Page 18 of A Mother’s Love

“No, my son works for an American law firm in Europe and lives there. They were with his wife’s family over Christmas, and now I’m flying over to spend two weeks with them.

He has some time off. I’m looking forward to it,” he shared with her, and he looked happy.

“I thought you were French when I saw you in the terminal.” Her alligator bag was at her feet again.

The steward had put it in the overhead bin briefly for takeoff, and had taken it down for her when they reached their cruising altitude.

“Do you work in fashion?” he asked her. There was a quiet chic about her, which the oversized bag contributed to.

“No, I’m a writer,” she said. She usually didn’t mention that, but he was so friendly and open that she relaxed more than usual.

When they didn’t want to talk, they both had curtains to close off their seat area and give them privacy.

Most people only closed them when they wanted to sleep, but some did it for the entire flight.

It was the day after Christmas and people were friendly and more expansive than usual, and even the flight crews were more festive.

There were menus at their seats and a flight attendant took their dinner orders. Halley ordered the roast chicken and a salad, and he ordered a steak with vegetables, followed by cheese, and a dessert. He had picked a hearty meal and she a light one.

When the food came, they both paused the movies they were watching, and he glanced over at her again.

“I’m Bart Warner,” he introduced himself, with his meal in front of him.

“Halley Holbrook,” she said with a cautious smile, and he reacted immediately, which she hadn’t expected, and usually liked to avoid. She didn’t like having a fuss made over her.

“The novelist?” He looked impressed as she nodded, and he smiled broadly. “I’m a fan. I’ve read your work. I like it very much, beautiful character descriptions and great plots. I can’t put your books down when I start them. You’ve kept me up till nearly dawn on many nights.” He smiled at her.

“Thank you, that’s nice to hear.” She never knew how to respond to people, and most of the time the compliments embarrassed her, but she thanked him.

“You have a broad understanding of the human condition and emotions. And I particularly like the way you write about men and their reactions. You get into your characters’ heads and the reader really sees how they got to be the way they are.

I’ve read five or six of your books, and I keep meaning to catch up on the few I may have missed, but I haven’t gotten around to it.

I’ve been pretty busy.” It felt rude to ask what kept him so busy and what kind of work he did, in the circumstances.

She didn’t want to be nosy, even if he was friendly and had initiated the conversation.

She didn’t want to abuse it. “How long have you been writing novels? I know you’ve written a lot of them. ”

“The first one was published almost twenty-three years ago. The second one really launched my career as a writer, three years later. That was twenty years ago. Not exactly an overnight success.”

“But a very impressive one. I really enjoy your books,” he complimented her again, and sounded sincere.

They chatted for a while longer, and then went back to their respective movies, and eventually she glanced over at him and he was asleep.

One of the flight attendants drew the curtain to give him privacy, and when Halley’s movie ended, she did the same, asked for her bed to be made up, turned out her light, and slept for a few hours.

It was a relatively short flight, and a steward gently touched her arm, and woke her to tell her they were starting the descent to Charles de Gaulle Airport in twenty minutes and asked if she’d like to order breakfast. She ordered croissants and coffee and went to the bathroom to brush her teeth and hair, and wash her face.

She got back to her seat feeling fresh and wide awake, and saw that her neighbor’s curtains were open, and he looked up and smiled at her.

“Did you get any sleep?” he asked her.

“Enough. I usually work late, and I’m fine with only a few hours.” It was hard to get much sleep on the New York–Paris flight, with a movie, a meal, and only a few hours to sleep.

“I travel a lot, and I sleep like a baby on planes.” He looked rested too. Her breakfast came then, and he disappeared into the bathroom and came back looking neat and properly groomed.

The steward brought him his jacket to get ready for landing, and set it down across from him, as they came through the cloud cover over Paris and could see the airport below.

“Where are you staying?” Bart asked her.

“I’ve rented a house for two weeks.” She smiled at him.

And she suddenly felt ready for her big adventure.

It was exciting. Christmas was behind her, and she no longer felt nostalgic or lonely.

