Family Ties

Chapter 10

Annie could hardly wait to leave Far Hills the next day. She didn’t want to be rude and leave before Whitney and Fred woke up. She was up and dressed by nine A.M., and it was ten when Whitney and Fred appeared. She joined them in the kitchen for breakfast, for a recap of the night before. And they both looked painfully hung over. Annie had had very little to drink and felt fine.

“So what did you think of Bob?” Whitney asked hopefully as Fred read the paper. He didn’t seem to care about the ill-fated blind date either way. That was Whitney’s deal, not his.

“He’s a very interesting man,” Annie said diplomatically, not wanting to hurt Whitney’s feelings by saying what she really thought, that he was an egomaniac and a pompous ass and a crashing bore. “He told me all about his safari in Kenya over Christmas, the ranch in Montana, his boat, the house he’s building in the Cayman Islands and the one he just sold in St. Barts. He has a lot to say.” But only about himself.

Whitney was getting the picture and looked cautiously at her friend. She realized that there was a lot Annie wasn’t saying and she was being polite. Listening to their conversation, Fred got up and walked into the other room. It sounded like girl talk to him. “I’ll admit, he’s a little full of himself, but he’s really a great guy. He gave his wife a fortune in the divorce.” Annie wasn’t sure that made him such a great guy, unless all you wanted was money and a divorce. If you wanted conversation and a real human being, he wouldn’t be an option.

“That’s nice for her,” Annie said vaguely as she sipped her coffee.

“She left him for the golf pro at the club. It was a terrible blow to his ego, and he’s been going out with a lot of young women. They’re just after his money. What he needs is a real person.”

“Is that his assessment or yours? He’s probably having fun with the young women,” Annie said sensibly. She really didn’t care.

“They’re all gold diggers, I’ve met them. He deserves someone better.” Annie wanted to tell her that he didn’t. He deserved whatever he got, and wearing his wallet on his sleeve, he was going to find women who were after that. Maybe all he wanted now was to buy one. But he was of no interest whatsoever to her. It was obvious from everything she didn’t say. She had found him utterly revolting. “I’m sorry,” Whitney said-she could tell what Annie had thought of him from the look on her face. “I guess he’s not really your style. I just hoped he would be. He’s the only single guy I know. Everyone out here is married.” And Annie wouldn’t have wanted any of them either, from what she’d seen the night before. She had never seen a more unattractive group of men in her life, and their wives hadn’t been much better. All they had talked about all night was money. “Did you tell him you’re an architect?” Whitney asked her, and Annie laughed.

“He never asked. He talked about all his houses and possessions. I just let him talk. He wasn’t interested in me, and I wasn’t interested in him. It’s awfully hard to fix people up. I think if it happens, it just has to fall on you. I’ve never had a blind date that worked,” she said to Whitney with a forgiving look. She knew her intentions had been good, even if she was delusional about Bob.

“Maybe you should try Internet dating,” Whitney said forlornly. She really wanted to help. She hated knowing that Annie was alone, especially now with the children gone. She knew how hard that was for her and what a void it had left.

“I’m not looking for a date, or a man, or a husband. I’m fine the way I am,” Annie said. “And I don’t have time anyway. I have ten major jobs backed up right now. Honest, Whit, I’m fine. It’s not a high priority for me right now.” And Whitney knew it hadn’t been, for too long.

“It hasn’t been for sixteen years,” Whitney reminded her. “You have to think of your future. You’re not going to be young and beautiful forever, and you don’t want to wind up alone.” It didn’t sound bad to Annie, if the alternative was Bob Graham.

“Alone isn’t so bad.” Annie smiled at her. “I’m not unhappy. I just miss the kids. But that’s going to happen to you one of these days too. They all grow up and leave sooner or later.”

“I’m dreading it,” Whitney confessed, as Fred walked back into the kitchen and heard what she said.

“I’m not,” he said with a grin. “As soon as the last one leaves, we can start traveling, and doing everything we couldn’t do for the last twenty years. We’ll be able to go away without worrying if they’re totaling the car, or getting alcohol poisoning playing beer pong, or will burn down the house. I can’t wait until we’re done,” he said happily.

“I don’t think women see it that way,” Annie told him. “It’s a huge loss to us when they leave. The kids were my best job for all these years. And suddenly I’m obsolete. Thank God I never gave up my day job, or I’d really be lost now.” Whitney understood perfectly, which was why she kept trying to find her a man.

