be honest, I’m not worried. Something’ll turn up. It always does.’
Diane nodded, and then her eyes narrowed slightly. ‘You said on the phone that you wanted to talk to me. What–’
‘Can we do that later, over coffee?’ Alexa cut in swiftly.
‘Yes, of course, but is there something wrong? You sounded worried earlier.’
‘Honestly, there’s nothing wrong. I just need…a sounding board, a really good one, and you’re the very best I know.’
‘Is this about Jack?’
‘No, and now you’re sounding like all those other mothers, which most of the time you don’t, thank God. And no, it’s not about Jack.’
‘Don’t be so impatient with me, Alexa, and by the way, Jack Wilton is awfully nice.’
‘I know he is, and he feels the same way about you. And Dad.’
‘I’m glad to hear it. But how does he feel about you? That’s much more important.’
‘He cares.’
‘Your father and I think he would make a good–a very nice son-in-law.’
Alexa did not respond.
Half an hour later Alexandra sat opposite her mother in the living room, watching her as she poured coffee into fine bone-china cups. She was studying Diane through objective eyes, endeavouring to see her as clearly as possible. It suddenly struck her, and most forcibly, what a unique person she was, a woman who was savvy, smart, successful, and highly intelligent as well. And she really did understand human frailties and foibles, because her perception and insight were well honed, and she was compassionate. But would she comprehend her dilemma, a dilemma centred on two men?
After all, there had only been one man in her mother’s life, as far as she knew, and that man was her father, who Diane Carlson had met at twenty-four and married within the year; they had been utterly devoted to each other ever since. I know she’ll understand, Alexandra reassured herself. She’s not prudish or narrow-minded, and she never passes judgement on anybody. But how to tell her my story. Where do I begin?
It was as though Diane had read her daughter’s mind, when she announced, ‘I’m ready to listen, Alexa, whenever you want to start. And whatever it’s about, you’ll have all my attention and the best advice I can give.’
‘I know that, Mom,’ Alexa answered, adding, Thanks,’ as she accepted the cup her mother was passing to her. She put it down on the low antique table between them, and settled back against the Venetian velvet cushions on the cream sofa. After a second or two, she explained, ‘Late yesterday afternoon I got an invitation to go to a party in Paris. For Anya. She’s going to be eighty-five.’
A huge smile spread across Diane’s face, and she exclaimed, ‘Good Lord, I can’t believe it! She’s a miracle, that woman.’
‘Oh, I know she is, and aside from looking so much younger than her age, she’s full of energy and vitality. Whenever I speak to her on the phone she sounds as busy as ever, running the school, entertaining and travelling. Only last month she told me she’s started writing another book, one on Art Deco. She’s just so amazing.’
‘I’ll say she is, and what a lovely trip for you. When is the party?’
‘On June second, at Ledoyen. It’s a supper dance, actually.’
‘That’ll be fun, we must find you something pretty to wear. Is it black tie?’
‘Yes, it is, but look, Mom, I’m not sure that I’m going to go.’
Diane was startled, and she frowned. ‘Whyever not? You’re close to Anya, and you’ve always been a special favourite of hers. Certainly more than the others–’ Diane stopped abruptly, and stared at her daughter. ‘But of course! That’s it. You don’t want to go because you don’t want to see the other three. I can’t say I blame you, they turned out to be rather treacherous, those women.’
With a small jolt, Alexandra realized that she hadn’t even thought about her former best girlfriends, who had ended up her enemies. She had been focused only on Tom Conners, and her feelings for him. But now, all of a sudden, she realized she must throw them into the equation, along with Tom. Her mother was quite right, they were indeed an excellent reason she should stay away from Paris. They were bound to be at the party…Anya would have invited them as well as her…together the four of them had been her greatest pride the year of their graduation…her star pupils. Of course they’d be there…with bells on.
‘You’re right, Mom, I have no desire to see them,’ Alexa said. ‘But they’re not the reason I don’t want to go to Paris. It’s something else, as a matter of fact.’
‘And what’s that?’
‘His name’s Tom Conners.’
Diane was momentarily perplexed. The name rang a bell but she couldn’t pinpoint the man. She leaned forward slightly, her eyes narrowing. ‘Tom Conners. Do I know him? Oh yes, now it’s coming back to me. Isn’t he the Frenchman you introduced to us a few years ago?’
‘That’s right, but Tom’s half French, half American. If you remember, I did tell you about his family. His father’s an American who went to live in Paris in the early fifties, married a French girl and stayed. Tom was brought up and educated there, and he’s always lived in France.’
‘Yes, so I recall, darling. He’s a lawyer, if I remember correctly, and very good-looking. But I didn’t realize there was anything serious between the two of you. I thought it was a brief encounter, a sort of fling, if you like, and that it was over quickly.’
‘It lasted almost two years, actually.’
‘I see.’ Diane sat back, wondering how she had missed this particular relationship. On the other hand, that was the period Alexa had lived in Paris, working with Anya’s two nephews in films and the theatre. However, her daughter had certainly kept awfully quiet about Tom Conners, had confided nothing. Odd, really, now that she thought about it. She said slowly, ‘Somehow you’re still involved with Tom Conners, I think. Is that what you’re trying to say?’
‘No…Yes…No…Look, Mom, we don’t see each other any more, and I never hear from him, he’s never in touch, but he’s sort of there…inside me, in my thoughts…’ Her voice trailed off lamely and she gave her mother a helpless look.
‘Why did you break off with him, Alexa?’ Diane asked curiously.
‘I didn’t. He did. Three years ago now.’
‘But why?’ her mother pressed.
‘Because I wanted to get married, and he couldn’t marry me.’
‘Is he married already?’
‘No. Not now, not then.’
‘I’m not following this at all. It doesn’t make sense to me. I just don’t understand what the problem is,’ Diane murmured, her bafflement only too apparent.
Alexa