She felt thrilled to be landing in Paris and couldn’t wait to see the house she’d rented, and hoped it was as lovely as promised.

“That’s brave of you,” he commented. “Through friends or an agency?”

“An agency,” she answered.

“I’m staying with my son and his wife. She’s French. She’s very sweet and lets me stay with them when I come to town. They live in the 6th arrondissement. Where’s your house?”

“In the seventh.”

“We’re nearly neighbors,” he said, smiling, and reached into the pocket of his jacket for his wallet, pulled out a card, grabbed a pen out of his briefcase, jotted down a number, and handed the card to her.

“That’s my cell. Give me a call, if you need a hand with anything.

My son and his wife could be very helpful. ”

“Thank you very much,” she said, glancing at the card, and saw that he was the CEO of a major corporation.

For all his relaxed, congenial ways, he was a very important man in the corporate world.

Halley knew the firm by name, and that they made electronic components.

He had a huge job, and Halley was impressed.

And he appeared just as pleased to meet her, since he had read many of her books.

“Do you want to give me your cell number, just in case?” he asked her.

“I’ll put it in my phone just so I have it.

” Realizing what a major figure he was in the corporate world, she felt comfortable giving it to him, which she wouldn’t have otherwise.

She gave him her cell number and he put it in his phone.

“It’s been great talking to you. I really enjoyed it.

” He smiled warmly at her again, and she didn’t have the feeling that he was picking her up, or flirting with her.

He was just extremely personable, was relaxed in anticipation of seeing his son, and seemed like a nice person.

She suspected he could have talked to anyone.

He had excellent people skills, and had made her feel instantly at ease, even before she knew who he was, where he worked, and his status as CEO.

They landed smoothly, and were both given rides in separate cars to the main terminal, as first-class VIP passengers, and they met again at the baggage claim area and stood together, waiting for their bags.

It took a while before the moving carousel was activated and the bags began to come out, as a member of the ground crew with them apologized that there were no porters at that hour.

It was six-thirty a.m . and Halley’s bags came out right before Bart’s.

He lifted them off the carousel for her and set them down.

He didn’t complain about how heavy they were, but she knew and felt guilty about it.

He was athletic and did it with ease. The two ground crew members brought them carts.

Bart’s single suitcase fit on his, and it took two carts for Halley’s, which she and the ground agent pushed toward the exit, with Bart right behind them with his cart and agent.

“I’ve got an SUV and driver waiting,” he said to her. “Do you want a lift into the city?”

“That’s very nice, thank you. I have a car waiting too. Really, thanks so much.” Millie had arranged a car service for her stay.

They walked outside together, and their drivers were waiting, holding up signs that said “Holbrook” and “Warner,” and they parted on the sidewalk outside and got into their cars. There was a Mercedes sedan Millie had booked for Halley, and an SUV for Bart.

“Have a great time in Paris,” he said to her. Talking to him had made the trip more pleasant, and had made the time go faster.

“You too,” she said with a smile, and no one would have suspected that neither of them had had more than three hours’ sleep, if that, and had just gotten off a flight. They looked ready to start their day and tackle Paris, with all its delights and beauty.

He waved as he got into the back seat and was driven away, and two minutes later, so was Halley.

She briefly envied him the family he was going to, and would have liked to do the same, but she was smiling in anticipation as her car headed toward the city.

She dozed for a few minutes on the way, and woke up in time to see the impressive monument where Napoleon was buried.

And behind her was the Champs-élysées with the Arc de Triomphe at the end, and there was an enormous French flag fluttering in the breeze under the arch.

She was deeply moved when she saw it, and the car rapidly headed over the Alexandre III Bridge to the Left Bank, Saint-Germain-des-Prés, and the address of her rented house.

It was on the rue Jacob, tucked in between other lovely houses.

There was an entrance for carriages with tall gates and solid shiny black doors, and neatly trimmed hedges in front.

It looked very chic. She had already agreed to pay the gardener for the duration of her stay.

And she could see the guardian’s lodge. There was a maid who would come three times a week.