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“I think so.”
“You’re young. Even if you don’t understand now, you will.”
I put down my silverware and looked at my watch. “I’d better get back up to our suite and get my husband moving.”
“Yes, good luck with that,” he said. “Try to get to Italy. There’s good shopping. I get most of my clothes and shoes there.”
“I will.”
I looked for the waitress.
“Oh, please. Let me pay the bill,” he said. “You’ve given me great pleasure, and besides, let a casino employee pick up a tab now. That’s only, how do you say, poetic justice?”
“Merci.” I stood up but paused. “Don’t you ever write or try to call your daughter?”
“I used to, but my angry ex-wife is not . . . how should I put it? Cooperative. This,” he added, “is my hole in my life, but I don’t fill it with false hope.”
“Keep trying,” I said. “I’m sure she’s worth the effort. Au revoir.”
He smiled. “Au revoir.”
As I walked away, I thought to myself that I hadn’t just met Henri Beaumont by accident. Cassie had sent him my way.
She was afraid that after marrying Ethan, I would stop thinking about my daughter.
Even here, thousands of miles from her grave, she was beside me. I was, after all, her resurrection, the only way she could come back to life.
Shutting her out would be like killing her again.
A Visit
ETHAN SLEPT AWAY the entire morning. I sat in the suite’s living room and watched some television, bitterly thinking that this was some way to spend a honeymoon. Finally, he rose, apologized, and went to take a shower. When he dressed and came out, he saw I was still angry, and he kept apologizing.
“I’ll make it up to you,” he promised. He got on his knees and kissed my hand, begging forgiveness. “I’m such an idiot. Here,” he said, handing me a flower from the vase on the table. “Give me twenty lashes.”
I couldn’t help but finally laugh. What else could I do but forgive him?
“Good,” he said, leaping to his feet. “Let’s go somewhere beautiful and have lunch.”
“What about a car?”
“Lucille’s travel agent made all the arrangements. We should have had a car delivered by now. The desk will have the keys.”
He was right. The car was waiting. I wanted to say that someday we’d have to do everything for ourselves and not depend on Lucille, but I was afraid to add any unpleasant thoughts or tone now. We would finally have a real honeymoon.
At lunch, I told him about the Frenchman I had met at the casino and at breakfast, Henri Beaumont. He didn’t seem to think much of it and didn’t pick up on anything when I talked about Beaumont missing his daughter.
“He called it the hole in his life.”
“Don’t worry. That won’t happen to us,” Ethan promised. “In fact, in fifty years, we’ll return to Monaco to celebrate a golden anniversary.”
“But you won’t go to the casino.”
“No,” he said. He raised his hand. “I’m cured. The only thing I’ll gamble on from here on is the weather.”
We had been directed to a beautiful restaurant up in a place called Eze that looked out over the ocean. It was like walking into a fantasy. The cobblestone streets, the quaint shops, and the scenery held our attention most of the day. Late in the afternoon, we drove back to the hotel and went to the pool, where we had cocktails and both dozed off. Claire Dubonnet had left a list of restaurants for us to try for dinner. One was at another hotel, La Reserve in Beaulieu-sur-Mer. Once again, we sat out on a patio and looked at the ocean.
It was a wonderful dinner, during which Ethan once again apologized for his actions and vowed to work harder at making our marriage a success. When he added “as successful as your father and Lucille’s marriage,” I felt my stomach tighten.
