The Perfect Woman - Nicole French Page 0,52

beautiful and would probably always be a slight, perfect thing.

“He has to see you,” Nina whispered fiercely as she rocked the seat with her toe. “He must!”

“I see you’ve nearly gotten your figure back already.”

Nina started, then turned to find her grandmother entering the room, the normally crisp click of her heels masked by the thick Oriental carpets. Celeste de Vries was clad in her typical Chanel suit—this one a lush winter cream with gold buttons, appropriate for the holidays. Her silver hair was pinned in its perennial elegant twist, and her fingers, wrists, and ears were tipped with their ever-present glints of diamonds and gold.

As priceless and classic as ever. And as rich.

“I—thank you. It’s good to see you, Grandmother.” Nina stood to deliver kisses to her cheeks.

“I’m very glad to see you haven’t allowed yourself to let go completely after the birth,” Celeste replied as she took the other seat by the fire, then crossed one ankle over the other. Unlike most women of her station, Celeste de Vries had chosen to age gracefully without the aid of needles or scalpels, but she was still remarkably well preserved for a woman of her age. Most people thought she was Nina’s mother, not her grandmother.

“So many do now,” she continued. “I didn’t even allow your grandfather into the hospital room until we could find a stylist to reset my hair, you know. Nowadays they let everyone roam the halls like a pack of wild chickens. It’s why we didn’t come to see you there. We wanted to allow you a bit of dignity.”

Nina bit her lip to keep from sniping at her. She honestly wasn’t sure what was worse: that Celeste thought she was actually doing Nina a favor by giving her time to look the part of a de Vries woman, or that she was lying to cover up the family’s general apathy.

“We’ll take you shopping to celebrate,” Celeste proclaimed as she looked Nina over. “Your hair is quite overgrown, and it’s time for you to get out of your maternity clothes. You can’t be a new mother and look like a ragamuffin student.”

Nina looked down at her dress—a white silk thing that, yes, she had worn while pregnant, but only because its flowing silhouette had been forgiving, even during the last trimester, when she had gained a bit more weight. She had purchased it in Florence last February. Giuseppe had said it made her look like a goddess. And then he had slowly unwrapped it from her body until she was undressed before him.

Peppe.

Nina clutched the note tightly.

“Your professor certainly has some gumption, sending that here.”

This time, Nina actually did start as she looked up again. Her hand uncurled, leaving the note crumpled in her palm. “Y-you read this.”

It wasn’t a question, and that was because she wasn’t completely surprised. Peppe’s note hadn’t been sealed, having obviously been sent in another protective layer and opened before it was given to her. And this was Celeste de Vries, after all—someone who took what she wanted, when she wanted. And no one said any different.

“It was my right. It did bear my address.”

“But my name, Grandmother.”

“Not anymore.” Grandmother tipped her head. “Why, might I ask, must I keep reminding you of that? Your husband says you never filed the name change with social security. He’s not particularly happy about it either.”

Because you wanted the wedding, Nina wanted to insist. You said it would maintain respectability. Keep me from being a laughingstock, save the family from social ruin…

Had Celeste actually said those things? Or had it been Calvin, while Celeste nodded? At this point, Nina didn’t even know anymore. So she just fingered the paper, gazing at the insignia at the top—a curling, crimson and gold G—before folding and refolding it back into a tiny square.

“Nina.”

Nina looked up to find Celeste holding out her hand, palm up. She pressed the letter into her skirt and looked down at the baby, whose lashes, so unusually lush and dark, fluttered on her cheeks. “What?” she mumbled.

Celeste’s fingers beckoned. “It was generous of me to let you have it in the first place. But like he said, it’s time for you both to return to your families. You can’t bring him with you any more than he can bring you back.”

Nina stared at the note. It wasn’t like it was the only one she had. Even if it couldn’t join the others, she could still hide it with her other things from Florence—cashmere

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