“We come here a lot. What do you say in America?” Pierre asked Mom.
“We’re regulars,” Lois said after swallowing the bread.
“Ah yes, Lois, my American tutor.” He pronounced Lois likeLoeeh. “Your mother is so much smarter than me.”
What in God’s name was happening right now?
“Pierre was my first art teacher when I arrived,” Mom said. “He teaches drawing.”
Her young, married lover was also her teacher. This could not get worse.
Rafael squeezed her knee under the table.
“Well, I guess that answers the question about how you met,” Lisa said. “How long have you been dating?”
“Dating?” Pierre’s brows lifted. “Did you not tell her?” He directed the question at Loeeh.
Mom finished chewing her second bite of bread. She wiped her mouth with a cloth napkin, which did nothing to clean the sheepish grin from her face. “I was waiting until tonight.” She lifted her left hand. A sparkly diamond glittered under the lights. “Pierre and I are married.”
“Please don’t be mad at your mother for not inviting you to the wedding,” Pierre said. “It was last-minute. An impulse decision.”
“An impulse decision is purchasing a magazine while standing in line at the grocery store,” Lisa said. “Getting married is not something you do on an impulse.”
Mom cocked her head to one side. “It seems to me I recall you falling in love with Rafael in three days. I’d been in love with Pierre for months already when we decided to marry.”
Lisa stared at her mother. A chilling fury overwhelmed her. She could not believe what she was hearing. Didn’t want to believe it. “I don’t know if I should be relieved your lover isn’t married or appalled that you married him without telling anyone in your family. Not to mention that he’s my age.”
“Younger, actually,” Mom said. “He’s only twenty-nine.”
“Oh my God,” Lisa said. “Oh my God. This can’t be happening.”
Rafael shifted, making his chair creak.
Lisa picked up her glass of wine in trembling hands and fixed her gaze on theenfantPierre. “Did you know about me? About my wealth? Is that what this is about? You married her to get to me?”
Amusement glittered in Pierre’s dark eyes. “Your mother told me everything.”
“That I’m paying for her to live here?” Lisa asked, hating herself for the way her voice pitched and cracked. She was supposed to be a trained actress. Vocal control was top of the list of things she was supposed to have mastered. “I didn’t pay her to come over here and marry someone younger than her children.”
“She shared that with me, yes.” Pierre shrugged, then drank from his wineglass. He smacked his rather full, petulant lips afterward. “Melon and caramel on the finish. Delicious.”
“Honey, Pierre doesn’t care about your money.” Mom tore another piece of bread from the basket and set it on Lisa’s plate. “Try this. Your blood sugar must be low.”
“My blood sugar is not low. I’m furious. How could you not tell me you married…this…this child? Have you two been living on the money I send every month?” Lisa set her glass down, afraid she might break the stem in half. She was also afraid she might be sick right here in snooty Barraud’s bistro. How would that look?The famous American actress barfs all over the crisp white tablecloth.
Pierre’s swarthy features twisted as if an unpleasant odor had entered his nostrils. “As much as I dislike talking about money, the American in you will insist. If you must know, my father was a very famous artist. He left me a great fortune.”
“I haven’t touched the money you’ve sent for months,” Mom said. “I let the apartment go. I’ll write you a check for whatever I owe you.”
“This is not about the money.” Lisa’s eyelids stung. God, when was her mother ever going to stop hurting her? This was absurd. In every possible way.
“Is it not possible, Lisa, that I’m in love with this glorious woman?”
Pierre pronounced Lisa like Lee-zah. She hated him. “My name is pronounced with anS, not aZ.”
“My excuse.” AnotherZin place of anS.
“Honey, I thought you’d be happy for me,” Mom said. “You’re the one who suggested a love affair with a handsome Frenchman.”
