“I was here last spring,” he said. “I usually come in April and leave at the end of June before it gets too hot. Despite my Southern roots, I don’t care much for the heat. Explains why I like San Francisco. I’ve also visited in November and stayed through winter. The time I spend here hinges on where else I need to be.”
“Where else do you need to be?” I asked, curious, as we loaded some of our luggage into the tiny elevator inside the building. Josef had decided to take the stairs. The elevator door closed and William continued. “I own property in Paris, Zagreb, New Orleans and San Francisco,” he said. “Some are long-term rentals, others I advertise as short-term vacation places.”
“And this apartment?” I asked, as we stepped into the elevator.
“This is our family home,” he said. “No one else stays here.”
The family home occupied the top floor of a six-story building. I counted four bedrooms and three bathrooms on my tour, as well as a kitchen, a living room, a formal dining room and a terrace that wrapped around most of the apartment, giving each of the bedrooms a small veranda. Clearly, a caretaker or concierge helped maintain the apartment. Trees and plants on the deck were healthy and lush. The apartment itself was immaculate, free of any lingering odor that usually accompanies a home that has been abandoned or closed up for long periods of time. Freshly cut flowers had been placed in vases in every room.
The shell of the apartment maintained its nineteenth century bones through original moldings and wood floors. Beyond that, the space had recently been remodeled to include modern appliances and conveniences. A dizzying array of art lined the walls—paintings, sketches, and propaganda posters—all of it documenting the decades marking the dawn of modern Europe. Antiques and modern pieces of furniture were paired together in great harmony, achieving the perfect Parisian salon.
“It’s a magnificent home,” I said, standing in the living room. “I can see why you keep it private.”
William glanced over at Josef, who’d walked in with our remaining bags.
“It’s the last link we have to our father,” William said quietly. “We’ve maintained and updated the property as necessary to avoid attention from my neighbors. “This arrondissement wasn’t always so fashionable. But we wanted to be away from the center of the city to attend to our needs in private.”
“It’s beautiful,” I repeated.
“We can live here if you like,” William said, taking my hand. “At least part of the year. That is, if you don’t mind Josef popping in and out.”
“I would love to live here,” I said. “I’ll have to ask Gabriel. Since there is an office here, perhaps he won’t mind.”
“You don’t have to work,” he said. “Once we’re married, I mean. I have plenty of money and so do you. We could disappear and enjoy the surroundings.”
“Are you being romantic, or trying to protect me?”
“A little of both.”
I confess, it sounded splendid. Paris is a city of infinite diversions, not to mention a fabulous access point to the rest of Europe. Wouldn’t it be magical, I thought, to explore the world with William, lingering here and there as the mood struck us. It was an attractive offer, and I was giving it serious thought. That is, until current circumstances brought me back to reality in the form of a sore, tired leg. I shifted my weight off the wounded limb, leaning back and forth to reduce the discomfort. It seemed our long flight was finally catching up with me.
“I need a bath,” I said, fluttering my eyelashes. “Care to join me?”
“Darlin, it would be my pleasure,” William said. “But you go without me. I should pay a visit to our concierge to let her know we’re settled. I phoned her before we left, which is why we arrived to find things so civilized. When you’re finished, meet us on the deck for a drink.”
Before leaving, he walked me into the master bedroom. Spacious, its walls painted in royal blue, a wooden four-poster bed dominated the room, with a chandelier hanging above it. If Lily were here, she’d have said the room was something straight out of a romance novel. Too true, I agreed, as I gazed around at the antique chests along the wall, and then slowly I ran my fingers along the chocolate brown linen duvet and matching pillows that covered the bed. I was no stranger to money or elegance,