A year after the hotel had closed, she had discovered Arthur’s affair with Sasha. It hadn’t remained a secret for long. With the desperation of age, he had become besotted with Sasha, and their affair became a public scandal almost immediately.
There had been no holding their marriage together after the affair hit the media, and he didn’t seem to care. Their daughters were furious with him, although now two and a half years later, they hadn’t forgiven him, but accepted the situation and saw him anyway. They didn’t want to lose their father, even though they thought Sasha was ridiculous and an embarrassment.
For Gabrielle, it had been a crushing blow. She was almost forty-three when she discovered it, and it had hurt immeasurably. They had been married for twenty-two years then. There was no question, Arthur had a marked preference for young girls, which she no longer was. But this one was a true operator, and he was lavishing a fortune on her, with her expert guidance, haute couture, jewels, a king’s ransom in art, which she would sell one day. They had all seen girls like her in operation, but Gabrielle got a view of it this time at close range. She had filed for divorce six months after she discovered the affair. Their divorce had become final a year before her trip to Paris, and had been handled as discreetly as possible. She had dealt with it with dignity, and had refrained from maligning him to their daughters, although she was privately bitter about it. More than bitter, she was crushed. She had thought their love was real and would last forever, and that the twenty-five-year age difference between them would have satisfied his lust for younger women. It hadn’t. Sasha had successfully ensnared him. And like many young women of her ilk, she got pregnant as soon as they were married, or possibly just before. The baby boy was three months old now, and Sasha’s future was assured. Meanwhile, for the first time in twenty-four years, Gabrielle’s future seemed uncertain. Her career was solid and she had continued to work by phone during the whole mess of the divorce, while she attempted to stay out of sight. Her oldest daughter had just moved to L.A. after graduation and her youngest was in college, having fun in Washington at Georgetown University, as a senior. Both girls were upset by Arthur’s infant son. Gabrielle hadn’t quite recovered from it either, although she wasn’t surprised, given who and what Sasha was, a gold digger of the most efficient kind, and damn good at it, a real pro. The whole thing was humiliating in the extreme.
It didn’t matter to her that Arthur looked foolish to everyone, but it did matter that there were men among his peers who envied him, men whom she realized now had never really been her friends. She had been disposed of and forgotten, and she was glad that her parents were no longer alive to see it. They had lavished love on her as an only child, born to them as a surprise late in life. She knew that watching her get cast away by Arthur would have broken their hearts, nearly as much as it had hers, and her daughters’. It was small comfort to know that her father would have been livid at Arthur. She felt undesirable, old, and vulnerable now nonetheless. She covered it well, and remained calm, cool, and professional with her clients, but she felt broken inside, and didn’t even let her daughters see to what extent. For months, she had cried all the time whenever she was alone. She felt dazed, and hopeless about the future. She saw herself suddenly middle-aged at forty-three when she filed for divorce, and had no desire to start her life again. It had taken her more than two years to get back on her feet. No one had seen her socially since the divorce. She had stopped traveling, except to go to the most important art fairs, and only did that when she had to, to meet a client. She never made any reference whatsoever to Arthur and his new wife and child. And no one would have dared bring the subject up with her.
Therapy with a good psychiatrist, medication for a few months, time, her love for her daughters, and her work ethic had finally pulled her out of it. Gabrielle had inherited her elegance from her mother, and her passion for art from her father. Both traits had helped her survive. The trip to Paris was a somewhat last-minute decision. She opted to come to Paris for the Biennale antique furniture and art show in September, and an important Sotheby’s auction, which coincided perfectly with the reopening of what had been her and Arthur’s favorite hotel. She was curious to see it, although a little worried about what ghosts would linger there for her. She hadn’t been able to resist the urge to ask for their usual suite, and was afraid doing so might have been a mistake. She just prayed that Arthur and Sasha weren’t going to the Biennale too, but she didn’t think they would. Sasha’s tastes were less sophisticated, and Gabrielle knew she preferred contemporary art. Arthur had spent a fortune buying the most expensive, avant-garde artwork for her.
Gabrielle flew commercial for the first time in years, since Arthur had kept the plane. She hadn’t wanted it. She was simply dressed when she emerged from the flight, in black jeans and loafers, a plain black sweater and fur jacket, and a large black leather Hermès Birkin bag she used for travel. Her face was beautiful, and she was slim and tall, with creamy white skin, very dark hair pulled tightly back, and big green eyes. But you had to look carefully to spot her. She liked disappearing quietly into a crowd, and not being noticed, despite her striking looks. It was only once you did that you saw her aristocratic bearing, her quiet grace, and all the trappings of natural elegance. She was a woman who didn’t like to be in the limelight and even less so now. There had been a time, when she was first married to Arthur, that she let him show her off like a beautiful doll, but she was never comfortable with it, and over the years grew into her own simple chic style. And now he had the dolly he had always wanted, a girl he could dress up and show off, oblivious to her vulgarity and content to highlight her youth, while she bled him for everything she could get out of him. Gabrielle had never done anything like that to him. She loved him, had inherited her own money, and had never been after Arthur’s. He was in a very different situation now. Gabrielle had dignity and grace, unlike Sasha, who was common and cunning, and very sexy.
A ground crew agent from Air France met Gabrielle at the plane, helped her at baggage claim, and turned her over to the driver with a discreet black Mercedes the hotel had sent for her. Arthur had bought Sasha a silver Bentley. He drove a Lamborghini himself. Arthur liked the luxuries his success provided, and so did Sasha. Gabrielle didn’t care about that, although she had flown first class, with the curtain of her compartment drawn so she could have privacy. It was comfortable that way, and she skipped dinner and slept on the flight. Always fashionably thin, she was too much so now. It had been a hard two and a half years in her life, and she was looking forward to staying at her favorite hotel again, as though everything would be fine when she got there, thinking mistakenly that she could turn back the clock. Gabrielle knew she couldn’t, and kept telling herself she was better off, if this was who Arthur really was. More than anything, she was disappointed, but she didn’t want anyone’s pity, which was why she had stayed away from everyone she knew, and had known during her marriage. She neither wanted to malign the man she had loved, nor lament him, or feel sorry for herself.
She knew she would have a good life without him, and reminded herself of it constantly. Intelligently, and reasonably, she knew she would be okay, but it still hurt at times. This trip was the first evidence of her new life, and of her courage to go back to familiar places without him. She wasn’t sure if she had bitten off more than she should have, but if it turned out to be too much for her, she could always leave, and go home, or move to the Ritz.