The Paris Time Capsule (18 page)

She reached for the bottom drawer. There was a thud on the stairway. The housekeeper’s footsteps were slow but firm as she mounted the stairs. Cat pulled at the bottom drawer. The woman’s steps continued. This drawer contained a stack of unused purple notepaper; the scent of lavender shot into Cat’s nostrils as she fumbled, her fingers catching on the hectic red ribbon that bound the paper together. In spite of their shaking, her hands whizzed through the rest of the drawer travelling ten times as fast as the housekeeper’s feet. Old bills, a dry-cleaning note for twenty euros, a letter, a wedding certificate, two pairs of glasses.

The footsteps stopped. Cat shot her head around. The housekeeper wasn’t watching her. Instead, she had gone into the television room, tutted, picked something up, the now useless television guide, perhaps. Cat shot her eyes around the drawer again.

“
Madame?” The housekeeper was coming straight towards the bedroom. Two seconds, one second. “I have to go, Madame. I have job in other house.”

“
Oui.” Cat slipped her fingers under the top corner of the paper lining. There was a furious sound of ripping, as the paper came up from where it had stuck to the bottom of the drawer.

“
Merde,” Cat muttered, smiling at her use of French. There was something wedged under the lining. Knowing Cat’s luck, it was probably a bill for laundry, but she grabbed it anyway. She pushed the drawer shut with a thump, threw herself away from it, almost falling over her own feet.

“
You have no luck with this veil, Madame.”

“
The armoire was locked.”

“
No veil in the armoire.”

“
Oh.” Cat sighed.

The housekeeper didn’t move from the doorway.

“I checked under the bed,” Cat said, keeping her voice quiet. “My grandmother said it might be there -”

“
I clean under the bed, Madame. Each week. I clean it.”

“
Yes, of course.”

The housekeeper waved her arm at Cat.
“Am sorry you not find your veil,” she said. “You make beautiful bride in any way. I see that.” She turned out of the room.

Cat watched her and felt inside her bag for the envelope that she had taken out of Madame’s drawer, traced her fingers around its edges.

“Merci,” she said, as they reached the front door.

“
Oui.” The woman held the door open for Cat. “God bless.”

“
Au revoir,” Cat said, relaxing a little at this. She turned down the street. Headed towards the main square, and her hotel. But as soon as she had turned the corner, she picked up her pace, trotting along, her wedged heels clacking on the pavement. The late afternoon sun shone, watery, as if it had absorbed all the morning mist and wind and was benevolent, now.

Several people sat on benches in the square, reading newspapers, watching children run around the fountain. There was only one empty bench. Cat swooped to it, sat down and reached inside her bag.

She pulled the envelope towards the opening.

“
Sweetie!”

Cat sat up with a jolt. Closed her bag with a snap.

“I’ve been looking for you everywhere.” Elise thumped herself down on the bench.

“
Elise.”

“
Oh, Cat, wait until you see what I found. For both of us?”

“
Both of us?” For a hideous moment, Cat pictured them in matching violet dresses at the party. Elise had several bags at her feet. “Oh.”

“
This town’s not so bad, you know.” Elise reached down to one of the bags. “It’s the French, sweetie, they have such natural style! I mean it!”

“
They do.”

“
Hey, why don’t we go for a coffee? No need to sit out here in the cold. My goodness, I could even go for a hot chocolate, not that I normally would, but, hey, this is France, what do you think sweetie?” Elise reached down, grasped her bags.

“
Elise, I have something I need to do right now. Just give me a few minutes.”

Elise looked at her, eyes wide.
“I bet you can’t wait to get back to New York. Oh, you must be driven with excitement. A white wedding. Chris says you’re a photographer!”

“
Elise, I need five minutes.”

“
Hey, that handsome French guy you were with last night is divine.”

“
I wasn’t with him.”

Elise linked her arm through Cat’s.
“Well. Knowing my luck, he’s probably half way around the world by now. Didn’t see him in the hotel this morning. Even though I had a good look, I can tell you. I always throw myself into my work, find it helps, don’t you? So, can we get back home and get this party started?”

Elise marched towards the nearest pretty street.

Cat forced herself to smile. The envelope would have to wait a little while. What were the chances it was anything anyway? Zero?

“
I think we probably will be going home tomorrow,” Cat sighed.

In the end, it was a typical French bistro that they chose, with tiny round tables and elegant mirrors on the walls. There was a bar in the middle of the room. Elise had all her bags at her feet.

“Marilyn wants to know about desserts,” Elise said, pulling out her Blackberry, tapping on some keys. “Or, puddings, as she insists on calling them. She thinks she’s being suave. English.” Elise rolled her eyes.

Cat sipped on her espresso.

“And the caterers. They want to know if you’d like vintage style plates for the party? Marilyn thought you’d love the idea. See, she is thinking of you. It’s so nice.”

Cat had to put down her coffee cup.

“I told them yes,” Elise looked up. “To the vintage crockery, if that’s okay? And, we thought we’d do French patisseries for dessert. So you don’t feel homesick. A bit of France!”

Cat could only nod. Elise’s kindness, Marilyn’s kindness seemed impossible to face. But what had happened last night hadn’t been her fault. Or had it?

Elise leaned down into the bag. “And this,” she said. “I thought, would be so perfect for the party. Is it you? I mean, if it isn’t, there’s no dramas.”

Cat couldn’t help but gasp. Instinctive, her hands reached out to stroke the exquisite gown
that Elise held up. It was oyster colored silk, backless, draped to the floor, swathed at the front. Nineteen thirties, to a T.

