“I’d like to know what the fees will be for the surgery, so I have some idea. I can send a bank wire before I come over.”
He sounded serious when he answered. “Dr. Dennis and I discussed it after you left, Véronique. None of this should ever have happened to you. There is a terrible injustice about it. We’re going to do the surgery for free. We both want to do that. It’s our Christmas gift to you. You’ll have to pay for the hospital stay, but our fees and the use of a guest apartment are a gift. We can discuss fees for the next time, but this one’s on us.” She was stunned and had tears in her eyes.
“I don’t know how to thank you. You were both so kind to me today. I’m really excited about the surgery.”
“It won’t be perfect,” he reminded her, so her expectations wouldn’t be unrealistic, “but we think you’ll be happy with the result. You’ll need to come in the day before for some lab work. So we’ll see you on December twenty-first.”
“Thank you, with all my heart,” she said, and ran for her plane after she hung up. There were still truly good human beings in the world, and clearly the two doctors she had met thanks to Doug were among them. She felt as though she were flying herself when the plane took off. After that, she slept all the way to Paris. It had been a fantastic visit to New York.
Chapter 10
After feeling euphoric when she left New York, her arrival in Paris was harder than she’d anticipated. She let herself into the apartment at noon and unconsciously expected to see her mother come out of her bedroom, or hear her in the kitchen, making coffee and something to eat. It was a Saturday and she should have been home. Instead, the apartment was dark and empty, the shades were drawn, and there was silence. It was crushing it was so quiet, and the reality that her mother was gone hit her all over again. Her heart felt like a lead weight in her chest as she put her suitcase down in her own room, and walked around the apartment, looking for some sign of life. There was none. There was silence and darkness everywhere, and the weather outside was gray.
She sat down in the kitchen, trying not to cry, and her cellphone rang. She hesitated, and then answered it. The caller had used a blocked number, so she had no idea who it was, but it was a relief to hear a human voice. She was startled to hear that it was a Swedish model she knew and hadn’t seen in two years.
“It’s Ulla,” she said exuberantly, and Véronique was sorry she’d answered. They had never been friends. “How are you? I’m finally working again. I had twins, but I’m back now. I just thought I’d say hello. Are you very busy?” She was a nice enough girl, but Véronique had never been close to her and had no idea why she had called her.
“Actually, I’m not modeling anymore. I took some time off.”
“Pregnant?” she asked, laughing.
“No, I just needed some time off. I just got back from New York.”
“I’d love to see you. My mother is keeping the twins for two weeks, so I could take some jobs here. I missed Fashion Week. How was it?”
“I don’t know. I wasn’t here.” She had been, but she’d been hiding.
“I had to have my breasts done after the twins. Nursing is a disaster. I won’t make that mistake again. And it took me a year to lose the weight. But it was nice being at home in Sweden with my mother.” Véronique assumed that Ulla wasn’t married to the twins’ father. “I couldn’t have done it without her. I’m going to have some work done on my face when I’m here. I need fillers, and I’m doing Botox shots now. I’ve been doing some fantastic electro massages on my face in Sweden. It’s almost like a facelift.” Ulla was twenty-nine years old, and was approaching the end of her career. Already, before she’d left, she’d been getting fewer calls, and the demand for her had dwindled. She had been spectacular looking at seventeen, but twelve years later less so.
They talked for a few minutes, and Véronique got off the phone as gracefully as she could. The conversation reminded her of what Doug had said about how tired he was of girls obsessed with their weight and their age, getting Botox shots at twenty-two, and fillers, and surgery, enlarging or reducing their breasts, starving to keep their weight down, and terrified they would get a line or a wrinkle. It seemed an insane way to live, and totally narcissistic. It was all that most of them talked about. Véronique was twenty-two and had been at the height of her career, but in five years that might not be true. She missed the fabulous jobs for Dior and Chanel, walking in their shows, being on the cover of Vogue, photographed by every famous photographer in the world. But how long did it last and what did it mean? And what happened to all of them when it was over?