determine what my value was. Despite what I brought in for the ACC, my personal assets were very middle class.
It was a truth that made me feel like a fraud. I was wearing a gown that likely cost more than I earned over several months, and if I took away Estelle’s magic, I was not this pretty on an average day. Not even close. There was no way I belonged at this party with all these beautiful, glamorous people. Without a purpose, like working for the ACC, I felt as if I would be more at home in the kitchen.
“Mademoiselle, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance,” François said. “You are as pretty as your picture.”
I glanced at Jean Claude. He smiled at me and said, “Forgive me—I shared your photo from the studio yesterday with my friend François. I am just so happy to have you in my life again.”
“That’s fine,” I said. Truly, I was flattered that my abrupt arrival in his life was of such significance to him.
“He is a lucky man,” François said. He took the hand that Jean Claude had dropped and kissed the back of it. His lips were soft and fleshy and left a wet spot on my skin. It took all the good manners my parents had drilled into me not to pull my hand away and wipe it on my dress.
“Thank you,” I said. I pushed myself to be friendly even though my instincts revolted. “The pleasure is mine.”
He released my hand and turned back to Jean Claude, again speaking so rapidly in French that I was lost. Truthfully, I was relieved not to be the focus of his attention anymore. I got a weird feeling about Moreau, and I’d mixed and mingled with enough privileged males to trust my inner voice when it said, Danger.
A displeased look crossed Jean Claude’s face, but then François pressed his point and Jean Claude nodded. I wondered if Jean Claude had been hoping to have François invest in his clothing line. If that was the case, it did not seem to be going well. I felt badly for witnessing his disappointment, so I turned away, taking the opportunity to examine the room with its towers of fresh flowers. Arrangements as big as small cars stood on pedestals, in an explosion of blue and white blossoms of delphinium, hydrangea, and lily of the valley all nestled by big leafy fern fronds.
The wink and sparkle of the diamonds, rubies, emeralds, and sapphires at the wrists, ears, and throats of the women in attendance caught my eye. I wondered how much money was in this room in jewels alone. I thought of Jason’s outrage at how much cancer research could be funded with the money Severin spent on his oddities. I believed Moreau was much like Severin in wealth. It was hard to imagine having so much money and not choosing to pour every dime of it into fighting for the cure, but then, I knew that battling cancer was my issue.
“Chelsea, mon chou, have I lost you?” Jean Claude asked.
I turned to find him watching me. He had a speculative look in his eye that I couldn’t interpret. I wondered how his conversation had gone, but I didn’t want to pry.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I was soaking it all in.”
He nodded and surveyed the room. He sipped his champagne, looking as if there was no other place in the world where he belonged. I admired that, because I felt as if there was no other place in the world where I could be more of an imposter. These were the sort of folks I approached in my slim skirt and blazer with a thick file in one hand and a PowerPoint in the other to coax a tax-deductible smidgeon of their wealth out of their coffers. I was not one of them. I did not fit in. These were not my people.
As much as I loved Paris and was enjoying Jean Claude, I was abruptly hit by such a deep longing for my home in Boston that I almost excused myself to go call my sister Annabelle just to hear her voice. As different as we were, Annabelle had the ability to lift me when I started to get gloomy, and right now I really missed that about her. An image of her in that hideous sparkly pink flower girl dress flitted through my mind, and I found myself smiling.
“Come, Chelsea—let me flaunt the most