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“What is, exactly?” I asked. “Look, Mr. Caron, why are you asking me all this? You seem like a real gentleman, but these questions… Maybe I’m just a naive girl from Montana, but I’m really confused. Like maybe you’re actually some doomsday cult leader about to whisk me off to a dungeon in France or something.”
Lucien laughed heartily. “Oh, ma chère, you are a delightful young woman to indulge an old man these questions, so let me assure you they do have a purpose. A benevolent one. A lucrative one for you, perhaps.”
Oh God, he’s a pimp. Or a mob lord.Neither seemed true; there was nothing about Lucien that was threatening. I realized then that I’d been in New York for slightly less than five years and was already jaded. Even so, everyone knows it’s better to be safe than sorry.
I sipped my coffee, waiting.
“I am the executor of Grayson and Victoria Lake’s finances as pertains to their New York City investments, property, holdings, and…as of six months ago, I take care of the personal needs of their twenty-four-year-old son, Noah.”
“What’s his story?”
“Not a very good one, I’m afraid.” Lucien looked at me. “Have you not heard of Noah Lake?”
“Should I have?”
“I suppose not, unless you follow the events and news of what they call ‘extreme sports’?”
“You mean like snowboarding or dirt bike racing?”
“Yes and hang-gliding, rock-climbing, base-jumping…” Lucien set down his cappuccino cup with some finality. “Noah Lake was an avid participant in all manner of extreme sports and worked as a journalist for a magazine devoted to such endeavors. He was not content to merely report on the thrills and danger but participated as well.” His smile grew fond and reminiscent. “Always a daredevil, since childhood. There wasn’t a time I can remember where Noah wasn’t frightening his poor mother to her wit’s end with his stunts. It was no surprise to anyone that he made a career of it. A free spirit.” His smile slipped away. “Until the accident.”
I felt a lump form in my throat as my fertile imagination conjured up all sorts of terrible injuries to go with the bitter voice I’d heard the other day. “Was Noah hurt badly?”
Lucien looked at me directly, seriously. “Yes, Miss Conroy, he was.”
“What happened?”
The old gentleman’s face grew pinched, his blue eyes heavy. “He had been on assignment for the magazine he wrote for—Planet X. They sent him cliff diving in Mexico. Extraordinarily dangerous cliff diving, but Noah was experienced…and utterly fearless. However, on that last dive, he misjudged the depth of the water that received him and struck the back of his head on the jagged rock. He spent twelve days in a coma as a result.”
I gasped involuntarily. “Oh, no. Is he…paralyzed?” But the house had two flights of stairs and not a ramp in sight.
“He is not paralyzed. By some miracle he avoided permanent spinal damage.”
“That’s a relief.”
“He is, however, utterly blind.”
I sat back. “Blind.”
It sounded simple. Painless. Almost un-tragic, compared to the myriad debilitating injuries he could have wound up with.Or something worse. Like Chris…
I banished all thoughts of my brother and thought of Noah Lake. I tried to imagine what it would be like to have my sight stolen from me—thick black curtain coming down, blocking out the world’s colors, its views and lights, and the faces of those I loved.
“How awful.”
“Before we delve into those somewhat gruesome details, I come—at last—to the purpose behind this interview.” Lucien leaned forward, over the small table. “I see in you an industrious young woman, unafraid to speak her mind, yet with the heart and soul of an artist. A woman of thick skin and an unwillingness to surrender—for you must have both traits to suffer the competitive nature of your musical profession, oui?”
He spoke so kindly and was so considerate. I couldn’t let him go on thinking I was something that I wasn’t. I turned my coffee mug around and around, watching the black liquid swirl.
“I don’t play anymore, Mr. Caron. I haven’t auditioned in a year. Some things happened, and…” I glanced up at him. “I’m just telling you so that you don’t get the wrong idea about me.”
“I do respect such honesty,” he said gravely. “Nevertheless, I have high hopes for you.”
“High hopes for what?”
Lucien folded his hands on the table. “I would like you to become Noah’s next assistant. Not merely an assistant who runs errands and keeps house but a personal assistant in the truest sense of the phrase.”
I sat back, absorbing this. “Mr. Caron, I’m not qualified or trained to help a blind person.”
