French Encounters

Chapter One

Estelle Beauchamp patted her baby bump for comfort as she approached the lawyer's conference room. She straightened her silk scarf and checked that her suit jacket covered her waistline. Damn the Paris traffic for making her late. She took a deep breath and opened the door to face the lawyers and her almost ex-husband.

Raoul sat alone at a table bathed in sunlight from several large windows. A charcoal-gray tailored suit displayed his broad shoulders to best advantage. He wore the white linen shirt from their honeymoon in Singapore.

Trusting that her three-inch heels and business suit projected confidence, Estelle strode into the room to sit opposite him. She murmured hello.

Good day, Raoul replied in French. You're looking well. A trim mustache and gray beard hid Raoul's full lips, but not the etched lines that marked his fifty years. The corners of his eyes lacked their usual crinkle of humor. He had lost weight.

Thank you. Estelle’s voice was cold as she tugged her skirt over her knees. She settled back in the chair, placing her hands on her rounded stomach. It was his fault they were in a lawyer's office going through the steps necessary to end their marriage.

Raoul cleared his throat. I've missed you. I wish-- He shook his head. I promised myself I wouldn't waste time on the past. What is done is done.

She was thirty-five and having a baby without him. Of course he couldn't change that. Where are the lawyers?

Mine was delayed in court. Raoul's long fingers gestured toward her black leather purse. Perhaps he phoned your attorney. Have you checked your mobile?

Her phone showed a missed call and a text. She had overlooked them in her hurry to arrive on time. She read the text, then summarized the content, keeping her tone neutral. Your lawyer is late and mine has another appointment in an hour. She suggests rescheduling. Estelle dropped the phone into her purse as she stood. I wish I'd known before I left the office. She conveyed only minor annoyance. She didn't want to betray her nervousness. It was the first time they were alone since she’d discovered he'd slept with her employee Miriam.

He followed her out of the room and nodded at the receptionist. We’ll need to reschedule.

Do you want to do that now? the woman asked.

Estelle said, I need to check my work commitments. We can reschedule later.

Raoul held her elbow as they strolled down the hallway.

As soon as the receptionist was out of sight, Estelle shook off his hand. We're getting divorced. There's no need to pretend you care.

The lines at the edges of his mouth were more pronounced without his smile. I do care. Perhaps we could have lunch and talk?

Without our lawyers present?

We don’t have to discuss the divorce. He placed his hand over his heart. I promise. No words about assets shall pass my lips. Since we’re having a mutual consent divorce, that’s all we have to discuss. We could have a delightful lunch like we used to. I've missed those times. I've missed you.

Estelle's stomach rumbled. Being pregnant had taught her to linger over the pleasures of life. Lunch at a restaurant was better than eating a sandwich at her desk. The importance of regular meals to her growing fetus gave her another reason to appreciate food. It must be nearby.

I remember your dislike of walking. There’s a good restaurant across the street.

She resisted the impulse to say she took long daily strolls for the sake of her unborn child. He probably didn't want to hear how she was doing everything she could to give her child a good start.

April sunshine warmed her cheeks as they crossed the busy Rue Dupleix. Yesterday’s rain had left a pleasant freshness in the air. A flower shop with dozens of bouquets lining the street gave her something to gaze at while Raoul read the menu posted on a blackboard. Are we going in? she asked.

There’s a better bistro up the street.

I suppose you checked out their menu on the way to our meeting?

His familiar half-smile tugged at her heart. Their mussels are flown in daily, but if you'd rather eat here, that's fine.

It was foolish to eat mediocre food when Raoul had researched the food options at the other restaurant. We can go there.

During the walk, Raoul entertained her with a witty description of the people in the office next to his. It felt like old times, especially when they sat at a table by the window and he attempted to order her lunch. She put a stop to the pretense of being happily married by telling the waiter, I will have the mussels, but change my main course to the chicken special. Also, I won't be drinking wine.

