Precious Gifts (6 page)

“You'll hear from me about this!” he said menacingly to Véronique and the girls. “This isn't the end of it, not by a long shot.” Then he strode out of the conference room and slammed the door, as the girls sat silently.

It had been a day of shocks and surprises at their father's hands, for Véronique as much as the rest of them. The announcement of his illegitimate daughter was far more astounding and upsetting to them than anything Bertie could have said, or his being left out of the will, which had amazed them, too. They had assumed that Bertie would get part of whatever their father had. But they had never expected him to be left nothing, and a new sister to appear. Véronique still looked pale and was shaken to her core, as the girls began speaking all at once and asked Arnold about Sophie.

And then Arnold called them to order again. There was more. “ ‘And to my ex-wife Véronique, whom I love deeply and who is the most extraordinary woman I know, I leave my love, my heart, our memories, and a request. The request is that she begin painting again. You have enormous talent, and should go back to your artwork. In addition, I bequeath to you the painting that we bought on our honeymoon in Venice, thought to be by Bellini, but never authenticated, which you thought was a fraud. We both loved the painting whatever its value or lack of it. You promised to pursue its provenance and never did. If it is worthless, I hope that it will bring back happy memories for you, as it does for me. I have enjoyed it for all these years.' ” She had relinquished it to him somewhat reluctantly in the divorce, because of its sentimental value to her. But Paul had wanted it even more, so she had let him keep it. “ ‘And if it proves to be a true Bellini, I leave it to you with joy as a valuable gift, which is far less than you deserve for all you've done for me over these many years. In addition, I apologize to you from my heart for the revelation of a child you knew nothing about. Please believe me when I say that I never loved her mother as I did you. You were always my only true love. I am sorry I was such a fool in my lifetime. I love you although I was never the husband you deserved.' ”

Arnold looked at them, and saw that Véronique was in tears. “And then he signed it,” he said quietly, as Véronique discreetly blew her nose. Paul had shown far greater insights in death, about his children, and even about her, than he had shown in his lifetime. And Véronique thought he would do the girls some good with his bequests, and Bertie, too. She wondered if Bertie would try to overturn the will, although Paul was under no obligation to leave him anything. Unlike French law, in America he didn't have to leave his children any part of his estate, and he had eloquently explained why he hadn't left anything to Bertie. It touched her, too, that he had left her the Bellini, a reminder of their good times together, and their passionate beginning, although she still didn't believe it was real. That had never really mattered to either of them—they just loved it, and had fallen in love with it when they first saw it. And she was touched that he thought she should paint again. She had considered it many times herself since the girls had grown up, but never got around to it. And she didn't know if she would now or not. It was so many years since she'd painted and it was hard to start again. And they had far more important issues to discuss and think about now, like Sophie Agnès Marnier. The girls wanted to know everything about her from Arnold, and were extremely upset, understandably, not about her share of the estate, but about the very fact that she existed, and that their father had never told them about his love child. It was shocking news to them now, and they couldn't question him about it, only Arnold.

Arnold said that she lived near St. Paul de Vence, near the château, which was how Paul had met her mother, and that, as far as he knew, Paul had not seen Sophie or her mother in thirteen or fourteen years. He had done little to help her, which was why he wanted to do so now. And he had pushed her from his mind, until he began examining his conscience closer to his death. His adding her to his will had been an afterthought. Arnold said he knew nothing else about her except an address, which they had verified for the purposes of the will. Paul had not contacted her or her mother before his death, and Véronique found herself thinking that he had walked away from his obligations and responsibilities to her, too, just as he had done with everything else, although he had tried to repair some of the damage posthumously.

As they left Arnold's office, Timmie suggested they have dinner together, and Joy volunteered to postpone her flight until the next day. Getting back to the restaurant was no longer crucial since the reading of the will. She was going to be able to quit when she went back and focus only on her career for the first time in five years. And they had much to discuss and think about, and decide what to do about the château. They each had a project that their father had funded with his bequests. And they wanted to discuss what to do about Sophie. They owned a château with her now. Arnold said he would be sending her a copy of the will, and her share of the bequests.

