Danielle Steel: Legacy

“I haven’t had time to work on it, I’ve been too busy packing. I’ll get back to it in Paris.”

“This is very exciting,” Marguerite said, smiling at her proudly. “A new job, a new city, a new book, maybe a new man.” She hoped so for her sake. Either Marc or another, just so she was happy. But Brigitte looked very content these days. She had ever since she came back from France the last time. When her mother last saw her, she was still high from her trip and all that she had discovered. There had been some nasty slumps since then, which led to her decision to leave Boston. She had no regrets at all now, and only a few fears. Day by day it felt more right to her than ever. She was feeling confident about the job. The big question in her mind was Marc.

They had exchanged several e-mails, all very friendly. School was almost out for the summer, and he was delighted. He said he was going to the mountains for a vacation in August, to visit some distant cousins. And he said he was going to be in Paris in July. He had asked what she was doing, and she said she didn’t have plans yet, which was true. She wanted to settle into her job, and get used to living in the city. She had told him she had a new job, but she didn’t say where. And he had forgotten to ask her which school, so she didn’t have to dodge the question. She didn’t lie, she just didn’t tell him. A sin of omission, not commission. And eventually she would thank him for the introduction to his friend at AUP, but not yet. She wanted to see him again first before she told him anything, and see how they both felt. There had been contradictions in their relationship before, the easy friendship that they had both enjoyed, and the kisses beneath the Eiffel Tower on her last night. She didn’t know which route they would take, or which one she wanted, the friend or the man. And she wasn’t just passing through town now. She would be living there full time, so a relationship between them would have to make sense, to both of them, and not just be an accident of chance. She didn’t want to make the same mistakes she had with Ted, of falling into something easy, and never asking the right questions, of him or herself. This time she wanted answers before she took any leaps. She didn’t want to be lazy or scared, she wanted to be wise, and have her eyes wide open, not just her heart.

The night that she left New York, she and her mother had an early dinner. They talked until she left for the airport, and her mother hugged her tight before she left. “Take care of yourself, sweetheart. Have a wonderful time, and I hope you meet lots of good people there, and have a great time.” They promised to call each other, and Brigitte knew they would. They called each other often, and worried about each other. There were tears in Marguerite’s eyes when she kissed her. All she wanted was for her daughter to be happy. It was what Brigitte wanted for herself too, and she hoped she would be in Paris.

As she went down in the elevator with her bags, it was exciting to know that in exactly nine hours she’d be there. She could hardly wait.

She was flying Air France on the midnight flight. It would land her in Paris at noon, local time. And the human resource office had told her that her keys would be waiting with the concierge of her building, and they had e-mailed her the address. It was on the rue du Bac, right near Tristan and Wachiwi’s house, which felt like a good omen to her.

It was a six-hour flight, with a six-hour time difference from New York. The service on the plane was excellent, and it wasn’t too crowded. The two seats next to her were empty, so she could lie down, and she covered herself with a blanket and slept. She felt refreshed when she woke up, and she had breakfast before they landed. Croissants, yogurt, fruit, and coffee. And the next thing she knew, they had touched down.

She went through immigration and customs without problem, and found a luggage cart for her bags, and they just managed to fit in the Parisian taxi. She gave him the address in French. He nodded and they were off in the heavy traffic from Roissy to the city. It took them almost an hour to get there. And she looked at everything once they arrived in the city. The streets on the Left Bank already looked somewhat familiar to her from her recent stay in April, and she was thrilled when they drove past Tristan’s house on the rue du Bac on the way to her new address. Tristan and Wachiwi were part of her life now, and they would be increasingly so while she wrote the book, which brought them to life for her. She felt as though they were her best friends now, or much-loved relatives she couldn’t wait to see again. She could see them on the pages that she was writing.

She paid the cab driver, pressed the code on the outer door, pushed it open, walked through a narrow passage to a courtyard, and pressed the buzzer marked “concierge.” It was the apartment where the woman lived who ran the building. The building itself looked charming and ancient, but everything looked well tended and clean. And the concierge knew immediately who she was, handed her the keys, pointed to the sky, and said, “Troisième étage.” Third floor. Brigitte thanked her and saw that there was a tiny cagelike elevator that looked barely bigger than a breadbasket. She put her bags in one on top of the other, and then ran up the stairs herself. There was no room for her and the bags. She already knew that the third floor in France was the equivalent of the fourth in the States, and she was out of breath when she got there, and then pulled her bags out of the narrow cage.

She used the keys to enter the apartment, and had already been warned by the school that it was tiny, but it was much better than she had expected. It had an unobstructed view over the rooftops, and at a little distance looked down into a convent garden full of trees, and then her breath caught as she looked straight ahead. She had a perfect view of the Eiffel Tower, and at night when it was all lit up, it would be a light show just for her. It was the perfect apartment. From now on the hourly fireworks and sparks of the Eiffel Tower in the dark would be right outside her window. She could hardly wait. She sat down and smiled as she looked around her for a minute and then explored the apartment. She was smiling from ear to ear. There was a tiny mouse-sized kitchen, with a miniature oven, a microwave, and a fridge barely big enough to keep the makings of a meal in. But everything was clean and neat. And there was no bedroom, just the one good-sized room where she would sleep and live, and then she realized that she could see the Eiffel Tower from her bed. There was a round dining table in front of the window and four chairs. The furniture was worn but pretty. The upholstery was oatmeal color, and the curtains were old pink satin. There were two big leather chairs in front of a fireplace, and a small couch across from her bed. There was ample room to entertain in, live, and have a life in, and best of all she had the view. And when she checked, the bathroom was marble and the tub was a decent size. She had everything she needed, and sat down on the bed and grinned.

“Welcome home,” she said out loud, and felt that way. She still had to unpack, but she didn’t want to get started. There was something she had to do first. She had put it off long enough.

She dialed Marc’s number on her BlackBerry, and he sounded surprised. She had only called him once since April, normally they e-mailed each other. He seemed genuinely startled to hear her, but very pleased.

“Is this a bad time?” she asked cautiously. She could hear noise around him, and he sounded busy.

“Not at all. I’m being very lazy. I’m sitting in a café. The one we went to across from your hotel, the first time we had coffee. I come here a lot now.” He loved going there because it reminded him of her. And she knew exactly where it was. She picked up her sweater as she talked to him, left her apartment and locked the door, and kept talking to him on her BlackBerry as she hurried down the stairs. He was only a few blocks away, which made it so easy for her.