Annie got up from the table then and went to get her things. She said goodbye to Fred and thanked Whitney for a nice time and got into her car with a sigh of relief. She couldn’t wait to get home. She felt stupid for having come out at all and for thinking that this blind date would be different. She reminded herself, as she had before, never to do it again. But in a couple of years she knew she’d forget and let someone sucker her into another blind date. She hoped that this time she’d remember just how bad it had been.

As Annie left New Jersey, Katie and Paul were making breakfast in Annie’s kitchen. They had gotten up early and dressed. Paul wanted to be gone before Katie’s aunt got home. He didn’t know how she’d react to his spending the night, and he had sensed her reservations about him, although Katie had been gentle in discussing it with him. Both of them were disappointed by their families’ reservations but not surprised.

“She thinks we’re from two different worlds,” he said sadly. He had seen it in her eyes, although she had been kind to him and he liked her.

“She’ll get over it,” Katie said quietly. “The real problem with Annie is that she thinks I’m still a child. She worries about me a lot,” Katie said fairly. “She was pretty young when my parents died, and she took care of us like a mother. I think it’s hard for her to give that up now and realize we’re grown up.”

“She seems like a good woman,” Paul said, and then leaned over and kissed Katie. “I love you. You’re a good woman too,” he said, smiling at her. He had agreed to come back that afternoon. He just didn’t want Annie to know that he’d spent the night. He didn’t want to get Katie in trouble either. And his timing was perfect. Paul left the apartment ten minutes before Annie came home. Katie had washed the dishes and put them away, and she was making her bed when Annie walked in and wished her a happy new year.

“What did you do last night?” she asked Katie. She had wondered if Katie would let Paul spend the night, but she could see that that hadn’t happened. Her room was in perfect order, and there was no sign of Paul.

“We went out with friends. It was no big deal. I was home pretty early,” Katie said as she finished making her bed and they walked into the living room together. “How about you? Did you have fun?” Katie no longer seemed to be angry at her, and Annie laughed and told her about the blind date.

“I think it was the worst one so far. I’d rather be a ‘nun’ forever than go out with guys like that,” Annie said, and Katie looked embarrassed by her comment.

“I’m sorry I said that. I was upset.” She hadn’t liked Annie expressing her concerns about Paul. He was wonderful to her and such a kind man, and she wanted Annie to be as excited about their relationship as she was and have no hesitations whatsoever, which was a lot to expect, no matter who he was. Annie was always protective of her. Too much so, Katie thought.

“It’s fine, you’re right. I do live like a nun. Where’s Paul, by the way?”

“He’s coming over later,” Katie said casually, trying to sound as though his being there all the time was a common occurrence.

“That’s nice,” Annie said sincerely. “He can stay for dinner if you want.” Annie liked him and wanted to get to know him better, since he was obviously so important to Kate. But she also knew that traditions ran deep, even in a new generation and another country. “Where’s your brother?” she asked Katie.

“I don’t know. He vanished. He was probably out with friends last night. And wherever he wound up, I’m sure he’s still asleep.” Katie went back to her room then and called Paul and told him he could come back anytime he wanted and her aunt had invited him for dinner. He sounded relieved.

“She didn’t figure out that I spent the night?” he asked nervously.

“Nope. I put away all the dishes. She got home right after you left.”

“I’ll come over after I have lunch with my parents,” he promised, and then Katie lay down on her bed, listened to music, and thought about him. She was the happiest she’d ever been in her life.

Ted and Pattie woke up at two in the afternoon, when her ex called to say he was dropping off the kids. Ted said he wanted to leave anyway. He didn’t think they should see him there too often, and they might suspect he had spent the night. He wanted to keep up an appearance of propriety for them.

“I have to get home,” Ted said as he turned on the shower, and Pattie stood in the bathroom doorway, watching him and admiring his body.

“Why?” Pattie questioned him, as she stepped into the shower with him. “Why do you have to go home? Why don’t you just stay here with us?”

“I want to spend some time with my sister and my aunt,” he said honestly. Sometimes he felt as though she were trying to take over his life. She wanted him there all the time.

