Magic (20 page)

“We can do anything we want,” he said gently. “If we want it to work, it will. It depends on us, Benedetta, and how much effort we want to make, how much time we put aside. I don't expect you to give up your life in Italy. I have obligations and family here. I believe we can have both. Perhaps we cannot be together every moment, but I would rather have a part of you than nothing at all. I have never met a woman like you, who works as hard, is as creative, and has such a vision about life. You are a genius at what you do.” And he knew she was a warm, loving, wise woman besides.

“So are you.” She smiled at him, touched by the compliment. She was as modest as he was in her own way. She had given Gregorio all the credit, but she had been the talent and creative force behind the throne, and the world was now giving her her due, and Dharam was pleased for her. He was well aware of how talented she was.

“Geniuses have unusual lives. Perhaps we will not have breakfast together every morning, but we can combine our two worlds, adding to each other's happiness, blending two remarkable people, worlds, and careers. And you have no children, mine are grown. I enjoy spending time with them, but they don't need me on a daily basis anymore. Fifteen years ago, this might not have worked. Now it could if you are willing to enter one of life's great adventures with me.” And as he said it, he held his hand out to her, and she took it silently and looked at him. “I love you, Benedetta. I fell in love with you the night we met. When I saw you and I spoke to you, I could not believe my misfortune that you were married to another man. And then, without warning, he left, and I saw the look of pain in your eyes. I wanted to wrap my arms around you and take you home with me, but there was nothing I could do then. Now life has been kind to us, or to me. And you're here with me. I want to take care of you, and love you. I won't let anyone hurt you, Benedetta. I offer you my heart and my life.” She was bowled over by what he said, and the look in his eyes. They weren't even lovers yet and had only kissed. She had been cautious with her heart after the pain of what she had gone through with Gregorio. But Dharam was a totally different kind of man, giving and loving, protective and generous. She knew that now. She was safe.

“I love you too,” she said softly, and meant it. They were brave words for her.

“Will you walk with me on the path we have been given?” And as he said it, the image of the Taj Mahal came into her mind, of immeasurable love that defied reason or explanation, but that lasted for centuries through time. She nodded, and he kissed her and held her for a long moment, and she felt an extraordinary sense of peace wash over her. She had never experienced anything like it before and recognized it for what it was. The love of a good man.

They went upstairs together afterward, and he stopped at the door to her suite, as he had every night. She opened the door to him, and her heart. And their dreams came true that night. They didn't know what would happen, or how it would evolve, but as she fell asleep in his arms after they made love, Benedetta knew they would be together. Her destiny was with this wonderful man. It was a priceless gift life had given her. One that could not be denied.

W
hen Valerie landed at the airport in Beijing on her trip for
Vogue
at the beginning of December, she was overwhelmed by all the sights and sounds that assaulted her. The sheer number of people, the noise, the chaos in the airport, the traffic, the pollution. She had never experienced anything like it as they drove into the city, and Jean-Philippe pointed out sights and buildings to her and explained what she was seeing. There were fascinating colorful remnants of China's history in Beijing, along with some new, intriguing aspects of the city, for her to report to
Vogue,
but her first view of it was how he lived as a foreigner who worked there, and she was shocked at the ugliness and discomforts of his life. She was horrified at the tiny apartment and how unpleasant it was. Had he gone there with his family, he would have made more effort to find a decent place to live. As it was, he made do with a company apartment, and didn't care. His heart was in Paris, not here. He was here only to work.

After she saw his Spartan bare-bones apartment, they went to her hotel.
Vogue
had booked her into the Opposite House, which was sleek and modern and had a great pool. She was stunned again by how few people spoke English, despite the Western-style hotel filled with foreigners. Nothing felt familiar here. In a way, she liked that, as something completely different, but she could see now how hard living there would have been.
Vogue
had hired a translator for her, who was to meet Valerie later that morning for a tour of the city. She had much to do and see while she was there, on her scouting mission for the magazine. And she intended to see all she could in the daytime when Jean-Philippe was at work. He had tried to slim down his schedule for the duration of her stay, but he was in the middle of several new big deals, and it had been a victory freeing himself up to accompany her to Shanghai. Valerie was excited at the prospect of going there with him. She had heard great things about the city, but Beijing interested her more because he lived there now, and she could see firsthand what she had missed by not going with him.

