Page 27 of A Mother’s Love

They agreed on one o’clock, and she got ready and called the car service.

She didn’t have money or credit cards to pay for anything, and was lucky the driver had let her use the limo service’s credit card to buy her phone.

Beyond that, she couldn’t have paid for a cup of coffee or an ice cream if she’d wanted one.

She pulled out a handbag to go with what she was wearing and realized she had nothing to put in it.

All she would normally have carried was gone with the thief.

And when she was about to brush her hair, she realized that her only hairbrush was gone too, along with her favorite lipstick, her compact, and a photograph of her girls that she always carried in her bag.

Everything practical or sentimental was gone, as well as the little leather address book she had carried for years, with all the phone numbers in it, and all those numbers in her phone.

Gone. She threw a handkerchief and a brand-new spare lipstick into the purse she was going to wear and felt ridiculous.

She changed to a little clutch bag she tucked under her arm when she left the house.

She set the alarm and locked the door carefully.

The car was waiting for her outside at twenty to one, and she saw Henri Laurent peeking at her from behind his curtains.

He watched her comings and goings carefully, which made no sense.

She assumed he was just nosey as well as disagreeable.

She told the driver, another new one, that she was going to the Ritz and sat back against the seat.

And she explained to him that she needed to put the charge on her ongoing bill, as she had the day before, and he agreed.

She was wearing a very chic casual black-and-white tweed coat she’d brought as a spare, with a black Chanel suit jacket, a black denim skirt, and high heels, and the little alligator clutch under her arm.

Her shining dark hair was pulled back in a sleek bun.

She was ready for Bart Warner, at what felt like a very grownup lunch.

He saw her get out of the car in front of the hotel, and was waiting for her at the top of the front steps with a red carpet coming down the marble steps. He smiled as soon as he saw her, and she hurried her pace to meet him.

“You look beautiful, Halley,” he said, admiring her, and he followed her through the revolving door and into the sumptuous lobby, with five-foot-tall flower arrangements on every table which enhanced the atmosphere of luxury.

She tried to resist the memories of staying there with Robert, and focused on Bart.

The ma?tred’ greeted them solemnly in the Bar Vend?me and led them to a table outside, with the protective glass roof overhead.

It was a beautiful day of winter sun. The black Chanel jacket was perfect for the Ritz, as were the diamond studs in her ears.

Every inch of her was impeccable and elegant.

Bart ordered champagne, and they took their time with the menu.

Once they’d ordered a salad for Halley, and filet mignon for Bart, they smiled at each other.

He was even more handsome than she remembered from the plane.

He had an aura of power about him. It was easy to guess that he was someone important—he had a relaxed air of command about him.

He asked Halley about her books over lunch.

She told him about how she had started to make notes for her first book while she was pregnant, and had started writing after the twins were born.

“What did your husband do?” he asked, curious. She hesitated for a fraction of a second, and smiled at him. She decided to be honest.

“Their father is Locke Logan, the photographer,” she said simply.

Almost everyone in the world knew him. “We never married. I was very young, and had no family, so it wasn’t as scandalous as it might have been otherwise.

The twins filled my life. They were a blessing and still are. They’re identical twins, which is fun.”

“It must be,” he said, admiring her in the winter sunlight. It gave her face a gentle glow. Bart had a perfect haircut, and bright blue eyes which took in every detail around him. He was attentive and focused on her.

“Their father wasn’t very involved, but he showed up for them when it mattered. My daughter Valerie got married in October, and he was there. I did double duty as mother and father while they were growing up.”

“And you never wanted to marry him?” He was intrigued by her. On the one hand, he could guess that she was a strong woman, but there was a gentleness to her, a vulnerability that touched him. She was very feminine and had enormous charm. There was nothing hard or tough about her.

“I didn’t marry him because he already was married,” she said quietly, “and by the time he divorced, ten years later, I was happy with my girls, and he and I were no longer involved. I suppose it was a rather unconventional life, but as a writer, it was never an issue whether I was married or not. My parents got married because of me and it didn’t turn out well, so I was hesitant to do the same thing, and repeat history, even once we could.

Their father and I are much better as friends.

It was never a major love affair, the twins were an accident,” she said. “A fortuitous one, as it turned out.”

“I was in the same position,” Bart said, feeling unusually open with her.

“I dated a girl in college, but it wasn’t the right fit for either of us.

Classic story. She discovered she was pregnant after we broke up.

We debated. I was twenty-two, she was twenty-one.

Our parents had a fit, so we got married.

It was over in two years, and it was pretty unpleasant for both of us.

It never worked and was never right. She was as unhappy as I was, we were both children ourselves.

We got divorced when I went to business school.

She has a big career now too. She’s the president of a bank.

And the nice thing is that we’re both crazy about our son.

He works at the Paris office of an international law firm.

He married a French girl, and they’re very happy.

They’re moving to New York in a year. It will be nice to have him home.

He’s been here for four years. He loves it. Who wouldn’t?”

“One of my daughters is an attorney too, entertainment law. Both my daughters just moved to L.A. They’re in St. Bart’s for Christmas, so here I am.

It’s been my first Christmas alone since they were born,” she said ruefully.

“So I came to Paris as a treat for me. You never remarried?” she asked him.

“No,” he said, looking a little sheepish.

“My first attempt cured me. I’ve been in several long relationships, but marriage never felt like the right option.

” They had both had their children at the same age, twenty-two.

But Bart was older than Halley. He was fifty-six, and a very attractive man. “What does your other daughter do?”

“She’s an artist. They’re very different, although they look identical.”

“It must be fun to have twins.” He smiled at her. “Double trouble.”