They all agreed to dinner that night, and Véronique as well. They arranged to meet at Da Silvano, near Timmie's apartment, at eight o'clock. And as Véronique rode back to her apartment alone in a cab after the meeting, she was still devastated about the discovery of Sophie and her mother. She couldn't help thinking that even after he died, Paul had managed to hurt her again, deeply, by revealing an affair that had happened during their marriage, and a child whom she had never known about. It was a good reminder of who he had really been, and the sort of man he was. Selfish and narcissistic, he had done whatever he wanted, no matter who it hurt, or the damage it did later. And the only person he had really cared about during his entire life was himself.

V
éronique took a cab downtown to Da Silvano, and arrived on time, at eight o'clock. Joy and Timmie arrived right before her, and Juliette shortly after. They took a table outside in the warm July night, and Timmie ordered wine as soon as they sat down. It had been a long, shocking, emotional day, and the discoveries of the morning had unnerved them all. Along with the thoughtfulness and insights of their father's bequests to them, and the freedom it would give each of them to pursue their dreams, he had decked them with the revelation of his illegitimate child. Not to mention Bertie's menacing outburst and accusation that his being left out of the will was somehow due to them and not to his own behavior for the past twenty years. They had lost a brother and gained a sister in a matter of minutes, and they were pleased at neither one, although the existence of Sophie Marnier upset them far more. They had all given up on Bertie years before.

“Well, girls, so how's everyone feeling about our new baby sister tonight?” Timmie said sarcastically after her first sip of wine. It had haunted her all day, and she was worried about their mother, who still looked deathly pale. The thought of it had tormented her since their meeting in Arnold's office that morning.

“I guess I'm not the baby anymore, and never was, or not for long,” Joy said, looking glum. She knew it was stupid, but it bothered her. Her father's dishonesty about it had upset them all. “Her mother must be some kind of gold digger, and now they luck out and wind up with a quarter of the château. What if Sophie stops us from selling it?” Joy said, looking seriously worried.

Véronique shook her head. “She can't do that,” she said sensibly. “You girls outnumber her three to one. The majority will rule in any decision to sell. There was nothing in your father's will about needing a unanimous vote to dispose of the château. Her ownership is technical and fiduciary. It just means she'll get a quarter of whatever you sell it for, which probably won't be much. I doubt that he's maintained it properly for all these years, and it was never Versailles.” It had been a pretty country château, in good order when she owned it. It had been impeccably maintained until she turned it over to him, and neglected ever since. He hadn't mentioned or thought of it in years, and had lost interest in it very quickly once it was his to maintain and run. Taking care of it properly would have required too much work, and money he didn't have or didn't wish to spend on a property in France he never used. It was typically Paul. Out of sight, out of mind. And out of pocket, even more so.

“Well, I can tell you right now, I want to sell it,” Timmie said without hesitation after they ordered dinner. “The last thing I need is part ownership in a château in France, and all the headaches that go with it. It sounds like a money pit to me.”

“It always was,” Véronique confirmed, and she knew it made no sense for her daughters to keep it. The only time they went to France now was for a week in the summer to visit her, and they weren't even coming this year. Their days of vacationing together seemed to be over. Their lives were too separate now, with different schedules, obligations, and needs. And keeping a château, with all its upkeep, for a few days a year was absurd.

“I don't want a château in France either,” Joy said, with a look of panic. “I need to work in L.A. and go to auditions. I don't even live on the East Coast, and it's too hard to get to from L.A. Besides, I can't afford it.” More important, she didn't want to.

“Don't you think we should at least see it before we decide?” Juliette said cautiously. None of them had been there in twenty years and had only vague memories of it from their childhood. “Maybe it's worth hanging on to. We could rent it out, which would give us income to maintain it, and maybe even make a profit, which we could all use.”

“After we pour a fortune into it,” Timmie said, sounding definite about it. “I'm not going to spend what Dad left me to start a safe house or homeless shelter on a château in France I'll never use.” And Joy felt the same way.