“Wouldn’t you rather be here?” she asked, pressing her body up against his, as the water ran down their faces, and as she cradled him in her hands, he sprang to life again. She had an instant effect on him, like magic.

“Sometimes I’d rather be here,” he said as he kissed her, and fondled her breasts in his hands. She used her own to guide him inside her. “And sometimes I like to be with them too,” he whispered into her hair, but Annie and Kate were rapidly fading from his mind. Pattie had a way of pushing everything out of his head but her, and she straddled him as they made love in the shower. The effect was instant and explosive, and he could hardly bear pulling away when it was over. Her diligent applications of soap kept him aroused for even longer. “I’m never going to get out of here if you keep doing that,” he warned her, and she laughed.

“That’s the idea.”

He pulled away from her then and looked down at her, putting words to something he often wondered. “What do you want with a kid like me?”

“I’m crazy about you. I’ve never been in love like this in my whole life.” She looked young and vulnerable as she said it.

“Why? I’m not old enough to be a father to your kids. I’m not ready to be a husband. I still have to finish law school. I feel like I’ve grown up since I met you, but I still have a long way to go.”

“Then take me with you. We’ll grow up together.”

“You’re already grown up,” he reminded her. “You’re a mom, and you’ve been a wife… I’m just a kid.”

“I don’t care as long as you’re mine.” And then she said something that terrified him: “I’m never going to let you go.”

“Don’t say that,” he said softly as he dried himself and stepped into his clothes. He felt trapped when she said things like that, and he didn’t want to be her hostage, no matter how exciting she was. He wanted to be with her by choice. Sometimes there was an aura of desperation about Pattie that unnerved him. Their relationship was so much more intense than any he’d been in before.

“It’s true,” she said as she looked at him sadly. “I’ll die if you leave me.”

“No, you won’t,” he said sternly. “You have kids. You can’t think like that.”

“Then don’t leave me.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” he said softly, “but don’t say things like that. It scares me.” She nodded and kissed him hard on the mouth.

He left minutes before her kids got home, and hailed a cab to take him to Annie’s. And he turned back and waved as Pattie watched him from the window. Her eyes never left the cab until it disappeared.

In Paris, Jean-Louis and Liz were planning to pick up his son Damien to spend the day and night with him. They had had dinner with friends of Jean-Louis the night before. Lizzie had been having a wonderful time since she arrived. He had a beautiful little apartment on the Left Bank on the quais, with a terrace overlooking the Seine. She loved watching the boats drift by and looking across the city. When she came here to work, she stayed at the Four Seasons or the Bristol, but it was much more fun and more romantic staying with him. And she was looking forward to meeting his son. Jean-Louis was planning to take him to the park with her and had promised him a ride on the carousel.

Lizzie was getting ready in his funny old bathroom, with the round oeil de boeuf windows, when she opened a drawer looking for a fresh roll of toilet paper, since they were running out. She was startled to see several pairs of women’s underwear and a lacy black bra. None of it was hers. She wasn’t sure if it was a relic of his past, or something more current, but she took it all out and tossed it on the bed, where Jean-Louis was watching a soccer match on TV between Paris F.C. and Saint-Germain.

“I found these in the bathroom,” she said casually as he glanced away from the TV for just a second, and Paris F.C. scored a goal. He heard the crowd cheer and looked back at the TV immediately as he talked to her. He had seen the lacy underwear sitting on the bed. He looked undisturbed.

“You’ve discovered my secret,” he said, smiling at her. “I wear them when you’re not here.”

“Very funny,” she said with a faint tremor in her stomach. She was normally not jealous, but they had agreed to be exclusive, and she wanted to be sure they were still on the same page. “Do these belong to anyone you know?” It was unlikely that a perfect stranger had come to his apartment and left her underpants and a bra in a drawer.

“Probably Françoise. I’m sure they’ve been here for years and she forgot them when she left. I never look through those drawers. Just throw them away. If she hasn’t asked for them in four years, she doesn’t need them now.” Françoise was his son’s mother, and it sounded reasonable to Liz, and she smiled at him as she tossed them in a wastebasket under his desk. It didn’t look it, but he had a cleaning woman who came once a week. His apartment was as disorderly as his clothes.

“We’re out of toilet paper, by the way,” she informed him as she continued to get dressed, relieved by his simple undramatic explanation. She hated jealous scenes, and it was nice to know he wasn’t cheating on her. It wasn’t the love affair of the century, but it was a comfortable arrangement for both of them.

