Danielle Steel - Legacy (2010)

“Hi,” she said, trying to sound casual, and feeling stupid as she did it. They knew each other too well to play games or at least they used to.

“How are you, Brig?” He sounded happy and in good spirits. She had no idea what time it was for him, or exactly where he was.

“I’m fine. Is something wrong?” Maybe he was in a hospital and needed her. Or had too much to drink, and drunk-dialed. Anything was possible after four months of silence.

“No, everything’s great here. I was wondering how you are. I’m sorry things got so botched up when I left. It was hard.”

“Yeah, it was. I’m okay,” she said, but her voice sounded small. He didn’t seem to notice. “I went to Paris and did some research for my mother.” She realized that he’d never known she got laid off. She hadn’t wanted him to know.

“Did you take some time off?” he sounded puzzled.

“Uh … actually … I took a break from work. I’m writing.”

She had been writing for ten days, but she didn’t say that. At least she was doing something. He was running a dig for a major university, and she didn’t want to sound pathetic.

“That’s great.” He didn’t ask her what she was writing.

“How’s the dig?”

“Fantastic. We’re pulling out stuff every day. It was a little slow in the beginning, but it’s been really good for the last month. So what else are you up to?”

“Not much.” She hated sounding like such a loser, and then before she could stop herself, she wasn’t sure if she said it to impress him, or to ask his advice, she blurted out, “I just got offered a job in Paris. Ted, I don’t know what to do.” She was crying again, but he couldn’t hear it. “I just found out last night.”

“What kind of job?”

“Admissions office at American University of Paris. Part time, with an apartment.”

“Are you kidding? That’s right up your alley. Take it.” She was afraid he would say that.

“Why? What if I hate it?”

“How bad can it be in Paris? We don’t even have indoor plumbing here.” She was suddenly glad she wasn’t with him. “If you hate it,” he added, “you can quit and come home. You need a change, Brig. I think we both kind of outgrew Boston, and didn’t want to face it.”

“And each other,” she said honestly.

“Yeah, and that too. It’s hard to make changes. Things get so comfortable and you don’t want to move. Maybe it would do you good to be a little uncomfortable for a while, and do something different. You can learn French.”

“It’s an American school,” she reminded him.

“In a French city. I don’t know, Brig. It’s up to you, but it sounds like an answer to a prayer to me. You’ve done Boston, you’re good at what you do. And if they’re offering you part time, it’ll give you time to write the book you’re working on. What the hell, give it a shot. Sometimes I think ‘what the hell’ is the right answer. You’ve got nothing to lose. Nothing is irreversible except dying. And moving to Paris for a while sure won’t kill you. You might love it.” She had been so busy thinking about everything that could go wrong that she hadn’t thought of that. But he was right. What if she loved it? It was the one scenario she hadn’t considered.

“I know you get scared, Brig,” he went on. “We all do. I was scared shitless when I came here, but I wouldn’t have missed it for anything. I know what happened with your father really shook you. But sometimes you’ve got to take a chance. You’re too young not to, and you’ll probably regret it forever if you don’t take it. That’s what I was afraid would happen here. If I had passed up this dig for us, I’d have resented it forever. I didn’t want that to happen.” She understood, but it had hurt anyway.

“You could have taken me.” She had never said that to him before he left, and it felt good to get it out now.

“No, I couldn’t. You’d hate it here. Believe me, it’s not Paris. It’s hot and dusty and dirty. I love it, but the living conditions are squalid. I knew that from the digs I’d visited. You would have been out of here in ten minutes,” he said, and she smiled thinking about it.

“Yeah, you’re probably right. It sounds awful.”

“But it’s what I love to do. Now you’ve got to do what you love to do. Write the book, go to Paris, change careers, find a guy you’re crazy about, who’s not going to run off to Egypt after six years. I miss you, Brig, but I’m happy. I hope this winds up being right for both of us in the end. That’s why I called you. I’ve been worrying about you, and feeling guilty. I know it was a shit thing to do, dumping everything after six years. But I had to do this. I want you to find what you have to do. Maybe it’s Paris. I hope it is.”

“Maybe so,” she said pensively. It was good to hear him, but he didn’t sound like hers anymore. And probably never was. He was someone she had known, but they had never really been connected. She knew that now. And maybe they never would have been right for each other. Maybe she would never find the right guy. But Ted made sense. She couldn’t just sit there forever in Boston, waiting for life to happen. She had to grab it by the horns, no matter how scary it was or what the risks were. And how risky could Paris be? He was right about that too. What if she loved it? And if she didn’t, she’d come home. She was suddenly glad he had called her. He had given her courage when she needed it. His call had turned out to be a gift.

“Let me know what you decide. E-mail me sometime.”

“I will,” she said softly. “Thanks for calling, Ted. You really helped me.”

“No, I didn’t,” he said honestly. “You know what you want to do. Just do it. Take a chance, Brig. It won’t be as scary as you think. It never is.”

She thanked him again, and they hung up a minute later, and she sat staring at the phone, thinking about it. It felt strange having heard from him, but good in a way too. It was closure of some kind. They had needed that, and never had it until he called. He had been too chicken to do it before. But at least he had now.

She still wanted to think about the AUP offer. She didn’t want to make any hasty decisions. She needed a couple of days. She wondered if maybe she should talk to her mother, or Amy. She went back to her computer and read the e-mail again. It was simple and clear, and a nice clean offer, in a city that she loved. And she had one friend there, Marc. He was more than a friend, she knew, but she hadn’t wanted to take a chance on that either. And then, before she could change her mind, she hit the reply button. She thanked them for their very kind offer. She said that she knew it was an excellent school, and she had very much enjoyed her interview with them. She realized then that the letter she was writing was setting it up for her to decline. She sucked in her breath then, and wrote the next line. She almost wanted to scream while she did it. “I accept your offer. I would like to have one of the apartments you mentioned. Thank you very much. See you in two weeks.” And she signed it and hit the send button. She thought she was going to faint when she did it. But she had done it! And if she hated it, she could quit and come home. A whole new life had just begun.

Chapter 22

Brigitte thought about e-mailing Marc after she sent the one to AUP, but she decided not to. It seemed like too much pressure on both of them, and too much anticipation about what would happen, or might not. She was nervous enough about the job, without worrying how he felt about her for the next two weeks. So she said nothing. He wrote her an e-mail a few days later, and she acted as though everything were normal in Boston. She said she was doing some writing, the weather was beautiful, and asked about his book. Their e-mail exchange was casual and friendly, which was all she wanted right now, until she got there at least.