” Malcolm said.
“She’s shopping on the Rue d’Antibes,” Serena said, trying not to stare at the woman. “She’s flying home to Sydney tomorrow.”
“I’m glad we got here in time. I’m being rude.” Malcolm took off his hat. “Serena, I’d like you to meet my wife, Laura.”
* * *
“I can’t believe you flew to Cannes without telling me,” Zoe fumed. “I could be sitting on a Qantas 747, about to land at Kingsford Smith Airport by myself.”
Serena looked from Zoe to Malcolm to Laura and couldn’t help grinning. She remembered Zoe’s face when she appeared in the lobby and saw her parents holding hands at the elevator. Zoe’s cheeks turned pale and she spilled her boxes all over the marble floor. The concierge hastily picked them up while Zoe demanded to know what Malcolm and Laura were doing in Cannes.
* * *
They sat at an outdoor table at the Carlton Restaurant sipping strawberry martinis. Malcolm ordered pan-fried scallops with truffled mashed potatoes and artichokes flavored with parsley and garlic and Parmesan cheese. There was a basket of baguettes and pots of herb butter and olive oil.
“We wanted to surprise you.” Malcolm grinned. He looked like a different man from the one who had disappeared after reading his wife’s letter. His gray eyes gleamed and he kept one hand draped over Laura’s shoulder.
“I spent three days trying to tracking you down,” Zoe said, and glared at her father. “You can’t crisscross the globe as if you were driving to the Blue Mountains.”
“I won’t be sorry if I don’t see the interior of a first-class airplane cabin for a while.” Malcolm nodded, piercing a scallop with his fork. “But I had to try to win your mother back.”
Laura spoke for the first time. “I spent almost two decades being angry at your father.” She had smooth brown hair and hazel eyes and finely lined cheeks. She wore freshwater pearls around her neck and a heart-shaped Chopard watch on her wrist. “He didn’t build Australia’s biggest fashion empire by sitting back and doing nothing. I finally understand he doesn’t listen to anyone else.”
“Then why are you here?” Zoe frowned.
“I didn’t think Malcolm could do anything that would change my mind,” Laura said, and sipped her martini. “But he pulled off something extraordinary.”
“After I left you and Serena, I went up to my suite and stood on the balcony,” Malcolm recalled. “If I had been younger, I would have climbed on the railing and thrown myself on the Boulevard de la Croisette. Instead I poured a scotch and reread the article Serena wrote. I hardly recognized the young man who sold his stereo and pawned his watch to create a dress. Can you imagine having the confidence to think if you turned up with a box full of tissue paper you could win the girl of your dreams?
“I finished the bottle of scotch and the idea came to me. I gathered my passport and took a taxi to the airport before I could change my mind. I remember the flight attendant saying I looked like I had a fever. She gave me a blanket and tucked me into one of those enormous first-class cocoons and I slept the twenty hours to Sydney.
“When I woke, we were circling the airport and I realized what I had done. The funny thing was that though I was sober, I didn’t regret it. I grabbed my carry-on bag and took a taxi straight to Gladding House.
“It took me two hours to dig up the original design of the ‘Laura’; we keep all our designs in a library on the third floor. I slipped it in my briefcase and drove to the garment district. Mei-ling’s shop looked the same as it did almost thirty years ago. One tiny room with a sewing machine and a table filled with fabric and buttons and zippers.
“The girl at the counter was Mei-ling’s daughter; she said Mei-ling had retired five years ago. I begged her and finally she brought her mother downstairs. I told Mei-ling what I wanted but she said her arthritis was too painful. I insisted I’d pay her anything. She pointed to my wrist and said, ‘My son would love your pretty gold watch.’
“I handed her my Rolex and drove to the western suburbs to meet a man who imports the finest Thai silk. I showed him the color swatches and two hours later he called and said he found a match.
“While Mei-ling was sewing the dress, I went to David Jones and bought a pair of white silk gloves and sheer stockings. I stopped in the men’s department and bought a plain black suit, and then I picked up a pair of tickets to La Sylphide at the Sydney Opera House.
“I hadn’t been that nervous since I waited at the Taronga Zoo with the kidnappers’ ransom. I knew if Laura saw me, she’d ask me to leave. I bribed my housekeeper to tell Laura that a deliveryman needed her signature, and I waited in the entry.
“You should have seen her face when she walked down the stairs. She was the same glorious girl who tried to brush me off in design class.
“I handed her the box and said, ‘Some designers give their favorite collections to museums or galleries. No one should ever wear the “Laura” except the woman it was designed for, the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met.’”
“What happened to the original dress?” Serena broke in.
“It was destroyed in a fire at the dry cleaner’s years ago,” Laura answered, twisting her wedding band. “I fell in love with the young man in my design class with the bad haircut and borrowed suit because he was larger than life. I still don’t agree that staying in Sydney was the best thing after the kidnapping, but I understand his reasoning.
“The young Malcolm wasn’t going to let a couple of thugs dictate our lives. I saw him as being selfish, but his only crime was believing he was invincible. The same man showed up at my door yesterday; I would have been foolish not to let him in.”
Malcolm held Laura’s hand tightly. He leaned forward and kissed his wife on the lips. “And this time I was wearing socks.”
“But why are you in Cannes?” Zoe asked. Her eyes were wide and her skin was blotchy, as if she had eaten bad shellfish.
“Malcolm showed me a picture of a white stone church perched on a cliff in Antibes,” Laura said. “We decided to renew our vows.”
“You’re doing what?” Zoe’s mouth fell open.
“We’re getting married.” Malcolm smiled, eating the last scallop. “And we’d like you and Serena to be bridesmaids.”
* * *
“I can’t believe I’m going to walk my mother down the aisle,” Zoe moaned.
Malcolm and Laura had gone to Antibes to meet the priest and Serena and Zoe took the elevator to the Cary Grant Suite. Zoe tossed her purse on the sideboard, slipped off her sandals, and collapsed on an ivory silk love seat.
“I thought you’d be thrilled they’re back together,” Serena mused.
“I haven’t seen my mother so happy since her thirty-fifth birthday. Dad hired the Sydney Opera Company to perform Otello in Centennial Park.” Zoe paused, her eyes misting over. “That was before the kidnapping, when everything he did was perfect.”
“Some couples can make it through anything.” Serena pictured her mother sitting at her father’s bedside at a hospital in Dakar. “I think they’ll be fine.”
Zoe walked to the sideboard and popped a strawberry in her mouth. She studied her reflection in the gilt mirror and tucked her hair behind her ears.
“I thought I’d be the next bride in the family,” Zoe said, sinking onto the love seat. “At least it will be an excuse to buy a fabulous lace dress and eat chocolate raspberry fondant cake.”