“I believe so,” she said quietly. “For now I would like a legal separation that officially acknowledges the fact that we’re not living together, and I don’t want him staying at the house, or even pretending he is to my children. We can always get divorced later. I see it happening more in stages, at least that’s what’s comfortable for me.” She wanted her freedom, but at a dignified pace, which she thought would be better for the children too. They had all been shocked enough.
“We can start the wheels turning now for a legal separation. We can always turn it into a divorce,” the lawyer said. Nadia knew that she needed time each step of the way to adjust, as the air got thinner. Like mountain climbing. For now, she realized that she could handle it better, and not panic, if they did it in stages. They still had money and custody to work out, and she knew that Nicolas wasn’t ready to discuss that either. She thought she might do better with him with the sensitive issues after the baby, rather than stressing him out even more while he was already unnerved about having a baby with a woman he barely knew. He said he had been in love with Pascale at first, but Nadia wasn’t so sure. He was enamored with Pascale, and wanted her body, even pregnant. He had never seen a more gorgeous female body, but that was very different. She had a mouth and a mind and ideas which conflicted with his, even though he was choosing to ignore it so he could be with her. But to Nadia, his relationship with Pascale seemed more like lust than love.
The separation she wanted wasn’t a solution to everything, but she felt better after she saw the lawyer. They were on a path now, moving slowly, but there was nonetheless some slight but definite forward movement toward the dissolution of their marriage.
She felt strangely peaceful that night, and in the morning she went back to work on her proposal to Gregory Holland. True to her extraordinary work ethic, Nadia was ready for him the following Saturday when she met him at the house. She had a beautifully put-together proposal, with just enough options, but not so many she’d confuse him. She had good instincts with most of her clients about where that line was, particularly with men, who couldn’t tolerate too many decorating choices before their minds turned to mush and they refused everything to escape making any decisions.
Gregory Holland was not afraid of making decisions. He made them every day in his office. Nadia handed him the folder and they sat on the stairs leading up to his bedroom and study. He asked very few questions and said nothing as he went through it. There were fabric samples attached throughout, paint chips, and photographs of paint finishes she thought would make the rooms more interesting and give them some texture. He looked at her when he was finished and handed it back to her. She wasn’t sure what that meant for a minute. If he was rejecting her proposal in its entirety or felt too confused to choose anything.
“Fabulous,” he said, as he sat close to her on the stairs.
“What part?” she asked him.
“All of it. You’re a genius.” And he had glanced at her fee estimate without comment.
“Can we pick some options?” she asked him cautiously, and handed the folder back to him. They went through it item by item, while he selected his favorite in each case. The process was fast, simple, and efficient, and in several instances, he loved all of her suggestions. She had never had a client as easy to deal with. In less than half an hour they were finished, including the explanation of why she thought some of the options would work well. And he thought her gray flannel guest room was the epitome of chic. He had even picked several upholstered pieces, large couches for the living room, oversized chairs in dark green leather for his study, and a dining table that seated thirty. With the choices he’d made, the house was going to have a decidedly masculine look, which suited him. He had emailed her images of the art he was having shipped from New York. They were all from major artists, Rothko, Pollock, Warhol, and a stunning Picasso they were going to put in the living room.
“I don’t think I’ve ever been able to do this part of the process as quickly,” she said, smiling at him as they left the house. “It’s terrific. I’ll get everything ordered by Monday.” She hadn’t promised him, but she was promising herself to have his house finished by Christmas, which was only three months away. She had given him a date further out, so he wouldn’t be disappointed if everything didn’t arrive as quickly as she hoped, or if they ran into problems or delays.
“You’re a whiz, Nadia,” he said admiringly. “Do you have time for lunch?” It was a rainy Saturday, and both of her girls were out with friends. She had begun to organize her Saturdays for their morning meetings.
“Actually, I do,” she said easily.
“Do you like Costes?” It was trendy and popular, a lot of fashion people and models went there, and they had a year-round covered garden and good food. It was only about a block away from the Ritz in a small boutique hotel. The restaurant was jammed most of the time, and particularly during any of the fashion weeks. It was fun people-watching there.
“I like it a lot.” You could have anything from a salad to a major meal, and the food was more international than just French, so Americans loved it.
When they got to the hotel, there was music playing in the hallway leading to the restaurant, and the garden looked bright and cheery under a canvas canopy. The outdoor space was heated, as dozens of sexy young waitresses buzzed around in miniskirts waiting on tables. The headwaiter led them to a quiet table in the corner at Gregory’s request. Compared to most popular restaurants, it was busy but not too loud, so they could talk.
Gregory ordered a Bloody Mary, and they ordered spring rolls and salads for lunch. He smiled as he sat back and looked at her. “It’s funny, Nadia, you seem so French to me. I forget you’re American. Are you part French too?”
“My mother is half English and half Italian, which is a bit of a conflict. She is incredibly organized, and at the same time very creative. I think I inherited it from her.”
“Is she an interior designer too?” He could tell from how efficient Nadia was that she had years of experience, despite the fact that she looked very young.
“My mother is the editor-in-chief of Mode Magazine,” she said with a hint of pride. “She’s incredibly good at what she does.” He smiled as her face lit up when she said it.
“So I’ve heard. I didn’t realize she’s British.”
“I’ve been here for all of my adult life, including college, so I guess a lot of that has rubbed off too. I have to admit, I don’t feel very American anymore. It’s kind of a disconnect for me. My husband was…is…French, and so are my daughters. I’m just very comfortable here. I always feel a little out of place now when I go back to the States.”
“Do you go back often?” He was interested in her, who she was, what she thought, and what made her so talented, because it was clear to him that she was.