Даниэла Стил - The Affair

Chapter 3

Rose’s plane touched down at Charles de Gaulle Airport at eight a.m. After a brief spell in the bathroom on the plane, she emerged as perfectly coiffed as always, with just a hint of makeup, in a fresh crisp white shirt, black slacks, and a black linen blazer. She looked neat as a pin, and as though she had just stepped out of the pages of a magazine, and not flown all night on a plane. She was carrying a large, well-seasoned black alligator Hermès Haut à courroies bag that she always traveled with. Even in the airport, heads turned when she walked by. Between her height, her stark white hair, the way she carried herself, and her innate elegance, it was obvious that she was not just any traveler, with a VIP representative from the airline hurrying to keep up with her. Rose was eager to get to Nadia’s apartment and see her daughter.

There was a car and driver waiting for Rose when she got her luggage, and she gave him the address on the Quai Voltaire in her flawless French. She always spoke to her granddaughters in French as well. It was more comfortable for them, since Nadia was fluent and spoke to them in French too. Sylvie and Laure spoke English with a French accent, and managed when they had to.

The ride from the airport took less than an hour early on a Saturday morning, and Rose was pensive as she looked out the window at the familiar landscape. She came to Paris often on business, and was always happy to see Nadia and Nicolas and the children when she did. This time was different. She was here exclusively to support her daughter. Pascale’s announcing publicly that she was pregnant had made their current drama that much worse. Pascale and Nicolas were all over the press, and she could only imagine how devastated Nadia was. She wanted to see for herself. She was worried about how noble and decent Nadia was being, and thought her daughter should fight back. And divorce was certainly an option, perhaps even the wisest course, although Rose didn’t take divorce lightly.

—

Sylvie and Laure were having breakfast in their nightgowns when Rose arrived and rang the bell. Nadia buzzed her up, and when Rose got upstairs, Nadia stood looking at her mother for a moment with a smile and tears in her eyes.

“Thank you for coming, Mom,” she said in English. Her mother looked as perfect as ever. Nadia’s long dark hair was tousled and hanging down her back. She was in a pink cotton nightgown that made her look barely older than her daughters. Rose set down her small suitcase and the alligator bag, hugged Nadia, and followed her into the kitchen where the girls were eating and laughing with each other. They looked up in surprise when they saw their grandmother. Their mother hadn’t told them she was coming, to surprise them, and they leapt out of their seats and ran into her arms. They babbled happily with her for the next half hour, until their mother sent them to their rooms to get dressed and reminded Sylvie to help Laure do up her buttons and tie her shoelaces.

“They look fine,” Rose said, studying her daughter’s face. She looked tired and thin, with circles under her eyes, predictably.

“They don’t know what’s going on,” Nadia said quietly, and handed her mother another cup of coffee. Rose looked as though she was dressed for a meeting. Nadia was happy to see her.

“What about you? Anything new?” Rose watched her carefully.

“He was here last night. He wanted to spend the weekend with us.”

“That must be confusing,” Rose said, frowning, wondering if Nadia was still sleeping with him. She hoped not but didn’t want to ask. She was respectful of her children’s privacy and the sanctity of their relationships, which were none of her business, although Nicolas was proving to be the exception to the rule. His life had become the business of the entire world.

“I didn’t let him stay, obviously,” Nadia said with a sigh. “He keeps telling me how much he loves me, and that he’ll make a graceful exit after she has the baby. Apparently, she considers herself too young for marriage.”

“Or too French,” Rose said with a disapproving glance, and Nadia laughed. Her mother still had some of her old British prejudices about the French, but she had loved and trusted her son-in-law until recently. “So what does she want? She’s too young for motherhood too.”

“She wants to live with him for as long as it lasts. I’m not planning to stick around for that, for the next few years, while he has two households, with a foot in each, or riding two horses, as the French say.”

“Even modern French men don’t do that anymore. They have kids and don’t marry, but juggling two women is no way to live, especially for you. You deserve better than that.”

“I know,” she said sadly. “I thought he’d end it with her before it came to this, but the baby changes all that, and I think he’s secretly happy about it. He loves kids.” Her mother rolled her eyes.

“Please, this isn’t about his love of children. It’s about his having a sloppy affair, making a spectacle of himself at a highly publicized event, and letting it get out of hand. It’s about his wanting to have fun with a hot young girl, not his love of kids. It’s feeding his ego, and not much else.” Nadia didn’t disagree. “And what are you supposed to do in the meantime?” She strongly disapproved of how weak and selfish he was being, like a boy half his age.

“I have no idea,” Nadia said. “I keep thinking about what I should do. I want it to have never happened, but it did.”

“Have you called a lawyer yet?” Nadia shook her head and didn’t want her mother pressuring her about it. Her sister Olivia had called her and insisted she file for divorce immediately, but Nadia didn’t feel ready to do that yet, and wasn’t sure when she would. It had to be on her timing, not theirs.

“I haven’t had time,” or the heart to do it. “He comes to see the girls all the time, which is good for them.”

“Where is he living?” It sounded confusing to Rose.

“Here, some of the time, in the guest room, and with Pascale the rest of the time. He hasn’t moved out yet. I don’t think either of us is ready for it. Some of the time I want him to, the rest of the time, I don’t. We’re doing it this way for the girls, for now.”

“Or because you’re both too frightened to let go? You’re letting him have his cake and eat it too,” Rose said pointedly.

“Not really. I’m just not ready to do anything radical yet. This is all very new.”

“I’d say having a baby out of wedlock with a twenty-two-year-old actress, and being on the front page of the tabloids is pretty radical, wouldn’t you?” Nadia smiled and nodded. Her mother always got right to the point without wasting time.

“Yes, it is. I just want to be sure, before he moves out and we tell the girls we’re getting a divorce.”

“Can you see yourself taking him back after this?” her mother asked her, shocked. She couldn’t imagine it herself, and Nadia shook her head.

“No, I can’t. I’ll never feel the same about him again. But divorce is a big word, and it lasts forever.”

“I thought marriage was supposed to last forever,” Rose said primly, more so than she would have at the magazine, where she had to be more modern and open-minded, but this was her family, and she hoped they had the same values she did.

“I thought so too,” Nadia said as the girls reappeared in denim shorts, pink T-shirts, and pink sneakers. Sylvie had done Laure’s hair in pigtails, and they were sticking out at an odd angle, and Sylvie had forgotten to brush her own, which was a tangled mass of thick blond curls. Laure had dark hair like Nadia’s and was the image of her mother. Sylvie looked more like Nicolas, with a hint of her aunt Olivia, which Nadia noticed occasionally, but Sylvie had a sunnier disposition than her somewhat daunting aunt.