The Life She Wanted: A Novel(68)

After they finished preparing the veal, Maurice bicycled into the village, and Pandora went upstairs to get settled. She felt awkward choosing their rooms. At the house parties she attended in Hyde Park, the hostess assigned the appropriate guest rooms. But Maurice assured her that’s how it was done. She offered to squeeze into one room with Sally and Esme, but Maurice said because it was March, the villa was half empty.

In the late afternoon Pandora sat on a stone bench in the garden. Everything was different from Summerhill or Riverview. Even the gardens. At home, every inch of garden was designed by landscape architects and featured pergolas and manicured hedges. Suzanne’s garden looked almost wild, with overgrown thorny rosebushes and a shed that leaned over so far Pandora was afraid it would fall.

The temperature was cooler than she had anticipated, so she wrapped herself in her coat. Suddenly she felt homesick; she wished she hadn’t come. If she were at Summerhill, she could talk to her father or she could go into New York and see Virginia. Willie had been supportive of her going to Europe. The South of France was so healing, and Suzanne was a gracious hostess. But she missed him. Perhaps she would write to Milton and say it was a mistake, that she and Esme belonged in Hyde Park. She didn’t want to stay in a house full of strangers so far from home.

A woman appeared at the gate. She wore a sleeveless white blouse and a skirt that stopped just below the knees. She had a cardigan wrapped around her waist, and she wore lace-up canvas shoes. At first Pandora didn’t think it was Suzanne. No one dressed like that to play tennis. Women wore skirts with petticoats that covered their calves and ruffled blouses with little jackets. Then she recognized the headband tied around her dark, wavy hair. Suzanne was famous for le bandeau. Women all over Europe copied the look.

“Pandora!” Suzanne kissed her on both cheeks. “Look at you! The last time I saw you, you were a gangly teenager. Now you’re a beautiful young woman and a mother. I don’t know how you do it.”

“The mothering part is easy,” Pandora said, relieved that Suzanne had finally appeared. “Sally, the nanny, is a great help, and Esme is an easy child.”

“I don’t have the patience to be a mother.” Suzanne sat beside her. “I can barely look after my goat.”

“You have a goat?” Pandora’s eyes widened.

“Most people on the Riviera keep farm animals.” Suzanne shrugged. “Goats are playful, and they produce the tastiest cheese. You’ll see; we’ll have some at dinner.”

Pandora realized she was hungry. She hadn’t eaten anything since the taxi stopped in the square.

“It sounds delicious,” Pandora said. “We traveled all day; I’m hungry.”

“I should have sent someone to pick you up in Nice,” Suzanne apologized. “You can help yourself to anything in the kitchen.”

“I was already asked to help prepare dinner,” Pandora said with a smile. “I breaded the veal.”

“That must have been Maurice,” Suzanne offered. “He’s an excellent chef. He trained at the Cordon Bleu school in Paris, but he doesn’t want anyone to know.”

“Why not?” Pandora wondered.

“He’s afraid he’ll have to turn it into a proper job, and he doesn’t like to be tied down.” Suzanne’s tone became gentle. “I want to talk about you. Your father wrote and told me about Harley. I hope you don’t mind that he told me.”

Tears stung Pandora’s eyes, and she glanced down at her wedding ring. She hadn’t taken it off.

“Of course not.” She shook her head. “Everyone knows; it was in all the newspapers.”

“I can’t tell you how sorry I am. To lose your husband and Esme’s father is unthinkable. You’re too young and lovely to be a widow.” Suzanne squeezed her hand. “The Riviera is the best place to heal; it’s been healing people for ages. One can’t walk on the beach or visit the casino in Monte Carlo or go shopping in Nice without being grateful to be alive.”

Pandora felt her emotions well up like the rain in the gutter after a storm. She had promised herself she would be strong for Esme. There was nothing she could do about the past.

“I’m not ready for those sorts of things,” Pandora replied. “I’m happy to just stay here and read and play with Esme.”

“I know a little of what you’re feeling.” Suzanne tugged at her bandeau. “I lived in Paris until I was eleven. Then my younger brother, Marcel, became ill, and my parents moved us to the South of France. My brother died, and my father started taking me to the tennis club. From the moment I picked up a tennis racquet, I was happy,” Suzanne finished. “Life has a way of surprising you.”

“It’s not just Harley,” Pandora reflected, “though of course that’s most of it. I was also about to open my own boutique. I don’t know when I’ll have the strength to do it again.”

“You will,” Suzanne assured her. “When the war began, Wimbledon and the French Open were canceled. All the young men were away fighting the Germans. After the war ended, I realized in a way it had been a blessing. I spent those four years practicing, and I met your father. Before him, I was a good player, and he made me great.”

“I’m being a terrible guest,” Pandora said guiltily. “I haven’t thanked you. You’re so good to take us in; I’m very grateful.”