“Barbara? Is that you?” I recognized the deep voice of the woman I’d met that morning.
“Yes, Margot. May I come in?”
“Of course. And thank you so much for coming. I do apologize for my impertinence, but I’m too tired to go downstairs and was looking for company.”
I walked from the entranceway, admiring the cream and gold of the suite’s color palette. It was more luxurious than mine, and larger, but that would be like saying Buckingham Palace was bigger and grander than Windsor Castle. It was all relative at the Ritz.
I turned in a circle, trying to determine where her voice was coming from, and was headed toward what looked like a bedroom door when Margot spoke again. “Would you mind pouring me a glass of water? My medications make me a bit parched, and I forgot to ask my nurse before she left.”
I spun toward the sound of the voice, finding myself facing an oversized upholstered chaise longue filled with satin cushions and blankets, and in the middle of it all the diminutive form of Margot Lemouron. Her head seemed even smaller against the giant lace pillow behind her, the skin on her face sallow against the white linen. Yet, despite the purple circles under her eyes, they had a light that was all their own. I wondered for a moment if that meant death was near, that each failure of the body was like candles being snuffed out one by one, until the only light left was in the eyes. It had been that way with Kit.
“Of course,” I said, hurrying to her side, where a water pitcher had been filled and placed next to an empty glass. “And I don’t think you’re impertinent at all. I, too, could use a little company.” This last wasn’t completely true, but it should have been. Diana said I spent far too much time alone. Not that she’d recommend I spend time with a possibly dying woman, but at least I was trying.
I handed her the glass and watched as she took several sips, noticing again the pallor of her skin. “Are you sure you’re up to talking? If you’d prefer to rest, I’m happy to just sit here and keep you company.” I recalled how Kit in the last months of his illness had been too tired to talk, but had wanted me nearby, as if my presence might somehow make it all less frightening.
“You are very kind, and you don’t even know me. I promise to let you know if I get tired.” She looked at me closely, her dark eyes penetrating. “I would much prefer to get to know you, although I feel as if we’re already old friends, no?”
“I have that sort of face. I suppose it makes it easy for me to make friends.”
“Perhaps.” She indicated the chair next to the bed. “Please do sit.”
I glanced at the small gold clock on the side table by her chair. “It’s four o’clock. Shall I order tea?”
“That would be wonderful, thank you.”
I ordered tea and had sat down again when I noticed three framed photographs on the dressing table across the room. “If this is where you sit the most, wouldn’t you like your photographs closer?”
“That is a very good idea, Barbara, and so thoughtful. I imagine you’re an excellent mother. You have children, no?”
“Three,” I said proudly as I walked toward the dresser to retrieve the frames. “Two boys and one girl.” I looked down at the pictures. “Are these your children?”
“Oui. I also have three—but two girls and one boy.”
“They are very good-looking children,” I said. The oldest two, a girl and a boy, were both dark-haired and seemed to be in their middle to late twenties. The youngest girl, in her early twenties, also had dark hair, but it was lighter than her siblings’。 Despite the difference in hair color, of the three she resembled their mother the most.
“Do they live here in France?” I asked as I arranged the frames on the small table.
Her face fell. “Sadly, no. They are in Canada. It is our home, and they have their lives there. I didn’t want them to fret while I was in Paris for treatment. My youngest daughter is still at university. They plan to visit at the end of term.”
“Something to look forward to, then,” I said, leaning over and adjusting the pillow behind her head. I noticed again how thin she was, how the veins in her hand were a startling blue against the whiteness of her skin. “Can I get you another blanket? Or perhaps a sweater?”
She laughed, bringing a welcome spot of color to her cheeks. “I’m perfectly fine, but thank you. The tea is here so if you would pour me a cup I would love to sit and listen to you tell me about your family.”