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Authors: Ellen Crosby
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greenhouse. Juliette is giving him a tour.”
“Just the two of them?”
I nodded and Dominique shot me an unreadable look that I didn’t like.
“Where’s Charles?” she asked. “She sent him to the library to talk to a guest who’s on oxygen. You know, I think I’m the only person here tonight except for your staff who is under sixty. Maybe even under seventy.”
My cousin didn’t smile.
“Merde,”
she said again. “I knew it.”
“What?” I asked.
“She’s still in love with him. After all these years.”
“What are you talking about? Pépé and Juliette?”
Dominique automatically slipped her pack of cigarettes out of the pocket of her slim-cut black trousers and I glared at her.
“Oh, all right,” she said and shoved them back. “But it calms my nerves when I smoke.”
“Forget the cigarettes and tell me about Pépé and Juliette.”
“I forgot that you wouldn’t have known. It started after Grand-mama died. My mother told me the story one night when we stayed up really late and drank too much champagne. He was so lost on his own. Juliette … well, she lived in the same building on Boulevard Saint-Denis, so they all knew each other.” She bent and picked up her cigarette butt, holding it between her thumb and forefinger like it was some rare specimen that needed to be preserved. “She got in the habit of coming by to bring him dinner. She’d say shejust cooked a little more than they needed and that he would waste away to nothing if he didn’t eat. Sometimes my mother and I would drop by his apartment and there’d be a pretty bouquet of flowers, or pastries from the
boulangerie
across the street. My mother said she always knew they were from her. Juliette was married at the time to a troll who beat her. She finally left him.”
“And?”
“Well, I think she was hoping … you know. ”
“That Pépé would ask her to marry him?”
She nodded.
“Were they, I mean did they … I mean …”
“Did they have sex? Is that what you mean?” Dominique rolled her eyes. “And who do you think was going to ask him that? You know Pépé.
Mon Dieu
, he’s so private. They could have done. The troll traveled a lot so it wouldn’t have been difficult to arrange, living in the same building. To be honest, I don’t think they did. He’s too much of a gentleman and she was married.”
“But after the divorce?”
“He was sent to Brussels for a year since he was still doing some consulting for the foreign ministry. It was a blessing, kept him really busy, but of course he was living in Belgium. Then my mother heard Juliette was moving to Washington to take a job as a secretary at the embassy. She thought Pépé pulled strings to get her the position. Juliette left France and apparently decided to turn over a whole new broom.” Dominique spoke English fluently but despite years of living in America, idioms continued to baffle her.
“You mean forget about Pépé?”
“My mother always thought that’s why she left,” she said. “Juliette met Charles in Washington right around the time he was named ambassador to France. She married him and moved home, into the residence on the Rue du Faubourg Saint-Honoré with her new husband, and all of a sudden she’s living down the street from the Élysée Palace. Parties, balls, receptions, lots of fancy entertaining, and a huge staff to help. My mother said she was absolutely
aux anges
. She was such a beauty, too—her picture showing up all the time in
Paris-Match
and
Vogue
.”
I nodded and thought about the portrait in the library. Maybethat teasing smile had been for my grandfather and he’d been there when she posed for the artist. It would explain why he’d been so abrupt when I asked him if he knew where it had been painted.
“Charles and Pépé never got to be close friends, did they?”
“You know Pépé,” she said. “He’s such a gentleman and always polite, but I don’t think he ever warmed up to Charles. And
“Just the two of them?”
I nodded and Dominique shot me an unreadable look that I didn’t like.
“Where’s Charles?” she asked. “She sent him to the library to talk to a guest who’s on oxygen. You know, I think I’m the only person here tonight except for your staff who is under sixty. Maybe even under seventy.”
My cousin didn’t smile.
“Merde,”
she said again. “I knew it.”
“What?” I asked.
“She’s still in love with him. After all these years.”
“What are you talking about? Pépé and Juliette?”
Dominique automatically slipped her pack of cigarettes out of the pocket of her slim-cut black trousers and I glared at her.
“Oh, all right,” she said and shoved them back. “But it calms my nerves when I smoke.”
“Forget the cigarettes and tell me about Pépé and Juliette.”
“I forgot that you wouldn’t have known. It started after Grand-mama died. My mother told me the story one night when we stayed up really late and drank too much champagne. He was so lost on his own. Juliette … well, she lived in the same building on Boulevard Saint-Denis, so they all knew each other.” She bent and picked up her cigarette butt, holding it between her thumb and forefinger like it was some rare specimen that needed to be preserved. “She got in the habit of coming by to bring him dinner. She’d say shejust cooked a little more than they needed and that he would waste away to nothing if he didn’t eat. Sometimes my mother and I would drop by his apartment and there’d be a pretty bouquet of flowers, or pastries from the
boulangerie
across the street. My mother said she always knew they were from her. Juliette was married at the time to a troll who beat her. She finally left him.”
“And?”
“Well, I think she was hoping … you know. ”
“That Pépé would ask her to marry him?”
She nodded.
“Were they, I mean did they … I mean …”
“Did they have sex? Is that what you mean?” Dominique rolled her eyes. “And who do you think was going to ask him that? You know Pépé.
Mon Dieu
, he’s so private. They could have done. The troll traveled a lot so it wouldn’t have been difficult to arrange, living in the same building. To be honest, I don’t think they did. He’s too much of a gentleman and she was married.”
“But after the divorce?”
“He was sent to Brussels for a year since he was still doing some consulting for the foreign ministry. It was a blessing, kept him really busy, but of course he was living in Belgium. Then my mother heard Juliette was moving to Washington to take a job as a secretary at the embassy. She thought Pépé pulled strings to get her the position. Juliette left France and apparently decided to turn over a whole new broom.” Dominique spoke English fluently but despite years of living in America, idioms continued to baffle her.
“You mean forget about Pépé?”
“My mother always thought that’s why she left,” she said. “Juliette met Charles in Washington right around the time he was named ambassador to France. She married him and moved home, into the residence on the Rue du Faubourg Saint-Honoré with her new husband, and all of a sudden she’s living down the street from the Élysée Palace. Parties, balls, receptions, lots of fancy entertaining, and a huge staff to help. My mother said she was absolutely
aux anges
. She was such a beauty, too—her picture showing up all the time in
Paris-Match
and
Vogue
.”
I nodded and thought about the portrait in the library. Maybethat teasing smile had been for my grandfather and he’d been there when she posed for the artist. It would explain why he’d been so abrupt when I asked him if he knew where it had been painted.
“Charles and Pépé never got to be close friends, did they?”
“You know Pépé,” she said. “He’s such a gentleman and always polite, but I don’t think he ever warmed up to Charles. And
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