The Paris Time Capsule (20 page)

The engagement party was held in the Hamptons. Elise chose Christian’s grandparent’s house as the perfect venue for the perfect party. The vast lawn that stretched down to the water was decorated with a heated marquee. Early spring bulbs lined the edges of the lawn and Elise had adorned the marquee with pale roses in crystal vases. Cat’s friends had come from around the country, along with several of her parents’ friends. They were all intrigued by Christian.

One of Cat’s father’s former workmates
stood in a small group, looking unexpectedly comfortable amongst Christian’s set, most of whom kept to themselves, apart from Christian’s grandmother, who made a point of talking to every person at the party.

“
Tell me about your work, Christian.” Jim Simon had worked with Cat’s father for the government nearly all their adult lives.

“
Oh, it’s just a job,” Christian smiled, that easy smile of his. “It’s nothing more.”

“
Having healthy priorities is a wonderful thing,” Jim said.

Cat had her arm in Christian’s.
“Do you think we could go somewhere quiet for a moment?” she asked him, as Jim Simon caught up with another of her father’s friends.

Christian moved with her across the lawn towards a group of large trees at the far end of the garden.

“It seems odd,” he said. “All these people, thrown together. None of them with a jot in common.”

“
Is it a problem?”

“
I’d rather be alone with you.”

Cat leaned up, attempted to kiss him. Christian glanced at the party, side stepped her, shook his head.

“Sorry, Christian.” A vision of Loic, kissing her for the first time, not caring who was watching, taking her in his arms in the street in Sarlat swept through her head.

“
I think we’d better get back to the party.” Christian adjusted his tie.

“
You know, I think I’ve worked out the difference between here and … France,” Cat said.

“
Oh?”

“
It’s funny, I used to think that you were so settled, so sure of everything. It was one of the things that attracted me in the first place.”

“
You used to?”

“
Yes. But now I realize what it is that I liked about those people I met in France.”

Christian was quiet.

“You know, the thing was, they really understood what was important. They knew how to live.”

“
Come and meet the chairman of the bank,” Christian said. “I’ve told him all about you.”

Cat half concentrated on the chairman of the bank, and half watched the arrival of a guest whom she hadn’t seen for years.

“
Excuse me,” she said to Christian and his boss.

“
Honey?” Christian’s hand lingered on hers.

“
I’ll be back in a moment.”

Cat strolled over to the small woman who walked confidently into
the party. Her hair stuck up at odd angles. Her clothes were pure op shop.

“
Nancy,” Cat hugged her mother’s old friend.

“
You’re not repeating the mistake your mother made?” Nancy Wood eyed Cat and her oyster silk dress up and down.

“
Nancy, when you meet Christian, you’ll see that I’m doing exactly the opposite.”

Nancy sniffed at the passing waiter with his silve
r tray of champagne. “Any gin?”

“
Of course Madam,” the waiter said. “I’ll be right back.”

Nancy folded her arms.
“So, you really know what you’re doing, my girl?”

“
Of course.” Nancy had been a sporadic visitor in Cat’s childhood home. The woman always made it clear that she disapproved deeply of her old school friend Bonnie’s tragic marital choice, but, nevertheless, she had kept up a sort of stalwart presence in Bonnie’s life. She had never lost her interest in her friend, and had maintained a fine line between support and interference. Cat had always adored her.

Now, the idea that spra
ng into Cat’s mind was blossoming into a plan. Why hadn’t she thought of it before? She had spent the last forty-eight hours pushing thoughts of France and the apartment right out of her head. Had promised herself that she would focus on her engagement, at least for the weekend. But, here was an opportunity and Cat was going to take it.

“
I have a little problem … Nancy, I wonder if you can help.” Cat took Nancy’s arm and led her away from the party.

“
There is one friend of Virginia’s who is still alive.” Nancy sipped at the gin and tonic that the waiter had gone to great lengths to bring to her. She seemed to have relaxed a little now. Nancy had eyed Christian with enormous and unmitigated disapproval at first, but then had reluctantly agreed that Cat had a good head on her shoulders, and that it was her own problem if she were to marry a man like her father.

Cat felt her pulse quicken.
“I thought all Virginia’s friends would have passed away years ago. We never kept in touch with them.”

Nancy gave Cat a look.
“Of course you didn’t meet them …” she said. “Didn’t stop your mother, although she never discussed it with Howard.”

Cat felt her insides tighten.

“Lillian Fitzgerald’s the one you want,” Nancy said. “She’s over ninety, of course. Last I heard, she was in a nursing home in the Village. Corner of Thompson and Bleecker.”

Cat leaned forward and hugged Nancy hard.

“It’s worth a try,” Cat said. “But I am wondering if I’ll ever be able to make things right.”

“
Everything’s worth a try, except a bad marriage.” Nancy patted Cat on the shoulder and waved at someone she knew.

That night, Cat located Lillian Fitzgerald’s nursing home on the net. Visiting hours were between ten and twelve each day. Cat clipped her way up Thompson Street at five minutes to ten the next morning.

The nursing home was above a bank, on the corner of two of the Village’s typically narrow streets. The trees were just starting to form their first buds. Cat was tempted to stop at one of the Village’s tiny cafés for a coffee and a piece of fortifying cake before she attempted to broach the past with Lillian Fitzgerald. But there was no time to waste. Of course, Cat had never met the old lady, and, scour her memory as much as she liked, she had no recollection of Bonnie mentioning Lillian’s name. It was a long shot, but if Lillian had been a close friend of Virginia’s, then she could have heard of Isabelle de Florian.

