Secrets of Paris_ A Novel - Luanne Rice [54]
“I really miss Patrice, that’s for sure,” Lydie said. “I don’t know what I’ll do without her when I return to New York.”
“Will that be soon?” Kelly asked, forcing her voice to be steady.
“In October. Has Patrice done anything about helping you to get there? To the United States?”
Kelly could hardly believe it; Lydie was making it so easy for her. “No, not really. It is very hard for her to do, living forever in Paris, married to a Frenchman. It would be much easier for someone who was returning to the United States—to take me with them.”
Lydie’s head turned fast. Kelly knew then that Lydie realized exactly what she was after. She watched Lydie, generally so soft-looking, with her pretty reddish hair and white skin, even whiter with sickness, and thought she looked shrewd, even a little hard. Kelly felt afraid.
“Oh, I wish I could help you,” Lydie said.
“You do? You do?” Kelly asked.
“But how can I, Kelly? This is between you and Patrice. If I brought you to the States, I would be taking you away from her.”
Kelly had expected her to say that. It only strengthened her will. She used the levers to lower her feet to the ground, raise her head up straight. Now she felt she was in a chair of power, as substantial as a throne. “I would never want to hurt Patrice,” she said. “She has done so much for me. It is she who most wants me to get to the United States. She has been teaching me the computer, to give me a skill. She has told me about the Filipino community in Queens …”
Lydie moved her mouth without speaking, as though she feared the next words would be painful. “I know she started off doing that, but I believe she feels too attached to you. It’s just a sense I have—she hasn’t said anything to me. But I think she would miss you terribly if you left.”
“And I would miss her.”
“Please understand, Kelly. I want you to get to the United States. But I can’t go against the wishes of my friend.”
Kelly grinned. She could scarcely conceal her triumph. “She tried to get her mother to take me with her.”
“She did? She didn’t tell me that.” Lydie looked astonished.
“Yes, but Mrs. Spofford already employs a person she is devoted to. Patrice was very disappointed, even though Mrs. Spofford promised to talk to her congressman.”
Lydie frowned a little. She pulled a loose thread on the sleeve of her robe. The hem of the sleeve was coming down. “I can fix that for you,” Kelly said. She rose from the Barcalounger, smiling at Lydie.
“That’s okay,” Lydie said. “I can sew …”
“Please,” Kelly said.
Lydie had confusion in her face. It derived from more than Kelly’s proposal, Kelly felt sure. “It’s awfully nice of you,” Lydie said. She handed Kelly a tin box which held needles and thread. Kelly glanced at the robe, a pale shade of yellow, and began matching the thread. Lydie took off the robe, laid it on the Barcalounger. She had a T-shirt on underneath. “I’ll be right back,” she said.
When she returned, she was wearing a maroon silk robe that could only be her husband’s. “Isn’t it very hard to get a visa, even if an American is sponsoring you?” she asked.
Kelly stitched busily. “Yes, it is difficult. But they say it is easier if the American says you can do a special job.”
“Maid’s work is not a special job,” Lydie said. “What else can you do?”
“In the Philippines I was an accountant,” Kelly said, not looking up from her work. She had finished the drooping sleeve. She tied a neat knot, bit off the thread, and began to strengthen the hem of the other sleeve.
“I do have my own business in New York, but I don’t have enough work to keep an accountant busy,” Lydie said.
“I want to open a fish market,” Kelly said. “My family owned a fish pond in the Philippines, and I know all about fish.”
“Fish?” Lydie asked, sounding dazed.
“Yes,” Kelly said. She finished the second sleeve. She feared looking into Lydie’s face. She felt that she had never been so close to making her dream come true. Her palms were very sweaty. Her fingers trembled.
“Kelly, listen,” Lydie said.