“There’s a roll in my desk. Bottom drawer.” The incongruous location for toilet paper was typical of him. His housekeeping skills were nil. “I know that sounds crazy, but I forget where I put it otherwise.”

She had put on jeans and a sweater by then, and sexy high-heeled boots, and she looked rail thin. She wound a raspberry-colored pashmina around her neck and put on a black fox coat she had bought in Milan. She looked very stylish for the park and the carousel, and he smiled at her admiringly as he turned off the TV and got up off the bed. He was happy-his team had won. He was taking her to lunch at the Brasserie Lipp before they picked up his son. And Liz was curious to meet the boy and get a look at his mother. She was an extremely successful model Jean-Louis had lived with for two years, and he had remained on good terms with her. They had split up before the boy was a year old, four years before, and she’d had several boyfriends since Jean-Louis.

Liz ate a salad at the famous old brasserie on the Boulevard St. Germain, while Jean-Louis ate a heavy German meal. And at three o’clock they were at the apartment building where Françoise lived on the rue Jacob. She was twenty-five years old, and she looked about fifteen when she opened the door. She was even taller than Liz and stood six feet tall in bare feet, with huge green eyes, flawless skin, and a long mane of red hair. Damien’s hair was the same color as his mother’s, but otherwise he was the image of Jean-Louis. He smiled up at his father with a delighted look, and then looked quizzically up at Liz, and Jean-Louis introduced her and said she was his friend. Françoise was looking at her with the same curious expression as her son. She shook Lizzie’s hand and asked if they wanted to come in.

The decor of her apartment was decidedly Moroccan, with leather poufs on the floor, low tables, and couches that had seen better days and were covered with colorful shawls. Her housekeeping skills were about the same as Jean-Louis’s. There were magazines, loose photographs, her modeling portfolio, half-drunk bottles of wine, and shoes everywhere.

Damien seemed like a happy, easygoing child as he ran to hug his father, and then kissed his mother when they left.

The two women had looked each other over with interest, but said very little. Lizzie had the feeling that Françoise wasn’t thrilled to see her, but she didn’t seem overly upset either. Jean-Louis had said that they had always had a very open arrangement when they lived together and had never been entirely faithful to each other. He had told Liz that she was the only woman he had promised monogamy to, and he considered it an enormous concession and a big commitment from him. Until then, monogamy, his own or his partner’s, had never been important to him. He believed in living in the moment, and seizing opportunities when they arose. And he teased Lizzie frequently about how American she was, and what puritans Americans were. But she stuck by her rules. She didn’t want her boyfriend sleeping with anyone else. She had never had any evidence to the contrary, and when she called him at home at night in Paris, when she was in New York, he was always alone. Liz had been intrigued to see him with Damien’s mother when they met. They seemed friendly and nothing more. He had told Liz right from the beginning that he and Françoise were good friends, and she trusted him. He had never lied to her yet.

They went to the Bois de Boulogne, and it was cold, but they ran around a lot and played ball with Damien. He was very cute, and Liz made a big effort to speak to him in French, and all three of them rode the carousel. And afterward they went to Ladurée on the Champs Élysées for hot chocolate and pastries. Damien loved it, and even Lizzie succumbed and had macarons and a cup of tea. They went back to Jean-Louis’s apartment after that, and Liz gave Damien the train she’d brought. He loved it, and once he tired of playing with it, Jean-Louis put on a Disney DVD for him in the bedroom, in French, and the two adults talked quietly in the living room. It had been a perfect day. Lizzie had wanted to meet his son for a long time, but it had never worked out until then. This was the first time she had had leisure time in Paris-she was always so busy when she came, organizing shoots and flying in and out with no time to spare.

“I wish he stayed with me more often,” Jean-Louis said wistfully. “He’s such a great kid, but I’m never here. Or not for long anyway. Françoise travels a lot too. Her mother comes up from Nice to take care of him but she’s been thinking about sending Damien to live with her, now that he’s really starting school. It’s hard for him to bounce around between the two of us, and her mother takes good care of him. Françoise was really too young when he was born. We thought it was a great idea at the time when she got pregnant, but we probably should have waited.” He smiled at Liz then. “But then he would never have been born. I guess destiny makes the right decisions after all.” It seemed odd to her to leave something as important as the decision to have a child to “destiny.” She had never felt ready to have a baby so far, and she couldn’t imagine doing that for many years. She was too involved in her career, and so were Françoise and Jean-Louis, but they didn’t seem to care.