Cat rang the nursing home’s security bell and waited outside. A uniformed nurse appeared at the glass door, looked at Cat, and let her inside.

“You’re fortunate. Mrs. Fitzgerald is awake,” she told Cat in the lift. “We don’t disturb the residents as a rule if they’re sleeping.”

Cat followed the nurse down a long corridor, and into a room overlooking the street below. The sun shone in, and the elderly woman sitting on a chair peered at Cat through a pair of large framed glasses.

“Never seen her in my life.” Lillian Fitzgerald spoke in a strong New York accent. “But I know exactly who she is.”

Cat breathed a sigh of relief, and the nurse slipped out of the room.

“Sit down, Catherine.” Mrs. Fitzgerald indicated at the other chair in the room. Her hands shook slightly and her legs looked like a pair of tiny pins under the crocheted blanket on her lap, but her face looked as sharp as a razor.

“
Virginia was my closest friend,” Lillian Fitzgerald said. “Awful shame she died so young. Not many people you can trust, Catherine. Some people just can’t keep their mouths shut but Virginia could. That’s rare and I’ve missed her something awful.”

“
Mrs. Fitzgerald, I’ve just come back from Paris.”

“
Call me Lillian.” The old lady perked up in her seat.

Cat gave Lillian a potted history of Isabelle, her family, the will and the apartment.
“So, what I want to know, is whether Virginia  - grandmother – ever spoke with you about her time in Paris.”

“
If I could still wolf whistle, I would.” Lillian said. She regarded Cat for a moment. “Oh yes, she spoke of her time in Paris.”

Cat stayed silent.

“There were three of them, you know. Virginia Brooke, Isabelle de Florian, and her grandmother, Marthe.”

“
Marthe was still alive, then.” What a likely bunch.

“
Sounded to me as if that Marthe was the maddest of the lot!” Lillian chuckled. “Now, I don’t want to shock you, Catherine -”

“
But Marthe was a Parisian courtesan. There was a painting of her in the apartment. It’s a Boldini … that’s another story.”

“
Never heard of him.”

Cat had to bite her lip.

“As far as I know it, the three of them had a whale of a time living together in Paris.” Lillian chuckled. “I don’t have to tell you what Marthe got up to when she was young, Catherine. Absinthe, the Moulin Rouge, Virginia said Marthe was once the toast of Paris. Well, in certain circles! Men adored her. Important men, you know. She was selective with her charms, nobody’s fool, Virginia said. I hate to think that it was the only way she knew how to better herself, you know. But there we are.”

“
Now that Marthe de Florian also took to our Virginia like a duck to smooth lagoon. They were both free spirits. Both fiercely independent. Terrific women.”

“
Do you know how Virginia met Isabelle and Marthe?”

“
The Lord God knows the answer to that. I do know that Marthe took Virginia under her wing. I think Virginia was entranced by the whole set up. It was naughty, you know? Nothing like her life back home. Virginia told me about the clothes, the jewels, and the fancy French furniture in that apartment. You know Virginia’s house was stuffed to the gills with all that antique stuff too? She loved it. Apparently your mother Bonnie sold it all off when Virginia died. Your father wouldn’t touch any of it with a barge pole. He didn’t trust it one bit.”

That was hardly a surprise.

“As far as I know, when Marthe upped and died just at the beginning of the war, Isabelle was devastated.  Virginia stayed in Paris for a while. Those two girls held on to all the old lady’s stuff like they depended on it. Neither of them could bear to change a thing. When it looked like France was going to go under, Virginia came back home. Her folks insisted. She tried to live just like she had in Paris when she was in New York, don’t you worry.” Lillian winked. “Didn’t quite work, but when I met her here, we had a lot of fun.”

“
Isabelle kept her grandmother’s apartment just as it was after Virginia left,” Cat said. “We just cannot see why she never went back.”

“
Well, Virginia spoke of Marthe as if she were the fount of all free womanhood. Virginia wouldn’t have touched any of that there stuff, I don’t think.”

“
Yes.”

“
You look like Virginia,” Lillian said. “I’d know you anywhere. She was a stunner, and so are you.”

“
That is very kind, but -”

“
I have no idea why that Isabelle locked up her apartment and never went back to it again, but I’ll tell you, Catherine. I know this. Isabelle de Florian was Virginia Brooke’s closest friend. Virginia used to talk of Isabelle non-stop. Until she stopped talking of her completely.”

“
Why would she do that?”

“
Yes. Because, my girl, Isabelle de Florian broke Virginia’s heart.”

Cat watched the old lady.

“She broke Virginia’s heart because no matter how many times Virginia tried to write to that darned Isabelle, the French girl never wrote back. Virginia’s letters to Isabelle were returned. If you think Virginia could trace her friend in France, then think again. Virginia hunted down death notices after the war. Nothing. She even considered hiring one of them private detectives, but finally she had the common sense to realize that if Isabelle didn’t want to be contacted, then the only thing to do was respect it. Virginia never mentioned Paris again.”

“
I see.”

“
Virginia blamed herself, Catherine. She thought in the end that it must have been something she had done that had upset her friend. Oh, Virginia went over countless scenarios with me. But that will you’ve got is something else! If only Virginia knew about it.”

“
Now there’s a risk Isabelle de Florian will break her own daughter’s heart too unless I do something about it,” Cat said. “Her daughter Sylvie is refusing to take what’s hers, unless I can prove that Isabelle wanted to leave everything to Sylvie rather than to me. Sylvie thinks Isabelle must have had good reason to leave it to me, but I know it’s killing her.”

“
There’s nothing prouder or sillier than folks who think they know someone, even those closest to them.”