Nine Lives - Danielle Steel Page 0,71

a younger woman. It wasn’t too late for him, although it felt far too late for her. He had just turned fifty and she was forty-nine. She didn’t want another baby, she was happy just being with him. Aden was enough for her, and she didn’t want to go through heroics to have another child. She was enjoying their adult life and the freedom that went with it, and Paul was definite about not wanting children and said he never had.

They floated around the coast of Italy for the next week, and then went back to France. He took her to Saint-Tropez, where she had never been. It was still early in the season and already crowded, but the shops and restaurants were fun, then they escaped to the boat anchored outside the port at night. The Lady Luck would have been too big for the port, and they liked being farther from the action and the crowds in port anyway. On one of their ventures into town to shop, the paparazzi spotted him and followed them, shooting photographs at close range. Then they followed them in a speedboat when they went back to the Lady Luck, and Paul had the crew drop curtains around the dining area on deck so they could eat lunch in peace. Maggie wasn’t used to that yet, and the onslaught of photographers had taken her by surprise. They shouted his name from the speedboat alongside, hoping he would appear, but he didn’t. He stayed discreetly concealed with her behind the curtains.

“That’s so weird,” she said, musing about it, “and so invasive.”

“You get used to it, after a while.” He smiled at her. “Although it feels weird to me too. I’ll get the Super Soaker out if they come back.” She laughed, and they ate their lunch of langoustine, talking and laughing while they relaxed.

They went to a disco one night, after Maggie said it would be fun to go dancing. He put on a clown nose and a fake mustache as they stepped ashore, “so they wouldn’t be recognized,” he said, and she laughed even harder at that. But after a few dances at the Caves du Roy, the paparazzi spotted them again, so they fled and took a cab back to the port, where the tender was waiting with two of the crew. They hopped in quickly and took off, and this time the paparazzi didn’t have a boat to pursue them. They were back on the Lady Luck a few minutes later. Maggie tried the clown nose on when Paul took it out of his pocket, and he took a picture of her that they sent to Aden. He texted back a minute later. “What happened to your nose, Mom? Do you have a cold?” They were excited for him to join them, and he was too.

* * *

—

They spent the next few weeks floating around leisurely, and picked Aden up in Monaco in July, after he’d spent three weeks traveling with his buddies. He was planning to join them again for another two weeks at the beginning of August, and then they were going home and, shortly after, back to college.

Paul had been battling with the IRS for four months by then, but the debacle was far from over. The British tax authorities had declared themselves satisfied after seizing the penthouse and its contents, and had closed their files against him. The IRS was still in the heat of its investigation, but Paul seemed as unconcerned as ever, although every few days Maggie heard him talking to his lawyers. He was remarkably calm about it.

* * *

—

When Aden arrived, he had flown from Edinburgh, two of Paul’s crew members went to pick him up in Nice, and Maggie went with them. She was excited to see him, and Paul said he could hardly wait for him to get to the boat. She had a deep tan and looked rested and healthy. She’d been having a relaxing time with Paul. They’d pulled into port in Monaco from Saint-Tropez the night before, and the crew were busy washing the boat down all morning. Paul had assigned a large cabin to Aden, and Maggie had planned the dinner with the chef for that night with all of Aden’s favorites. Paul wanted to take him to the casino afterwards, and then they were going to Jimmy’z to dance if he wanted to. Maggie had brought nicer clothes for him in her suitcase,