Blaise was startled when her BlackBerry rang in Paris, it was from a blocked number, so she answered. It was Andrew. She hadn’t talked to him in a long time and didn’t want to now, but he had caught her by surprise, and she didn’t want to be rude and hang up.
“Where are you now?” he asked her, envisioning her in New York. He was at his office, and it was morning for him. For Blaise, it was the end of the day. And his voice sounded as sultry and sexy as it always had, when it made her knees go weak. But this time it didn’t. She was bored listening to him.
“I’m walking around the Faubourg St. Honoré in Paris, to do some shopping,” she said matter-of-factly.
“You lead a golden life,” he said, aware that she didn’t sound excited to hear him, or even interested in what he said.
“I guess I do.” The trip to Morocco had done her good. She felt a little better physically, and being in Paris even for a day was exciting. She had just spent three days with a king and princess visiting a gorgeous palace, had a rest in Marrakech, lying in the sun and exploring the Soukh, the bazaar filled with treasures, and she had bought a mountain of fun things for Salima, including a vest with little bells she knew she’d love, and now she was in Paris, about to do some shopping, and staying at the Ritz. Simon had told her once, when she was agonizing over the threat of Susie Quentin, not to forget who she was. And now Susie was gone, Blaise was still herself, a successful, powerful woman with a “golden life,” as Andrew said. The only thing missing was Simon. But not Andrew anymore. She didn’t miss him at all.
“Why don’t I call you later?” he suggested. “You sound busy.” He could hear the traffic noises behind her as she crossed the street toward Hermès.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” she said, standing in the late-afternoon March sunshine on the Faubourg.
“Are you there with someone?” he asked, pretending to sound jealous, but she doubted that he really was. It was just an act he put on, like everything else. Suddenly, he sounded sleazy, and none of her memories of him were good. At least Simon had been a decent person and genuinely loved her, even if he was young and confused.
“No, I’m not,” she said in answer to his question. “I’m alone and enjoying it thoroughly.” She didn’t ask him about his wife this time. She didn’t care. It had taken her almost five years to get there, but she had finally arrived. “Don’t call me later, Andrew. I have nothing to say. And neither do you.” He was shocked when he responded a minute later after a startled pause.
“What’s gotten into you?” He sounded hurt, but she knew he wasn’t. Only his ego was bruised. He had no heart.
“I guess I finally got over you. It was long overdue.” He didn’t know what to say, so for a moment he said nothing, sure that she’d warm up to him again. She had loved him so much. But that was old news. “Thanks for the call,” she said, “but don’t do it again.” And before he could say another word, she hung up. She stood outside Hermès laughing to herself out loud and feeling great. She walked into Hermès then and bought herself a gorgeous yellow bag, a Birkin, three scarves, and a bottle of perfume. And for once, finally, as Simon had suggested, she knew exactly who she was.
When Blaise got back to the apartment in New York, from the airport, Salima was practicing with Lucianna, and Becky was in the kitchen with an anxious expression, trying to make a soufflé. For a fraction of an instant, it made Blaise sad and reminded her of Simon. But poor Becky looked so incongruous, and so stressed, that Blaise laughed.
“Don’t feel bad,” she reassured her. “I can’t make one either. How’s everything?” she said, putting her travel bag down, and taking off her coat. She looked well and was feeling better, and she had slept on the plane. “Salima okay?”
“She’s fine,” Becky said as she slid the ceramic dish into the oven and smiled at Blaise. “We had a nice time while you were gone. We went to see a Broadway musical. I’d never been to one before, it was great.” She was discovering a whole new world in New York, and this time Salima was playing teacher and enjoying it a lot. Becky was only ten years older than she was, but they looked about the same age. She was a nice, wholesome country girl, and Blaise had grown fond of her in the past eight weeks.