“Definitely. We’ve had a great time together. I’m going out to visit them in March. The artist is having her first show in L.A. I promised to go. I wouldn’t miss it.” She seemed happy when she spoke of her girls, and he noticed it. He felt the same way about his only son.

He liked how open and honest she was, how comfortable and at peace with herself.

She didn’t seem to be looking for anything, and wasn’t manipulative.

She was just a very nice person. She wasn’t angry or bitter, didn’t have an ex-husband she hated, or have an agenda.

A lot of the women he met did. He avoided them whenever possible, but Halley had an aura of peace around her that drew him nearer, and made him feel comfortable with her. She was very appealing.

“So what have you been doing in the three days you’ve been here? I love walking in this city,” he said.

“Art galleries, shopping, and I spent yesterday at the police station.” He looked surprised.

“You got arrested?” he teased her.

“Not yet. I treated myself to lunch at a very nice restaurant, and my handbag got stolen,” she said seriously.

“It was kind of an epic event, that’s never happened to me before.

Everything I need was in it, and I loved the bag.

It was a very nice one I’ve had for a long time.

I was very upset.” She shrugged with a small smile, not wanting to make too much of it.

“The police said I’ll never see my bag again.

It’s on its way to Asia or Liechtenstein or somewhere by now.

There are big markets for stolen high-end bags. ”

“Was it the big black alligator one you were carrying on the plane?” She nodded. “I picked it up to put it on the luggage cart for you. I thought you had a bowling ball in it.” He smiled at her.

“I did. My favorite one. Not to mention my hairbrush, favorite lipstick, passport, and credit cards. It was a clean sweep. Apparently the thief was a professional. The police have it on video, and so did the restaurant. They’re looking for him. But they say they won’t find the bag.”

“I’m so sorry.” He looked sympathetic and then thought of something. “Did you have money in your bag?”

“I did, all my money for the trip.”

“How have you managed since yesterday, with no credit cards and no cash?”

She grinned, feeling a little foolish. “The drivers from the car service lent me a company card to buy a new phone. And they let me charge the ride home yesterday and to here today. Other than that, I’m penniless.

” She tried to make light of it, but it had been a deeply upsetting experience.

She didn’t want to share how upset she was.

“And I have to get the locks changed, since the keys and the address of the house were in the bag, which was stupid of me.”

“Oh, Halley, that’s awful, I’m so sorry.” He pulled his wallet out of his pocket then, and put five hundred-euro bills on the table, and a credit card. “Keep the card as long as you need it,” he said generously. He was deeply sympathetic to her.

“I have new cards on the way,” she assured him. “I’m fine. Really.” She was embarrassed to take money from him, and a credit card. He barely knew her, and she was touched by the kind gesture.

“You can’t go around with no money,” he said, “that’s not safe.

We can square accounts later. Your having my credit card gives me an excuse to see you again.

” He looked pleased to have an excuse. He had thoroughly enjoyed having lunch with her.

“Speaking of which,” he said, feeling a little shy for an instant, “my son and daughter-in-law are staying home on New Year’s Eve.

We’re going to have dinner together, very informally at their apartment.

It’s the day after tomorrow, would you like to join us?

I don’t like going out on that night, everyone tries too hard. It’s nicer to be at home.”

“That’s so nice of you, thank you, I’d like that very much.” It was providential the way something to do had just materialized. It sounded like a perfect evening, and she liked him. He seemed to be a kind, straightforward person. They’d both had a good time at lunch.

When they got up to leave, his credit card and the five-hundred-euro bills were still on the table. She felt awkward taking them.

“Bart, I can’t…really…” She felt shy for a minute.

“You can and you will. I’ll worry about you if you’re running around Paris with no money.” He folded the bills around the card and slipped them into the pocket of her coat.

“I promise I’ll give it back,” she said earnestly, and he smiled at her.

“I am terribly worried about it. I won’t be able to sleep at night until you do, with interest,” he teased her, and they walked out of the hotel together.

There were well-dressed people strolling into the lobby, and a few tourists.

Halley noticed the vitrines full of beautiful jewels, and they went back through the revolving door and down the red-carpeted steps to her car, waiting in the Place Vend?me.

They had both had a wonderful time. As first dates went, it was remarkable, elegant, and fun, and they were so comfortable with each other.

“I’ll come and pick you up on New Year’s Eve,” he said as they stood next to her car.

“It’s not a good night to be out alone. Try to stay out of any police stations in the meantime. ” She smiled.

“I’m going to the embassy now to get a new passport.”

“That doesn’t sound like fun. Go shopping afterward, use the credit card. It will do you good. Are you safe at the house if the thief has the keys, and your address?” He looked serious as he asked. That worried him more than the money and credit cards.

“I put the alarm on last night, and there’s a guardian. He’s kind of a creep, but at least he’s there. He has an apartment at the front gate.”

“Call me if you need me. I’m not far from you. I’m serious, Halley.” He looked into her eyes. “If you’re scared or anything else happens, just call me. Or if you need more money.”

“You’re the first man who ever said that to me,” she said, and he laughed. “I’ll take good care of the credit card, I promise. Mine should be here in a few days.”

“I’m very worried about it,” he teased her again, and then grew more serious. “Take care of yourself. See you Saturday.” It was only two days away.

She got in the car, and he waved as she was driven away, and then he walked across the Place Vend?me.

He had really enjoyed spending time with her.

He’d been debating about calling her. He didn’t want her to think he went around picking up strangers everywhere.

He had said something to his son, Ryan, and he had encouraged his father to call her.

He hadn’t had a serious girlfriend for a while, and Ryan felt sorry for him.

He was so successful, but so alone, and Ryan wanted his father to be happy.

He had reminded him that one had to seize the moments and the opportunities when they happened.

And as Bart walked down the rue de Castiglione to the Tuileries Garden, thinking of her, he was glad he had.