A Perfect Paris Christmas - Mandy Baggot Page 0,108

made a mess,’ Silvie said, bending a little stiffly to gather the items that were on the floor.

‘Let me help,’ Keeley said, picking up the photo frame. Inside was a picture of Ferne, her blonde hair poker-straight, her face made up like she might be about to attend a party. ‘This is a lovely photo.’ Keeley put it back on the nightstand.

‘That was taken at a Christmas party. Our party nights at the hotels at Christmas time are very popular.’ Silvie sighed, looking at Ferne’s image. ‘Ferne loved those parties. She was in her element, working the room, making sure everyone was having the best of times.’

The gong sounded again, this time somehow, even louder and they both laughed together.

‘I think they are getting restless and want our presence,’ Silvie said. ‘I believe the dessert is something with chocolate tonight.’

Another food sin that Keeley should probably not be so fond of. She gathered up the last books from the floor and went to put them on the bedside table. But, as she did so, something fluttered out from between one of the pages and sank to the carpet. While Silvie headed for the door out, Keeley picked up the piece of paper and couldn’t help but look at it. It was a photograph. A Polaroid. A little faded, obviously well-worn through time and touch. But the image looking back at Keeley stole her breath. Those grey eyes. No, it couldn’t be. She shook her head. She was being ridiculous now, seeing him everywhere.

‘Keeley,’ Silvie called from the threshold to the room.

She swallowed, feeling somehow guilty. And then she put the photograph back between the pages of the notebook. ‘Coming.’

Forty-Eight

L’Hotel Paris Parfait, Opera District, Paris

‘This is one of your other little hotels, is it?’ Jeanne asked, swinging her legs so they continually knocked against the leg of the dining table they were seated at. Ethan had managed to get Bo-Bo – with Jeanne’s disgruntled approval – to accept being stationed in the garage while they dined in the hotel’s restaurant. Silvie had sent him a second text reiterating her invitation to dinner earlier. She had sounded like she might really want him to come, like it really might not have been another kind of business ambush. Except that person would be there. The girl. What was he going to say to her? How could he even look at her knowing that she was there because Ferne was not? He considered ignoring the second text just like he had ignored the first but, in the end, he had sent a polite decline with no emotion attached to it. If he gave no energy to it, it would go away. She would go away. He was busy. He was focused. He didn’t have time for his thoughts to stray beyond improving the hotels. He already had a child and a dog he hadn’t planned for…

‘Why do I sense that you do not like it?’ Ethan asked her.

‘It looks like a courtroom,’ Jeanne said with a sniff. She wiped her nose with the back of her hand. ‘A courtroom with too much blue and silver glitter. It looks like a troupe of can-can dancers high-kicked through here on their way to jail.’

A courtroom. Ethan studied the dark wood he had always thought looked regal and majestic. Perhaps Jeanne was on to something. Except the changes he had in mind for the hotels didn’t incorporate a full re-fit – that might go some way to bankrupting them. He would have to do the best he could to soften hard edges and introduce warmth in other ways. He would begin with some of the items he had purchased from Les Puces.

‘If you were not my boss I would hate you,’ Noel greeted, his hands holding a tray.

‘I am sure hating your boss is a prerequisite in most businesses,’ Ethan answered, deftly spreading his napkin over his lap. ‘I can deal with a little hate today, as long as I am going to love the food.’ Ethan leaned forward in his seat and sniffed the air. The most fragrant scent was rising with the steam from two rustic bowls on the tray Noel was balancing. The bowls belonged to a large set he had found hidden away in a suitcase under a table in the large market. They looked like something Jesus and his disciples might have used during The Last Supper. Thick, unrefined and slightly uneven rims in sturdy pottery with a deep bowl. They were