their conversation and acknowledged a certain amount of relief. He peeked into Nellie’s room and found her sleeping soundly. It wasn’t until he settled himself in bed that it occurred to him to wonder if his wife was all right. For all his nervousness and worry, he’d not once considered her as the possible cause of his uneasiness. Carefully he rearranged the pillow behind his head and turned on his side, toward his wife’s side of the bed. The sight of the tidy, unused space didn’t elicit any feeling at all in Daniel. Rajean could take care of herself, as she was fond of informing him.
Forty-five minutes later Daniel was still awake, the sheets and pillow damp with his perspiration. He couldn’t imagine staring at the shadowy ceiling much longer. Maybe if he got up and took a shower, he’d feel better. The storm was still battering the summer house, which meant Rajean would be out all night. Not that it mattered.
Daniel had one foot in the shower when the phone jangled. Perhaps it was Reuben, he thought, calling back to see if he had settled down. He picked up the phone, a snappy retort ready, then frowned when he heard the operator’s sleepy voice tell him there was an overseas call for Daniel Bishop. What the hell? No one knew where he was except his answering service and Reuben. “This is Daniel Bishop speaking….”
“Very good, sir, hold for the French operator….”
“Jesus Christ! Yes, hello…hello? Speak louder, I can barely hear you. There’s a storm here. Who’s calling, Operator?” A spurt of crackly French came over the wire. “Mickey! My God, Mickey, is that you?”
“Daniel, please, we may be cut off momentarily…Daniel, please, you must come…I need…” Daniel strained to distinguish Mickey’s desperate words from the relentless crackle of overseas static. “Urgent…please…I beg you…we…we need you…not for myself…for…Daniel…you have to get him out…not safe for him…Daniel…speak to me…”
“Mickey, what is it?” Daniel shouted. “I can hardly hear you. Take who? Are you all right?” Jesus Christ, of course she wasn’t all right! Germany had invaded France.
The telephone stabilized, and he heard Mickey’s remembered voice clearly. “You must get Philippe safely to his father….”
Daniel’s eyes grew wild when he realized the line he held in his hand had gone dead. Desperately he jiggled the hook and tried dialing the operator. But it was no use. “Son of a bitch!” he roared. He stomped around the room trying to make sense of the phone call. Mickey, after all these years…Memories flooded his brain—all the reasons this woman could still hold a special rock-steady place in his heart. She needed him; she wanted him to go to France. “Jesus Christ” he exploded. “How in hell am I going to get to Europe with a war going on?” Why had Mickey called him and not Reuben? The love they had shared had been remarkable. Reuben would move heaven and earth for Mickey, and she had to know that, but she’d called him instead. Why? And who the hell was Philippe? “Take Philippe to his father,” she’d said. Great. But who was Philippe’s father?
Philippe…He’d heard the name, and not that long ago. Something to do with Fairmont Studios…Of course! He owned 51 percent of Fairmont’s stock, and Reuben owned the other 49. Bouchet! Philippe Bouchet! That was the name. No one had ever met Bouchet, not even Sol Rosen, Reuben’s father-in-law and the former head of Fairmont Studios. Morgan Guaranty Trust in New York handled all Bouchet’s business. Philippe Bouchet wasn’t safe in France, and Mickey wanted him to get him out. But why not ask Reuben to help? Because…because…Daniel’s memory strained. Get him to his father…. Mickey had sounded…as if he, Daniel, should know who Philippe’s father was.
Suddenly Daniel stopped in his tracks. Oh, Jesus, Jesus…of course! Reuben was…Philippe was…had to be. All these years…it would explain so much. Bebe, Reuben, Mickey, himself. That magic time…France. He must be, how old now? Twenty, twenty-one, Reuben’s age when he…
Reuben didn’t know…had no idea…That’s why she called me, Daniel thought dizzily. Bebe must have given birth, and…Mickey kept the child. Yes, it made sense. Mickey would keep the child because he was Reuben’s son. She wouldn’t have allowed Bebe to abort or give away the child for adoption. That’s why she never answered…. All these years and we never knew!
Daniel wept then for his friend Reuben who had never known his son, and for the faceless Philippe who had never known his father.
Nellie stood in the doorway of the sunroom, watching her stepfather. She’d never seen a man cry before. Surely he wasn’t crying over her mother. When was he going to realize she wasn’t worth tears, or even consideration, for that matter? It was a pity he’d never learned how to play the game. How often she’d been tempted to tell him the rules, but for some reason she’d always changed her mind. She didn’t love her mother. Actually, she detested her. But she was fond of her stepfather because he genuinely seemed to care about her. Yet she didn’t love him, either. If she loved anything, it was money. Money. Jewels. Power. They all went together. When she was ten she’d wanted different colored bicycles. When she was twelve she’d wanted a stable of horses, all jumpers. When she was fourteen she’d wanted clothes and cosmetics and a magnificent bedroom and a swimming pool. When she was sixteen she’d wanted her own car, a fancy roadster that would turn heads. At seventeen she’d still wanted all those things and to be beautiful. Now that she was eighteen she wanted more; she wanted to be filthy rich and to be powerful at a very young age. She had two of the three ingredients she thought would make her happy—she had beauty and brains—but she didn’t have the money.
Sensing her presence, Daniel turned. He did his best to smile.
“Here,” Nellie said, handing him a tissue. “Blow your nose, that’s what you always tell me.” She smiled.
Daniel accepted the tissue. Lord, this stepdaughter of his was a vision of loveliness. The long golden braid hanging down her back and the wispy curls around her face made her look fifteen and so vulnerable. Lashes, thick and dark, complemented her soft gray-green eyes, eyes that were now full of concern for him.
She was nibbling on her full lower lip, her perfectly aligned teeth, thanks to an excellent orthodontist, reminding him suddenly of Rajean, whose sharp teeth were so white that they were suspect.
The long braid swished against her silk pajamas as she perched herself on her father’s knee and nuzzled his cheek. “Daddy, don’t worry about Mother, she’s like a pigeon, she always comes home. If you’re upset about her, or if there’s something you know…I wish you’d tell me.”
“I had an urgent call, and then the lines went down. I feel helpless. I should be making several calls right now, and I can’t.” Long, thin fingers raked at his sandy hair in a frenzy.
“For heaven’s sake, Daddy, if it’s that important, go down to the boat and use the ship-to-shore phone. Is it serious?” she asked.
Daniel slapped at his forehead. “Now, why didn’t I think of that? Yes, honey, it’s serious, but not for us, so don’t start worrying about things. It’s late, go back to bed, and I’ll go down to the boat.”
Nellie bent to kiss the top of her father’s head. “Wear your slicker,” she admonished him.
“Yes, ma’am,” Daniel drawled. How nice it was to know she cared about him. He took an extra moment to hug his daughter and tell her he loved her. He beamed his pleasure when she echoed his response.
Daniel slogged his way through the driving rain to the pier and climbed aboard his cabin cruiser, the Sugar Baby. When he had his thoughts under control and a cigarette in hand, he began to wonder if he was wrong about the identity of
