“I don’t think I’ll go back, but it was nice seeing old friends, and all our familiar haunts,” Joachim continued, and he knew what his mother was thinking.
“Did you have any news of Javier?” she asked him immediately. There was pain in her eyes the moment she spoke.
He sighed before he answered, not sure how much to tell her. But she was strong, and he felt he owed her the truth, as much of it as he knew. “Not much. Nothing we didn’t know or haven’t heard before. I contacted Felipe MacPherson,” one of his old friends from school, with a Scottish father and Argentine mother. “He’s high up with the police and has the right connections to find out. He said when last sighted, Javier was still in Colombia, working for some very bad people. I’m not sure how high Javier is in the organization, and Felipe said he moves around. We’ve heard it before, Mama. When he disappeared, he joined the dark forces that have poisoned life there. I think he’s lost to us. But at least he’s still alive.”
“I’ve always felt he was,” she said, her shoulders drooping as she said it. “I always knew he had this in him right from the beginning. He’s not like you. He makes me think of Cain and Abel. I’m almost glad you did not see him or find him. I don’t want him to hurt you.” He thought his mother was dramatizing the situation, but admittedly, Javier was hanging out with, and presumably working for, the worst element of Argentine society, and the drug cartels in Colombia.
“Our life is here now,” Joachim said. “There’s nothing for us to go back to there. And even if we tried, we couldn’t find him. If he is as deeply embedded in the drug business as Felipe says, he’s probably in hiding. We’ll never get to him, unless he wants to find us. And he won’t come here.”
“You’re right not to go back,” his mother confirmed. “I don’t want you to. Leave it alone now. Francois said that too before he died. The people Javier is involved with are too dangerous. I was worried about your going this time, but I didn’t think it fair to stop you. I know you’ve missed it.”
“I needed to go back. I’ve wanted to for a long time. I’ve done it. I made my peace with it. It’s in the past for both of us.” She nodded agreement and had decided that for herself a long time before when she married Francois. She’d never gone back. The only remaining tie for her, like an unsevered umbilical cord, was the fact that her son was still there. But even that had slowly eroded with time, and was only a thin thread now, not strong enough to hold her fast. Her tie to Joachim was much stronger.
“So, what are you going to do now?” she asked him. “Go back to London?”
“Not yet. Don’t be so eager to get rid of me.” He smiled at her. “I’m in no hurry to go back. I’ve listed my details and qualifications with the best domestic agency there, and they say that there is very little demand for formal butlers now, very few houses that require one, or families that can afford them. I want to spend some time with you here.” There was a kind look in his eyes, and she sat up a little straighter, with a slightly acerbic glance at her son.
“I don’t need a babysitter, Joachim. I have a full life, and you must too. It’s not good to remain idle for long.”
“I could be your butler for a while.” He laughed at the thought. “You need one. I enjoy spending time with you, Mama.” His mother was reaching an age when he wanted to spend precious time with her. She had no health problems, but that could change in an instant, as he had seen with his long-term employers. He didn’t want to miss an opportunity to be with her and regret it later. She was the only relative he had, other than his long-absent brother, and he was now her only child.
“I’m grateful that you want to be here. But you’ll get bored hanging around while I’m at work, and I’m working on a big project right now.” He knew that she sometimes stayed at the office even later than her co-workers and brought work home on weekends.
“I’ve been thinking that a temporary job in Paris might be fun, just for a few months. I’ve never worked in France, only in England.” He had legal residence in England and the necessary work papers, and his French passport allowed him to work anywhere in the European Union, so he had many options.
“They don’t have big houses that are fully staffed in France anymore, not like they do in England,” she said. They were rapidly disappearing in England too, but he knew that she was right, and grand homes and large formal staffs had been gone in France for a long time, and with socialist governments and punitive taxes for the rich, no one liked to show wealth in France. A butler was a flashing red light to the tax authorities and shone a spotlight on a way of life that indicated big money.
“I thought I’d leave my name with an agency here, for qualified domestics, and see what turns up. It would only be temporary, until you get tired of me.”
“You know I never will,” she said gently, and patted his hand. He was a good son, and always had been. She had been lucky with him. Javier was her heartbreak.
After dinner that night, they talked about what he’d seen in Argentina. It brought back memories for her, both good and bad, and she thought about them late into the night as she lay in bed, and then drifted off to sleep peacefully. She didn’t want to be a burden on her son, but she was glad that Joachim would be staying for a while. He was tucked away in her guest room sound asleep.
When Olivia got to Paris, she moved into the apartment she had rented for four weeks. It was on the top floor of a well-kept building on the quai Voltaire and was as modern and well decorated as the photographs had indicated. She had paid in advance. The guardian had the keys for her and showed her around. It had a big, spacious living room, sliding glass windows, a terrace, a single bedroom, bath, and modern kitchen. It was obviously owned as an investment to rent, so it lacked a warm personal touch. But it was wonderfully located, with a beautiful view of the river, with the barges and tourist boats drifting by, and a good view of the buildings on the Right Bank. It was perfectly adequate for a short-term rental, but she had a hunger to stay longer. The idea had been gnawing at her. She could even study French, not having the language might turn out to be a handicap, and she loved the idea of staying for six months or a year. She had no anchor anywhere now, no job, no family, no man in her life. Her relationships had never been long-term ones, or very successful. She had an aversion to getting too attached to anyone. For all of her adult life, and especially the last ten years, all her energy and passion had gone into her work, which hadn’t saved her magazine in the end. For the first time in her life, she had no obligations and no reason to be anywhere, and thanks to what her mother had left her, she could afford to take a year off. Sooner or later, she would need another job, for her head as well as her bank account, but she was in no hurry, and had no acute need at the moment, as long as she was reasonable and somewhat careful about what she spent.
Once she was in Paris, Olivia knew she wanted to stay. She had no friends here but hoped to meet people. She was in touch with Claire Smith, her assistant from her defunct magazine, who had just taken a job in L.A., and encouraged her to try a change of scene too. They were unattached women who had put everything into their careers and were free to go anywhere they wanted now. It was both the upside and downside of having invested everything in their jobs and being unmarried and unattached at their ages. Claire had just turned forty, and had taken a job with Architectural Digest as their rep in L.A. Olivia was forty-three. It shocked her sometimes to realize that she was probably halfway through her life and still trying to figure things out, where she wanted to live, and what she wanted to do when she grew up. She was supposed to be grown up now, but didn’t always feel that way, especially lately. She was starting over, and now she wanted to take a year off and sidetrack herself while she rethought her life and what her goals were. She didn’t want to start another magazine, nor go to work for someone else, after having been her own boss for ten years, but she realized she’d probably have to. At least for now, there was no pressure on her to make any decisions. She could just enjoy Paris and adjust to all the recent changes in her life. She had no man she was involved with at the moment but had never wanted to base her life on any man, or to depend on one. She had seen what that had done to her mother, and the high price she had paid for it emotionally.