“Yes, it is” There was something in his eyes suddenly that scared her. “She’s a very special girl.”

“She must be, with two marriages under her belt already. How old is she?”

“Twenty-four. But she’s very mature for her age.”

“She must be.” She didn’t know what to say to him, or where he was leading her, but she had a feeling she wasn’t going to like it.

“I’m going to marry her,” Julian said quietly, and Sarah felt as though the bottom had just dropped out of the plane as the wheels hit the runway.

“Oh?” She tried to look nonplussed, but she could feel her heart beating too hard as they landed. “When did you decide this?”

“Last week. But we were all so busy with the opening, I didn’t want to say anything until after it was over.” How considerate of him. How wonderful for him to marry a girl who was already twice divorced, and tell her. “You’re going to love her.” She hoped he was right, but she hadn’t liked any of their mates so far. She was beginning to give up on the hope that she would ever have in-laws she could even tolerate, let alone be fond of. So far she hadn’t done well at all.

“When am I going to meet her?”

“Soon.”

“How about Friday night? We could have dinner at Maxim’s before I leave Paris.”

“That would be fine.” He smiled warmly.

And then, she dared to ask him something she knew she probably shouldn’t. “Have you made up your mind?”

“Absolutely.” She’d been afraid of that. And then he saw her face and laughed. “Mother … trust me …” She wished she could, but she had a feeling deep in the pit of her stomach that he was making a mistake. And when they met at Maxim’s on Friday night, she was certain of it.

There was no denying that the girl was beautiful, she had the cool, icy blond beauty one imagines the Swedes have. She was long, tall, thin, with creamy skin, big blue eyes, and pale blond hair that hung straight to her shoulders. She said she had been a model at fourteen, but then she got into the movies, and she had been acting since she was seventeen. She had been in five movies in seven years, and Sarah remembered vaguely that there had been a scandal involving her sleeping with a director when she was underage. And then there had been something about her first divorce, from an equally naughty young actor. Her second husband had been a more interesting choice. She had married a German playboy and she had been trying to take him for a great deal of money. But Julian insisted that a settlement had just been made. And they would be able to marry by Christmas.

Sarah did not find herself anxious to celebrate. She wanted to go home and cry. It was happening again. One of her children was blindly walking into someone else’s trap and absolutely refused to see it. Why couldn’t he have an affair with her? Why did he have to delude himself that this was a girl to marry? It would have been obvious to Helen Keller that she wasn’t. She was beautiful, and incredibly sexy, but her eyes were cold, and everything about her was calculated and planned. There was nothing spontaneous or sincere or warm, or caring about her. And Sarah suspected from the way she looked at him, that she liked him, she wanted him, but she didn’t love him. Everything about the girl suggested that she was a taker and a user. And Julian deluded himself that she was an adorable little girl, and he loved her.

“Well?” he asked happily when Yvonne went to powder her nose at the end of dinner. “Isn’t she terrific? Don’t you love her?” He was so blind, it exhausted her. They all were. She patted his hand, and said she was a beautiful girl, which was true. And the next day, when he picked up some papers from her, she tried to talk about it discreetly.

“I think marriage is a very serious thing,” she began, feeling four hundred years old and incredibly stupid.

“So do I,” he said, looking amused by his mother being so pedantic. It wasn’t like her. Usually she was pretty direct, but she was afraid to be now. She had learned that lesson once, no matter how right she had been, and she didn’t want to lose him. But with Julian, she knew, it was different. Isabelle had been hot-headed and young, and Julian adored his mother, and was less likely to reject her completely. “I think we’re going to be very happy,” he said optimistically, which gave Sarah the opening she needed.

“I’m not as sure. Yvonne is an unusual girl, Julian. She’s had a checkered career, and she’s been taking care of herself for ten years.” She had run away from home at fourteen, she’d explained, and had given up school to model. “She’s a survivor. She’s looking out for herself, maybe more than even for you. I’m not sure she really wants what you do, when you think of marriage.”

“What does that mean? You think she’s after my money?”

“Possibly.”

“You’re wrong.” He looked angry at her. She had no right to do this, as far as he was concerned. But she thought she did, because she was his mother. “She just got half a million dollars from her husband in Berlin.”

“How nice for her,” Sarah said coolly. “And how long were they married?”

“Eight months. She left him because he forced her to have an abortion.”

“Are you sure? The newspapers say that she left him for the son of a Greek shipping tycoon, and he then dumped her for some little French girl. Complicated group of people you run with.”

“She’s a decent girl, and she’s had a tough time. She’s never had anyone to take care of her. Her mother was a whore, and she never even knew her father. He left before she was born, and her mother ditched her when she was thirteen. How can you expect her to have gone to some prissy little finishing school, like my sister?” His sister had made her own mistakes in spite of that, but this girl wasn’t making mistakes. She was making intelligent, calculating decisions. And Julian was one of them. You could see it.

“I hope you’re right. I just don’t want you to be unhappy.”

“You have to let us lead our own lives,” he said angrily. “You can’t tell us what to do.”

“I try not to.”

“I know.” He forced himself to calm down. He really didn’t want to fight with her. But he was sad that she hadn’t been more impressed by Yvonne. He’d been crazy about her from the first moment he saw her. “It’s just that you always think you know what’s right for us, and sometimes you’re wrong.” Though he hated to admit it, not often. But still, he had a right to do what he wanted.

“I hope I’m wrong this time,” she said sadly.

“Will you give us your blessing?” That meant a lot to him. He had always adored her.

“If you want it.” She leaned forward and kissed him, with tears in her eyes. “I love you so much … I don’t ever want you to suffer.”

“I won’t.” He beamed. He left then, and Sarah sat alone in her apartment for a long time, thinking of William, and her children, and wondering miserably why they were all so stupid.






Chapter 28





ULIAN and Yvonne were married in a civil ceremony performed at the mairie of La Marolle at Christmas. And then they all went back to the château, and had a sumptuous lunch. There were about forty guests, and Julian looked blissfully happy. Yvonne wore a short, beige lace dress by Givenchy, which reminded Sarah vaguely of a short modern version of her own when she married William. But all similarities ended there. There was a hardness to the girl, and a coldness that genuinely frightened Sarah.