“You should bring her to Paris,” Marie-Ange said, still hopeful it would work out for them. He deserved happiness. She had had her turn, and it had literally turned to ashes. Now all she wanted was peace and some quiet times with her children. It was hard to imagine ever trusting anyone again, after Bernard. But at least she knew Billy, and loved him as her brother. She needed a friend now. And then she had an idea, and proposed it to him. “Why don't you come to Paris? You can stay at my apartment. I'd love to see you,” she said, sounding homesick. He was the only person in the world she could trust now.

“I'd love to see your kids,” he said, thinking about it.

“How's your French these days?” “I'm losing it. I have no one to talk to.” “I should call more often.” She didn't want to ask him if he could afford the trip, or insult him by offering to pay for it, but she would have loved to see him.

“Things are pretty quiet here right now. I'll talk to my dad. He could probably get by without me for a week or two. We'll see. I'll think about it, and see what I can work out.”

“Thank you for being there for me,” Marie-Ange said with the smile he remembered so well from their childhood.

“That's what friends are for, Marie-Ange. I'm always here for you, I hope you know that. I wish you hadn't lied to me about him. Sometimes I thought something was wrong, and other times you convinced me you were happy.”

“I was, most of the time, a lot of the time, really. And my kids are so sweet. But he scared the hell out of me the way he spent money.”

“You'll be okay now,” he reassured her, “the main thing is that you and the kids are fine.”

“I know. What if I lend you the money for a ticket?” she asked, worried he didn't have the money and afraid to embarrass him, but she was dying to see him. She suddenly felt so scared and so alone, and so lonely, and it felt like a hundred years since she'd seen him. It had been just over two, but it felt like decades. And so much had happened. She'd gotten married, had two kids, and nearly been destroyed by the man she'd married.

“If I let you lend me the money for the ticket, how would you be able to tell me from your husband?” He was serious. He didn't want to do the same thing to her as Bernard, but he couldn't even conceive of the scale on which he'd done it.

“Easy,” she laughed in answer to his question, “just don't buy an oil well with the money.”

“Now there's an idea,” he said, laughing at her. He thought she was kidding. “I'll figure out what I'm going to do, and I'll call you.”

“I'll be here,” she said with a smile, and then remembered. “And by the way, Happy New Year.”

“Same to you, and do me a favor, will you, kid?”

“What's that?” It felt like their old school days just talking to him.

“Try to stay out of trouble till I get there.”

“Does that mean you're coming?”

“That means I'll see. Just take care of yourself and the kids in the meantime. And if they let him out of jail, I want you to fly out here.”

“I don't think that's going to happen. Not for a long time,” but it was a sensible suggestion, and she was grateful for his concern.

After they hung up, Marie-Ange got into bed. Heloise was sleeping next to her in her bed, and Robert was in his crib in the next room. And she smiled to herself as she thought of Billy.

At that exact moment, he was talking to his father. Tom Parker had been more than a little startled by the question, but he said that he figured maybe he could spare it, as long as Billy eventually repaid it, and Billy promised to do that. He had been saving for their honeymoon and already had four hundred dollars put aside.

But when he walked back into the living room, his sisters thought he looked distracted. One of them spoke to him and at first he didn't even hear.

“What's with you?” his oldest sister said, as she handed her baby to her husband.

“Nothing much.” And then he told them all what had happened to Marie-Ange, and they were horrified. His fiancee, Debbi, was listening with interest, but said nothing. “I'm going to Paris,” he said finally, “she's had a hell of a time, and it's the least I can do, for old times' sake.” It was impossible for any of them to forget that she had given him his Porsche.

“I'm moving to Chicago,” Debbi spoke up suddenly and silenced the room as they all stared at her.

“Where did that come from?” Billy asked her, and she looked embarrassed.

“I've been waiting all week to tell you. I found a job, and I'm moving.”

“And then what?” he asked, feeling a strange flutter in his stomach. He wasn't sure yet if he was glad or sorry, mostly confused, but he had been for a while, when he thought about their wedding.

“I don't know yet,” Debbi answered honestly, as his entire family listened. “I don't think we should get married,” and then she added in a whisper, “I don't want to live on a farm for the rest of my life. I hate it.”

“That's what I do,” he said quietly, “it's who I am.”

“You could do something else if you wanted,” she whined at him, and he looked unhappy.

“Let's talk about this outside,” he said calmly, and handed her her coat, and they walked out onto the porch, as the rest of the family began to chatter. They still couldn't believe what he'd told them about Marie-Ange, and his mother was worried about her.

“Think they'll ever get married?” his older sister asked her about Debbi.

