From a Paris Balcony(4)

 

Loic was quiet for a moment. “This is a commission from the leading fashion magazine in the world in honor of one of our most famous portrait artists. The only option I can offer is that you share the apartment with Laurent. You would have your own bedroom, of course . . . otherwise, I’m happy to help you find somewhere else to stay in Paris.”

 

Sarah stood up and paced around her office. While she adored her job, she hated to think how many hours she had spent stomping around this room during the past year. Typically, the stomping would be followed by a good dose of staring out the window at the street below, trying to contain her grief.

 

Sarah closed her eyes.

 

Loic Archer remained quiet.

 

Sarah moved back to her desk. She collected the folder of notes for her next appointment. A woman wanted to bequeath her mother’s jewelry collection to the museum.

 

She ran a hand over her trouser suit. “Please, could you ask if I could share the apartment with Laurent?” She steeled herself and waited for Loic’s response.

 

“I will.”

 

“Thank you.”

 

There was a silence. “There’s a few things you should know about Laurent.” Loic’s voice dropped so low that it sounded as if he were about to reveal state secrets on an international scale.

 

Loic paused for a moment before he started to speak. “It might help—if you are going to live with him—if you understand what’s going on. Laurent is a very refined individual. He has a strong aesthetic. He abhors anything obnoxious, tasteless, or crass. But at the moment . . .” Loic coughed.

 

Sarah stopped still for a moment, before moving towards the elevator.

 

“Nowadays, he’s abandoned all that.” Loic went on in a rush. “He seems to think he’s some sort of Toulouse-Lautrec. He’s hanging with models. His behavior is a bit . . . wild.”

 

Sarah had also heard stories, gossip. Laurent hung around with the elite set and he had done something naughty at Miami Art Basel last year, but Sarah couldn’t recall exactly what. She bit back her instinctive response and pressed the elevator button instead, gazing at the red numbers on the screen. She had made an art of focusing on what was right in front of her just to move forward every day after what had happened with Steven.

 

Was she a magnet for out of control men? And yet, why should she be intimidated or put off? What if this was a chance to get some behind-the-scenes experience with an artist? Usually she only dealt with people who owned the art. She realized that she was conjuring up excuses to leave Boston, but in the end, did it matter what this artist was like?

 

“I’ve read about him.” She kept her voice deadpan.

 

“I’m sorry.” Loic sounded resigned. “I guess some people might find it hard to . . . deal with Laurent right now. He’s going through a rough patch. Something went wrong. But it’s not my place to tell you. That’s his story. It’s just that, it might help you to understand that he is a good person. He is brilliant, you know—”

 

“Oh,” Sarah felt a chuckle rising in her throat. “Well, that will help.”

 

“He’s incredibly talented.”

 

Sarah stepped into the lift and felt her eyebrows rise to the roof.

 

“Anyway, by rights the apartment belongs to my wife, Cat. She’s flat out with our first baby right now. Our little daughter is a month old. So I’m going to have to be the person you deal with, I’m afraid.”

 

Sarah stepped out of the elevator and walked to the street. “Congratulations.” She knew she sounded vague, but her mind was locked onto Paris and wild artists and, for some extraordinary reason, Toulouse-Lautrec. “Congratulations on the baby.”

 

She shook her head, rounded the corner, unlocked her car door, slipped inside, and memorized the address of the house she was visiting.

 

“Laurent will be working hard all summer,” Loic said. “Just tell him to be quiet when he comes back in the door late at night. If you have real problems, then I’ll simply move you out. I can talk to him anytime too.”

 

Sarah looked at her watch. It was time to go. She was never late. Never.

 

She took a few seconds to think, right there, right then. After what she had been through, what was an artist in a tailspin? He didn’t have to affect her. No doubt Laurent would be all over his models and actresses anyway. He wouldn’t even notice Sarah was in the apartment at all.

 

She collected her thoughts. “Alright then. I’ll still share with him. You know, I do appreciate this, thank you. I’m sure we will be just fine.”