The waiter was too well-trained to show any reaction.

Raoul shrugged. Old habits. Forgive me?

She imitated his shrug, keeping her voice light. Not a big deal. Is there anything new with your business?

My main client went back to his wife.

She sipped her water, trying to figure out why Pierre's wife would have taken back a cheating jerk when she was sleeping with every good-looking man at Amtel-Fonique. Perhaps it had to do with their children. If Raoul had been the father of her baby, she would have been tied to him forever. Really?

No. He sighed. I wanted to see your reaction.

His disappointment was clear. Good. And?

You're as collected as ever. Does nothing shake you?

Whether Pierre convinces his wife to trust him again has nothing to do with me. She stared at him. I hope you didn't arrange for your lawyer to be late in the hope of talking alone.

I didn't plan it, I only seized the opportunity.

It’s for the best to settle the divorce soon.

That's what La-- His son's name hung between them, stronger for having been cut off. Lazare would have pointed out the economic benefit to having everything arranged before the birth of Estelle's brat. She covered her growing bump protectively.

In the awkward silence, she asked, How is Lazare?

Raoul blinked as if surprised. He's fine. He has an opportunity to train in Belgium for a few months. Raoul must still be living with his son which would explain Lazare's willingness for a long stay in Belgium. At twenty-five, perhaps Lazare was finally ready for a social life that didn’t require Friday night dinner with his father.

The waiter arrived with their appetizers. Raoul ate without speaking for several minutes, allowing her to relish the steamed mussels in a cream sauce. She avoided two unopened shells. Nutritional information about pregnancy stated that thoroughly-cooked seafood was acceptable.

By the time they finished their main courses, she felt as relaxed as if she'd been sipping wine along with Raoul. His face grew flushed as he talked louder than usual. He told amusing anecdotes and avoided any mention of her pregnancy.

What should we order for dessert? he asked.

Nothing for me.

The lime sorbet is good, or the chocolate tart is tasty.

She glanced at her watch. I must return to work. Leaving before dessert avoided awkward goodbyes, plus she was eager to get back to the office. Working on the plans for the group gave her a feeling of confidence. Her ego needed a boost after spending time with the man who hadn’t loved her enough to father children with her.

He reached across the table and touched her hand, entwining their fingers in the way he used to when he wanted to have sex. Have dinner with me tomorrow night.

Despite everything he'd done, she missed being touched.

He must have sensed her hesitation because he squeezed her hand. It's Shabbat. I miss Fridays with my family. You always made dinner special.

How dare he assume she'd prepare Shabbat dinner? She removed her hand from under his. Sorry, I have plans.

His mouth dropped and his eyes looked sad. Of course. I did not mean to intrude.

She felt disappointed he'd accepted her rebuff. What do I owe for lunch?

My treat.

She shrugged. Not really, since we have not yet divided our assets.

We are not discussing the divorce. Remember?

Lunch is over, and nothing has changed.

Eating together had recalled old times, but she wasn't a married woman in her thirties happily expecting her first child with a devoted husband. Thanks to his affair with Miriam, she was alone. She would soon be a single mother raising a child. She needed to get on with her life. Divorce wasn't a failure. It was moving forward.

* * *

Miriam Roche took a sip of the robust espresso as she stood at her computer. It took time to get used to standing for a good portion of the day, so she was glad that the desk could be lowered. After years of a desk in a cubicle, having her own office with a window was wonderful. The office barely fit a guest chair and she overlooked the parking lot, but natural light was great. She kept the door open unless she was on the speaker phone.

Estelle had asked for a list of potential software components for the next release of the wireless communication platform as soon as possible. An early-afternoon meeting had interfered with Miriam’s plans to take a walk after lunch. Now the sunshine drew her attention like a child chasing an ice cream truck. She wanted to be outside enjoying the gentle April breeze.

