There was nothing in Mr. Whyte-Jones’s file to indicate that he was a VIP, and he didn’t act like one. He behaved like an ordinary person, intelligent, businesslike, with good manners, to whom a few days at the Louis XVI was a special event, not a regular occurrence, and he probably wouldn’t be back soon. He was checking in alone, and he looked strikingly British, a tweed jacket that looked like it had been made by a reasonably good tailor, gray slacks, dark brown suede shoes. He looked like an English country gentleman, but he wasn’t a lord, or anyone out of the ordinary, so he warranted no special treatment from the manager, nor his assistant. He seemed perfectly content to go to his room with the young woman walking beside him with the key. For him, it was exciting enough just being here. He never stayed at hotels like this, but had decided to treat himself to a brief stay in a fancy hotel. He had read about the Louis XVI and wanted to see it for himself, firsthand. He was only sorry he didn’t have anyone to share the experience with. But he was grateful to be there, and was savoring it.
A young American couple checked in shortly after Alaistair Whyte-Jones. They had a jubilant, almost euphoric look about them, and Yvonne wondered if they were on their honeymoon, but didn’t ask. The last names on their passports were different, which didn’t mean anything, since if this was their honeymoon, they wouldn’t have had time to change the name on her passport yet. And these days so many women didn’t change their names when they married, particularly Americans. They looked as though they were celebrating something, when a bellboy in his new uniform with the traditional red cap and red jacket took them to their room. They looked conspiratorial, but not guilty, and above all they looked happy. It made Yvonne smile to watch them, as they disappeared into the elevator with the bellboy and she saw them kiss. They weren’t in the first blush of youth either. She had seen on their passports that he was thirty-eight years old, and she was thirty-nine, so they knew what they were doing, whatever it was. She had no way of knowing that their story was worthy of a novel or a TV show.
Richard Sheffield had met Judythe at her wedding two years before. He was a college friend of the groom’s, no longer particularly close to the groom, but for old time’s sake the groom had invited him to the wedding. They had been roommates in a big house during their last year at the University of New Hampshire. Judythe worked in the advertising department of a magazine in New York, and had waited until thirty-seven to marry. The right guy just hadn’t come along, and she finally convinced herself that she didn’t need the perfect match to get married. The groom was a stock analyst on Wall Street. He had a good job. They seemed compatible, had a good time together, and liked the same sports. She decided that was good enough before she missed her chance completely. They had broken up a couple of times, when she wanted to meet someone more exciting. The man she was marrying wasn’t exciting, but he was solid and a decent guy. Richard had been married to a nurse for three years, and they didn’t have children yet. He was an editor and writer at a travel magazine.
Lightning struck at the wedding. Richard and Judythe talked and bells went off, for both of them. They didn’t dare say anything to each other, and Judythe told herself it was because they’d all been drinking. He danced with her then, and it was like an electrical current between them. She had never been as attracted to anyone in her life, and certainly not the man she had just married. They both did their best to ignore it. Her honeymoon in Wyoming was fun, but as soon as she got back, all she could think about was Richard. He called her for lunch, and it was like fireworks between them all over again, cold sober this time, and with no dancing.
Three lunches and two months after she’d gotten married, she wound up in a hotel room with Richard. They both felt guilty about it, but couldn’t stop. She knew she’d made a terrible mistake getting married, and Richard had come to the same conclusion about his own marriage, months after his wedding. The woman he had married complained constantly, didn’t think his job was good enough, had no imagination, hated to travel, and spent all her spare time in New Jersey with her sisters. It took him less than six months to realize he didn’t love her. It crystallized for both of them when Richard and Judythe met at her wedding, and Judythe felt like a liar and a cheat with her husband.
They’d been married for five months when she told him she had made a terrible mistake and he deserved better. She tried not to tell him about Richard, but it came out eventually. And Steve Oakes, her husband, was a gentleman about it. He was devastated, but they both agreed that it was better to face it sooner than later. She filed the divorce a few weeks later, and was divorced in a year.
Richard’s took longer. His wife went after him like a cat when he told her he wanted out. He couldn’t see himself having children with her. They had both made a terrible mistake. She wanted to turn the mistake into an income, and went after him financially. He finally paid her a settlement for her “pain and suffering,” and his divorce had just become final a month earlier.
He’d been reading about the Louis XVI reopening in Paris, and he pulled every string he could to get a discount as a travel writer, and book the least expensive room possible at the Louis XVI. It was still way out of their budget, but they had something to celebrate after everything they’d been through. They were planning to get married eventually, but didn’t have plans yet. They’d been living together since they had both separated. But both divorces had taken all their energy and his money. Coming to Paris to celebrate their divorces was a big deal. They were planning to spend four days at the Louis XVI, and then spend a weekend in Rome at a hotel that had comped them. Judythe had never been so happy in her life, nor had Richard. It had been a hell of a fight, but they had been brave and honest, and their dreams had finally come true. And what better place to celebrate it than Paris? Judythe had never stayed at a hotel like it in her entire life. And whatever came after this would be icing on the cake. To top it off, right before the trip, Richard had been given a big promotion at the magazine, and a raise. They wanted to do some traveling, and they couldn’t wait to have kids.
* * *
—
Gabrielle Gates checked out the Biennale that afternoon, and made due note of where the various galleries were that she was interested in at the exhibition in the Grand Palais. She ordered tea from room service when she returned, and sat back to relax in the living room of the beautiful suite. After the initial pang of nostalgia when she walked in, the room was beginning to seem more like her own now than a sacred place she and Arthur had shared. Arthur had violated all those memories without sentiment, so why should she consider the hotel sacred to them now? Why should she be sad about it? She had come here to kick-start her new life. She was here now and wanted to make it good and not waste a minute of it. This was her time now. She felt she had earned it after her husband broke her heart.
* * *
—
Alaistair Whyte-Jones opened a window, lit a cigar, and poured himself a brandy. He’d decided to relax at the hotel and enjoy his room for a while before he went out. The junior suite was more elegant than he had expected, and he was only sorry he didn’t know anyone in Paris to invite over to see it. He made a call to a number on a business card he took out of his wallet and confirmed an appointment for the next day. He didn’t know the man he was meeting, but a mutual friend had gotten Alaistair the appointment.