She thanked him. “It’s a wonderful offer. I’ll certainly think about it.”
Suzanne was asleep in the living room when Pandora returned to the villa. Pandora was hungry and went to the kitchen to find something to eat. Maurice sat at the kitchen table. A tray held a bowl of soup and a large chunk of bread.
“Pandora.” He looked up from his soup. “Where have you been? Everyone else went to the village for dinner.”
“I was visiting,” Pandora remarked. “I’m hungry; I haven’t eaten all day.”
“I made vichyssoise. It’s served cold, with crusty bread.” He pointed at the bowl. “I used a version of my grandmother’s recipe. She believes that food is the best way to mend a broken heart. It really works.”
“It sounds delicious.” She sat down. “Is your heart broken?”
Maurice filled a bowl with soup. He placed it in front of Pandora.
“Perhaps only bruised, not broken,” he assured her. “Suzanne told you that Nanette and I were engaged.”
Pandora flushed slightly. She picked up her spoon.
“Suzanne shouldn’t have mentioned it; it’s none of my business.”
“Nanette and I have been on and off for years,” he said with a shrug. “She’s like those Band-Aids you have in America. Whenever you try to peel one off, it makes the wound worse. Nanette feels the same about me. Nanette was staying in Montpellier, I went there to finish it for good.”
“Why are you telling me?” she wondered.
Maurice placed his spoon on the table. He leaned forward and touched her hand.
“Because the first week you were here, all I wanted was to kiss you,” he replied. “I couldn’t even consider it unless I was free.”
Pandora pulled her hand away. She tried to think if Maurice had given any clues that he was interested in her. There had been the day when they went swimming in the ocean. Afterward, he lay the towels down next to each other. He looked so handsome in his bathing suit, but she hadn’t let herself think about him in that way.
And there was the attention he paid to her when they prepared meals together. He had stood so close when he showed her how to slice vegetables and mix a salad. She had thought he was simply teaching her the French way to cook.
“You should have asked me first. I’m a recent widow.” Her voice was slow and careful. “I would have told you to stay with Nanette.”
“I wouldn’t have listened to you. Nanette and I were wrong for each other,” Maurice rejoined. “Young widows can be lonely as well as beautiful.”
“Well, you made a mistake,” she said lightly. “I’m not interested in finding a man.”
They ate the rest of the meal in a new silence. Maurice brought out a lamb cutlet, and they shared a pear from the garden for dessert. After Pandora helped with the dishes, she went upstairs. Esme was asleep in her crib; Sally dozed on the bed beside her.
She entered her room and sat at the dressing table. The moon was bright, and she could hear frogs in the garden. Suzanne said she should decide what she wanted and go out and get it. And Jean Patou said that as long as she believed in herself, she couldn’t fail.
She took out her notebook and made a list of what she wanted.
She wanted not to rely on anyone—not Milton or Adele or even her father—for money or her well-being.
She wanted something of her own, something that she was passionate about.
And she wanted to make Esme proud of her.
Pandora stopped writing and gazed out the window. She had told Maurice that she wasn’t interested in men. But Harley was dead, and nothing would bring him back. She couldn’t help but think about the night she spent with Archie.
She picked up the pen and added one more line.
She wanted to experience the pleasures of being a woman.
The living room was empty when she went back downstairs. Maurice was still sitting at the kitchen table with a book and a glass of cognac.
“I thought you went to bed.” He looked up from his book.
His eyes were a golden shade of hazel. And his hair looked soft under the kitchen’s light.
“I did. I wanted to do something first.” She walked over to him.
She reached down and kissed him. It was a tentative kiss, her lips gently touching his mouth. He pulled her close, and the kiss grew deeper. She leaned into him, crushing her breasts against his chest.
“Pandora, I want you so much,” he breathed, kissing her neck. He ran his hands over her blouse and buried his face in her hair.
She pulled away and wiped her mouth on her palm. She wasn’t ready to make love to another man. A kiss was all she wanted for now.
A bright, tingling feeling started at her toes and traveled through her body. “Not tonight; I hope you understand. Good night, Maurice. Thank you for the soup.”
Chapter Eighteen
June 1929, Beaulieu-sur-Mer, France
Suzanne had told Pandora that June in Beaulieu-sur-Mer was the loveliest month of the year, and she was right.
On a day in late June, Pandora sat at a table in front of the Hôtel Métropole with Sally and Esme. Guests came in and out of the glass doors, holding small dogs and carrying boxes of resort wear bought at the boutiques. For lunch she ordered pâté followed by moules marinières （steamed mussels with white wine） and plateau de fromage （a plate of French cheeses）—Brie and Camembert—for dessert.
Pandora sipped her lemonade, and for the first time since Harley died, she felt happy. The last two months had passed in a blur. Mornings, she sat by the swimming pool and worked on her sportswear sketches followed by lunch with Sally and Esme. In the afternoons, she watched Suzanne play tennis or took long walks in the hills. The evenings were usually filled with lively dinners at Suzanne’s dining room table.
And there was Maurice. Their relationship hadn’t progressed past passionate sessions on afternoon picnics and long nights of kissing and embracing. Every time Pandora decided she wanted more, for Maurice’s mouth to travel down her thighs instead of stopping at her breasts, for his hands to undress her instead of opening just a few buttons on her blouse, something stopped her.
It wasn’t that she was waiting for a commitment or even for Maurice to tell her that he loved her. For the first time in her life, she was enjoying the anticipation of sex. There was no rush; it would happen soon.
One of her favorite days on the Riviera was the day Maurice surprised her with an excursion to Baroness Eugenie Rothschild’s Villa Ephrussi in Cap Ferrat. They started by choosing picnic items at the outdoor market in place Marinoni. They bought tomatoes and Italian olive oil and the traditional socca, pancakes made with chickpeas. Maurice was never more animated than when he introduced her to new foods. He reminded Pandora of Archie when he had told her his dreams of becoming a professor at Princeton.
Archie hadn’t written again. She hoped he was happy; she missed him. The more time that passed, the more she wondered if she should tell Archie that Esme was his daughter. Being with Maurice and enjoying the attentions of a man had shaken something loose in her. It was time to put the memories of her childhood aside and not base her actions on her mother. Just because Laura had abandoned Pandora didn’t mean that Archie would do the same to Esme. Laura hadn’t wanted the lifestyle that Willie could afford, and she was willing to leave Pandora because of it. But Archie’s situation was completely different. And Archie could teach Esme so much about life.