The Last Time I Saw Paris - Lynn Sheene [32]
As the guests gathered around the table, Claire found and slid into her chair. The seating arrangement had taken some thought, though it seemed to be explicitly to her disadvantage. To her left was Jacques, Odette sat to his left. Grey was across from Claire, between him and Laurent at the head of the table sat Monsieur and Madame Bruel.
Sylvie’s cousin sat on Claire’s right. He was introduced as Bertrand or perhaps Burcet. In Paris on business, he was middle management in Sylvie’s family’s textiles factory in Lyons. Sylvie sat at the end of the table to his right. The family resemblance was noticeable. They shared the little eyes and tight mouth, though on him it was muffled in the vacuum of his personality.
To Grey’s left preened a young bird in burgundy organza. She was new to Laurent’s group, a friend of Sylvie’s. She leaned in to Sylvie’s ear and whispered something that made her hard eyes glint.
Claire fortified herself with a glass a wine and watched the bird, also referred to as Babette, attempt to charm Grey. As the first plate was passed by, Babette rubbed Grey’s shoulder with her bare arm. Puff pastries skittered dangerously toward the edge of the leaning plate. When he was forced to answer a question, Babette leaned into his face and cooed her agreement. With each attempt at seduction, Grey’s posture became more erect, his expression more stern. Claire wondered how long until he climbed up on the table in self-defense. At least Claire wasn’t the only one suffering.
Laurent presided at the head of the table. A side Claire had never seen, a stuffy aristocrat, too much self-conscious congratulation mixed with a host’s graciousness. It almost bothered her more than the sudden appearance of a wife. But not quite.
They spoke of the weather, some inane story of a cousin’s yacht in Nice running aground last summer while the captain charted a course across the cousin’s wife. The couple, the story went, refused to be rescued from the listing boat for hours.
“Good. A captain must go down in his ship,” Jacques pronounced, raising his glass.
Chatting wasn’t easy. Every detail of life since last summer was imprisoned in the cold depths of the Occupation.
The mystery of how Laurent managed the feast was solved at the first pause in conversation. Business had doubled at Sylvie’s family’s factory, the cousin announced at Sylvie’s nudging. The coldest winter in years, competition shut down. It was sad of course, but Grandpa’s company must persevere through these difficult days. Nods of agreement and the conversation stalled. Grey’s eyes darkened and he busied himself forming a forkful of puffed pastry and baked chicken.
After a moment of whispering between Babette and Sylvie, Babette turned to Claire. “You’re an American. What is it you do that you haven’t been shipped back to your own country?”
The attention of the table swiveled to Claire. She swallowed hard at the food lodged in her throat. Without the right papers, she wasn’t legally able to work. Wasn’t able to do anything, for that matter. Madame Palain turned a blind eye. Vous travaillez au noir, meaning she worked under the table. With a room full of strangers and Sylvie gunning for her across the baguettes, Claire couldn’t risk answering and putting herself or Madame Palain in the German’s sights.
Grey looked up from his plate for the first time seemingly in hours. “She is what they refer to as a socialite in the United States. Apparently, Madame Harris is known to be particularly talented at important social activities.”
Claire didn’t know what to say. She wasn’t sure where he was going with this. He very may well be insulting her.
“What does a socialite do, exactly?” Grey grinned now; he appeared to be enjoying needling her.
Claire rewarded him with an honest smile. “Oh, I usually throw extravagant parties, shop for diamonds and seduce”—Claire glanced at Laurent—“pitiful, dim-witted men. A bit tiresome, really.”
A low laugh rolled over the table. Madame Bruel began a story about an American movie she had seen like that, Hôtel Grand.