“Won’t he miss you both terribly if you send him to live with his grandmother?” She felt sorry for the boy, being shuttled between two very independent people who had had him when they were too young, and a grandmother in another city.

“It would be better for him. She has more stability than we do, and Françoise has two sisters, in Aix and Marseille. He would see his aunts and uncles and cousins. We don’t have time to get him together with other kids, except at nursery school, or the day care where Françoise takes him. You were brought up by someone other than your parents. It doesn’t seem to have hurt you,” he said practically, but what he didn’t see and had never understood was how marked Lizzie had been by her parents’ death, no matter how wonderful Annie had been to them. It wasn’t the same as growing up with a mom and dad, and it had been a crushing loss for her. And perhaps it was even worse if your parents chose to send you away. How would you explain that to yourself later on?

“We had no choice. My parents died. But Damien might feel really abandoned by the two of you. I suffered terribly from the loss of my parents all through my teens. I think I blamed them for dying, although I loved my aunt a lot and she was terrific and like a mother to me. But she’s not my mother, she’s my aunt.”

“We’ll explain it to him later on.” Jean-Louis smiled at her as he lit a Gitane. “Françoise isn’t ready to give up her career. And she can only do what she’s doing, at this level, for a few more years. It would be a shame for her to stop now. And I can’t. I’m sure he’ll understand,” Jean-Louis said confidently. Liz wasn’t so sure how he’d feel later about parents who hadn’t been willing to make the necessary adjustments for him and thought only of themselves. In some ways she thought they treated him like a toy. She was still grateful for the sacrifices Annie had made, which she was even more aware of now. She couldn’t imagine what her life would be like if she had been raising three children now, of the ages she and her siblings had been when Annie got them at twenty-six. Liz didn’t think herself capable of it, now or at any age, which made her admire Annie even more for all she’d done.

“I couldn’t do it either,” Liz said fairly, “but I wouldn’t have a kid. I don’t want to screw up someone else’s life.”

“We’re not,” Jean-Louis assured her, blind to what they weren’t doing for the boy. And with that Damien walked into the room. The movie had finished, and he was hungry. Jean-Louis put some cheese and pâté on a plate for him, and opened a box of the macaron cookies they had bought that afternoon at Ladurée. And Damien seemed perfectly content with that. He lived on pizza and sandwiches when he was with his mother. His father always had better things to eat. But he didn’t look unhappy or malnourished, and he was easy to be with. He had learned early to adjust to the grown-ups around him and not cause any trouble. If he did, they sent him away. Liz thought it was a hard life for him and not one she would have wanted to give a child, nor the one she had had with her aunt, who had adjusted herself to them and given them a secure, happy childhood. Annie always talked about how lucky she was to have them. Lizzie was more grateful than ever for her now, in the context of her own life, and how hard it was for her to juggle what she had on her own plate. And she was sure it wasn’t easy for Françoise and Jean-Louis either. But Damien was paying the price for it. She never had. She had had a perfect childhood, under the circumstances. And even with that, she was shy of long-term commitments now. She had never told a man she loved him, for fear that if she did, he might die or disappear, and she didn’t think she had ever been in love. She was still asking herself the question about Jean-Louis. She was attached to him, and she enjoyed him, but to her love was something much deeper than this, from which there was no turning back. She had never given up her option to end a relationship or leave. And this was the extent of the commitment she wanted for now. She couldn’t even imagine having a child with him. And surely not at twenty, as Françoise had done. Jean-Louis often said that he’d like to have another one sometime. Liz was not planning to volunteer.

Lizzie played cards with Damien for a little while, and with his new train again, and then Jean-Louis put on another DVD. And eventually the irresistible little boy with the big green eyes and red hair fell asleep on his father’s bed, and Jean-Louis scooped him up and put him on the narrow bed he had set up for him in a tiny room, where he stayed when he was here. They were taking him back to Françoise the next day.

