Rachel closed her eyes, breathed deeply and tried to slow her heartbeat.
“So much for keeping it professional,” she said aloud. It was clear that working with Alain on this project was going to be much more difficult than she’d anticipated.
But why did he kiss me?
And why did I kiss him back?
She willed her mind to step methodically through her actions over the last couple of weeks, analyzing her behavior, critical of every word she said, every movement she made, every hint she might have left. Had she led him on? And if she had, what could she do to avoid a repeat of what just happened on the staircase?
Acutely aware of the terms under which Alain agreed to continue work with Swift & Simon, she didn’t want to agitate the man any further. After all, he was her client.
Or was he?
Her contract was with Chateau Léon, signed by Eugene. Surely Alain couldn’t simply cancel the contract if he was uncomfortable working with her. Or could he?
A low, dull headache began to take up residence in the back of her head, and Rachel leaned forward, closed her eyes, and pinched her nose.
“I fell, for crying out loud,” she said with conviction. No need to be apologetic, or change her behavior. “You will just have to keep your hands in your pockets, Mr. Alain Léon,” she muttered, irritation shallow in her voice.
“Ah, Rachel, you bring pleasure to my eyes and warmth to my soul.” Her eyes shot wide open as Eugene’s warm voice interrupted her thoughts. She turned and smiled bravely at him.
His hands trembled when he took her shoulders to kiss her on both cheeks. Rachel frowned — he was exhausted. She had tried to slow the pace and shorten the hours when Eugene worked with her, but he wouldn’t have any of it. Now that the design was selected, it seemed almost as if he was rushing the project, urging Rachel on.
Eugene turned his attention to the drawing on the table. His stooped figure seemed so fragile, his shoulders so thin. He needed to rest. The work was sapping all his energy.
“Let’s get some fresh air,” she suggested gently, and took Eugene’s bony hand in hers, willing him to accept her invitation. Eugene looked at her, a tired smile on his face, his deep blue eyes watery and a little sad.
She led them to a warm spot in the sun, and they sat down on a cast iron bench in the forecourt. In silence, Eugene crossed his legs and arms and let his gaze fall on the valley in front of them.
The faint, familiar smell of wood fire hung in the air. Farmers were busy pruning their vines, burning the dry, twisted clippings, sending long, lazy blue smoke columns into the sky. In the far distance, the majestic eagle-shaped rock on the island, just off La Ciotat, rose from the blue Mediterranean Sea, proudly poised as if surveying the horizon for prey. Ready to take flight.
Closer to them, the twin hilltop villages of La Cadiere and Le Castellet eagerly soaked up the mild, early spring sun, balanced precariously on the steep rock faces. Scattered, like patchwork against the hills and in the valleys, were the orderly rows of the region’s vineyards.
Her gaze shifted to Eugene and noticed that he had closed his eyes. She remained absolutely still next to him. They sat for a while and then Eugene said, “I love this part of France.”
“Tell me about the fire,” Rachel asked gently, hoping to keep him resting in the sun a while longer.
Eugene sat, not moving. For a long moment, Rachel thought he was going to ignore her question. Then he cleared his throat.
“It was a dry summer, that year in 1984,” Eugene began. “We were better off than the rest, having a spring in a deep ravine that still produced water till late in July.”
He laughed quietly at some thought, and then continued. “The spring was our little secret meeting place. We would meet there as young lovers, swim in the cool water, and then do what young lovers do best. That was, until her mother put a stop to our little secret meetings.”
He opened his eyes and Rachel noticed the glint of wetness.
“On our first night after Celine and I got married, we took a blanket and some champagne, and spent the night in each other’s arms at that spring, staring up between the rock cliffs at the stars high above, until we fell asleep.”
“You must have loved her a lot,” Rachel said softly, almost afraid to interrupt him.
“Still do,” he replied.
Rachel sucked in her breath involuntary. During the months she had worked with Eugene, he gave no indication that his wife was still alive. However, she sensed with growing certainty that something was amiss.
“No one knows how the fire started that night — something the insurance company liked to point out repeatedly in their counter arguments. The vines were dry and burned like paper, spreading quickly in the strong wind.” Eugene shifted uneasily at the ghastly memory. “By the time we woke, the fire raged out of control, threatening the chateau. We tried to save the building, but eventually the west wing caught fire.” Eugene coughed softly and looked out over the valley. “Our vineyards were destroyed, and I had to rebuild the estate from scratch. It was hard on us — very hard on us.”
