Danielle Steel - Second Chance

“The other parties this week won't be as exotic as this. Dior goes all out.” She knew they had spent three million dollars on the party they'd just left and much more on the show they'd seen that afternoon. The other houses were more circumspect, both in their budgets and their themes. This was quite an introduction for him, and as they approached the Place Vendôme, Fiona asked the driver to stop and turned to John. “Do you want to walk for a few minutes, or are you too tired?” She liked walking in Paris before she went home to bed, but it had been a long day for both of them, and jet lag was finally catching up with her.

“I'd like that,” he said quietly, as she dismissed the car for the night, and they strolled slowly down the rue Castiglione to the Place Vendôme. Suddenly they felt like real people in a real world in the most beautiful city on the planet, and he was grateful for the exercise and the air. It seemed to restore some normalcy to the night after all the exotic things they'd experienced and seen. “I was beginning to feel like I was on drugs,” he admitted, as they walked into the square, and stopped to look in shop windows. He felt almost normal again, just tired.

“Have you had enough of it?” Fiona asked, curious about the extent of his tolerance for her milieu.

“Not yet. I'm fascinated, although today will be hard to top. I'm going to be disappointed, I think, if the other shows are anything less.”

“Not less, just more restrained. You might enjoy them more. They're not as much sensory overload as Dior. That's their stock-in-trade.”

“And yours?” he asked, as he tucked her hand in his arm and they walked on.

“Maybe. I like the beautiful and the exotic, interesting people with talent and creative spirits. I think I've gotten spoiled. Sometimes I'm not sure what normal is anymore. This is all normal to me. I forget sometimes that other people lead simpler lives.”

“You're going to be very bored if you leave all this one day, Fiona. Or maybe it will give you something exciting to write about.” But even after knowing her for such a short time, he could not imagine her doing anything other than what she was, with a flock of adoring minions revolving around her. It was heady air she breathed, and in the midst of it all, she was the queen bee, as powerful as any queen. He imagined it made it hard for her to ally with any man—and he was sure she was well aware of it. Few men would be willing to exist on the fringes of her world. And fewer still would be able or willing to participate in it. To most men, her life was like traveling on a rocket through outer space. And John felt that way too. But he enjoyed being with her, it was a rare opportunity. But not one he could have tolerated easily day to day. His own life seemed half-dead and incredibly mundane compared with hers, although he ran one of the largest ad agencies in the world. But even his world seemed tame compared to hers. He couldn't even begin to imagine what it would be like being married to her. And he wondered now if this was why she had never married, and he couldn't resist asking her as they approached the Ritz. He wondered if her single life was too much fun to give up and married life far too boring. He couldn't imagine anyone with a husband or wife staying in that world for long.

“Not really,” she said thoughtfully. “I've just never felt a need to be married, nor wanted to be. It seems so painful when it doesn't work out. I've never wanted to take that risk. Rather like jumping out of a burning building. If you're lucky, you might land in the net they hold out to you, but from what I can see, you're a lot more likely to hit the cement.” She looked at him with wide honest eyes, and he laughed, as they walked slowly into the Ritz. There were guards with dogs outside. And the paparazzi were still standing watch, waiting for celebrities to come home.

“That's one way to look at it, I guess. It's wonderful when it does work out. I loved being married. But you have to choose the right person, and maybe have a lot of luck.” They both thought of his late wife as he said it, although Fiona didn't want to go there.

“I've never liked gambling,” Fiona said honestly. “I'd rather spend my money on things I like, than risk losing it all. And I've never met anyone who I thought would really be able to tolerate being part of my life forever. I travel a lot, I'm too busy, I have a lot of crazy people around. My dog snores. And I like it all just the way it is.” Somehow, John found that hard to believe. In his mind, sooner or later, everyone realizes that they don't want to be alone. And yet, he had to admit that she seemed immensely content with her life just as it was.

“And what happens when you get old?”

“I'll deal with it. I've always thought that was a particularly stupid reason to get married. Why spend thirty years with someone who makes you uncomfortable, in order not to be alone when you get old? What if I got Alzheimer's and didn't even remember him? Think of all the time I'd have wasted being miserable, in order not to be unhappy when I'm old. That's like an insurance policy, not a union of minds and souls. Besides, I could go down in a plane next week, and then I'd make someone terribly unhappy if something like that happened. This way the only one who'd be upset is my dog.” John found it an odd way to look at things, but she seemed comfortable with it.

It was the antithesis of the way he'd lived, with a long marriage, a wife he had loved, and two kids. And even though he'd been devastated when Ann died, he thought the years they'd shared before were well worth it. When he went, he wanted to be mourned by more than a dog. But Fiona didn't. She was very clear about it. She had seen her mother's pain each time a man left her life, and felt her own when her two long-term relationships had ended. She could only imagine that marriage, and losing a spouse, would be far worse, perhaps even unbearable. It was easier, in her mind at least, not to have one in the first place. So she filled her life with other things, pastimes, pursuits, projects, and people.

“Besides,” she continued thoughtfully, “I don't like being encumbered. Maybe I just like my freedom.” She grinned impishly at him as she shrugged her shoulders, but she did so without apology. “My life suits me as it is.” And in spite of his own very different ideas, he agreed with her. She seemed perfectly content with her existence, and made no bones about it.

Once back in the Ritz, they walked past the vitrines full of expensive items of jewelry and clothing, as he took her to the elevator on the Cambon side. Their rooms were on the third floor, and his was just down the hall from hers. He stood outside her door, as she reached into her bag to find the large blue plastic key. They put it on a heavy brass ring, and she always took the key off and left the brass part on the desk in her room. It was too heavy to drag around in her bag. John waited politely until she found it, inserted it in the electronic lock, and the door opened as she turned to thank him for coming to Paris with her. It had been fun sharing the Dior evening with him, from beginning to end. Or rather, from train station to pool.

“Do you have time for breakfast tomorrow morning, or will you be too busy?” he asked, as she noticed that he looked as impeccably groomed as he had at the beginning of the evening. And it was already two o'clock in the morning. It had been a long night, but a good one. And he wore well. He was flexible and easygoing and fun to be with, and he had a nice manly look to him that she was not unaware of. She just wasn't ready to respond to it. Or at least she was being careful not to for the time being.

“I have to make some calls when I get up, and at some point, I have to meet with our photographer to go over the proof sheets from the Dior show. But he won't have them until late afternoon. And we have to be at the Lacroix show at eleven. We should leave here at ten-thirty…. I want to dress by nine…. I could do breakfast with you at eight-thirty.” She made it sound like a business meeting she was fitting in, and he smiled at her.