She showered and changed at the hotel, while he ordered breakfast from a room service waiter who barely spoke English, but got most of their order right in spite of it. And after they shared eggs and croissants, which arrived with a bowl of rice with bits of fish in it, Jean-Philippe had to leave her to go to the office for a meeting, and Valerie went to meet her interpreter in the lobby, who was a pretty young girl. She spoke accurate though halting English, and had never been out of China. Hers was a government position, she was assigned to foreign businessmen, and was pleased to see that Valerie was a woman. Valerie had a copy of French
Vogue
with her, and explained what she was doing there. Since they were going to use Chinese models for the photo shoot as well as the famous models they brought from Paris, she had to contact a modeling agency about the shoot while she was there. The models were state trained as well.

But that day she planned to scout locations with her interpreter and a driver she had hired at the hotel. They covered a lot of ground, as Valerie took photographs at the Silk Market, and the more rustic Dirt Market, which would provide great backdrops for their photographs. It was a flea market with a vast variety of wares. The interpreter took her to several enormous shopping malls, which Valerie found less interesting. The girl said that there were over a hundred of them in Beijing, but Valerie wasn't excited by those she saw. She wanted more unusual locations to show
Vogue
than shopping malls.

They wandered through “hutongs,” narrow ancient lanes and alleys that were scattered throughout the city and could provide an exotic backdrop for photography. Valerie was excited about the 798 Art Zone, an exhibition space for modern art that was originally an electronics factory built in the 1950s turned into gallery spaces, where she thought the models would look fabulous, and it would be an easy shoot. And in addition there were the obvious locations, the Forbidden City, the Great Wall, and the Peking Opera, for more traditional options. Valerie didn't stop taking photographs all day, and she and her interpreter were both exhausted when they went back to the hotel, where Valerie lay down, while waiting for Jean-Philippe to come back from work. He would be staying at the hotel with her, and he found her sound asleep when he got there. She had let her translator go home, and he didn't have the heart to wake her. He lay on the bed next to her, smiling and looking at her. He was happy and at peace in Beijing with her, for the first time since he'd arrived. It made all the difference in the world having her there.

Valerie woke up at nearly midnight, and smiled when she saw him next to her. Jean-Philippe was reading quietly and had ordered something to eat without disturbing her. She was starving when she woke up, and they ordered room service, and she ate a midnight supper while she told him what she'd seen that day.

“You covered a lot of ground,” he said admiringly. “I haven't seen all that in two months.” But he'd been working all the time.

“I tried to. I don't have much time, and I have to figure out how to work the shoot.” One big problem they were going to have when they shot it in January would be the weather. The girls would be freezing in subzero temperatures.

Jean-Philippe loved how enterprising she was, how creative and competent. It was one of the many things that had attracted Charles de Beaumont to her as well. His name never passed her lips while she was there, afraid she would give something away, or her husband would see her near-betrayal in her eyes. She never wanted him to find out that she had almost cheated on him, knowing that if he did, he would never trust her again. He seemed more in love with her than ever, as they shared the excitement of her trip to China. And there was something about being in a hotel, and only there with him for a short time, that made it more romantic.

On their last night in Beijing, Jean-Philippe took her to an important dinner that he had to attend, invited by a client. It was a sumptuous affair with endless courses of delicacies, which Valerie found fascinating, and she enjoyed going with him. And he was visibly proud of her. He loved having his wife with him.

And by the time they left for Shanghai, four days after she'd arrived, Valerie felt as though they were falling in love all over again. The trip had saved them. Everything felt new and fresh, as they rediscovered each other. And they both loved Shanghai, much more than Beijing. Valerie found it a far more appealing city, and they explored it together, almost like a honeymoon, except that she was doing it for work. He was on vacation and free to join her everywhere.

She flew back to Beijing with him the night before she had to leave for Paris. And they spent their last night in the hotel like honeymooners. She hated to leave him the next day, and he dreaded going back to his lonely apartment after she left.

“At least I'll be home for Christmas in two weeks,” he said sadly, thinking about her leaving. His life was so much happier while she was there. But he had the holidays at home to look forward to. His life without her in Beijing was intolerably dreary. With Valerie at his side, everything was better, and he could face anything. But he no longer tried to convince her to move to Beijing with him. He could see now how unpleasant it would be for her, and how much better off she and the children were in Paris. This was a sacrifice he was making for them, not one he expected of her any longer, and he was sorry he had ever asked it of her and strained their marriage before he left. He felt lucky that by some miracle their marriage had survived it. He could hardly tear himself away from her when he left her at the airport. It had been a wonderful trip for both of them, and a great piece of good fortune that
Vogue
had sent her, for which she was very grateful.

“See you in two weeks,” she said happily after they kissed for the last time. They had made love at every opportunity, as though to make up for the agonizing months when things had started to go so wrong between them over this decision. Somehow, miraculously, in China they had found each other again.

She waved at him and then disappeared into the security area. All he could think of now was flying back to Paris in two weeks. He had never before been as in love with her as he was now.

