“Madame Bateau, when did your husband leave the family residence?”
“He moved out in September.”
“And you are separated?”
“Yes, we are.”
“Have you reached agreement about your financial affairs?”
“We have. The Château de Champfort belongs to my husband solely, as his inherited property. I make no claim to it or the use of it. I would like my daughters to own the apartment we live in, on the Quai Voltaire, and for me to have the use of it, usufruit, as I wish. And we’ve agreed to visitation every Wednesday night for dinner, alternate weekends, two Friday nights a month on the weekends he doesn’t have them. That comes to ten days a month, and one month in the summer.” It was all very cut-and-dried, and her attorney handed over the financial declarations and the file. The notaire was a serious older man, and nodded as he glanced at the papers. Nadia wanted no financial settlement and they had agreed on an amount for monthly support for their daughters.
“And you are in agreement with the visits, Monsieur Bateau?” he asked Nicolas, who said that he was. “And the monthly support?” Nicolas agreed to that too. It was a generous sum, since it was the only money Nadia would accept from him.
Because it had been done à l’amiable, amicably, with both parties in full agreement, there was nothing to add to it except the confirmation from the notaire and his stamp and signature. There were no gray areas of dispute, so he took out a stamp and pounded it on the top sheet of all the paperwork, and forty minutes after they had arrived, they left the conference room.
“I guess that’s that, then,” Nicolas said as they stood in the hallway looking lost for a minute. Nadia felt dazed, and he glanced at his watch. “I have a train to catch,” he said. “I’m going to Brittany for two days, I’ll be back in time for dinner with the girls on Wednesday,” now that their visitation was set in stone with the courts. He had hoped to avoid that. But now the wheels had been set in motion, and there would be no stopping them, unless they canceled the divorce. It was clear that Nadia wanted it as much as ever. She had confirmed that to the notaire.
He kissed her on the cheek, hurried out, and made it to the station in time. He had told Pascale he was going. She was in London, on location for her new movie and said she didn’t mind. She was going to be there for three months. The producers had gotten her an apartment. But her mother didn’t speak English, and the baby was only three months old, so she had decided not to bring them to London, and left them in Brittany, which was easier for her. She had more time to play without her mother and the baby there. Having an infant had turned out to be more complicated than she thought it would be, and less fun.
Nicolas caught his train and was in Brittany that afternoon. He went straight to see Isabelle, Pascale’s mother. His business was with her, since she had the responsibility and was the deciding voice. They sat in her kitchen, drinking coffee, and she was startled by his plan. He wanted her to come to Paris twice a month for a night with the baby, so he could get to know his son, and the baby would know him. He didn’t choose any of the nights the girls would be with him, so they weren’t intruded on. But it had become clear to Nicolas that Pascale was going to lead the life of a single twenty-two-year-old girl, while the child would grow up in Brittany with her mother. And he didn’t want to just drop in on them. He wanted more, and to give Benoit more. He wanted to set up regular visits, and when Benoit was older, he wanted them to come to Paris on the weekends he didn’t have the girls. He didn’t want to simply forget about his son, and never get to know him, just because the relationship with Pascale hadn’t worked out. He had been thinking about it a lot lately, and he liked the solution he had come up with. So did Isabelle. They were contemporaries, only a few years apart, and she approved of what he was trying to do. He didn’t want to just send a check every month, he wanted Benoit to be part of his life, and even more so as the boy got older. Isabelle loved the idea of coming to Paris. It sounded very glamorous to her. She could do what she wanted when Nicolas was with Benoit, and take him to the park when Nicolas was working. She might even meet a man while she was there. She was still young. She was two years older than Nadia.
There were two guest rooms in his rented apartment, for the girls, and she and the baby could stay with him easily. The apartment wasn’t large or fancy, but it was adequate. Isabelle thought it an excellent plan and admired him for thinking of it. He was hoping too for his girls to come to love their brother, if they got to know him.
“So, little man, you’re coming to Paris to see your papa?” he said as he held him aloft and the baby smiled and giggled. He took him out for a long walk in his stroller that afternoon. He helped Isabelle give him a bath and gave him his bottle and put him to bed. The next morning, Nicolas left and went back to Paris. Isabelle Solon was coming to Paris with the baby in a week. She thought Nicolas was a good man. She was sorry that Pascale hadn’t stayed with him. She knew about Pascale’s new actor boyfriend, but thought he smoked too much dope and didn’t care about the baby. She thought Pascale was a fool for not staying with Nicolas, but Pascale said that writers were too dull, and Nicolas was too old for her. At least he was taking his paternal responsibilities seriously. He had Pascale’s permission for the baby to visit Paris every other week with her mother. She thought it was fine. It was a year since they had gotten involved with each other on the set of his movie, and it amazed him how such passionate feelings had dissipated so quickly. He thought it was a huge mistake to have had a baby when they had such flimsy knowledge of each other, but the baby was here now, and he wanted to make the best of it for himself and the boy.
Pascale didn’t find it unusual or unfortunate that she had a child now by a man she was no longer involved with and would probably rarely see in the future. She was perfectly satisfied to have him deal with her mother. Isabelle Solon had done the same thing when Pascale was born and left her with her own mother when she was sixteen. But now, as a grandmother, she was more attentive to Benoit than she had been to Pascale, and Nicolas was satisfied that he was in good hands. He was happy to spend two nights a month with the baby and Pascale’s mother, and in time two nights a week. Eventually, Benoit would be able to come and visit him alone, or with a nanny. Isabelle already had a nanny for him now, a few hours a week, so she could get some things done. Nicolas had been paying for it since Benoit was born.
* * *
—
Venetia called Nadia to see how the notaire meeting had gone, and she said it was fine, and very anticlimactic. A few questions, their financial statements, the visitation schedule, the notaire stamping what they had agreed to, and it was over.
“What happens now?” The divorce seemed so sad to her, especially if Nadia still loved him. She admitted she did, but not enough to go back to him, or forgive him.