“I want to take a look at it before we sell it,” Juliette persisted. “I could go over in August, since the shop will be closed.” She had decided to stay closed for the rest of July and all of August, because of her father's death, so she had time on her hands. She looked pointedly at her younger sister then. “Will you come with me?” It was obvious that Timmie wasn't going to leave her clients to look at a château in the South of France. And her mind was made up about selling it, sight unseen, whatever condition it was in.

“I don't know. Maybe. If I'm not working,” Joy said vaguely. All she could think about now were the auditions she would go to, and the parts she might get, especially with a new agent and manager, thanks to her father.

“What about you, Mom?” Juliette wanted to organize a reconnaissance trip. She had been thinking about it all afternoon.

“I could meet you there,” Véronique said thoughtfully. She had never expected to see the place again, and had memories there. It would be bittersweet for her.

“What about Sophie?” Juliette inquired. “I think we should meet her, too.” Both her sisters and her mother looked shocked at what she said. “We should find out who we're dealing with, and she's our sister after all.”

“Half-sister,” Timmie corrected her with a stern look, in deference to their mother. She had felt sorry for her that morning when the truth came out about their father's love child and affair. It was so typical of him to just drop it on them after he had checked out, instead of having the guts to tell them when he was alive. And such a rotten thing to do to their mother, particularly after his death. He had managed to shatter even her last shred of faith in their marriage. Timmie viewed it as a huge slap in Véronique's face. With one hand he had given each of them their dream, and with the other hand he had taken away all hope of respecting him as a husband and father.

And Timmie especially hated the pain she saw in her mother's eyes now. It wasn't just loss, it was betrayal, which was worse. She wasn't close to her mother, and Timmie wasn't a warm person. But she respected her and was loyal and hated this final blow to her. The painting he had left her out of sentiment was no compensation for what he'd done.

“I don't want to meet her,” Timmie said bluntly about Sophie, and Joy looked pensive as she thought about it. She loved her mother, but a newly discovered sister could not be ignored.

“I don't know if I do or not. What if she's awful, or tries to get more money from the estate?” Joy said, looking worried.

“That would be Bertie,” Timmie said drily. “I don't think he's going to take what Dad did lying down. We haven't heard the last of him yet. All we need now are two of them on our necks. One here and one in France.”

“Can you have her checked out, Mom?” Joy said sensibly.

“I suppose I could call a detective service. It shouldn't be too hard to find something out.” She was worried that Sophie and her mother might expect more from them, although they had never contacted her or the girls or gone after Paul legally. If they had, she would have known about it. And he had admitted in his will that he had never done anything for her until now. But it still wouldn't hurt to discover more about them, and Véronique was curious, too—how long the affair had gone on, and how they'd met. It still shocked her that she'd never learned about it or even suspected it. She hadn't heard a word about Elisabeth Marnier and their child. And it was hard to accept even now. “I'll make some calls when I go back.”

Once that was settled, they continued talking about their father's will, and the unusual gifts he had left them. They were grateful for the opportunities he was giving them, but with the discovery of their unknown half-sister, they had mixed feelings, and it was all very bittersweet.

“It's kind of a crazy will,” Joy commented, but he had tailored what he left each of them to their specific needs, which showed a rare insight for him.

“Bertie certainly thought so,” Timmie said with a grin, and they all laughed, even their mother, as they discussed what an ugly scene it had been in Arnold's office, only moments after they had been told about Sophie.

“I think I went into shock,” Juliette admitted, more relaxed after the wine and a good dinner.

“Yeah, me, too,” Joy seconded.

Véronique sighed. She had certainly been shocked, and deeply hurt when she heard how old his hidden daughter was, and when she'd been born. “Maybe she's a nice girl,” she said, trying to be generous, but unconvinced.

“Not likely, knowing the kind of women he went out with,” Timmie said, which they all knew was true. He hadn't had a serious or worthwhile relationship with a decent woman since Véronique. It was all about his ego and their looks. He had been sixty when they divorced, and Timmie said he would have married again if he had found a woman with enough money, but his reputation preceded him by then. No one had wanted to marry him after Véronique, which she knew was true. And he was having too much fun, and living too well on her settlement to care.