Her husband had sung 'April in Paris' in his deep baritone on their first date. He'd promised they'd visit one day, but cancer killed that dream. Still, they had enjoyed dozens of Aprils together in Illinois. He used to whistle approvingly when she first appeared in shorts. They had walked and biked for hours a week in the forest trails near their home. But they had never visited Paris together.

Most of the offices near her were empty, so she could sneak outside for a quick stroll. Or she could finish her email and leave work early, assuming nothing else came up. As if on cue, the phone rang. She answered on the second ring. Hello, Miriam Roche here.

Ah, the lovely Miriam. This is Rahul, from India.

Rahul was a big flirt who loved to talk. She lowered the desk so she could sit, restraining the urge to put her feet on a chair. What are you doing at work this late? Or are you visiting the States?

I’m in India trying to resolve a few issues before the weekend. I hope I'm not disturbing your lunch.

"Not at all. The weather is gorgeous in Paris, so I was contemplating leaving early enough to stroll past the Palais de l’Elysee and view the tulips and daffodils."

My wife and I are going to view tulips this week.

In India? She smoothed her short hair behind her ears. For that to be possible, it must be in the mountains?

His voice reflected pride in his native land. We're visiting a city with over two million tulips. One of these days, dear Miriam, your travels must take you to India. You can see first-hand the images you have collected in your eclectic memory.

After six months of living in Paris, the idea of visiting India appeared less outlandish, but he might be ready to talk business. What do you need?

Help with training on the components of the 6400 series.

Weying Chou is a great source.

He sounds Chinese. I wanted someone from the Paris office since I'll be in France in a few weeks.

Weying is Chinese, but he’s based in Paris. His office is next to mine. She glanced at the door to confirm that Weying wasn’t in his office. I can ask him to call you.

That would be most appreciated.

Weying worked hard on web-based training in addition to his other duties, but he was eager to please, so they might work something out. I'll talk to him, but I can't promise anything.

With you as my intermediary, I'm sure no man would refuse you.

You're such a flirt, Rahul.

I do my best to bring sunshine and smiles to the whole world.

Thanks for the information about the flowers. A gradual awareness of two people standing in her doorway made her cut short her joking comment about tulips. I'll be talking with you soon.

Miriam hung up, smiling when she realized Weying was behind Estelle.

Estelle glared with the 'you will die' stare teenagers often gave to their parents. While not friends, they'd gotten past Miriam's stupid mistake of sleeping with Raoul. Miriam didn’t understand why he had cheated on such a gorgeous woman. Estelle had the fashion flair common to French women. When her hair was in a chignon, there were no loose strands and her lipstick was always perfect. Her perfume was subtle, never overpowering and her clothes emphasized her full breasts and slender curves. The only area that Miriam disagreed with was Estelle’s fondness for high heels. Could her shoes be making her unhappy? At the moment, Estelle vibrated hate.

Weying's usual smile was missing. His posture was stiff. Although his face displayed careful polite interest, his eyebrows were scrunched together.

We have a question about the audit. Estelle's voice sharpened like a high-pitched violin as she spoke in English. If you're done with your phone call?

Miriam pressed her fingers against her throat. Okay. She cursed the cultural barriers that had caused her to misstep once again although she had no idea what rule she had broken. She might be able to speak the language, but she didn’t understand the French.

What is your question? Miriam asked.

At the gentle prod, Estelle’s gaze hardened. When the auditors arrive in Detroit, what form of information do they expect?

There wasn't an Amtel-Fonique site in Detroit, but Estelle hated being corrected. How was Miriam supposed to answer without making the error obvious? To buy time, she said, I'm not aware of audit plans in Michigan.

Michigan? What does Michigan have to do with this?

Detroit is in Michigan.

Estelle's red-stained cheeks resembled an allergic rash. I meant Denver. Our new acquisition in Denver is unfamiliar with answering internal audit questions.

George Jenner's consulting firm will be handling that, Miriam said. I haven't been involved.

How does a consulting firm know our company's audit plans? We can’t put everything in the same bag.