“
My God,” Cat breathed, her heart wanting to break.

“
Great,” Elise said. Carefully, she put the dress back in its bag.

Had Isabelle owned something like that, leaving the apartment in Paris, to go to the theatre, spraying on some perfume from one of her round bottles on that exquisite dressing table? Her hair would have been done in some elaborate style, swept off her face. Or imagine, her grandmother, Marthe, the beautiful courtesan. How divine she would have looked when she went out.

“My dress is completely different. I’ll show you later. Now. About tomorrow,” Elise said. “I thought we’d catch an early train up to Paris. Seven o’clock okay for you? I know its early, but then we could go straight to the airport. I can get us on a connecting flight to JFK tomorrow evening. There are some business class seats left, you know. Lucky I can pull strings. We’ll have you back in New York in no time, sweetie. Oh, I can’t wait.”

“
Elise?”

“
Mm hmm?”

“
I have to … use the restroom. I’ll be back.” The rest room was right at the back of the bistro. Cat almost took a dive towards it. There couldn’t be any flights until she had checked what was in that envelope. It was her only chance.

She had
maneuvered her way through the sliding wooden door into a tiny area with a basin and then through another door, a WC, footpads, a hole in the ground. Cat pulled the sliding door shut, holing herself up against the basin. The light in the tiny room was dim; Cat perched underneath the only globe that swung above her head, giving out only a meager amount of light. She peered into her handbag, feeling for the envelope.

There was a knock on the bathroom door.
“Sweetie?”

Cat fumbled about in the bag, keeping her fingers as silent as she could. She hit on the envelope, pulled it out.

“It’s your prospective mother in law. On the phone. She wants to know … look, sorry, have you finished?” Elise’s voice rose a few decibels as her speech went on. Her hand was on the door. It wasn’t locked.

Cat slipped the piece of paper back in her bag super fast. She opened the door, almost falling into Elise.

“Marilyn’s on the phone?” Cat asked, knowing she sounded breathless.

“
Moet or Krug for the engagement party? She has the wine merchants on hold right now. What do you think?”

What on this earth was the difference between the two champagnes?
“Better to ask Christian, do you think? I don’t really mind.”

“
He has meetings all day. It’s your call.”

“
Well, I think Marilyn should decide.”

Elise eyed her.
“Moet,” she said, launching into a quick conversation with Marilyn.

“
Elise, I just have to do something. Lipstick! You know how it is!” Cat moved towards the bathroom door again.

Elise stayed where she was, still chatting to Marilyn at the back of the bistro.

Cat slipped back into the tiny room. With a flourish, she reached her hand inside her bag. The envelope was sealed.

The envelope was addressed to Cat.

Elise was still outside the restroom. She had hung up her phone.

“
I’ll use the rest room after you, sweetie,” she called through the door. “You know, this is getting very exciting.”

Cat read the address again. It couldn’t be right. Had she picked up another envelope from inside her bag by mist
ake? She was going insane.

“
Are you done in there?” Elise whispered. “Someone else is coming too. We’re going to have a queue, here sweetie!”

Cat stuffed the envelope back in her bag. Then checked it was in there. Zipped it closed.

“Go ahead,” she said, opening the door, her smile bright.

“
Oh, I’m okay after all,” Elise linked her arm through Cat’s. A man had joined the queue. He reeked of beer and cigarettes. “After you!” Elise waved him into the restroom.

“
Let’s get out of here,” Elise whispered to Cat. “And let’s go plan your wedding!”

“
Drinks in the hotel?” Cat asked, trying not to allow her voice to drop several decibels with disappointment each time she spoke.

“
Then, dinner. My treat,” Elise said.

“
I should go and freshen up,” Cat said, when they arrived in the lobby.

“
You’ve just done that, sweetie. Oh, God!”

“
What?”

“
Just, don’t tell me you’re incontinent, that’s all.” Elise tossed her long blonde hair. “I had a bride like that a few years back. Had to rush to the loo during the service. Then again during the speech. You do your pelvic floors, sweetie, don’t you?”

Cat took Elise’s arm this time.
“Drinks, then,” she said.

“
Yes.”

Four hours later, when Cat thought if anyone said the word wedding that she would quite happily hide under a rock for a year, Elise seemed to have exhausted even herself, and yawned elegantly as they arrived in the hotel lobby.

“So, I’ll see you at six, then. We’ll be at the station by six forty-five!”

Cat stopped.
“I’ll text you if there’s a problem in the next half hour.”

“
Oh, you are so funny!” Elise leaned forward and kissed Cat on the cheek. “I’m going to love working with you.”

“
Yes.” Cat allowed herself to be kissed.

Then she ran, as fast as decorum would allow, up the stairs and into her hotel room.

The writing on the envelope was spidery, dated writing. Nobody wrote like that anymore. Not that many people used handwriting much, Cat thought, except for shopping lists, and hand scrawled notes, if that. She sat down on the small, upholstered chair in the corner of her room, reached and turned on the lamp above her head.

The envelope was purple, the very same color as the stationary set that Cat had found in Madame Delfont’s bureau, and the envelope had been sealed, neatly right up to the border along the top.

It se
emed sacrilege to rip it. One of those penknives would be perfect, Cat thought. It was the sort of envelope that begged to be opened in an elegant room in a chateau. A footman bearing a silver tray should have delivered it.

Cat shook her head. What should be happening was that
Loic should be here. Or Sylvie. At least they should be on the end of the phone. For there was no doubt this was of far more concern to either of them than to Cat.