Liz and Jean-Louis spent a quiet evening talking and drinking wine after Damien fell asleep. They talked mostly about fashion, and the editors and photographers they knew, the politics at various magazines, particularly hers, and their careers. They were comfortable and compatible, had the same interests, knew many of the same people, and worked in the same milieu. It was an ideal situation for both of them. And a perfect way to spend New Year’s Day. She cuddled up next to him when they went to bed that night. She didn’t want more than this, and she liked staying with him in the funny little attic apartment in Paris, and the loft in New York. They didn’t make love that night because Lizzie didn’t want Damien to walk in on them, and there was only one bathroom in the apartment, although Jean-Louis assured her he wouldn’t hear anything and never woke up during the night, but she didn’t want to risk it and traumatize him. She felt responsible for him while she was there.

They all woke up at the same time the next morning, and Damien appeared in their bedroom doorway in the same clothes he’d worn the day before. Jean-Louis hadn’t wanted to wake him by trying to take them off, and he hopped onto the bed with them and asked what they were doing that day. Jean-Louis said they were taking him back to his mother after breakfast, because he and Lizzie had to get ready for work the following morning, and they had a lot to prepare.

“My grandma is coming tonight,” Damien said happily. “Maman is going to London tomorrow, to work. She’ll be gone for five days.” He already knew the plan and seemed happy that his grandmother was coming. “We have ice cream every day when my grandma is here,” he explained to Liz, and her heart went out to him. Ice cream didn’t seem like enough to make up for parents who were so seldom there, and so self-involved when they were. She hoped that his grandmother made it up to him as best she could.

Liz made toast with jam for all of them and boiled an egg for Damien, while Jean-Louis made café au lait and gave some to the boy too. He served it in bowls, the way they did in the old cafés. It was delicious, and Damien had a milk mustache from the fragrant brew. Liz drank all of hers.

They were back at Françoise’s Moroccan lair on the rue Jacob by eleven, and Damien was happy to see his mother, although he looked wistful as he said goodbye to his father. Jean-Louis explained that he would be in Paris for two weeks, and he planned to see his son again soon, and Damien looked happy about it. It was obvious that he loved his father.

There was a man at the apartment when they got there, and he looked very young to Lizzie, no more than nineteen. And she recognized him after a few minutes. He was a young British model Vogue had been using a lot recently, and he was very sweet to Damien when they walked in. He talked to him like another kid, and Damien seemed to know him. His name was Matthew Hamish, and Jean-Louis knew him too. He seemed slightly annoyed about it after they left, which surprised Liz. And the comments he made about the young British model almost made her think that he was jealous.

“Are you jealous of him?” she asked as they walked away from Françoise’s building.

“Of course not. Who she sleeps with is none of my business.” He didn’t know that for sure, but Matthew had been lying on the couch bare chested, in jeans with bare feet, and looked like he had just gotten out of the shower when they arrived. “I just think it’s a little foolish to have people come and go in Damien’s life, who aren’t important to her.”

“How do you know he isn’t?” Lizzie asked with interest. He definitely sounded jealous to her. Françoise had been more gracious to Liz than Jean-Louis had been to the young male model. He’d barely spoken to him, and Françoise had thanked her for taking care of Damien and been warmer at their second meeting than the first.

“He’s not her type,” Jean-Louis answered somewhat tersely, and changed the subject. But Liz could see that he was annoyed for a while. He finally relaxed when they went back to his apartment. They both had calls to make for the shoots they were doing the next morning, and Liz was sorry they wouldn’t be working together. Hers was a big jewelry story that she had been setting up for months, and he was shooting the cover for the April issue of French Vogue.

They went downstairs to a nearby bistro for soup and a salad at dinnertime, and when they went back to his place afterward, they made love. His irritation over Françoise and the British model seemed to have dissipated again, and Lizzie realized that he was just being territorial. No one liked to be faced with their ex-lover’s current significant other, no matter how over it was. And she realized that their openness with each other, mostly because of Damien, was very French. But in any case Jean-Louis was in good spirits again when they went to bed that night, and they both fell asleep with their arms around each other. Jean-Louis had set the alarm for five A.M. They both had to be on their sets by six. And as she fell asleep, Liz found herself thinking about Damien. She didn’t know why, but she couldn’t get him out of her mind. Her heart ached at the life he led. He deserved so much more than he was getting. It almost made her wish that she and Jean-Louis would be together for a long time. And who knew, maybe they would. So far their days in Paris had been perfect.