Weying cleared his throat. Jenner used to work at Amtel-Fonique, but he was laid off in the last round of downsizing.

Estelle jerked slightly. Ah yes, I remember him. When the company found no one qualified to take over his responsibilities, he should have come back. They made a generous offer.

He's making two times his former salary, Miriam said. And he sets his own schedule. One look at Estelle’s curled lip made it clear she shouldn’t have defended George.

"Revenons à nos moutons," Estelle said.

I’m sorry, Weying said. What do sheep have to do with the audit?

It’s an expression, not something to interpret literally.

Miriam explained, It means to return to the matter at hand. It was rude of Estelle to speak French in front of Weying. Do you have more questions about the audit?

Not at this time. Estelle said. It’s been brought to my attention that you’re not using the Zeugg tool. This is how the system was to have been documented starting in January of this year.

We had most of the documentation completed in December, Miriam said. This is the first I've heard about Zeugg.

There was a grand presentation at the beginning of the year.

Miriam was on vacation with her children, Weying said. Taking advantage of their college break.

Ah, yes, a strange time of year to travel. Estelle made it clear strange meant wrong.

I'm surprised no one on the team mentioned the tool, Miriam said.

People are often reluctant to embrace new things, Estelle said. As team leader you must champion the tools management has endorsed.

Miriam bit back a question about why management wasn't championing it themselves. I'll see who on the team is familiar with the tool. Weying, we may require extra training.

That was Paul's area of expertise, he said. I will do my best.

It’s a pity Paul was let go at the same time management decided we'd use this tool.

The arch of Weying's eyebrows reminded her that Estelle had fired Paul. Miriam cursed her talent for pissing off her boss. She should start a blog about one hundred ways to annoy French middle-management. It could go viral.

Estelle turned away.

When the sharp click of Estelle’s heels had faded away, Miriam rubbed her neck. I'm always saying the wrong thing to Estelle.

Weying’s voice was more self-deprecating than usual. I should have alerted you to our presence while you were on the personal phone call. It disturbed Estelle.

Personal phone call? Miriam glanced at her desk phone, perplexed by his statement. Oh, that was Rahul.

Raoul?

No, Rahul, from India. He wants to discuss training with you.

I won't have an update to my training site until the end of the month, Weying said.

He's looking for live training.

I have no plans to travel to India.

Sorry, I'm not being clear. Rahul will be in Paris. He's a fast learner, but doesn't have the patience for web-based training. I didn't say you were free. If you don't have time to meet, tell him that.

I will check my schedule. And contact Raoul?

It's Rahul. She spelled it out. Did I happen to say his name while Estelle stood there?

Yes. You also mentioned flowers.

We were discussing the tulips in India.

I heard no mention of India.

Weying didn't know Miriam had slept with Raoul, so she couldn't explain her concern. Estelle's husband, or former husband, is named Raoul.

Are they divorced? he asked.

They split up months ago. I assumed they’re divorced by now.

Weying said, Even a non-contested divorce takes time. Mine was complicated by my ex-wife not residing in France. Perhaps they’ll reconcile because of the baby.

She's pregnant? Miriam had suspected it, but Estelle hadn't said anything.

Is it a secret? Weying frowned. It complicates a situation. Divorce isn't always simple even when there aren't children.

Raoul wasn't the father of Estelle's baby, but that secret wasn't hers to share. She handed a piece of paper to Weying. Here’s Rahul’s phone number. It’s the end of the day in India, but he might be in the office.

I’ll take care of it. Do you have plans this weekend?

Tons. She needed to make it clear she wasn't available for a date, so she gushed more than usual. My friend from the States will be back. I'm meeting the apartment group for our usual Friday night dinner, and we're having a going-away party for Harriet.

Wasn't that in February?

Harriet's leaving was delayed. I hope our regular gatherings don't fall apart without her.

You were most fortunate to find accommodations with welcoming neighbors. That's not the norm in France.

