Echoes Page 0,12
to her. Antoine had seemed very different. Earnest, and deeper than most of the men she met, protective and sincere. She had never felt about anyone after a few hours as she did about him. Not that it would go anywhere. And she had no idea how he felt about her. She had none of Brigitte's instincts or artful ways with men. Brigitte could have told her in an instant that Antoine was crazy about her, but she hadn't seen them together. Although it sounded good to her. And the invitation to lunch was a sign that there was some interest there, but she didn't say anything to Beata. Her older sister was clearly not in the mood to discuss the matter further.
Beata was still silent as they rode the elevator downstairs for dinner, and as it was a warm night, their mother asked for a table on the terrace. She was wearing a very elegant navy blue silk dress, with a sapphire necklace, and matching navy silk shoes and bag. And she was wearing sapphire and diamond earrings that matched the necklace. They were three very beautiful women as the headwaiter seated them at their table. Beata was still quiet after they had ordered their meal, while Brigitte and their mother chatted about the shopping they'd done that afternoon. Monika told Beata that they had seen several dresses that would look well on her, but Beata showed no interest.
“It's a shame you can't wear books,” Brigitte teased her. “You'd have much more fun in the shops.”
“I'd rather make my clothes myself,” Beata said simply, as her sister rolled her eyes.
“Why go to all that trouble when you can buy them in shops?”
“Because then I can have what I want.” She had in fact made the pretty red silk dress she had on, which fit her to perfection, and hung on her slim body in clean, simple lines.
She was a gifted seamstress and had loved sewing since she was a child. Their governess had taught her, although Monika always told her that she didn't have to do that. But Beata preferred it. She had made some of her own evening gowns too, copied them from magazines, and drawings she saw of Paris collections, which were no longer available to them now anyway. She liked modifying them, and simplifying them to suit her tastes. She had made a beautiful green satin evening gown for her mother once as a gift, and Monika had been stunned by how expertly made it was. She would have done it for Brigitte, but she always said she hated homemade clothes. They seemed pathetic to her. Instead, sometimes Beata made her sister the satin and lace underwear that she loved, in a rainbow of colors. Brigitte loved those.
They had just finished their soup course when Beata saw her mother look up and just past her older daugh-ter's shoulder with a stunned expression. Beata had no idea what it was, and turned, to find Antoine standing just behind her, with a warm smile that took in the entire group.
“Madame Wittgenstein?” he asked politely, ignoring both her daughters, including the one who had captivated him that afternoon. He appeared to be riveted by their mother. “I must apologize for interrupting you, but I wanted to introduce myself and apologize as well for inviting your daughter to tea this afternoon without a chaperone. She had a little stumble on a walk near the lake, and I believe her ankle was hurting her. I thought the tea would do her good. Please forgive me.”
“No, I… not at all…of course…how kind of you …” Her gaze darted to Beata and then back to him as he introduced himself, bowed politely, and kissed her hand. Quite correctly, he had not made the same gesture to Beata, as she was unmarried, and hand kissing was a courtesy properly only proffered to married women. Beata had gotten only the bow, as was proper. In Germany, young men like him and her brothers bowed as he had, and clicked their heels together. But neither the Swiss nor the French did that, nor did he now. “I didn't realize she'd gotten hurt.” Monika looked momentarily confused, as Antoine turned to look at Beata, and nearly caught his breath when he saw her in the red dress. She had lit up like a starburst when he saw her from across the room, and had excused himself from his own mother to come to meet hers.
He made no