for two more weeks, but I would like some time with my work to decide its final arrangement.”
I was happy for her. Paris was her refuge, a place she felt welcome and safe. The customs of the French and their rituals were second nature, and I knew she would spend the next few months at peace.
“Wonderful, I am so thrilled for you,” I said, wanting to emphasize how I felt as she was heading out of the country.
“You sound good too,” she said.
“I am,” I said. “The campaign is keeping me very busy, but I’m enjoying myself. Gabriel is very pleased with how things are going. I will have to mention your show. He keeps an apartment in Paris; perhaps he will get a chance to see it after the election is over.”
I felt a deep pang of alarm from my mother across the phone line. “Mom, what is it?”
“Olivia, how old is Gabriel?” she asked. “What does he look like?”
“I don’t know, I’m terrible at guessing, but I would say he is in his mid-fifties,” I said, amused. “He has salt-and-pepper gray hair, dresses like a Frenchman and has an obsession with ordering everyone’s food and wine for them. Why?”
“I’m curious about this man who has so changed your life,” she said, trying to mask her anxiety. “I’ve been meaning to ask you more about him, but it never came up.” The worry she had so clearly transmitted was gone, but I sensed she was still concerned about something.
“You needn’t worry, Mom. He has given me the freedom to do great things.”
“I’m your mother. It’s my job to worry, and to lobby. Would you consider coming to Paris when your work allows? It would be nice to spend a few days with you.”
I thought about for it moment and knew that it was the perfect place to escape to with William when the campaign was finished. “Sure, I’d love to come,” I said. “Let me look at my schedule and I will call you when I figure out the dates.”
“Will you be coming alone?” my mother asked, the tinge of concern back in her voice.
“No,” I said. “I will probably bring a friend.”
“OK. I’ve taken a suite at the Ritz. Extravagant, I know, but at my age I need the pampering. There will be an extra room for you if you want it.”
“Merci, maman, je t’aime.”
“Love you too,” she said.
After the conversation, I began to daydream about walking the streets of Paris with William. It was romantic and thrilling—except the part where I explained to my mother that I have a vampire for a companion. I wasn’t sure how much she would pick up, or how much I should tell her. I needed to discuss the situation with William and see what he wanted to do. Meanwhile, my conversation had thrown me off schedule, leaving me little time to clean up. I raced upstairs, excited at the prospect of Paris in the autumn, strolling carefree through the city’s magnificent arrondissements.
****
CHAPTER 33
Election Day is always a strange day for campaign consultants. After weeks and weeks of nonstop work, there is nothing to do now but wait. When a race is in play, it can feel like the longest day of the year. The polls in California don’t close until 8 pm and the results don’t begin to trickle in until an hour or so later. That means that from the minute I wake up, and then for another ten hours or more, I have to find a way to occupy myself, hoping that in the end, all of my hard work pays off. Every consultant has a different way of coping. I know some who arrange long, extravagant lunches with friends. Others go into the office and busy themselves with other projects. For me, it’s a rare day to get in plenty of exercise.
On this Election Day I got up early, as I had for the last several weeks. But instead of heading to Josef’s studio, I had another idea in mind as I stared at William in my bed. With a little prodding, he agreed to join me for a run in Golden Gate Park.
“Let’s run to the beach and back,” I said, as we stretched at dawn on the sidewalk in front of the house.
We jogged through the Music Concourse, its rows of sycamores fading with autumn. A dozen Chinese senior citizens were doing their tai chi exercises, accompanied by traditional music coming from an old cassette player.