Page 29 of Forgiving Paris
“She was young. Maybe twenty.” Emilie hesitated. “An American. She worked the front desk.”
There was more to Ashley’s story, and Mia knew it. The American had dated Jean-Claude Pierre. Mia was sure. Because she, herself, had dated the man at the exact same time.
MIA NEEDED Aminute.
Her daughter wanted to talk to her boyfriend, so the timing was perfect. They left the art gallery and stopped at Mia’s favorite Paris spot—Terres de Café. They sat at a table near the window and ordered from the waiter.
“Mama, you sure you’re okay?” Estelle had looked worried since they’d left the gallery. “You looked white as a sheet back there.”
“I’m fine… I just… I believe I know the American woman, the artist being featured at Light of the Seine.” Mia felt more composed now. “I saw her for a brief time when we were both in Paris, twenty-three years ago.”
“Okay.” Estelle looked at her for a long moment. Gradually her worry turned to possibility. “Does that mean we’ll go to her show?”
Mia laughed. The first time in ten minutes. “No, your father has plans for us.”
“Yes, Mama.” Estelle stood and held up her cell phone. “I’ll step outside for my call. Is that okay?”
“Of course.” Mia watched Estelle leave through the front door and find a place at one of the tables outside.
Alone now, Mia pulled the piece of paper from her purse and stared at it again.Ashley Baxter.For a brief moment, Mia closed her eyes. The only reason she knew the American’s name was because the woman at the clinic had called it out from the front desk.
But she had known Ashley’s face long before that.
Back then Mia had been so jealous of Ashley she thought about her morning and night. The pretty American had gotten a job at Montmartre, one of the finest art galleries in Paris. Weeks before they hired her, Mia had worked there. But Marguerite had dismissed her without warning. “We have enough French girls.” That’s all the woman had said.
By then, Mia had done more than work the front desk at Montmartre Gallery. She had taken up with one of the most famous painters in the city—Jean-Claude Pierre. Mia had known the man was married, but she hadn’t cared. When she was at his side, she actually felt like an artist—even though she’d never completed a single painting.
Without a job, Mia took a position across the street at a jewelry shop. More than the money or the hours, the thing Mia liked most about it was she could keep an eye on the gallery. On Jean-Claude. And she could see firsthand the face that had replaced her at the front desk.
The face of Ashley Baxter.
Since the girl was obviously an American, Mia told herself Marguerite had only hired her for her English. Because Mia was obviously the better gallery girl. But with her front-row view of the Montmartre, within a week Mia picked up on something else.
The American girl was also seeing Jean-Claude.
Betrayed and angry, Mia tried to break things off with the famous artist. But the man wouldn’t hear of that. “You have my afternoons, ma chérie.” He took her face in his hands. “She has my nights. There is room for both of you.”
Mia felt sick at the memory. How could she have allowed herself to be caught up in Jean-Claude’s web? Not only that, but she had learned by then that Jean-Claude Pierre was a very dangerous man. He had a crew of criminals doing his dirty work. Mia knew because he would take calls from them during the day.
When Mia was with him.
Even so, Mia continued her seedy lifestyle. And when she wound up pregnant, weeks after Jean-Claude had started dating Ashley Baxter, Mia wasn’t surprised at the artist’s reaction.
“You will get rid of this child,” he told her. There had been a dark and evil chill in his voice. “Get rid of the child… or I will get rid of you.” He smiled then, as if maybe he was having a little fun with her.Surely, he didn’t mean what he said,Mia had told herself.
At first Mia ignored Jean-Claude’s order. But after a few weeks, she began to notice men following her. And it occurred to her that perhaps Jean-Claude was not joking.Fine, she had thought to herself. She would do what he asked. After all, why would she want Jean-Claude’s baby? The man clearly didn’t care for her.
Mia looked out the window at Estelle. Her daughter was still on the phone, laughing and gesturing. Her boyfriend was a good man. The two would be married soon.
And though they wouldn’t be going to Ashley’s show on Thursday, Mia would write the American artist a letter. She would do that tonight and leave it with Emilie Love at Light of the Seine. That way Ashley would know the impact she had made.
Yes, Mia had to at least do that.
A wave of nausea came over her. Her daughter shouldn’t even be alive, shouldn’t be twenty-two and in love and planning a wedding. And she wouldn’t be except for one thing.
The courage and conviction of Ashley Baxter.
A DAY HADpassed since Albert Arnaud spotted the advertisement on the outside window of the small gallery in the fourth district. Since then, he had hidden the fact from his superiors. They paid him well for his criminal work.
