but repose and revelry in mind. A few of the men and women glanced up as we entered, their skin turning a soft pink in the evening light, but not for more than a moment before they went back to sipping their drinks.
“Come in, please. This is the main room,” said the man leading us upstairs as the hum of conversation faded behind us. “I am Teo. I run the club for Monsieur Maillard. You will see me often, and I will have the pleasure of seeing you often, too.” He had that air of servility laced with confidence found among longtime servants fully aware of their competence.
“Of course,” I responded politely. Next to me, Victor said nothing, his expression poker-faced, his chin slightly raised. Intentionally or not, his pose showed off his perfectly formed profile, the light blue of his eyes flashing in the dimly lit space. A teenage boy, also in a white uniform, appeared and offered tall glasses of water. “This end of the house is gentlemen only,” Teo said when the boy had vanished around a corner. He gestured to the west wing. “The smoking room, the library, and the billiard room are there, sir,” he said to Victor. “As are the guest rooms. The whole club was gentlemen only for many years, but the younger generation realized that the policy didn’t allow for much fun,” he said, smiling at me. “Now I think there are more women here than men during the week, even if they can’t wander freely or stay the night.”
“What time must the women leave?” I asked, looking down the long hallway.
“Two o’clock in the morning. Civilized enough yet uncivilized enough, as Monsieur Maillard puts it.”
“I agree with that. Some of the old rules must apply, even if the world is changing,” said Victor, finally breaking his pose. He reached for my hand, running his thumb over my large emerald Boucheron ring, a gift he gave me four months after Lucie was born. I closed my eyes reflexively, as my mind hurtled back to that chaotic time.
“Please come this way,” said Teo. “The president of the chamber of commerce and his wife, Madame Marcelle de Fabry, are enjoying a drink outside. They are expecting you,” he said, gliding silently on the dark wood floors. He led us through the main room, and this time eyes tracked us. I looked straight ahead the way Victor had done in the car, but couldn’t help noticing that Trieu had been correct about the women. They were not wearing the backless silk and satin dresses in bright colors that were so popular in Paris. From what I could see, their dresses were white or a light pastel, and very few had the flared hem that had become a signature of modern evening dress in France. There wasn’t one silk gown, but I spotted plenty of Paris chiffon and organza. I liked the look of it at once, as the light fabric made their tan skin glow. One older woman in a back corner was even wearing a white men’s linen suit, her hair cut short to her ears. I tried not to stare at her, or the massed beauty in the room, and hurried closer to Victor.
Teo led us to an inner courtyard, lush with tropical green plants as large as boat oars and blossoming white flowers. I breathed in deeply, but the scent was different from that of the hoa sua around our house. Sitting at a lacquered table in the filtered glow of the remaining sun was a very attractive couple, the man a decade older than Victor, the woman not even thirty, judging by appearances. They rose to greet us when they saw Teo.
“Victor Lesage,” said the man, whose light brown hair curled around his ears. It was loose, not back-combed and oiled down, as was fashionable in France. “You made it east in one piece.” He held out his hand to Victor. “And you brought your beautiful American wife,” he said in English.
“I did, but she speaks perfect French,” Victor said, shaking the businessman’s hand. “She’s Québécoise on her mother’s side, so actually, I’ll correct myself and call it near perfect,” he added, putting his arm around me playfully. He then leaned down and pressed his lips on my bare skin, sending a pleasant shiver down my arm. “My not only beautiful but also rather intelligent wife.” He smiled at me, then turned back to Arnaud de Fabry.