“God knows,” their mother said with a shrug, “damned if I know what people do, or why they do it. The ones that should get married, don't. The ones that shouldn't can't wait to run off with each other. Most people make a mess of it, if you give ‘em half a chance. Most of them anyway. A few don't, like your dad and I,” she said, grinning over at her husband, who was still intrigued by what was going on around him.

And when Debbi left, Billy went straight to his room, without explaining anything to his parents or sisters or brothers, or their respective spouses. He said nothing at all, and softly closed the door.





Chapter 12




When the plane from Chicago landed at Charles de Gaulle, Marie-Ange was waiting for it, with Robert in her arms, and Heloise in the stroller. She was wearing slacks and a warm coat and heavy sweater, and her babies were bundled up in matching little red coats that reminded her of her childhood. And she was holding a single rose for Billy.

She saw him as soon as he got off the plane, and he looked just the way he always had when they rode to school on the school bus. Except he wasn't wearing overalls, he was wearing jeans, a white shirt, and a heavy jacket, and brand-new loafers his mom had got him. And he sauntered toward her just the way he always had, when she waited for him on her bike, in the places where they used to meet and talk during the summer. And he smiled the minute he saw her.

Without saying a word, she handed the rose to him, and he took it and looked at her for a long moment, and then he hugged her close to him, and felt the silk of her hair on his cheek, as he always had. It was like a homecoming for both of them, they were each the best friend the other had ever had, and even after two years, it was old and comfortable and sure that they loved each other. It was the way things ought to be, and seldom were. It was the same way Frangoise had felt the first time she saw John Hawkins again when she saw him in Paris, but neither of them knew that. And after Billy had hugged her, he stopped to look at her kids. They were both beautiful, and he said they looked just like her.

And as they walked toward the baggage claim, she told him how the first hearing had gone. They were charging Bernard with three counts of attempted murder, and they were reopening the investigation about the death of Charles, Louise's son. The prosecutor said that given the new evidence against him, it was more than likely he would be charged with murder.

“I hope they hang him,” Billy said with a vehemence she didn't remember about him, but he couldn't stand thinking about what she'd gone through. And he had had a lot of time to think about it again, on the plane, and before that, when Debbi moved to Chicago. They had finally agreed to break their engagement, but he hadn't told Marie-Ange yet. He didn't want to scare her. She might be worried if she thought his engagement was broken off.

Billy had come for two weeks, and she wanted to show him all the sights in Paris. She had planned the whole trip for him, the Louvre, the Tour Eiffel, the Bois de Boulogne, the Tuileries, there were a thousand things she wanted to show him. And then they were going to drive down to Marmouton, just so he could see it, but they couldn't stay there. They would have to stay at the hotel in town, and then drive back to Paris the next day. But she wanted to walk the fields with him at least, and show him the orchards, and get his advice about whether or not he thought she should rebuild it. But if she did, she wasn't planning to put in any of the excessive luxuries Bernard had. She wanted it just like the old days, when her parents lived there. And maybe in the end, it would be a good place for her and her children. She hadn't made up her mind.

When Billy picked up his small bag off the turntable, she looked at him and saw that he was different. He was more grown-up, more confident, more at ease with himself. He was a man now. And she had changed too. She had been through a lot, and she had two babies. She'd been through the wars with Bernard, and come through them eventually. And now Billy was here, and in the best possible ways, nothing had changed, as he looked down and grinned at her, as he took the baby from her with one arm, and she pushed the stroller.

“It's like coming home again, isn't it?” She looked up at him with a smile, as he said it, and he smiled at her. She saw something flicker in his eyes and asked him what he was thinking. They had always read each other's minds.

“I was just thinking that I'm damn glad you jumped out that bathroom window. I would have had to kill him myself, if you hadn't.”

“Yeah, me too, I'm glad I jumped, I mean.” She smiled, as they walked along, looking like a family. There was no reason for anyone to guess they weren't. The four of them looked right together. And all Marie-Ange wanted now was to be with him for the next two weeks, and talk about all the things they always had, and that meant something to them. They had lives and dreams and secrets to share, things to talk about and explore. And Paris to discover. It was as though a door was closing behind them, and another was opening right before them, into a brand-new world.





About the AuthorDanielle Steel has been hailed as one of the world's most popular authors, with over 480 million copies of her novels sold. Her many international best-sellers include The Cottage, The Kiss, Lone Eagle, Journey, The House on Hope Street, The Wedding, Irresistible Forces, Granny Dan, Bittersweet, and other highly acclaimed novels. She is also the author of His Bright Light, the story of her son Nick Traina's life and death.

a cognizant original v5 release october 26 2010




Published by

Dell Publishing

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New York, New York 10036

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents

either are the product of the author's imagination or are used

fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead,

events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © 2001 by Danielle Steel

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Library of Congress Catalog Card Number: 00-045174

eISBN: 978-0-307-56658-4

v3.0

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

About the Author