Даниэла Стил - The Affair

“Everything,” he answered. “A huge living room, which it has. I like big furniture, I’m a big man. Fabulous bedroom, a gym. A dining room I can entertain in. Big table for anywhere from ten to twenty-four guests. A cozy den where I can work at home. The place has everything I need space-wise, but big rooms can look cold if you don’t do them right. That’s where you come in.”

“Colors?”

“Dark blue, hunter green, deep red, good lighting for the art.” He had very definite ideas, which in some ways would make it easier, in others harder, if he wasn’t open to new ideas. “I like charcoal gray too.”

“Modern?”

“Traditional, classic,” the way he dressed. “I’d like to show you the space when you have time. I’m pretty tied up this week. Maybe on the weekend?” She knew she’d have to get a sitter, or maybe Nicolas would take the girls for a few hours. That was the hard part of being alone now, juggling her work schedule and her daughters, but that wasn’t the client’s problem, it was hers, and she wasn’t going to make it his. He didn’t look like the kind of man who would put up with it. He’d expect her to be available when he was, and since he didn’t have children, he wouldn’t be sympathetic to hers. She had other clients like him, and as long as you delivered what they wanted, on schedule, it all went well. And she liked working with businessmen like him. They were decisive, knew what they wanted, and didn’t waste time.

At seven o’clock, he paid the check, wrote down the address of the house for her, and they agreed to meet at noon on Saturday. Then they stood up and walked out of the Ritz together. He was all business, but she liked him. He was smart, fast, and efficient, and the client he had mentioned knowing had been a pleasure to work with too. He said he was on his way out for dinner.

They shook hands in front of the Ritz, and the doorman got her a cab, while Gregory Holland got into his car. He drove a sleek black Bentley sports car. He wasn’t showy or vulgar, but he clearly had money. And as long as she came up with ideas he liked, and delivered on time, she thought she had a new client. She couldn’t wait to see what his “house within a house” looked like and to get started.

She felt alive again on the way home. For the past four months she had thought of nothing but Nicolas’s affair. She had let her business slide, and fortunately much of that time had been during the slow summer months, and in August, almost everything in France was closed. She had felt dazed with her children, depressed about the collapse of her marriage, indifferent to her clients, and now she suddenly felt back on track, and ready to take life by the horns. Gregory Holland heralded a new era in her life. For eleven years, she had been married, putting everyone else’s needs first, making her schedule work with theirs, worrying about Nicolas’s career with each new book, delicately giving him advice when she read his early manuscripts, being available at all times, at work, at home. Now it was just her and the kids. It was true that at times it would be more of a balancing act without another adult present, especially on weekends, but she also had one less person to drop everything for and take care of. At times, especially when he was writing, Nicolas had been needy and demanding, almost like a child.

Meeting with Gregory Holland had infused new life into her work. She had a feeling that his house was going to be amazing. Even more so if she got to work on it. She had no other big projects at the moment. The house she had installed in Madrid in May was a huge job, and the client had spent a fortune on it. The installation was why she hadn’t been able to join Nicolas at the Cannes Film Festival, and their life had imploded after that. She had done a fabulous vacation home in Punta Cana in the Dominican Republic right before that, and had juggled both projects for over a year. But since Madrid, there had been a lull. She had time to tackle a big job now, and it would be easy managing it right in Paris, and not abroad.

One of her clients was looking for a new larger home in London, but they hadn’t found what they wanted yet, and she had a new client in London for a small pied-à-terre she could do easily, so Gregory Holland’s job was welcome. Her work was always feast or famine. Either five of her clients had new homes, half of them in different cities, or they had a quiet spell, which never lasted long. Her reputation carried her along, and eventually brought in new clients by word of mouth. A particularly showy project, with a client who wanted it photographed in every magazine, helped to build her business. She had done extremely well in the past ten years, and was one of the youngest, most successful decorators in Paris.

—

Nicolas had agreed to take the girls out for a few hours on Saturday, although he said he was going to Brittany that night to help Pascale settle in, and he was going to stay there for a few days. He told her he had rented a small furnished apartment in Paris that week. He didn’t sound enthused about it, but she was relieved that he had taken her seriously and was moving forward. Her life felt more on track now too. She had told him she had an important meeting with a prospective new client, and he was willing to accommodate her.

Nadia arrived ten minutes early for the appointment and stood outside the impressive stone building with tall ornate glass and metal doors that required a code to enter. She peered into the courtyard and saw a security guard, a parking attendant, and a guardian, all properly dressed in black suits, and giant marble urns with palm trees at the entrance to the courtyard. Gregory Holland drove up as she was looking in, used a remote control, and the heavy doors opened and he drove in. She followed his car in on foot, and he unfolded his long limbs out of the car, then turned it over to the parking attendant. It was extremely rare to have that kind of personnel in a residential building in Paris, unlike New York or L.A., where it was commonplace.

She noticed as soon as she walked into the courtyard that there was a beautifully proportioned private home nestled there. Gregory said good morning to Nadia and walked toward it.

“That’s it? The house?” She looked surprised. She had only seen a house tucked away like that once before. It was like a magical surprise behind the doors of the building around it. They were on the front steps by then, and he took the key out of his pocket.

“The building is all large floor-through apartments. The house is really more of a home. There’s a swimming pool, a wine cellar, a gym, and a movie theater in the basement, most of which I won’t have time to use, except for the gym and pool. It’s kind of a giant bachelor pad. It has a master suite on the top floor, one guest room on the floor below, and a study, which I’ll use a lot. The reception rooms are on the main floor. I really lucked out,” he said, as he opened the front door. “It’s just what I need, and totally protected in this courtyard, with a great deal of security in the building, and surveillance cameras everywhere. I put some of my art in storage before I came here, but the building is so safe, I’m shipping it over.” She had looked him up on the internet after their meeting, and it said he was an important collector of contemporary art, but it hadn’t listed the artists. She realized as she followed Gregory into the house that a plum had fallen into her lap.

The main floor of the house had a vast entrance hall which fed into a huge living room, dining room, and state-of-the-art kitchen, with a view of an enclosed garden. He could easily give a cocktail party for two hundred people there, or a dinner for twenty or thirty. As he had described, up a sweeping marble staircase was a beautiful guest suite, and an office for himself, and the master suite on the top floor with a dressing room and an enormous round bathtub. The way the house had been renovated had a sleek, stark, almost masculine style, which suited him. It didn’t have all the little feminine touches that a woman might have liked, or that the house may have had before the renovation. He was right. It was the perfect bachelor pad, and a dream house for any man. It was made for him, and what Nadia sensed about his style from what she could see and what experience had taught her about people and homes. Although there were always some surprises, which was what she liked about her business.