They ended the meal with vague plans to meet in France in August, depending on what their mother was able to find out about the Marniers. But they agreed that they needed to see the château, to make a good decision about it, except for Timmie, who staunchly said she wanted out no matter what, even if it turned out to look like Versailles.

Juliette still wanted to see it, and Joy said she'd come along for the ride, if she wasn't working, but agreed with Timmie. She didn't want the responsibility or expense of a château in France. It sounded like a nightmare to her.

“When are you going back, Mom?” Timmie asked her as they left the restaurant.

“I don't know yet. In a few days, I guess.” She had taken all her things from the house in St. Tropez when she left, so she didn't need to go back for the rest of the rental, but she had nothing to do in New York, and she realized that she wanted to go back to Europe for the rest of the summer. She had no firm plans, but maybe Paris in July and August wouldn't be so bad, even if it was quiet. She wasn't in a festive mood now anyway. And Paris seemed better than New York, which was stifling.

“What about the painting Dad left you?” Juliette asked her. They had spent the entire dinner talking about Bertie, Sophie, and the château. “Is it real?”

“I never thought so,” Véronique said quietly. “Sometimes it's hard to tell with Renaissance paintings like that. It could have been painted by one of his students, several of them in the school, the master himself, or a clever forger. I always meant to research it, but I never did. And your father took it when he left. It's a very handsome painting even if it's a fake.” Véronique looked wistful as she said it. After the reading of the will, the memories it evoked were too poignant now.

“You should check it out,” Joy said gently, feeling more tender toward her mother after that morning. Her mother hadn't made a single unpleasant comment about her father helping her with her career. She respected his decisions and was too shaken by the discovery of Sophie. It had had the effect of uniting her and the three girls. Whatever their differences, they were forgotten now, faced with something far more serious, and a common enemy they were all prepared to despise. Not to mention Bertie, who had declared war on all four of them. They had enemies on all sides.

“Maybe I will research the painting,” Véronique said, looking tired. “I could go to Italy for a while instead of France.” She always loved spending time in Rome, Florence, and Venice, visiting museums and churches. She thought about it again when she went home that night, but she also wanted to hire a detective in Paris to investigate the Marnier women. That was a priority to her now, for herself and the girls. She had much to think about.

She decided what she wanted to do the next morning. Arnold called her to see how she was, and apologized for what a shock she must have had at the reading of the will the day before.

“I begged him to tell you himself,” Arnold said gently, “but he wouldn't. He wanted me to handle it for him. He wasn't good about things like that.” Arnold sighed. They both knew it was true. Paul only did what was easy, never what was hard.

“It doesn't matter now,” Véronique said graciously, wishing it were true. But it did matter to her, and had left a bad taste in her mouth about who he was. He had disappointed her once too often, and hurt his children this time, too, in spite of the thoughtful way he had disposed of his estate. And then she remembered something she wanted to ask Arnold after her conversation with the girls the night before. “Can you get me a photograph of the painting he left me? I'm sure he has one in a file somewhere.”

“I can have the painting delivered to you fairly soon,” he said helpfully, but she wasn't ready for that. It was a very large painting, and she had no space for it on her walls. She would have to move some other things to make room, and she didn't know if she wanted to do that, particularly for a fake, if it was. And it evoked conflicting emotions now of hurt and tender memories that were long past.

“I'd rather just have a photograph for now. I'll have to put it in storage anyway.”

“I'll take a look,” he promised. “Would you like me to give you the photograph over dinner?” he asked hopefully. He never gave up.

“To be honest, I'm still too upset. You gave us a lot to digest yesterday. And I'm going to leave for France in a few days. I need to get organized and pack.” She wasn't in the mood to fend off Arnold's gentle, persistent advances. “I'm going to hire a detective in Paris to investigate the two Marnier women for the girls,” she told him, to change the subject, and he said he thought it was a good idea, and promised to get her the photograph of the alleged Bellini before she left.