When Valerie got back to Paris, she reported to her editor-in-chief everything she had seen in China. They spread all her photographs out on an enormous screen, and examined them carefully, and they loved the locations. The shoot in China was going to be fantastic. And she had photographs as well of all the models she had seen in Beijing. They all agreed, the April issue was going to be a knockout.

And the following day she had a meeting with her consultation client. She was grateful that Charles was in New York and didn't attend. She didn't feel ready to see him yet, although she knew that eventually she'd have to, and she didn't want to lose the client. But she felt more sure of her relationship with Jean-Philippe again, and she knew she had done the right thing with Charles. If she had cheated on her husband and he'd found out, particularly if it became serious with her and Charles and it might have, it would have broken Jean-Philippe's heart. And although she had doubted it for several months, she was sure again that he loved her. And she knew she loved him as well. His decision to move to China had put their marriage on the line, and somehow their feelings for each other had survived, and even gotten stronger.

She had a presentation due to her consulting client the following week, and agreed to send it to Serge Sevigny, Charles's partner. And she was interested to hear that they were considering introducing some of their lines into stores in the shopping malls in Beijing, and when she discussed it with them, she could do so knowledgeably, having just been there. Serge Sevigny was impressed. Clearly, she was as good at what she did and as on top of the current markets as Charles said she was. Serge said they would talk more about China after the new year, when Charles was back. He said Charles was traveling for most of December, working in New York, and then planning to spend the holidays at his house in St. Barth's. She tried not to react when she remembered that he had invited her there with her children, and she had told him that she had to spend the holidays in Paris with her husband. There was an unreality now to what had happened between them. And she hoped that it would only seem more that way when she saw him again after the new year. She trusted him to be professional, he didn't want to lose her as a consultant either. She was too good at what she did.

Valerie reported to Jean-Philippe on her meetings at
Vogue
when she got back to Paris. She could hear in his voice and see on Skype how excited he was to be coming home soon. After everything they had shared in China recently, and the renewal of their relationship, they both could hardly wait. It had been a terrible six months, but hopefully now the worst was behind them. What they had to do now was live with his decision. And she wondered if maybe, living on separate continents, their marriage could be more exciting and their romance fresher. All she could do was hope so.

While Valerie was visiting China with Jean-Philippe, Chantal and Xavier had gone to an early Christmas party in Paris. She had just visited Eric in Berlin. He was out of the casts, had graduated from rehab, and was back at his apartment with Annaliese. Chantal had bought him a car to replace his motorcycle. He had insisted on a secondhand one, said he didn't want anything too new or recent, and had fallen in love with an old postal delivery truck he could carry his installations in. She had tried to talk him into a used Volkswagen or Audi, but the battered postal truck was all he wanted, and she finally gave in. At least he couldn't kill himself going at high speeds in it. It barely made it to fifty miles an hour, and she laughed at the vision of him driving away in it, and told Xavier when she reported it to him that he looked like the mailman, and he had even found himself a mailman's cap to wear when he drove it.

“I don't know where I got such crazy children.” Charlotte had recently bought a brand-new Range Rover in Hong Kong, befitting her status, and her fiancé drove a Jaguar. Paul had invested his savings in a 1965 Mustang that was his prize possession, and Rachel's parents were planning to buy her a Mercedes station wagon before she had the baby. They were putting pressure on her and Paul to get married before she gave birth. Paul had mentioned it to his mother, and she was staying well out of it. She wasn't going to influence whether he married Rachel or not, although with a baby on the way, she advised him to get a full-time job so he'd have a reliable income, which he didn't have making indie movies. She didn't think either of them was ready to marry, but if they were going to have a baby, it was time to grow up and take responsibility. For now, Rachel was dependent on her parents, and Chantal gave Paul help when he needed it.

The big day was coming closer. And Charlotte's marriage was only five months away. And Eric was back on both feet after his accident, and driving a mail truck.

Xavier reminded her that they were going to a party the night she got back from Berlin, given by one of his law partners. They were a little bit stuffy and very traditional, in their late sixties with grown children, and they lived in a very fancy area of the sixteenth arrondissement, but Chantal liked them. She wasn't sure what to wear, as their friends were conservative, and his partner's wife was exceptionally so.

Chantal decided to wear a sober black wool dress that was longer than she liked and very serious, with long sleeves and a high neck, and she added a string of pearls to it that made it even more so. But she didn't dare wear anything wilder, and she wore her hair in a bun, which she rarely did, because she thought it made her look older, and Xavier preferred her hair down. She wasn't sure about the dress and stared at herself in the mirror before they went out.