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When she was dressed, she walked through the house until she found him on the phone in the grand salon. His eyes lit up as they had the first time he’d seen her in the dress.
She twirled, and he nodded his approval. Then he turned away to finish his conversation.
She felt vaguely disappointed that he had not complimented her as passionately as she would have liked. Oh, what was wrong with her? Why did she feel so needy and anxious and confused when she’d had so much fun with him?
He hung up the phone. Taking her hand, he kissed it, before leading her out to the car. “I’m sorry I got angry earlier,” he said when they were in the dark garage. “You’ve been very honest about what you want out of this relationship. I thought I was being honest, too. Apparently I didn’t know what the hell I was doing.”
She swallowed uneasily.
“Don’t worry! No further discussion on that subject is necessary.” His tone was so clipped and dismissive she felt rejected and hurt.
Later after they’d driven down a narrow, twisty road under darkening skies and through several miles of construction in tortured silence, Remy’s mood seemed to improve a bit. By the time he’d parked the car, he was talking to her again. On the famous Promenade de la Croisette, he held her hand as they walked and occasionally kissed her cheek or brought her fingers to his lips as if they were an ordinary couple.
“La Croisette takes its name from a small cross that used to stand east of the bay,” he said, pointing in that direction. As they walked, he pointed out other sites.
She began to relax and enjoy the promenade with its views of the Mediterranean, the Lerins Islands, and the Esterel Mountains on one side and the palms and belle époque hotels on the other. “If only the sun were shining, it would be perfect,” she said.
“It’s incredible during the film festival.” He smiled. “Someday we’ll come…”
Imagining it, she smiled, and then she remembered that would never happen. Still, she was glad they were past their quarrel.
A few minutes later they ran into a glamorous couple he knew. He introduced her. Not that either the man or the woman paid much attention to her. They were too busy taking turns insisting that they wanted to see more of Remy now that he’d come home for good.
The wind began to blow too briskly off the Mediterranean, so the man said a quick goodbye and would have gone, but his wife lingered. Pressing Remy’s arm in a familiar fashion, she said, “Why don’t we meet for drinks later?”
She didn’t let go of Remy. She was beautiful in her fine linen dress and gold jewelry, and Amelia began to feel plain in comparison and wished he’d decline. Instead, he said he’d missed seeing her and suggested an hour for them to meet at Jimmy’z in the Palais de Festivals.
“And if you see any of our old crowd, invite them, as well. The more the better,” he said. “I’ve been lonely for all of you, and I want our old crowd to meet Amelia.”
Why? Did he want to be with them or just avoid being alone with her? When the dark cloud passed over them uneventfully and the sun came out, he took her shopping in several trendy boutiques. He bought Chanel for her at Bouteille’s and Provençal olives for her at Cannolive. In both stores, the shop girls rushed to help him and stared at her as if fascinated.
“Did those girls know you?” she whispered when they were safely out of the second shop.
“Yes. They know my entire family.”
“Why did you take me there, then?”
“A man buys expensive presents for his mistress, n’est pas? Maybe I’m playing your little game.”
Too well, she thought, but just the same she would treasure his gifts when she was back in Oahu.
They came upon a flea market, and he laughed at her sudden enthusiasm and helped her bargain. Afterward, when she’d filled several shopping bags, he took her to the Palme d’Or on the first floor of the luxurious Hotel Martinez.
The haughty maître d’ made such a fuss over Amy that he soon had her blushing. The man even lavished kisses on her hand, which seemed to please Remy immensely. Then he showed them to a wonderful corner table with a magnificent view of the promenade.
Every dish was served with a flourish. Amy ate slowly, savoring each bite. She was amazed by how many people Remy knew. Glittering couples waved at him or stopped by his table and demanded to be introduced to Amy.
Remy was charming to all, but seeing how popular he was with such a glamorous set made Amy feel his elevated place in the world. He was a comte and a Grand Prix champion, a celebrity in his own right. She sold old clothes and barely made enough to cover her mortgage payments.