Life would be much easier if Estelle was friendlier. Miriam would love to tell Estelle that she’d never repeat her mistake of sleeping with Raoul, but if she had learned anything in the last six months, it was not to be too direct with a French woman.

Chapter Two

Estelle strolled through several shops with her best friend. Instead of enjoying the warmth of the sun, or the fragrant primrose and hyacinth lining the street, or even the soft textures and bright colors of the spring fashions, Nicki acted as if she was the first woman in the history of the world to be nine months pregnant.

We have to walk slower, Nicki said. It's difficult to shop in my condition.

Estelle had suggested they meet at one of the numerous cafés lining the street. Or they could have walked in the park, one with benches. It would have been nice to sit under a blooming tree and listen to the birds chirp. At least Nicki was off bed rest, but now she complained she couldn't see her feet. Estelle couldn’t wait until her own body showed more than a slight baby bump.

Wait. Nicki waddled into the store, holding her stomach as if it might collapse without her constant attention. Her entire body looked plump and her stomach was enormous. I have to rest.

A rack of baby clothes caught Estelle’s attention. She sorted through them. I suggested we meet for lunch instead of shopping.

I get heartburn. Nicki eased onto a chair outside the dressing room, spreading her legs apart like an ancient grandmother. Let me rest for a few minutes. She pointed to the chair beside her. Sit, we can talk.

I thought you needed baby supplies, but you haven't bought anything. As Estelle sat, she slipped her shoes off. She'd worn a pair that was usually comfortable, but today they pinched her feet.

Nicki ran a hand over her face, causing red blotches to appear on her skin. Honestly, I can't remember what I need. I'm going crazy waiting at home for this baby to arrive. There's nothing on television, books bore me, and I can't sit through a movie without going to the bathroom several times. I wish I wasn't on leave from work.

I thought you would resume your job once you and Tristan returned to Paris.

That was the plan until the doctor put me on bed rest for two months. By the time that ended, returning to work made no sense. I shouldn’t complain, since I certainly didn’t want to deliver early, but this pregnancy is taking forever.

Estelle laughed. It's lasting the standard nine months.

Wait until you're as huge as a house. Right now you're in the adorable stage where your bump is just noticeable. You won't enjoy waddling like a fat duck.

You're not fat, Estelle said. You're pregnant.

I swear if I look at food these days, I gain an inch. When I'm at home, I nibble too much.

What about your heartburn?

It's not bad if I nibble. Nicki patted her stomach. How is work? Anything new with your sexy boss?

He's busy with off-site secretive meetings. Estelle almost added that her boss was attracted to Miriam, not her. To avoid dwelling on that depressing thought, she said, I had lunch with Raoul yesterday.

Nicki grunted. It's good to be civilized in the midst of a divorce. You don’t have to tell a fountain you won’t drink all its water. If Tristan's ex-wife was reasonable, our lives would be easier.

To avoid another tirade about the ex-wife, Estelle said, Raoul asked me to dinner.

I trust you said no. Lunch is civilized. Dinner sends a message you don't intend.

Estelle didn't admit she'd been tempted. I said no. Half an hour later, I was by Miriam's office while she was flirting on the phone with my Raoul.

He's not your Raoul anymore. Now that the paperwork is completed, how are you dividing the assets? Are you keeping the apartment?

The paperwork isn't completed. There was a problem.

Raoul being difficult? Or his son?

Just a scheduling problem, Estelle said. I'm not sure I want the apartment.

What does your lawyer think?

She didn't comment one way or the other. Estelle didn't want to confess that the lawyers hadn't been at the meeting. Nicki would push her to make another appointment. Forget about property for a minute. I want to discuss Miriam's phone call with Raoul.

Are you sure she was talking to Raoul?

She said his name and called him a flirt, and she mentioned flowers. Who else could it be? We have no one named Raoul at work.

Are you quite sure? Nicki asked. You have a horrible memory for names.

We have no Raouls at Amtel-Fonique.