say.”
“Please go, I don’t want you in my home,” Claire almost shouted, and she stamped her foot.
Laura was not only appalled but troubled. She had never seen Claire behave like this before.
Hercule said, “Perhaps it would be more appropriate to have this discussion inside the apartment rather than out here in the hallway.” He took a long stride into the foyer and carefully closed the front door of the apartment behind him. At the same time, he managed to give Philippe a gentle push into the room. Then he struggled out of his overcoat, which he hung in the coat closet.
Philippe spoke in a coaxing tone, making a last-ditch effort as he said, “Let me spend an hour with Natasha tomorrow. That’s all I ask.” Growing bolder suddenly, he took another step toward his former wife.
Claire backed away.
They glared at each other.
There was a sudden rush of immense dislike flowing between them like waves. It filled the room.
Hatred, Laura thought. They have only hatred for each other. How terrible that they should end up like this. Once they so loved each other, shared all their hopes and dreams, planned a future, a whole life together. Now they are embattled.
Natasha also felt the hostility flowing between her parents, and as always it dismayed and troubled her. But she managed to diffuse it to some extent by saying, “It’s okay, Mom. Coffee tomorrow is fine.”
“No!” Claire exclaimed. “I don’t want you to do this, Natasha, just to placate him.”
Natasha went and put her arm around her mother, who was so much smaller than she, and held her close, as if somehow protecting her. She couldn’t stand her mother’s pain. It broke her heart. “Mom, I don’t mind, honestly I don’t, and it’s better this way.”
Claire did not respond, simply leaned into her daughter, taking sudden comfort from her proximity, her warmth, and the love she exuded.
Looking across at her father, Natasha continued,
“Ten o’clock.
I’ll be ready. We can go to the café on the corner.”
Philippe nodded, and an unexpected smile struck his somber mouth. “Yes, that’s perfect, and thank you, Natasha. Thank you.” He cast a glance at Claire. “Is that all right with you? You’re not going to make problems tomorrow, are you?”
“Everything will be all right,” Natasha answered swiftly, suddenly in command here, in charge of this volatile situation. “I promise. No problems.”
Relieved, reassured by the oddly grown-up girl who was his daughter, Philippe relaxed a little. For a moment he gave his attention to Laura. “Nice seeing you the other day,” he murmured, and then nodded to Hercule. Knowing it was wise to disappear before Claire did indeed find a way to object to the date their daughter had made with him, he let himself out without further ado.
The moment he was gone, Claire pulled away from Natasha and swung her head to look at Laura. She frowned and said in a puzzled tone, “You
saw
him the other day?”
“I ran into him at the d’Orsay just before you arrived. He was looking at the Renoirs.”
“And you never told me when
I
got there … never told me he was in Paris. Why not?”
“I was going to, Claire darling, but then I decided against it. I realized you didn’t know Philippe was here, passing through, as he’d told me, otherwise you would have mentioned it
to
me. And to be honest, I didn’t want to upset you. Mentioning his name is like a red rag to a bull, you know that, and I was just … Well, I was waiting for you to tell me you’d had a phone call from him. But when you didn’t, I decided not to say anything. Obviously he hadn’t been in touch with you. Why open a can of worms?”
“Lying by omission,” Claire pronounced, her mouth drooping. “I can’t believe it,” she added in a low mutter.
“Oh, Claire, come on, don’t take exception like this,” Laura exclaimed. “It wasn’t lying by omission.” She cleared her throat. “Well, not really,” she now
“Please go, I don’t want you in my home,” Claire almost shouted, and she stamped her foot.
Laura was not only appalled but troubled. She had never seen Claire behave like this before.
Hercule said, “Perhaps it would be more appropriate to have this discussion inside the apartment rather than out here in the hallway.” He took a long stride into the foyer and carefully closed the front door of the apartment behind him. At the same time, he managed to give Philippe a gentle push into the room. Then he struggled out of his overcoat, which he hung in the coat closet.
Philippe spoke in a coaxing tone, making a last-ditch effort as he said, “Let me spend an hour with Natasha tomorrow. That’s all I ask.” Growing bolder suddenly, he took another step toward his former wife.
Claire backed away.
They glared at each other.
There was a sudden rush of immense dislike flowing between them like waves. It filled the room.
Hatred, Laura thought. They have only hatred for each other. How terrible that they should end up like this. Once they so loved each other, shared all their hopes and dreams, planned a future, a whole life together. Now they are embattled.
Natasha also felt the hostility flowing between her parents, and as always it dismayed and troubled her. But she managed to diffuse it to some extent by saying, “It’s okay, Mom. Coffee tomorrow is fine.”
“No!” Claire exclaimed. “I don’t want you to do this, Natasha, just to placate him.”
Natasha went and put her arm around her mother, who was so much smaller than she, and held her close, as if somehow protecting her. She couldn’t stand her mother’s pain. It broke her heart. “Mom, I don’t mind, honestly I don’t, and it’s better this way.”
Claire did not respond, simply leaned into her daughter, taking sudden comfort from her proximity, her warmth, and the love she exuded.
Looking across at her father, Natasha continued,
“Ten o’clock.
I’ll be ready. We can go to the café on the corner.”
Philippe nodded, and an unexpected smile struck his somber mouth. “Yes, that’s perfect, and thank you, Natasha. Thank you.” He cast a glance at Claire. “Is that all right with you? You’re not going to make problems tomorrow, are you?”
“Everything will be all right,” Natasha answered swiftly, suddenly in command here, in charge of this volatile situation. “I promise. No problems.”
Relieved, reassured by the oddly grown-up girl who was his daughter, Philippe relaxed a little. For a moment he gave his attention to Laura. “Nice seeing you the other day,” he murmured, and then nodded to Hercule. Knowing it was wise to disappear before Claire did indeed find a way to object to the date their daughter had made with him, he let himself out without further ado.
The moment he was gone, Claire pulled away from Natasha and swung her head to look at Laura. She frowned and said in a puzzled tone, “You
saw
him the other day?”
“I ran into him at the d’Orsay just before you arrived. He was looking at the Renoirs.”
“And you never told me when
I
got there … never told me he was in Paris. Why not?”
“I was going to, Claire darling, but then I decided against it. I realized you didn’t know Philippe was here, passing through, as he’d told me, otherwise you would have mentioned it
to
me. And to be honest, I didn’t want to upset you. Mentioning his name is like a red rag to a bull, you know that, and I was just … Well, I was waiting for you to tell me you’d had a phone call from him. But when you didn’t, I decided not to say anything. Obviously he hadn’t been in touch with you. Why open a can of worms?”
“Lying by omission,” Claire pronounced, her mouth drooping. “I can’t believe it,” she added in a low mutter.
“Oh, Claire, come on, don’t take exception like this,” Laura exclaimed. “It wasn’t lying by omission.” She cleared her throat. “Well, not really,” she now
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