Eugene turned and looked at Rachel. She dropped her gaze, suddenly uncomfortable with the idea that Eugene was sharing his innermost secrets with her. Uncomfortable, because it gave her a view into the private life of the Léon family — the private life of Alain. She wanted to know no more. Resting her hand on Eugene’s arm, she looked into his sad, wrinkled face and slowly shook her head from side to side.
“She left us that December.” Eugene’s voice continued with fresh determination, and Rachel sensed that the painful words Eugene was about to speak had been eating at him for years.
“I don’t think she believed in me anymore — that I could rebuild the estate. That I could get us out of the financial nightmare that haunted our every night’s sleep. So … she simply gave up on us.” Eugene studied his left hand, turning the gold wedding band on his ring finger, deep in thought. “I came home late that afternoon to find she had already left for Canada. All she took with her was some clothes packed in one suitcase. Alain’s nanny had Celine’s last note for me.”
“I’m so sorry, Eugene.” She squeezed his arm lightly.
Eugene continued. “It was tough on Alain. He was only five, and I hoped he would never blame her. How could he? She was his mother?”
She looked at Eugene and recognized his pain — the pain caused by Celine’s rejection. The same pain she’d experienced at Stuart’s hands.
“So is Celine still in Canada?”
“Yes. When Alain turned fifteen he told me he wanted to visit his mother in Canada. I took him, but I could never bring myself to see Celine during that visit. I could not trust my own feelings.”
“And you’ve never seen her since she left?”
“I’ve tried. More than once, believe me. Inside me, it is like two raging dragons, clawing at each other in battle. The white dragon fights to protect my love for Celine. The black dragon fights for my hate to win. So far, the white dragon has survived. I don’t know what will happen if I lay eyes on Celine again.”
With a shaky voice Eugene continued, “Alain didn’t blame his mother, but he did grow up hating the man who cost him his mother.”
She sat upright, alarmed. “Another man … ”
“Yes, her lover, Thomas.”
“So Celine had a lover. And that’s why she abandoned you and Alain?”
“Yes, and Thomas was also married. Two months after they left for Canada, Thomas’ young wife jumped to her death from a high cliff just outside La Ciotat.”
“What a terrible tragedy.”
“Yes, it was a terrible thing for a young boy to experience — I was too busy rebuilding the estate.” He searched Rachel’s eyes, seeking her understanding. “It pained me when I saw all that despair in my son. Growing up with anger in his heart is not something I wanted for him. It took a long time, but eventually Alain let go of his hate. But it left a scar. Adultery destroys lives.”
A cold hand gripped Rachel’s heart.
Adultery. She needed time to think.
“Oh, Eugene, all this must have been so painful.”
“That is why I’m tackling this project, Rachel. For years, I couldn’t bring myself to rebuild the house where we were so happy. Now, I know I must do it. I must complete the circle.”
“I’m glad to know you will live here again, and that I have helped to make that possible.”
“Oh, no, Rachel, I’m not doing this for me — I’m doing it for my Alain.”
Squinting against the sun, he looked at Rachel. “This chateau has been empty and sad for much too long now — it’s time for its halls to be filled once more with the sounds of happiness, the laughter of children.”
Too late, she tried to hide the dark shadow of regret moving across her eyes. She held her breath, but knew Eugene’s sharp eyes spotted it when he sat up and asked, “What? You think I’m a fool — an old man with a crazy dream? You don’t agree with me?”
She studied his deeply lined face, the warm, friendly eyes, now questioning her intently, and chose her words with care.
“Oh, I agree with you, Eugene — completely.” She lifted her face to take in the majestic sandstone building in front of her. A sad smile played on her lips. “This beautiful chateau should be the home to happiness, a family, the laughter of children … ”
Eugene slapped a heavy hand on his one knee and said firmly, “Oh, it will, Rachel, it will.” Then, with a quick wink, “All we need to do is find him the right wife — he’s so damn picky. That is the real conundrum.” Eugene stood and massaged his back. “I’m ready to go home,” he said and walked to his car.
Rachel remained seated on the bench. The information Eugene had shared with her looped through her mind.
Adultery — it flashed through her mind. His vehement reaction and “no buts, ifs, or ands” made more sense now. It was rooted in the scars left by his mother’s adultery.
She smiled wryly and the irony was not lost on her. Stuart, her spineless husband, had left her — deserted her and their two babies. When she met Alain in Monaco that evening, they had been separated for more than three years. Her marriage was long dead — she was married to a ghost, and adultery was an impossibility.
But Alain never paused to hear her side of the story.
“No buts, ifs, or ands,” she repeated Alain’s words to herself. And then continued, “But now I’m no longer married, Mr. Léon.”