The men laid the casket on the grass beside the tombstone of Henri. It was made of pinewood and in the center was a carved Jewish star. It was pure understated elegance —just like her.
One of the men, who was carrying a shovel, began to dig into the earth. They took turns shoveling until a hole that was big and deep enough was made. Using a pulley system, they worked together to lower the casket into it. Then, as the rabbi prayed in Hebrew, each took a turn with the shovel, refilling the hole. I fought back tears as I watched the casket disappear from sight and the large hole fill in. Warm memories of our years together floated in my head along with our final day together. A member of the minyan offered me the shovel to cover her with the last mound of dirt. As I scooped up the soil and hurled it onto the grave, the dam holding back my tears burst. The rabbi’s melodic Hebrew saturated my mind and soul. I recognized the prayer—The Kiddush. Madame would recite it once a year on the eve of Yom Kippur over the memorial candle that burnt for Henri through the night. The final words, Oh say, Shalom, Amen, echoed in my ears. Peace. Rivulets streamed down my face. Madame Paulette was gone…now, in her final resting place…reunited with the man she loved.
I squatted down and retrieved the bouquet of flowers I had brought along—long stemmed white roses—Madame’s favorite blooms. I gently laid several on her grave and the remainder against the tombstone of her husband. Au revoir, Madame. May you rest in peace and with your true love.
I returned to the hotel, drained and exhausted. It was mid-afternoon.
Before heading up to my room for a much needed nap, I made a stop at the bar. Perhaps, a drink would quell the sorrow that filled my soul. Unable to find an empty table, I settled in at the crowded bar. An international mix of beautiful people, on the make, surrounded me.
Usually just a wine drinker, I ordered something stronger from the young, twinkly-eyed bartender. A vodka martini with extra olives. The very drink I’d ordered with Jaime at the Gloria’s Secret after-party. The drink arrived quickly. The cold velvety liquid washed down my throat and was soothing. Just what I needed. The images of Madame Paulette and Jaime Zander faded in my head. I amused myself by observing the eclectic mix of movers and shakers.
Half way through my martini, I felt a warm breath on the nape of my neck. A familiar voice sent a chill spiraling down my spine.
“Why, Gloria. How uncanny! We meet again.”
I spun around, almost knocking over the remains of my drink. Victor!
He was wearing one of his custom-tailored three-piece slate gray suits. In his hand was a tumbler filled with his favorite drink. Bourbon. I knew because I recognized the smell, emanating from both the glass and his breath.
He leaned in close to me. “So, Gloria, what brings you to Paris?”
“Personal business.” He had no need to know. “What about you?”
“Business. Pure business. I’m meeting here with someone whose global organization could be a potential strategic partner. If the meeting is successful, I’ll invite him to LA to meet you.”
Dealmaker Victor was always looking for ways to expand Gloria’s Secret. While GS was not the only retailer in Victor’s vast empire, it was his most profitable. The more money Gloria’s Secret made, the more money Victor made.
He chugged his cocktail and ordered one more. “Can I get you another drink?” he asked, pressing his thigh against mine.
He was making my skin crawl. I edged away from him and shook my head. “I’m fine, thank you.” What I really wanted to say was: “Get lost, you prick.” I began thinking of a way to excuse myself.
He hovered next to me, nauseating me with his foul bourbon and tobacco-tainted breath. His steely eyes glared into mine. “So, Gloria, I understand from my daughter that you’re hiring Jaime Zander and his agency ZAP! to take over advertising.”
“Yes.” I nodded.
His gunmetal eyes darkened. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. I want you to reconsider.”
Still sober, I just couldn’t believe he was still mad at Jaime for outbidding him on Rihanna’s diamond-studded underwear.
“I believe his advertising campaign will bring us to new heights,” I retorted. This was the truth, regardless of how much Jaime’s deceit had hurt me. At the moment, I didn’t know whom I despised more —Vivien or her father.
His face darkened. “Let me tell you, Gloria. Nothing good will come from your relationship with that dilettante”
As much as I loathed Jaime, he was no amateur when it came to his trade. He was pure brilliance. It was time to stand up for him…and myself.
“Victor, you can control our shareholders, but you can’t control my day-to-day decisions as CEO. Gloria’s Secret is my company, and I make those decisions.”
He smirked. “You’re very sexy when you’re defiant.” He leaned in close to me, his tight lips descending onto mine.